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athenaluthor · 3 months

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Hesitation - Darth Vader

Summary: Husband!Vader has been on his ship for far too long. His very pregnant wife has come to fetch him.

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, Unburnt!Vader, Domestic!Vader, Husband!Vader, established relationship, fluff , porn with plot, wife!reader, PiV, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it please), creampie, mentions of children, mentions of Emperor Palps (he's his own red flag), same universe as my other fic here

Word count ~ 3.6k (unedited)

masterlist

Vader hasn't left his ship in days. Regularly occupied by the matters of the Empire, it was not uncommon for him to be absorbed in his work. More often than not, he would work late into the night until he lost track of time. Rest and sleep were put aside until he was satisfied with the work. To make matters worse, food and drinks his attendants provided were also regularly left untouched in favor of his work.

Although many would prefer it, his wife had decided to not let him rot on the Executor. After all, she prefers him alive and well. It also is not helpful that the current chatter among the Imperial ranks was that Lord Vader despised her and would rather confine himself to his ship than be with his very pregnant wife.

On some occasions, one could say that it was indeed true. Vader was nothing but dedicated to his work, or the Dark Side if we're being honest. But for the most part, Vader is practically glued to her. If he could chain her to their bed, he would.

That being said, no one dared to disturb him on his ship. Vader's temper was infamously catastrophic, mercurial. He could go from calm and collected, to being the embodiment of chaos and destruction. To make matters worse, her third pregnancy is proving far more difficult than the other two. The pain borders on unbearable and she struggles to walk even short distances.

Walking through the doors of his private office aboard the ship, she searches it for her husband. The cold wave of air sends a chill down her spine, making her shiver. She clutches her fur shawl closer to her body, trying to keep warm. The sight of Vader standing and looking over his war table, greets her. He was surely ready to chew out whomever had bothered him, clearly engulfed in his work.

Turning around, Vader's anger dissipates. Seeing his wife slowly walking towards him, taking careful steps to ensure she wouldn't slip and injure herself or god forbid, her baby has that effect on him. Naturally, Vader wastes no time in slipping off his helmet and crossing the room to her. Instinctively, he holds out his arm for her to use as support and walks her over to the sofa. Vader adjusts the few cushions on the absurdly large and plush sofa to support her back and helps her sit.

“What are you doing here?” he all but yells, kneeling down in front of her to slip off her shoes. Setting her shoes aside, Vader massages her swollen feet.

“When ones’ husband does not return home to his wife for days in favor of a ship, people talk. Not to mention, the boys miss you as well.”

“A few things are taking longer than I expected. I planned on coming home yesterday.” he replies, eyes avoiding her. He opts to focus his vision on her feet and massaging out the knots.

“I know. Your schedule isn't exactly a secret to me.”

“Things don't always go as planned.”

“Well, rebels and incompetent Imperial officers will do that.” she replies nonchalantly.

“Did you walk all the way from the landing bay to here?”

“Yes. It's not a very short walk, you know.”

Vader's face grows darker with what she assumes is rage or frustration. She reaches out to grab his gloved hand and toy with his fingers.

“I know. The walk is not suitable for a woman who's heavily pregnant!” he replies sternly, clearly unhappy with her choice.

Standing up, he walks over to the side table and buzzes for an attendant. Seconds later, one rushes in, face riddled with anxiety and fear.

“Yes, Lord Vader?” her voice quivers slightly. Clearly frightened in anticipation of Vader's wrath.

He orders her to bring in a selection of drinks and food, barely acknowledging her presence.

The attendant looks somewhat relieved at his request, probably grateful he wasn't directing his wrath at her. Her eyes flicker over to Vader's wife briefly before she quickly steps out of the room.

Quietly, Vader rearranges the cushions in the couch again and gestures for his wife to lay down. Tired and uncomfortable, she happily obliges. Vader helps her lay down, adjusting things here and there to ensure her comfort.

He fusses like a mother hen, she muses to herself.

Sitting down beside her, his hand gently caresses her large bump, a comfortable silence washing over them.

Soon, he thought. Soon, they would be free from the Emperor's clutches. His sons wouldn't be forced to serve the Emperor as he had, his wife wouldn't have to keep birthing him children if she didn't want to. He would give her anything, she gave him a second chance of life when he squandered it.

The baby wastes no time and gives a rather hard kick to Vader's hand, earning a groan from his mother.

“Your son is not letting me sleep. He can't stop moving or kicking or tensing! Everything just hurts.” she angrily says.

Vader reaches out into the force, searching for his unborn son's signature. The boy was warm and his signature was pure, untainted. Vader soothes and calms him down, sensing how tense his wife truly was.

“Have you seen the doctors? Make sure there's nothing wrong with you or the baby.” he asks, concern lacing his voice.

“I have. The baby is just, I don't know, active? The doctors say he's active. Our boys weren't exactly easy pregnancies but I wasn't this uncomfortable with them.”

The squeaky wheels of a cart interrupts them, they both turn their heads to the attendant walking in. Pushing a metal cart that was filled with a few drinks and an assortment of snacks, the attendant asks if they would need anything else.

Vader dismisses the attendant and turns his attention back to his wife.

“Uncomfortable or painful? You need to be honest. I have seen you pregnant, I know you're in pain.” Vader says accusingly.

She doesn't reply. Instead, she opts to run her hands along his suit. Eventually inching up to his face where she runs her fingers across his jaw,his cheek and even his nose.

Vader leans into her, reveling in the contrast of her soft touch against his skin. The way she looked at him so reverently, as if he hung up the stars for her.

In all truth, he would. He wouldn’t even hesitate or question her. He would do anything she asked him to. He didn't deserve this kind of love. He didn't deserve this gentleness and patience. Not after what he's done. Yet, he lets her. He knows he shouldn't let her, but he does every time. She wants to give him all her love and care, yet he feels so desperately undeserving of it. He has tainted her, no matter how hard he tries to, he can't stop himself.

He can't stop himself when she begs him to take her to bed and make love to her or fuck her mindless. He can't stop himself when she's begging him to fill her womb with his seed and give her another baby. Not when she's brought his sons into the world. She has carried and birthed two of his children. Now, she's carrying his third and Vader can feel that she's weaker this time. He won't admit it, he can't admit it.

The dark side in him feeds off this worry, telling him that he will lose her. Telling him that he will lose her to childbirth and the child he put in her will bring her to her death. He condemned her to death the same way he did Padme.

“Stop.” her voice breaks him out of his trance.

She continues “You're spiraling out. You're here yet you're miles away and we can't have that.”

She looks over at the cart and turns to him. With a soft smile on her face she makes him an offer he can't resist.

“How about you eat with me,hmm? I don't have any appetite when I'm alone. Eating with you always helps.”

So, they eat together in silence. The spread of food had enough variety for her not to feel sick. Vader has no protests, as long as she eats. The baby is well-nourished and so is she. She wastes no time in eating her food, having a taste of everything. Vader remembers she is always hungry at this stage of pregnancy, for food and for him. He didn't mind.

Truth be told, he couldn't care if people thought he was pulling away from her. It couldn't be further from the truth. Vader was largely focused on her, his two sons and his unborn child. Everything he did was for them. His plans of betraying Palpatine is all for them. His wife's third pregnancy had thrown a wrench in his plans of overtaking Palpatine. Trying to move her somewhere in this state, he simply couldn't risk it. He didn't want her to be caught in the crossfire while pregnant, not when she is this vulnerable.

The stress could bring harm to both her and the baby. If anything happens to either of them, the dark side would surely dig its claws deeper into him.

Palpatine would also surely take the first chance at killing his pregnant wife if he retaliated. If this happens, the dark side will consume him completely, he thinks. He can't let his boys see that.

Vader also wants to be there for the birth. He wants to make sure she would live through it. Once she's safely given birth safely he prays, he'll have her and the children hidden. Hidden somewhere safe, somewhere protected where no one will be able to find them or hurt them.

Only then will he take on Palpatine. Only then will he destroy his wretched master. He will make Palpatine suffer for all he's taken away from him. Yet, Vader still hesitates. Would this be the right course of action?

Vader was a fool not to see Palpatine’s plans. He believed that Palpatine truly allowed him to have another wife as a reward for his work. In truth, Palpatine wanted his children for his sick and twisted plots. Vader felt his blood run cold and his stomach churn when Palpatine suggested his eldest son be trained in the ways of the dark side soon.

“Will you come home tonight? Perhaps even tuck them in?” Her voice is timid, almost as if she's testing the waters. She doesn't realize it, but her voice snaps him back to reality, grounding him to the world around him.

“Alright. We'll head home soon.” Vader leans in to kiss her, his kiss is passionate yet gentle.

His hand gently weaves itself into her hair and she has no qualms about it. Vader’s kiss tastes sweet, like the fruits he's eaten off the spread and somehow she adores him even more now. The smell of his armor is both comforting and arousing, making her head spin

Vader pushes her fur scarf off her body, exposing her cleavage to him. Laying down, Vader thinks she looks like an angel, a kriffing angel.

Hair tousled and skin warmed, her breasts on display for him. The look in her eyes is one of love and lust which has Vader feeling like a teenage boy with his cock tightening in his pants.

Luckily for him, she's wearing one of her breastfeeding dresses. Vader pulls her dress away from her chest, exposing her to him.

“Vader!” she exclaims loudly, hands swatting him away. “What?” he mischievously grins at her.

“Not here. What if someone enters?”

“I'd kill them” Vader replies nonchalantly.

Vader's tongue moves to toy with one of her nipples, earning a rather erotic groan from her. He gently sucks on her nipple while his hand toys with the other.

Her hand weaves itself into his soft, blonde curls, gripping and tugging it gently as she falls into the fit of pleasure.

Vader moves his attention to her neck, kissing and sucking, leaving red marks in his wake. The smell of her perfume and body oils drives him crazy. When he pulls away, the sight of her flushed face has him breathless and his cock hard.

Vader tugs his gloves off, setting them aside on the cart of food and drinks. Then, he gets between her legs and slowly shifts her skirt up to expose her soaking wet panties. Vader pulls her panties off, tossing them somewhere in the room.

Vader slides two fingers in and out of her, earning moans that any man would beg to hear.

“You smell so sweet and you're so wet. Is all this for me,hmm?” he teases her.

Dizzy from pleasure, she struggles to answer.

“Mmhm..Oh! Who else has me like this?”

“Should I fuck you right here? On this couch, where anyone can walk in,hmm?” he asks.

“I want you. I want you to fuck me, husband” she whines to him.

Satisfied with her answer, Vader leans down and his tongue fiddles with her clit while his fingers pump in and out of her. Her cunt tastes sweet just like her and within minutes, he has her bucking her hips and arching her back, moaning while she grows closer to her climax.

When she does, her body trembles and she tries to close her legs as he continues to suck on her clit and finger her. His fingers move with a come hither motion making her squeal. Her body is always so sensitive when pregnant. Vader loved to see how many times he could make her cum all over him before she couldn't take anymore.

“Ohh, Vader! Vader!” she moans.

Vader continues until she comes undone a second time, her walls clamping down on his finger so tightly he could barely them. Her thighs shake as he sucks harder on her clit and she tries to squirm away from him.

Her thighs wrap around his head and Vader thinks that he could stay there forever. Vader pulls his fingers out of her and his mouth dives right into her pussy, lapping up all her juices.

His wife tries to push him away, clearly it was too much for her. Vader grips her thighs tightly, preventing her from moving away.

Then, he adjusts her on the couch. He helps her get on her knees and positions her so her belly is supported by the couch cushions. Her hands grip the back of the couch for support, preparing to take Vader. Taking her in a back shot position is one of his favorites.

Vader discards his codpiece in record time and unzips himself to free his hard cock. Vader lines his cock up to her and thrusts himself in, her pussy was so wet, it was barely resisting him. He groan loudly as his cock sinks into her warm and wet pussy.

Vader thrusts himself in and out of her, the sounds of their skin slapping only spurring them on. His head moves to the side of her neck, breathing in her scent as one of his hands wraps around her neck gently.

Her moans and pants are music to his ears, he knows she adores it when he's like this. He thrusts into her slow and deep, shifting the angle of his hips to hit the right spots. It takes him all of his control not to fuck the living daylights out of her.

Vader grunts out between his thrusts “You feel so good around me,wife. My wife, the mother of my children, takes my cock so well. Even when you're this pregnant, you still spoil me.”

The hand on her throat moves to clutch her belly. His other hand moves down her swollen belly and to toy with her clit, making her moan loudly.

Vader's thrusts speed up slightly as he rubs her clit, “How long will it take for you to cum this time? You look so good falling apart for me, my darling wife”.

Vader continues his thrusts and the hand on her clit doesn't stop until she comes undone. When she cums, Vader continues to move his cock in and out of her, making her moan and whimper louder. Her walls grip him so tight, it has him grunting as he tries to thrust.

“Vader, Vader, Vader! It's too much! Can't take it, hmmph!” she whimpers.

“I haven't finished yet, my pretty wife. I'm going to fill you up with my cum.” Vader whispers in her ear.

His thrusts now pick up speed as he chases his climax and his fingers on her clit expertly help her get closer to her fourth orgasm as well. Her moans and his grunts fill the room, the sound of their skin slapping against each other echo loudly.

“You're so tight! Too much,hmm? My poor wife can't handle my cock!” He grunts in her ear.

He's close. He's so close and so is he. He ruts into her wildly as he feels her fourth orgasm nearing. She orgasms again, legs shaking as she tries to hold on until he shoots his load deep inside her. She's seeing stars trying not to faint from how good this feels.

“I'm going to cum! Take it, take it” he yells as he shoots his cum inside her. The feeling of being so full of him and his cum has her so dizzy. Her entire body shakes and she's panting as Vader slowly finishes his thrusts.

Vader pulls out of her and the stimulation has her whimpering. His cum drips out of her and onto her thighs and the couch.

Then, he helps her limp body to lay down on the couch. He's careful to lay enough cushions to support her as he lays there satiated and panting. Cleaning himself up, he zips up his pants and places his codpiece back on.

Taking a few tissues, he wipes down the mess he's made between her legs. The contact has her moving away, clearly overstimulated.Then, he helps to adjust her dress and cover her breasts.

“Was that too much, hmm?” Vader asks as he brushes her hair out of her face.

She shakes her head. “It was good. Just what I needed. Though, I don't think I can walk home after this.” she says to him.

Vader leans down to give her a kiss on the cheek before handing her a glass of water with a straw from the cart.“You don't have to. I'll carry you.”

She drinks it under his watchful eye. “I'm doing alright today. The baby is active but the pain isn't too bad. Nothing more than usual. You need not worry, husband.” She says to him.

Vader doesn't answer, merely standing up to grab his helmet and putting it on. He walks over to her and grabs the glass to put it aside.

He picks her up and carries her all the way back to her little ship in the landing bay. Ignoring the eyes of the Imperial officers and stormtroopers, she lays her head on him despite his hard armor poking her head.

By the time they reach her ship, she's fast asleep. Only waking when he straps her into one of the seats. He starts the ship and flies it out the Executor's landing bay down to Coruscant.

Once home, Vader helps her pump her milk since she missed a feeding to go fetch him on his ship. Then,he helps his very sleepy wife freshen up for the night and change into something comfortable for the night. He made sure to rub some ointments on her to soothe her aches and help her sleep.

After he tucks her into bed, he unlatches his helmet and looks out into the nighttime skyline of Coruscant. Bustling with lights and music, filled with party-goers and dwellers from all parts of the galaxy. He turns to look at his wife, sound asleep in his bed looking like an angel. A kriffing angel.

Shedding his armor, Vader heads into the shower. Relieved to wash the day away and calm down, he stands under the warm water for a while. All was well for now. His wife was sound asleep in their bed, his kids were too probably.

Finishing his shower, he gets dressed and heads to his sons’ rooms. Their rooms weren't far, just across from his and his wife's. Close enough for him to get to them if anything were to happen. Nothing would, not under his watch.

He quietly slips into his eldest's room first. The five-year old boy lays sprawling on his bed, blonde curls poking about wildly. His blanket was at the edge of the bed, almost kicked off by the aggressive sleeper that was his son. His son was the most deep sleeper he's seen. An earthquake could happen and the boy would still sleep.

Vader readjusts the boy so he lays properly on his pillow and he slides the blanket back on. He checks the monitor and gives his son a kiss on the forehead before leaving to check on his youngest.

His youngest is now 14 months old. A joyful thing, really. He's always smiling and laughing, following his older brother around.

Vader peers into the boy’s crib to see him clutching his toy purrgil tightly. Vader gives him a kiss and checks the monitor as well before heading to his home office.

Sitting in his chair, he stares at the holo screens in front of him. Now or never, he thinks. He has to put his plans into place if wants to beat Palpatine soon.

He can't hesitate. He has to be sure. Hesitation will get him and his family killed.

His gaze moves to the little clay sculpture of him he has on his desk. It was one his five year old son made for him at school.

He won't hesitate.

Darth Vader does not hesitate.

#anakin skywalker x reader #darth vader x reader #vader x reader #dad!darth vader #husband!vader #unburnt!vader #anakin skywalker #darth vader #star wars #hayden christensen

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jeffreyscoke · 6 months

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Blood of my blood!

You kept all your promises to me.

You killed my enemies in their iron suits.

You tore down their stone houses.

You gave me the seven kingdoms!

Unsullied.

All of you were torn from your mothers’ arms and raised as slaves.

Now…

…You are liberators!

You have freed the people of kings landing from the grip of a tyrant!

But the war is not over.

We will not lay down our spears until we have liberated all the people of the world!

From Winterfell to Dorne, from Lannisport to Qarth, from the Summer Isles to the Jade Sea!

Woman, men and children have suffered to long beneath the wheel!

Will you break the wheel with me?

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gin-juice-tonic · 1 year

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i dont think i’d shake a hand that was engulfed in flame no matter what the guy was offering me- but that might just be me

#like... i like my hand unburnt thank u #Pbbth #big shot stuff

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hanasnx · 11 months

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❝𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥❞

darth vader x fem!reader

masterlist

summary: an officer of your starship becomes wise to you and your lover’s game. seeking the truth, he follows you and lord vader, catching you in the dirty act.

MINORS DNI 18+

character(s): darth vader, officer cordon (oc)

word count: 2k

warnings: established relationship, explicit sex but not as long/detailed as i usually do, lowkey dom vader, exhibitionism but it’s not grossly detailed just someone sneaking on you and vader but he doesn’t see any sex parts, size difference, a really gross show of power, toxic reader and toxic vader, murder

Officer Cordon had been stationed on this Star Destroyer for months. It was an honor to work under Lord Vader, and so Cordon had been pleased to be chosen for this duty. The Sith Lord was not to be trifled with, and Cordon did not take the affairs of his superior lightly. His admiration for his battle strategies made Vader a role model, regardless of his harsh demeanor towards anyone unworthy.

Cordon respected him, and feared him, and whenever he was lucky enough to share a room with Darth Vader, his eyes were on him solely. To study his movements, his commands… Cordon couldn’t look away. As a moth drawn to flame, he was mesmerized and desired to serve the Sith in any way he could.

However, those feelings muddied in time. Confusion took root as he observed the Enforcer of the Galaxy. A woman, you, trailed alongside Vader more often than not. A position Cordon yearned to be. It drove him to glue his watchful eyes to the pair of you. His dedication revealed more than he thought there to be.

Subtlety has never been Vader’s strong suit. Cordon learned that when he had walked into a room and unexpectedly met the view of the Sith Lord brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. Going unnoticed, Cordon slinked into the shadows, and saw the two of you leave together. This newfound discovery fueled his fire, curiosity gripped him to uncover exactly what you were to Lord Vader. You couldn’t be a mere recorder if such a merciless monster touched you so tenderly.

Following you closely, Cordon was privy to information he never would’ve come across without spying. He felt so clueless he hadn’t seen it before. Was everyone on this ship aware of it but him? Did they choose not to say something out of fear? It was unprofessional for a superior such as Lord Vader to display favoritism to a lowly recorder— if that even was your job.

Cordon witnessed how Vader pinched your chin to guide you look at him. Your countenance and body language conveyed defiance. Shying away from him, acting as though he was not in charge of you. Yet instead of striking you down or casting you out, Vader merely directed your movements and you hesitantly relinquished control to him. This was not the Darth Vader that Officer Cordon pedestalized.

Yet again, the Sith reminded Cordon how human he was and how he brandished it when you were involved. A marginal incline of the black helmet, and the Officer could’ve sworn he was… checking out your ass as you strode in front of him? It was sickening to see. A lump formed in Cordon’s throat to view such a shameless example of Vader’s preference towards you. As if to confirm his suspicions, he noted how you glanced over your shoulder at the sith as if to ensure he was watching you flaunt your womanly wiles. Cordon couldn’t bear this, and the guilt weighed on him for leaving this unreported.

One of the worst and most blatant disregards for protocol leading up to the incident was when Cordon had seen the two of you sneak off, and when he’d caught up from a safe distance, you were pressed up against the wall in a narrow corridor, and hooked your hand into Vader’s belt, tugging him over to you, pressing him to you. Caged within his heavy arms and veiled by his cape, you bit your lip suggestively, gazing up at him through your thick lashes and bright, doe eyes. It made Cordon sick. Was it you that had the Dark Lord under some sort of spell? Did their great leader fall victim to your siren’s song? Who sent you?

A single finger of Lord Vader’s traced the cut of your jaw, and brushed over your lips, flicking the lower one so it’d bob back up. Cordon strained his ears, able to understand only a fraction of what he was saying to you. “Shall I put that naughty mouth to use, little one?”

Cordon’s jaw dropped, and he escaped before he was detected.

His ignorance of the situation had faded, he was determined to know all he could. What was the true nature of the relationship? And to what extent did it stretch? Who else was cognizant of this tragedy? Surely not the Emperor.

A certain excitement bloomed in Cordon’s chest at the notion he’d be the one to reveal this valuable discovery to the Emperor. The reward would be so sweet. Perhaps, the Emperor would be so pleased he’d promote Cordon to replace Lord Vader. The model he’d coveted the most would work underneath him if he were not killed for this offense. It was so delicious, Cordon had to contain himself from spilling it to his cherished leader immediately. In order to be believed, a professional detective would have proof. So that is what Cordon set his sights on.

The officer kept his distance, following the route you and Lord Vader set. It aided him in his deduction of where the two of you most frequently rendezvoused. His avid snooping granted him the ability to plan his method.

You challenged your lover, tugging him along by his arm. “You’ve been neglecting me, handsome,” Dazzling as your smile was, Vader kept his gaze forward.

“Hardly. I’ve never met someone so insatiable.” he responded, and you recognized his playful tone.

When you looked at him, his mask inclined toward you as if he casted you a side glance, “I have.” you replied, and tongued the corner of your cheek. He scoffed at the implication you meant him. Strongly, he led you to a lockable room. The familiarity of the situation had butterflies erupting in your stomach. As he’s done a thousand times before, he pulled you in front of him, pressing your back to a holo-table by your hips. This was his personal command center, used for battle strategies, mapping, and occasionally love making. You hopped up obediently with his aid.

“Shall I satisfy your needs once more, my love? I promise this time I’ll not stop ‘til you beg for it.” his words were decisive, and it shot straight through you to your core. You nodded enthusiastically. “Happy to get what you want?”

“Always.”

“Spoiled,”

“As I should be.” you said and he hummed in affirmation as his hands wandered you. You could feel his metal through his gloves, squeezing your hips and rounding to your waist, arching you into him. You braced against him on his lumbering shoulders, and symbolically you pressed a kiss to his mouth piece. Curtly, he directed you down, lying on your back onto the holotable, your hair splaying out like a halo. A perfect fallen angel.

Vader’s eyes trailed down your bodice, tightly wrapped up in clothes he would not yet peel off of you. Your gaze trained on him, as his hands ambled, squeezing and kneading as he went. As naughty as you were, he couldn’t say no to you when you yearned for him so obviously. Your body called to him like a lighthouse in a storm, no matter how much you denied it, his force sensitivity made him aware of your attachment to him. His fingertips left a trail of fire in their wake, anticipation building in your belly being privy to their destination.

Cordon could hear it all. See it all. The contortions of disgust on his face rarely shifted, frozen in place from this putrid revelation. Nevertheless, he waited. He waited for his moment to strike. He peeked around the corner. Saw how you were on your back, and how only your head was visible to him because of the dark figure in front of you and his shrouding cape.

Darth Vader handled your waist and hips, generously exploring territory he’s laid claim to a thousand times. You jutted your chin, “Get on with it, killer.”

You stared up at him with stars in your eyes as he massaged your thigh, adhering your suggestion but taking his time, reminding you to be patient. It was exceptionally difficult, and your fingers clutched onto the cloth of his tunic, guiding him closer, silent in asking him to maintain proximity. To touch you, to let you feel his daunting presence. Your Lord Vader was so much larger than you, towering over the table where you lay. His broad hands roamed the expanse of your stomach and trailing down to the heat between your legs, glossing over your clothed sex.

Out of sensitivity, you chased his touch, lifting your hips with a sigh through your perfect lips. Lips that Vader longed to capture, but was reduced to running the pads of his fingers over, toying with the flesh. Coyly, you kissed the tip of it, and when he idled out of curiosity, you seized a step further. You took the finger into your mouth, the leather scraping against your tongue as you sink the length of his digit in to suck on it. Fascinated by your odd behavior— licking on a fabric of all things— he remained, bobbing the single item in and out of your pillowy lips, until he invited another in, now two that played with your tongue. He observed how mischievous you were, and exited your mouth only to scoop you up in his strong arms.

“What—? Hey!” you squealed in delight, your fun interrupted as he harshly propped you between his rigid body and the wall.

“I cannot wait any longer.” he breathed. His contradicting words worsen your smile, cocky at the fact he had begun this to take it slow, and now you felt his hardened member against your inner thigh.

You helped in maneuvering, sliding your nimble hands exactly where they needed to be. Disengaging his codpiece, and tugging your pants out of the way, his swollen head eagerly thumbing your entrance. “Now, it’ll be a little tight right now, since we skipped— oh,” The bulb of him inched in, the pleasurous sting of being stretched stealing the breath from your lungs. If a quickie was what he wanted, you were not complaining.

With each roll of his hips, he rooted further and further in, and your silken walls clenched around him, earning you his heartened grunts. You were wet but not enough for his substantial member. There was no way he could fit.

“My lord,” you spoke through a hiss, your cervix uncomfortably brushed. “hold on, I’m too ti—“ In the middle of asking for some more foreplay, you nearly jumped out of your skin at an entire person appearing out of thin air. You clutched onto the Sith by his shoulders out of surprise.

“Ah-ha!” Cordon, who could not take this abuse for a second more, leapt from his hiding spot, turning both the heads of you and the Enforcer buried inside you. “Tsk, tsk, Lord Vader. I expected more from you.” The high-and-mighty attitude Cordon adopted was unappreciated you and your lover were now halted mid-fuck. Your opposer plucked his datapad from its holster on his belt, and the surreality of it all continued to shock you into silence. “I’ll have to report you to the Emperor you understand, this is highly irregular—“

A sickening snap caused you to yelp and cover your mouth, Cordon’s lifeless body crumpling to the ground pathetically.

Your mouth did not close, unable to process what just happened. Your claws dug into Vader’s shoulder, and his hand lowered, having finished its job of ridding the mouthy uniform and the threat to his position.

Finally, it registered, and without a second thought your fist banged into the side of his arm. “Why did you do that?” you scolded, a frown to your brows that your lover simply cannot resist. His hips begin to roll, returning to the pace he’d set before, and like his personal concubine you relax being pacified. He’d felt the way your sex drooled around him in response to his wrathful show of strength. The unfair trial and execution of someone lesser, someone beneath him. A bystander to his power.

“Why did you like it?” he purred.

Able to fit entirely inside now, he seized the opportunity, increasing his thrusts so you can’t think let alone interject. You whined as he used you to work out his frustrations, a suspicious lack of protest as a corpse lays a stone’s throw away.

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kaylin-lmfao · 7 months

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hate fucking with anakin anyone? you’re both arguing, screaming and yelling at each other, both of you making such a big deal over a minor fucking inconvenience. you’re pushing him and shoving him away, and he pins you against the wall, not caring and rough. the next thing you know, you’re bent over, his thick cock inside you, and he’s manhandling you. using you however he sees fit. you’ve never been submissive like this for anyone, ever. you’ve never let anyone treat you like this, ever. but jesus, you aren’t going to complain. you blush, ashamed when he degrades you and teases you. “so wet and tight. all of this for someone you claim to hate.” he runs his fingers over your swollen clit. “this doesn’t feel like hate, princess” he finds it fucking funny when even though you’re humiliated and ashamed, you still beg him for more, for him to make you cum.

#anakin #anakin fanfiction #anakin smut #unburnt vader smut #darth vader smut #anakin skywalker smut #star wars anakin

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kowaiitenshii · 8 months

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Sunkiller Lullaby Part Four

Pairing: Darth Vader X Reader

Plot Summary: Your new guardian is revealed, and Lord Vader begins teaching you the ways of the Force.

Warnings: Unburnt!Vader. Canon-divergent. Descriptions of an injury. Lowkey toxic relationship. Corruption. Reader is a former slave. Improper use of the Force probably. Distressing visions. Vader is his own warning. Tension. AFAB Reader, feminine pronouns and descriptions used. Vague feminine nudity described. Mild 18+ warning.

Words: 6.4k

A/N: Hello everyone! It's finally here!! Thank you so much for all the support on this series, I appreciate each and every one of you, and I can’t wait to keep writing more for you! Please enjoy!

Eyes rolling in your head, you groan softly as you blink back into consciousness, sight and sound fading back in. As the fuzziness in your vision clears, the first thing your gaze locks onto are those horribly familiar blazing yellow eyes.

Your eyes widen instantly, the feeling of him cradling you suddenly becoming scorching. You tense violently in his grasp, and you barely managed to stifle a startled gasp.

“Easy, Princess.” your guardian soothes, a sanguine grin spread over his lips.

You’re frozen at the sound of hearing his voice for the first time, the smooth, even cadence to it.

Yet, you can’t help but correct him.

“(Y/N).” You say quietly, but firmly. This situation is already awkward enough, you don’t think you can handle him confusing you for royalty, the idea making your head swim again.

“(Y/N), then.” He replies coolly. “My mistake.”

His eyes slice up to the top of your head, and you are suddenly made painfully aware of the fact you are still wearing the ruby circlet your Master had gifted you. Your heart thuds painfully in your chest, and your breaths come all too quickly.

The shocking fact that this mysterious man truly even exists is still hitting you like a thunderbolt.

The sight of him exactly as you dreamed, the palpability of his touch, his scent, it’s all so overwhelming.

You feel like the whole of your being is set aflame.

Scrambling away from him as quickly as you can muster, you attempt to stand on shaken legs. He rises from kneeling as you do, placing a firm hand on your lower back to steady you.

“Easy.” he soothes you again, the feeling of his touch so acute that you tense again.

“You must be quite shaken.” He asserts.

“Y-Yes.” you falter, shambling out of his grasp.

It is only then that you realize your droid friend is in a frenzy, asking if you are alright.

You muster a nod before plopping onto the edge of your bed and snatching the circlet off of your head, placing it on your bedside table.

“I am bringing antihistamines and tea to help with the vertigo at once Milady, I insist!” the friendly droid declares while nodding fervently, before hastily leaving the room.

As the droid leaves the two of you in tense silence, you hang your head in your hands and take deep breaths. Shock and dread pool together and mix in your gut, and paired with your lightheadedness it makes you nauseous.

Calm down. You tell yourself.

They were only dreams. It wasn’t as if he had been there too. It’s not the end of the world. Just a deep secret you will have to hide.

You can do that right? You can hide your dream induced fascination?

Sure you can.

You have to.

As you collect yourself, you can feel the weight of his gaze upon you. In the waking world, you squirm beneath it, the authenticity and the palpability of his existence still feeling surreal and therefore, uncomfortable.

Your suite feels much smaller with his presence crowding it, the air thick with it, and the room suddenly feels claustrophobic.

You look up at him with a cautious glance, swallowing dryly before your voice breaks the silence.

“What is your name?” you ask your mysterious suitor quietly, your voice much breathier than you would have preferred.

“My name is none of your concern.” He says matter-of-factly, simply standing by the door with his hands folded.

“...Alright then.” You say, stunned for a moment by his shirking off of your question.

You let out an annoyed sigh through your nose, hanging your head back in your hands.

Nothing makes any sense, and you are beginning to think that making sense of the situation is a task for another day.

The smooth sound of his voice slices through the silence, and your gaze cuts up to meet his.

“My apologies if my presence here upsets you, my Lady.” He says softly, dipping his head in respect as he speaks. For a split second, your chest tightens, your mind jumping to the conclusion that he must know.

“I cannot imagine that you are often in the company of any Sith Lords beside Lord Vader.” he explains with a smile on the edge of his lips, and you release the breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

You shake your head, clearing your throat softly.

“You are correct. Lord Vader is the only Sith Lord I have ever met, but your presence is not a bother to me.” you say, your hesitant gaze flicking from him to the floor and back. “I am simply very, very tired.” you lie, picking at your nails idly.

Well, it wasn’t a complete lie anyway. You were tired, exhausted even.

He tips his head in understanding, a soft smile spreading across his lips. You’re struck by his smile, though if you’re honest, you’re struck by everything about him.

He is exactly as you remember, and your heart strings pull uncomfortably tight in your chest. He stands across the room near the door, and you steal nervous glances at him every chance you get.

He stands tall with his back to the wall, his posture disciplined, gloved hands folded in front of him. His golden hair falls in those same perfect, gleaming waves upon his shoulders, his lips plump and pursed in his observation, his aura murky and suffocating. His incandescent, fiery eyes scan the room, and you look away before your eyes can meet.

Suddenly, his attention turns to the door and the friendly service droid enters as if on cue. It quickly comes over to you with a saucer and cup of tea in hand, along with two small capsules.

“Here you are, Madam.” it says, placing the tea on your bedside table and handing you the capsules.

“Please take the medicine at once, Milady, it will do wonders.” the droid insists, and you comply, tossing the capsules back with a swig of warm tea.

“Thank you, my friend.” you say to the droid with a terse smile.

“Of course, Milady. If there should be anything else you require during the night, simply have your guardian send for me.” The droid says, a hint of worry in its voice.

“Absolutely. If anything were to happen, you shall be the first to know.” you assure the droid with a gentle smile.

“Very well, Madam. I shall leave you to rest then.” the kind droid says with a bow, before quietly leaving for the night.

As you’re left in wretched silence with your new guardian, the ambient noise of the room seems deafening. The buzzing of the lighting, the quiet humming of the ship’s climate controls, even the sound of your own breathing is overwhelming as you zone out, staring into the patterns on the carpeting.

You have the biting urge to run, to leave the room that is filled with his drowning presence.

So you do, in the least conspicuous way possible.

Slipping off of the silken sheets and keeping your gaze to the floor, you pace towards the washing room for a bath.

“What are you doing?” your mysterious guardian asks, the sound stopping you in your tracks.

Closing your eyes and clenching your fists to steady yourself, you swallow hard before responding.

“I’m going for a soak. I need one after today.” you state, valiantly attempting to hide your shaken nerves.

“Then I shall assist you.” he asserts smoothly, and you can hear heavy footsteps approaching, his energy closing in.

Your eyes snap open, and you instantly feel your cheeks go hot.

He can’t be serious.

“That won’t be necess-” you stammer out before he cuts you off.

“You just fainted and you are injured. It is absolutely necessary.” He insists, and you can feel his menacing shadow just behind you, the hairs on your neck standing on end.

“It is not necessary. I do not need someone watching me bathe as if I were a child.” you hiss through gritted teeth, your hands now trembling from the build up of nerves. You try to leave the conversation at that, quickly pacing towards the entrance of the washroom.

Before you can enter, he swiftly slips around you and blocks the doorway, leaning against the frame with a strong arm and towering over you.

“Unfortunately it is necessary my Lady. If you were to faint again or somehow otherwise become hurt, Lord Vader will have my head.” he says, and as infuriating as it is you know it to be true.

“And you think that would be my problem?” you spit, meeting his scorching gaze with a defiant glare. “That I should let you watch me bathe simply because of that? I think not.”

He throws his head back and lets out an amused sigh, before meeting your icy gaze in a way that makes it melt.

“If you take me for a degenerate, you are sadly mistaken, Milady. I would not even need to look.” he says, a smirk sliding across his lips as he watches your eyes go wide and the flush on your cheeks deepen.

“A-And how is that?” you falter, your facade beginning to crumble.

Letting out an amused huff and rolling his eyes, he lets his eyes fall shut. You watch in a mixture of wonder and confusion as he raises his right hand, flicking up a single finger. As he does, the lights in the washroom come to life.

When he opens his eyes again, he gives a satisfied chuckle at your shocked expression.

“Did you think Lord Vader was the only Sith Lord who is strong with the Force?” he laughs, and you’re struck, rooted to the spot knowing you have no counter arguments and no excuses; and you hate that fact.

You had no idea he would be this frustrating in the real world.

Knowing there’s nothing you can say to deter him, you let out an indignant huff and duck under his arm to enter the washroom.

He follows behind with a chuckle, the door sliding shut behind him. You immediately begin throwing off your clothes in your frustration, and you’re surprised to find him facing the wall when you turn back around.

Hmph. At least he respects what’s left of your dignity to some extent.

With shaking hands you turn on the faucet for the tub, allowing it to fill with steaming water. You do your best to ignore the man in the corner and the dark effulgence of his aura that fills the room, finding it difficult with the clench of anxiety tightening in your chest.

Despite the trembling in your bones and the rapid pace of your heartbeat, you slip into the tub, being careful to keep your bandages dry. The hot water is a shock to your skin, and you ease yourself into it.

As your body adjusts to the temperature, you can feel the bone-deep exhaustion melting away. You begin to pour salts and aromatics into the tub, sinking deeper into relaxation with every inhale of the calming aroma.

However, you aren’t completely off the edge of your anxiety. Every so often, your eyes flit over to the man standing in the corner; ensuring he’s still facing away from you, that he won’t suddenly move and try something.

It’s hard to fully give in and relax, to fully trust in someone.

Until recently, trust had been a concept entirely foreign, a word that held no meaning. In your past, trust had been little more than a promise of betrayal.

It’s hard to let that feeling go, as your hesitance and mistrust of others had become your shield so long ago.

But things are different now.

You aren’t there anymore, and you’re still grappling with that reality.

Yet, no matter how many times you look up, he never moves an inch. He stands still as a statue, facing the corner, his hands idly folded behind his back.

You wonder if the only thing keeping him to his word is the imminent threat of Lord Vader’s wrath.

It also crosses your mind that you may be prematurely judging your guardian, and you wonder if he truly is anything like he was in your dreams.

You remember the warmth and comfort he had brought you, the softness of his skin, the taste of his lips.

Remembering it all makes you blush, and you sink deeper into the tub.

Could all of it really just be a dream?

It had to be, you guess, for there are no other explanations.

Letting out a soft sigh through your nostrils, you busy yourself with washing up, hoping to rid your mind of all your itching questions and burning nerves. You grab a soft washcloth from the woven basket next to the tub, submerging it before pouring a dab of perfumed soap onto it. You get to work cleansing yourself of the muck and dust and dried blood left from being unconscious on the flight-deck, and all goes well until you begin to have to stretch to reach certain places.

As you stretch your left arm out to cleanse your leg, you tense and let out a sharp, pained hiss, dropping the cloth and clutching your injured arm to your chest with the pain ringing through you.

The sound of your guardian’s voice cuts through the silence as a knife.

“Will you let me help you?” he asks, his voice soft, and low.

You stare at his broad, turned back for a moment, caught off guard by his question.

You take a moment to contemplate your answer, still clutching your aching arm to your chest.

The question leaves you feeling vulnerable, and vulnerable is not something you are easily willing to be anymore.

However, there’s something soft in the way he says it.

Will you let me?

It implies the help was always there, waiting, and it relieves you of the humiliating task of asking for it.

Then, the tremoring memory of your Master’s voice cuts through your mind with a pertinent reminder.

Let go of your past, girl.

The past is not your reality.

What was is gone.

Finally, you relent. You wish for nothing more than to feel clean, to absolve yourself of the day’s sins; and if this was how you achieved it, then so be it.

“Fine.” you accept coldly, inevitably steeling your nerves against the possibility of a negative outcome. “You may help.”

The man lets out a small huff, before becoming entirely silent and still once more. Watching in quiet curiosity, you observe the soaked cloth as it begins to levitate out of the water, ringing itself out.

You flinch slightly at the sharp sound of the droplets hitting the surface of the water, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, your eyes switching between the cloth and the man in the corner.

He stands still, his hands folded resolutely behind his back, his head hanging and eyes shut.

“I’m going to begin now. Alright?” he asks, his voice quiet.

“A-Alright.” you mimic back to him, your voice trembling. You curse yourself for being so easily shaken by something that shouldn’t be such a big ordeal.

The washcloth connects with the skin of your right leg which you struggled to reach, and it takes everything in your being not to flinch. Even with indirect contact, you feel his electrifying energy equally as intensely.

The cloth slides slowly over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He cleanses your lower legs and lower parts of your thighs thoroughly and gently, careful to avoid any sensitive areas. As you become accustomed to the sensation, you relax marginally.

The cloth slides up your leg, traveling over the curve of your hip and pausing at the side of your abdomen just before your ribs.

Your guardian peers over his shoulder, however his eyes remain shut, keeping his promise. Realizing he is once again asking your permission, you lean back in the tub and allow him to continue.

Your cheeks heat as the cloth slides sensuously over the tender flesh of your ribs, over the soft skin just beneath your breasts. It sends a shiver down your spine, the mixed sensations of the soft cloth, the warm water, his radiant energy.

Letting out a tempered sigh, you finally allow yourself to relax, laying your head back and letting yourself enjoy the simple pleasure of having someone doting on you. Each swirl of the warm cloth against your skin serves to relax you more and more, until everything else melts away but the pleasant sensations and the sound of your own breathing.

Eventually, the cloth slides softly up the valley in the middle of your chest, gliding up over your collar bone, and you flush as it stops abruptly.

Your heart thumps against your ribcage, waiting for your guardian to ask to continue.

But the question never comes.

You almost wish it did.

Feeling a vague sense of disappointment, you finish up the job yourself before allowing the tub to drain. You carefully raise yourself up out of the tub and slip on a towel, your guardian still silently awaiting any signs of distress. You clear your throat awkwardly, and he peers over his shoulder, his eyes open this time.

“Finished?” he asks, a soft smile on his lips.

“Quite.” you answer quietly, exiting the washroom with your mysterious suitor following close behind.

You slip into an exceptionally comfortable looking set of red silken sleep robes, only allowing your towel to drop once your valuables are covered. The energy in the room is slightly tense as you slip into your bed, your guardian seating himself in the plush armchair that sits against the wall across from your bed.

It's still so strange. Everything is. It’s too much to think about.

His strangling presence doesn’t leave you the room to question the reality of him being here, your only option is to accept it.

The day in its entirety has been too much too quickly, and all you want to do now is slip into escapism.

So, you pick up one of the ancient tomes of knowledge from your bedside table, tucking into and becoming lost in tales of the Sith.

Your midnight guardian watches all the while, and eventually the tense silence settles into something more comfortable.

After a while, you finally lose the fight with sleep, the ancient omnibus still in your relaxed hand. Darth Vader still watches from his seat, silently observing the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, the gentle fluttering of your beauteous lashes as you dream.

All the while, he feels the foreign beating of his own heart.

He is pleased with himself. You recognized him alright, but silly girl, you still didn’t know.

Although he had not planned on becoming your night watchman, he would do anything to unravel the mystery coiled up and hidden within you, anything to keep you safe.

And he refused to back down now.

Rising from his seat, he carefully takes the book from your fingertips, placing it on your bedside table. He pulls the covers over you, taking a moment just to look upon you, his chest tightening in a way that he tries to ignore before resuming his position.

Bare feet padding quietly through the misty, lush green forest that surrounds you, rain-soaked leaves squish softly beneath them. There is a dense fog that flows between the trees, sticking to your skin and clinging to your clothes.

It is almost peaceful, with the sounds of nature surrounding you and the gentle breeze blowing through your hair, but you can sense a presence hidden deep within the forest of this dreamland that leaves you on edge.

You walk for what seems like hours, twisting and turning deeper and deeper into the seemingly endless expanse of trees. You look over your shoulder every now and then, expecting an attack that never comes.

All the while, you can hear the subtle, unmistakable sibilance of Lord Vader’s breathing through the trees, somewhere off in the distance. Like a moth to a flame you follow it, but no matter how long or how far you walk, you are never able to reach him.

The next morning, you stretch and rub your eyes before a sharp pain brings all the memories flooding back. You carefully sit up, using your uninjured arm to prop yourself up. You look around the room, illuminated by the rays of a passing sun, and you are surprised to find it empty.

Without the grand, thunderous energy of your mysterious guardian filling it, the room feels almost too empty, too quiet.

You give a gentle sigh, sliding out of bed. You walk a bit more stiffly today, small aches here and there littering your body. Slipping out of your sleepwear, you toss them into the laundry chute located on the wall by the washroom door.

You pace over to your vanity mirror, eyes immediately falling upon the wide, deep bruise painted upon the greater portion of your chest and upper arm. Hesitantly, you slip cautious fingers beneath the gauzy bandages interwoven between your chest and upper arm, taking your first peek at your injury.

Hissing as the bandage peels away from the skin, you wince at the sight of the angry, red skin of the burn, and you hate to imagine the kind of scar it will leave.

You replace your bandaging, dressing yourself in loose, flowing robes in an effort to maximize your comfort. The most you do to your hair is comb through it and fix any stray pieces, unwilling to put any more effort into it.

It is then that a familiar rapping sounds at your chamber door, and for the first time today your spirits are lifted.

“Come in!” you call out, and your droid friend enters.

“Good morning, Madam! Are you feeling alright this morning?” The kind service droid greets you.

You shrug and nod, smiling lightly at the droid.

“As alright as one can after being shot, I suppose.” you answer, a hint of playful sarcasm in your tone.

“That will have to do, I suppose. Are you ready for your breakfast, Milady?” the droid asks, and you nod, seating yourself at your table. The droid nods its acknowledgement, serving you a meal consisting of brightly coloured exotic berries and fruits, buttered toasts, and sweet, tangy yogurts.

You eat slowly, savoring every bite and taking your time to replenish yourself.

To your surprise, your droid friend has no announcements, no agenda for you today.

“Lord Vader has ordered you to take the day to do as you please, Milady.” the droid explains. “To rest, he said.”

“Does Lord Vader have any obligations today?” you ask, quirking up a surprised eyebrow.

“None, Milady.” the droid replies.

You shrug idly, standing from your place at the table.

“Then I shall join him.” you state, and the droid nods, seeming vaguely surprised with you.

“As you wish, Madam.” the droid affirms.

Injured or not, spending the entire day languishing in your chamber would bore you to death.

The droid dutifully leads you to Lord Vader’s private quarters, entering the combination into the keypad and giving you a respectful bow in parting. You nod a goodbye back to your companion before entering, and it dawns on you as you cross the threshold that you are not afraid.

Of course, goosebumps still frost over the back of your neck as you approach, but the churning dread you’ve felt every other time has washed away.

As if you had been testing the frigid waters of Vader’s aura, and you had finally become acclimated to the bone-chilling temperature.

Entering the room fully, your eyes immediately land upon your Master. He is seated at his work desk, his dark cloak draping over the backrest of his chair. His massive form is leaned over, and as you approach you can see that he is toiling over the machinery of his right hand. You take the sight in for a moment, having had no idea that his hand was cybernetic in the first place.

“Morning, my pet.” he says, acknowledging your presence without ever looking at you.

The new term of endearment isn’t lost on you, your cheeks heating ever so lightly, although you do not acknowledge it.

“Morning, my Lord.” you reply, watching as he fumbles with one large hand to try and repair the other. His glove is limiting his dexterity, and you can’t imagine that the visibility through the visor of the helmet is helping. Feeling his frustrations rippling around him, you pull up a chair, sitting next to him and earning a curious glower.

“May I try?” you offer, and that gets his attention. He gives you an appraising look for a moment, before setting his tool down and laying his thick arm upon the table, the sleek biomechanics of his palm facing up.

You take his large hand in yours, inspecting it closely as Vader tenses ever so slightly. You examine the mechanisms of his hand, marveling at the advanced technology. It is cool to the touch, shining beneath the white lighting.

Despite it obviously being some of the Empire’s most advanced machinery, you believe you can see the problem.

Vader watches you intently the entire time, his gaze burning through you, his body unmoving.

Using a delicate hand, you adjust a couple sensors and tighten a few connections as your heart flutters in your chest under his close observation, the feeling of holding his hand in yours making your fingertips buzz like static.

“Where did you learn such skills?” The Sith Lord asks, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.

“If someone with my background wants to survive, they must learn to be proficient at many jobs, my Lord.” you answer honestly with a soft smile, securing the protective covering back over your Master’s prosthesis. He says nothing in response, flexing and clenching his fingers, watching them with silent approval.

You can sense that he is pleased with your work, and you feel moderately proud of yourself.

Vader takes a long look at you, pulling his thick glove back over his hand, the leather giving a quiet squeal as it stretches, the expression of his helmet as unmoving and stern as it ever is.

The more time you spend with him, the more you learn to rely on reading his body language to decode his thoughts and emotional state. Like right now, the way he sits silently next to you, his breathing quieted. The way he keeps stretching his fingers out and clenching them again. You had gained a bit of his interest, perhaps even surprised him.

It’s his turn to surprise you then as he stands abruptly, his cloak swishing behind him and brushing over your legs with a cool gust of air.

“Come.” Lord Vader commands. “There is something I want to show you.”

You blink at him for a second, before rising and obediently following your Master.

He leads you out of his quarters and into an adjacent room in the corridor.

It’s capacious, dimly lit, and almost entirely empty save for a huge apparatus across the room the likes of which you’ve never seen. It is rounded at the top and bottom, like a great dragon’s egg, cracked and held open on either end.

You come to understand that it is some sort of chamber, meant to entirely enclose somebody within. Claustrophobia hits your gut with a torrent of nausea at the thought, and you jolt slightly at the feeling of a wide hand on the small of your back.

“Fear not, pet. I will not force you to go in there today.” Lord Vader says, his tone almost teasing as he reassures you. You can feel your cheeks heating up, a rush of relief washing over you as he ushers you to sit.

Brows pinching in confusion, you watch as Lord Vader strides a few feet away, sitting on the slick, shining tile and facing you.

You are really at a loss this time, there is no guessing what your Master has planned and you are becoming tired of constantly asking why or how, a dull acceptance beginning to settle in your bones.

“I would like you to try something for me.” He explains, and your throat bobs in anticipation of what your Master will say next.

“As you wish, Master.” you respond, knowing there is no other choice but compliance. At the same time, you can feel yourself becoming more resigned to Lord Vader’s will, more trusting of the things he has planned for you.

A dangerous game it is, making the devil your most trusted friend.

“You are going to meditate. Try to connect to the Force.” Lord Vader commands, his dark voice echoing all around the sparsely decorated room. His words only serve to confuse you further, cocking your head as you respond.

“But I cannot use the Force, my Lord.” you say as if reminding him. “I do not know how.” If you were quite honest, you had no idea that using the Force was even an option for someone like you, and the idea takes you aback.

“Perhaps that is what you think. But I will show you the way.” He replies, and you blush ever so slightly.

Your mind is in a frenzy for a moment as you process the implications of this.

That it was possible for you to learn the ways of the Force.

That with the Force, came the promise of power.

You feel as if the two of you are opening the doorway to everything you’ve been hunting for your entire life.

Lord Vader watches you closely, feeling a measure of satisfaction as he watches your body tense and your eyes widen, as he feels the grasping, desperate energy simmering within you.

He is throwing you the bait, all you must do is take it.

He needs to know if you are as powerful as he suspects, needs to unravel the mystery tangled up within you, to find the source of the invisible threads of fate that bound him to you.

If he is correct about you… you may be the long awaited key to unlocking the peace and freedom he has spent his entire life attempting to actualize, and he feels an irksome twinge of hope at the idea.

“Close your eyes.” Lord Vader commands.

Looking at your Master with a curious eye, you oblige his demands. You slip your eyes shut, taking in a deep breath through your nose and relaxing your shoulders.

“Good.” Vader praises you. “Now breathe.”

Shifting slightly, you take in a deep breath and let it out at a measured pace.

“Feel the air rushing into your lungs, the oxygen flowing through your body.” Lord Vader instructs, and you obey. You feel the air as it fills your lungs, the emptiness as it leaves them. You feel the steady beating of your heart, the interconnectedness of your entire being as it works. As you focus, your body becomes more relaxed, your hands resting palm side up over your crossed knees.

“Can you feel it?” your Master asks, the sibilance of his voice and his breathing and the electrical hum of the chamber serving as exquisite white noise. “The energy that passes through you, that surrounds you?” he asks.

Relaxing into the buzzing energy that soaks into you, that moves through your very veins as your own flesh and blood, you give a slow affirmative nod.

“Good…young one.” He says, and it’s becoming harder to focus on him.

“Reach out into it.” Lord Vader coaches you. “Open your mind.”

Breathing deeply, your lips part slightly as you focus upon the effervescent energy that fills the room, swirling around the two of you and moving through you. Fingertips tingling, you let go of your skepticism. You breathe deeply, slowly, feeling the clouds in your mind clearing. It feels as though a great weight is lifted from your shoulders, and you begin to envision a door within your mind, misty shadows swirling out from the gap beneath the door.

“Open it.” Vader says, his unmistakable voice sounding a million miles away.

You reach out to the metaphysical door, the handle cold against your palm as you turn it.

All the while, Lord Vader watches with bated breath.

Opening the door within your mind, you feel the lurch in your gut as you fall off the precipice. The air is nearly taken from you as a torrential downpour of the energy floods in, tumbling and plummeting in your mind's eye; your entire body erupting in frigid goosebumps. Suddenly, it feels like your whole being has been flipped on its axis, the swaying sensation nearly sickening.

Still you push through it, exploring through the ephemeral, glowing energy of the spiritual plane. You see yourself standing in an endless line of versions of yourself, stretching as far as the eye can see in either direction.

Heart thumping with trepidation, you outstretch a hand to the turned back of yourself, fingertips nearly burning. Before your fingertips can connect with the soft fabric of your own robes, you’re plunged back into the depths, dragged under the waves within your mind.

You sink into the icy waters, feeling as it carries you deeper, the waves cradling you.

When you fall through the treacherous ocean to the other side, you’re presented with the chilling image of yourself in chains. She is thin and exhausted, dark circles under her eyes and her skin rubbed raw where she is bound to the floor by wrought iron. Chills running through your bones and your blood running cold, you watch in horror as you are ripped apart. You watch yourself torn apart in agonizingly lurid detail, rooted to the floor, you can feel a fine sheen of sweat forming upon your worried brow.

All the while, the sharp frisson of the Force surges within and around you in tidal waves. Stunned, you watch an alluring, monstrous version of yourself materialize from the inky depths of the ether. She reaches with shadow-stained fingertips to gather the pieces of herself, a blithe expression painted over her features. She carefully fits the pieces of herself back together, soldering her very soul back together with gold.

When she is finished, and the ruined version of herself glows with her golden cracks, she tenderly gathers her in her arms. She holds the broken girl until she melts into her touch, and they meld together to become one.

She turns to look at you, and goosebumps ice over your skin as you see that her eyes are gleaming yellow fire as they fall upon you. You watch with a haunted expression as she reaches out a hand to you, your heart beating at a dizzying pace.

Come back to me.

You hear the echoing whisper all around you, though her lips do not move.

Come back to me.

The void calls again.

Cautiously, you reach out your hand, your eyes locked upon your own reflected back at you in a glowing inferno. A blissful smile slides across her lips as you brush your fingertips, the sensation like that of touching a livewire.

In an instant as you make contact, you’re shocked by both the buzzing in your fingertips and the feeling of being plunged back into the icy waves of the Force.

The current is tumultuous, untamed, washing over you and dragging you under. As the chill seeps through you and you sputter and choke, the echo comes again.

Come back.

Come to me.

It whispers, the energy swirling warmly around you and enveloping you in its grace, pulling you back to the surface of the waves.

Come back.

It whispers a last time, and as you settle back into your body, the sounds of the room fade back in. The humming of the dim lights, of the electronics, the steady thrum of your own heartbeat. The hissing ebb and flow of Vader’s breathing, close to your ear.

“Come back to me, pet.” he whispers, his modulated voice uncharacteristically gentle as he coaches you. The feeling of your own body comes back in, and you can feel the heavy sensation of your Master’s strong arms wrapped over your shoulders. You realize he has pulled you into his arms, kneeling behind you, his head dipped toward your ear, pulling you back to earth.

It almost feels… nice.

Opening your eyes, your nerves tense and your heart flutters as you turn to look at Lord Vader.

“You have done well, young one.” he says, his deep voice reverberating through you. His arms that drape over you are warm, and strong, grounding you within your own body.

For that, you are thankful.

Your mind and body swim from your breakthrough, your eyes and limbs heavy and your synapses fried from the effort. There’s so much more you can sense, so much more that you are acutely aware of, and it’s an attack on your senses.

Sensing this, Lord Vader gathers you in his arms and stands with you.

“There is so much potential in you, (Y/N).” he says quietly, almost as if he is only saying it for himself to hear.

Your energy is so spent, your body so tired, and as Lord Vader carries you back into his chamber, something dawns upon you.

For the first time, being in your Master’s arms, being so close, it feels safe.

A dark shadow of warmth radiates off of him, and it feels as if you are exactly where you are supposed to be.

For the first time, you let your walls down, even if just for a little while.

You relax into his strong arms, letting him shoulder the weight of your exhaustion. Leaning your face into the sleek, cool armor of his chestplate, you breathe in his scent and let the steady sound of his breathing wash everything else away.

Entering his private chamber with the door sliding shut behind him, Lord Vader paces to one of the long white couches against the wall and carefully lays you down.

He stands over you, a newfound sense of his darkly possessive energy running through you.

“You have made me proud, my pet.” he tells you, brushing a lock of hair away from your face and setting your body alight with the gesture.

“Rest now, there is much to plan.”

Credz: lightsaber graphic credit @saradika

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