The dough under your hands was soft, a little sticky, but it was slowly coming all together - flour dust floating in the air like little, tiny snowflakes. You huffed, cheeks a bit puffed in frustration, trying to push and fold it like the vague instructions said, but—
“Easy, dolcezza,” ANAKIN SKYWALKER's voice melted into your spine before his body did. “You’re being too rough.”
Your breath caught the second you felt him; the firm brush of his chest against your back, hands sliding around yours like a velvet around the snake. His fingers - so longer, so strong - curling over yours, guiding them into the press and fold motion like you were performing a slow dance.
“Like this,” he murmured, right beside your ear. His voice was low, like it wasn’t meant to be heard by anyone but you. “You gotta feel it. Let it tell you when it’s ready.” Which you tried on doing. You really did. But it was hard to focus when his breath fanned your neck, when he dipped down to kiss just behind your ear—soft, reverent, like he needed to. Like he’d been dying to.
“Good girl,” he whispered as you moved with him, his hips brushing lightly into yours with each push of the dough. Yet you felt it; the subtle pressure pressing firmer into your ass. Feeling soo..tempting, delicious in a way that would satisfy you. You swallowed hard, chest rising. The slow grind of his hips wasn’t accidental anymore. It was warm. Thick against you.
You whimpered-barely -but it was enough to crack something open in him. He grinned against your neck, lips trailing kisses down to your shoulder, letting his teeth graze lightly. “Mm,” he hummed, voice sinfully low, “that a moan I just heard, baby?”
You felt his cock nudge firmer into you, hips rolling slow, teasing, like he was trying to match the rhythm of your breath. “I said knead the dough,” he chuckled, licking your skin slowly, “but here you are—making the most divine sounds I’ve ever heard.”
You gasped, hips twitching back into him without thinking. “Anakin…”
“You feel what you do to me, angel?” he whispered, lips brushing your jaw. “Just your soft little moans and I’m fucking hard for you.” your knees buckled slightly when he pressed again, the praise melted into you like honey. Like he was kneading your body into something more.
“Go ahead baby, keep working that dough,” he teased, even as hands slipped to your waist, gripping tighter. “Make it perfect… while I make a mess out of you.”
His fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, dragging lightly over your stomach. “Can’t help it. You in my kitchen… in my shirt… making my family’s food? That’s wife shit, sweetheart.”
He leaned in again, voice softer, grittier. “And I’m gonna fuck you on this counter when the dough’s rising. That’s a Skywalker tradition now.”
a/n: Request made by anon here! This was a fun concept babe. Thank you for sending it in. Mwah! (Didn't want to use a bloody face lol so torso it is.)
𐙚 Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader x Wife Fem! Reader 𐙚
Summary: Vader's reconstruction surgery.
Warnings/contains: Fluff, angst, original AU, relationship dynamics, mentions of death/near-death, mentions of blood/gore, proof read-- english is not my first language!
Word Count: 1.3k // More soon on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls
Every step you took echoed in the empty halls. The train of your black dress swayed on the ground behind you. Nervously, you picked at the skin beneath your nails, not regarding the fresh manicure. Every breath you took was more stiff than the last; ‘in and out’ you reminded yourself as you stood outside of the medical bay. “…go inside.” You muttered to yourself.
73 Hours Before
You sat beside your husband, slowly feeding him as he faced the window. His eyes surveyed the planet beneath with cruel judgement in his eyes. You faced the opposite way, offering him a variety of fruits from the locals. “Here, honey.” He opened his mouth for your fingers. “Doctor Inu said it would be best for you to try the—”
“I…do not like…their food.” He said sternly through breaths.
“You like the fruit.”
“That’s different.” You stroked his cheek. He’s not fond of warm foods because it makes him feel rushed then disappointed when he can’t finish in an appropriate time. You knew this but every few weeks, you liked to offer. Your thumb ran over his skin; when you felt your eyes prick with tears, you always looked away. It would annoy him to see you cry over his condition-- “My right arm keeps stalling. It was hard to write yesterday.” His monotone words cut through your thoughts.
“I’ll tell the technician.” You lay your head on his shoulder and hold his waist from behind. He always felt neutral about your touches but today, he lay his hand on top of yours. “We are here by the fates, my dear. These Doctors mean well and soon you’ll—”
He shushed you and continued to watch the animals run in their herd on the field below. “Look.” He whispered. You watched with him as the foreign, strange and beautiful animals leaped over the small canals of water and rocks. The minutes ticked by and more animals passed, insects flew past the windows and his soldiers did their rounds around the home. “It’s…quiet.” You nodded, your eyes on his. “How long will we be here?”
“Two moons after your surgeries for proper recovery.” He nods once. Three soft knocks could be heard at the entrance to the bedroom. “I’ll speak to them.” He continued to face the window as he hid his face. You opened the door, your eyes were met with the head doctor of the facility and two nurses, “How can we help you?”
The head doctor smiled, “My Lady.” The three bowed and rose. “I wanted to inform you personally that the last of the emergency anesthetics has been delivered.”
“Thank you for letting me know.”
“May we confirm you and the Lord’s presence at 0800 tomorrow?”
You held the pendant of your necklace, “Yes, we will be there. Please be sure to keep the lights dimmed until he under the anesthesia and after the surgery.” They nodded in sync.
“O- of course, my lady! It’s in my notes.”
You dismissed them and stood in the corridor to observe your husband. Three years. Only three years have passed since you wed the Lord. The pendant around your neck rubbed against your fingers as you began to overthink the future. You wanted to be by his side throughout the entire surgery but even you couldn’t bear the thought of possibly losing him…and so soon. “…my pillow.” Vader looked around the bedroom for his favorite neck pillow. You went through the closet and found it before helping him lay back.
“You should really start keeping up with this thing.”
“It’s the help you hired.” He said gruffly, “They keep moving it.” You smiled and shook your head. “This is serious.”
“I’m sure it is, you grouch.” You lay beside him in bed and held his sides once more. His hand rose and planted on the top of your head. He gently pets you before laying back.
He would never admit it, but he feared death; more than anyone in the galaxy, he feared risks. Tomorrow’s surgery for his facial reconstruction has a risk of death. No greater risk than the other ones he has experienced over the course of the year but still…frightening. You could never place your finger on what it was that he felt. Never in a million years would you had guessed fear. Regardless, you soaked in the moments of affection he gave you; They were always short lived and quiet moments; now more than ever, you appreciated it.
Present
You let the sleeves of your dress fall as you stood outside the operating room. He wasn’t in there anymore, but you couldn’t bring yourself to walk past it and to his room. The nurses at the front desk watched your hesitation however they could never understand the predicament you were in.
You’d never seen his “first” face…of course you heard stories about who he used to be and descriptions of what he looked like, but it all became a blur in your mind; all mushed to one and rolled out.
“It’s room nine.”
“I know!” You spat bitterly at the nurse. She flinched from behind the desk and bowed her head. You didn’t mean to be rude…it wasn’t like you. “…as you were.”
You sighed deeply and bit your tongue, slowly walking into the dimly lit room. His hospital bed rests behind a sheer white curtain, the sound of machinery beeping filled the room. You shut the door behind you and stood on the opposite side of the curtain. You shut your eyes and listened to the sound of his exhales. “…thank the force.” You whispered.
“…[Y/N].” He called out softly with the sound of relief on his tongue. You drew back the curtain and stood beside him. A sad laugh erupted from your throat, “What is it?” You whimpered, holding your hands out to him, confused and unable to form a sentence. “[Y/N]?” His thoughts, and memories clouded by the anesthetics in his system.
“I’ I’m sorry.” Your eyes traced his delicate features… “May I?” He agreed and you lay on the hospital bed with him, your fingers lingered on his jaw, up to his nose…from his brow bone to his temple. His eyes narrowed and his lips pressed, “What is the matter?” You asked. You’re looking at him differently. The way your lips parted, and eyebrows were relaxed… your [E/C] eyes admired his in a warm, nearly sensual way.
“I…I don’t know.” He said breathily and held his forehead. His hand made a familiar creak sound when his fingers clutched.
You sighed and hugged his head to your chest. “I missed you.” Maybe it was because of his fear while being under the knife or something related but seeing your face, hearing your voice…but he felt grateful. For the first time in years, he had a will to live, someone to live for. Your black lace dress drew up your hips, long [dark/light] hair created a veil over you and him as you enveloped him in your arms.
The corners of his mouth twitched.
You missed him. As in, you were thinking of him. Just the same as he was thinking of you. His skin felt the warmth of your bosom and pressed deeper onto you. Your hand held his shoulder, the other on the back of his neck. You didn’t mind the feel of his soft fingers as they clung to your sides, one hand on your left breast. Each of his exhales were released onto your skin as you straddled him.
As he looked into your eyes, he knew you felt something for him that he had yet to feel for you. Gleams filled your eyes as they pooled with tears. A certain restraint you once held released as he held you tighter. “I- I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to.” You wiped your face with two fingertips, dark kohl ran down your cheeks.
“Why are you sorry?”
‘For crying. You hate when I cry.’ You thought as he curiously tilted his head. “Nothing. Are you hungry? You may only have soft foods or liquids.” You muttered against his hair.
“…I could eat. But I’d prefer staying…like this.” He let out a small whine as his nose sunk between your breasts.
a/n: "The Backwoods" is still being edited so I'll post that request June 12th. Thx for the patience!
Asked to go back to this taglist three times now. I understand!
After too many hours and restarting this drawing like five times I am finally done with it ( I like the sketch more than the final illustration 😅). Thanks to all the people who told me to keep going, if you wanna see more of my process and vote for the next artwork follow me on insta, I love talking with you guys 💖🌞
Drawing Sirius has been a torture every time,he is too beautiful 💔, but I also want to keep him human, I don't know if you get me.
I want to return to my traditional technique, craving some oil paintings 👄
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