Major tags: AU, dubious consent, non graphic violence, sith obiwan, Jedi master anakin
Rating: Explicit
so excited to share my entry for the reverse obikin big bang!!! @obikinbb my wonderful artist is @palfriendpatine66! I had a lot of fun making this fic :)
Summary:
Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker gets captured by Obi-Wan Kenobi, a treacherous Sith Lord, and is forced to grovel at his feet.
obikin, E, 4621 words, 2/2 chapters, no archive warnings apply
tags: Top Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bottom Anakin Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker Has a Vagina, Foursome, Blow Jobs, Facials, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Time Travel, Anal Sex, Vaginal Sex
summary: “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Anakin declared, nerves alight and breath shaking with anticipation. “This is just so... it’s so... it’s wizard!”
Three sets of blue eyes with raised eyebrows turned to look at him, all painted with different shades of amused and disbelief.
howdy freaks, here is my (very last minute and then LATE 😳) entry for the @topwan-obikin Topwan fest (round 1!! Round 2 is now open for promoting!!) !! both chapters are UP and as proof read as I can stand to make them. this was a lot of fun to work on and I fear it will likely be my last fic of the year lol enjoy !!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/4
Fandom: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Rating: Explicit
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anonymous Sex, Glory Hole, Top Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bottom Anakin Skywalker, Boypussy, Obi-Wan Kenobi Has a Big Dick, Anakin Skywalker is Qui-Gon Jinn's Padawan, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, Light Angst, Anakin Skywalker-centric
Summary:
A little mishap results in Anakin, Qui-Gon's Padawan, being housed in the knight's dormitories while he seeks wisdom and growth. A run-in with his distant and dispassionate lineage brother, Obi-Wan, and discovering a new outlet prompts Anakin's thoughts and heart to wander.
See AO3 for full list of tags and author’s note. This is also a fill for @obikin-events bingo, ‘anonymous sex’ square!
Even after the stern reprimand from the council and his master’s disappointed looks, Anakin still thinks that if the Jedi didn’t want their fire extinguisher droids to be taken apart, then that should be more clearly expressed. Really, how was Anakin supposed to know that an extinguisher droid could start a fire if no one told him? It’s counter-intuitive, is what it is. And ironic, though no one else seems to find it funny.
Nevertheless, he will admit that his innate curiosity has landed him in a bit of a pickle. The fire didn’t spread beyond Anakin’s quarters, and his most precious belongings were safe within the metal cabinet that comes standard with padawan dorms. All the inspectors insist that there is no structural damage, but still, it’s been several days and the smell of smoke is still strong and soot stains the walls. At least Master Jinn managed to convince the council that making Anakin scrub the walls clean would only cause them more of a headache. Regardless, the problem remains: Anakin is, for the unforeseen future, temple-bound, as punishment (though it seems to be as much of a punishment for Windu) and his room is uninhabitable.
He assumed that if he was lucky, he would be moved to whatever senior padawan room was free. Anakin liked his room well enough, pre-crispening. It was in a pretty good location and his immediate neighbors were nice. Maybe, just to rub his nose in it, they would put him in whatever room was furthest from the dining hall, or maybe stick him next to a bunch of semi-aquatic padawans. Their rooms always smelled vaguely mildewy. When his master told him that he was to be moved to an entirely different wing of the temple, Anakin thought they meant sticking him back with the new initiates.
“Of course not,” Qui-Gon waves off Anakin’s complaints. “Junior padawans and initiates might think you’re, what’s the word you’re always using? ‘Wizard?’ No, what you need is to be in a wing where there are more eyes on you.”
Anakin scowls. “The council is moving me so that it’s easier to babysit me?”
“Precisely, Padawan.”
“Am I moving in with you or something?”
The look of abject horror that crossed Master Jinn’s face was enough to show that that idea would not go over well. (Really, Anakin was offended. He wasn’t that hard to live with!)
Instead, Anakin’s new dorm would be in the Knight’s wing of the temple. Many of the knights were young enough to remember Anakin as a rambunctious little padawan while they were approaching their trials. Instead of endearing him to them, that meant they knew all his tricks. One toe out of line and any knight in his vicinity would be on to him. Plus, most knights left the temple regularly to go on missions. Anakin suspected that all the masters who spent more time in the temple strongly objected to the idea that Anakin might be housed next to them.
Moving his scant belongings into his new room, Anakin bristles, knowing that every Knight that passes him is going to be on Anakin-Watching-Duty for the foreseeable future. It didn’t help that the knight’s wing was complicated and twisting, the layout taking on a more ‘organic’ feel than the straight lines and grids of the padawan wing. Hallways curved around and back on themselves, branching off at odd angles, turning Anakin around and making him late for lunch, his remedial lessons and a meditation session with Qui-Gon.
At least his room was bigger. And he has a nicer view. And, maybe, Anakin hopes without reason, just maybe being in the Knight’s wing will increase his chances of running into Obi-Wan. The prospect fills his stomach with butterflies even as he reminds himself that it’s a stupid thought. For one, Obi-Wan is hardly ever in the temple. Always off saving the day and, if temple gossip is to be believed (and Anakin always believes it), slipping in bed with whatever ally or enemy he comes across.
Second, Obi-Wan feels nothing but disdain for Anakin. No matter how hard Anakin tries to impress him, Obi-Wan always shuns his attempts. On the few occasions that he is on Coruscant at the same time as Anakin, Obi-Wan always avoids him. If he has to spend time with him, he pulls such a pained expression before he smooths it out to one of polite neutrality. At the very least, Anakin knows it’s not entirely his fault. Obi-Wan also always avoids Master Jinn like he has the blue shadow virus. Whenever interaction with him is unavoidable, it’s stiff and stilted, nothing close to the fluid and easy way he and Qui-Gon used to be. Sometimes Obi-Wan treats Qui-Gon like a stranger like he is simply a master, instead of his master, who trained him for 13 years. That makes each little heartbreak marginally better. Maybe. Kind of. Not really.
Anakin just thinks it would be nice to be closer to his lineage brother. To have Obi-Wan look at him with something other than contempt or annoyance. Maybe to even have Obi-Wan as a friend or… something more.
Anakin huffs and shakes the thought away. He has more important things to do, instead of thinking about his stupidly mean lineage brother and his pretty hair and nice hands and soft-looking lips. (Because, of course, Anakin doesn’t know for sure if Obi-Wan’s lips are soft. He’s pretty sure that they are but he can’t know for certain.) More important things like trying to get his fitted sheet on his bed before the first ‘inspection’ that his master will conduct on his room. Anakin sweats and swears as he wrestles with the infernal fabric, trying desperately to tuck it under the corner of the mattress that’s pressed against the wall. Eventually, he decides enough is enough. He’s a senior padawan, a strong force user, and even if he’s being babysat, he’s stronger than a bedsheet.
With a growl, Anakin grabs the leg of the bed and pulls it away from the wall. The frame is heavy, made of solid metal, designed to last generations of knights. It takes a few tries but soon enough he hears the screech of the bed dragging against the floor. Anakin smiles, ignoring the sweat dripping down his face, and gives another tug. If he can just get enough room to actually maneuver between the bed and the wall, maybe he can-
A loud thud echoes through the room. It startles Anakin enough that he lets go of the bed, and tumbles to his ass on the floor. Frowning, Anakin pulls himself up and crawls across the mattress. He tilts his head when he sees a thin sheet of metal has fallen on the partially made bed. It feels light when Anakin lifts it and moves it to the side. When Anakin glances at the wall, he pauses.
There’s a hole in his wall. Carefully, he touches the edges of it. Smooth and rounded, almost like someone burned a hole through the metal, instead of cutting it. Given how thick the wall is, that's probably what someone did. Probably stuck a lightsaber right on through and wiggled it. That’s what Anakin would do, anyway, if he decided that he needed to destroy another room for no good reason. He lowers himself to his stomach and peeks through it. There’s only darkness on the other side.
Anakin frowns again. He doesn’t even know where the hole goes. It’s not on the walls that he shares with his neighbours in this hall. The convoluted nature of the knight’s wing makes it hard to judge distances, and the numbering scheme of the rooms gets so confusing. He would have thought that this wall would just be… a wall, against nothing. But a hall must double back or twist somewhere, making something worthwhile be behind his room. He’d tell Master Jinn about it, except he knows that his master, the Council, and everyone will think he did this. He’s already in trouble for the truly accidental destruction of his first room, he doesn’t want to be falsely accused of ruining this room too.
He glances back at the sheet of metal. It’s just about the same colour as the wall. Peering down the side of the bed, Anakin supposes that it was just wedged in place to cover up the imperfection. Anakin clambers off the mattress and roots around in his boxes until he finds some tape.
He finishes pulling out his bed, giving him enough space to make his bed (since he also lost cleaning-droid privileges for the time being) and spends a stupid amount of time taping the metal back against the wall. If he keeps his lights partially dimmed, he doubts that Qui-Gon will notice, just as whoever inspected the room previously clearly didn’t notice.
After putting away the rest of his things, getting a quick snack, and some time in the salles, Anakin hardly even notices it himself when he returns to his room. He’s utterly too proud for continuing this act of deception. It’ll just be more trouble than it’s worth if he brings it to someone’s attention. And it’s just a hole. It won’t cause any issues, he’s sure of it.
It only takes two weeks until the hole causes issues.
Maybe that’s unfair, Anakin corrects himself. After all, the hole is just existing. It’s his wall-neighbour that’s causing issues. Or causing a ruckus, that is.
Generally, the soundproofing in the temple is quite good. The walls are thick and sturdy, good at insulating sound. When Anakin found the hole, he didn’t think about how there was now a flaw in that insulation.
Apparently, Anakin’s new neighbour is back from whatever corner of the galaxy they were visiting. And they’ve brought a friend, though they certainly aren’t treating their friend gently. Like listening to the ocean through a tiny porthole of a ship, Anakin hears as pleasure seeps through and past the flimsy metal hiding the hole in the wall. They aren’t quite loud enough that Anakin can hear any real words, but he can feel the want, the lust, the building of pleasure until it cracks, again and again and again.
He glances at the clock on his bedside table. He has to be up in four hours. He’s been listening to his neighbours go at it for at least two. His eyes burn from exhaustion. Anakin knows that he could bang on the walls and yell at them to quiet down. Or, if he felt a little less confrontational, he could simply cover his ears. There’s a small sofa on the other end of the room; Anakin could get a decent night's sleep curled on a couch. He’s slept in worse places.
But he can feel how good it would be to be on the other side of that wall. He can hear the gasps and moans, the little shrieks as something big and perfect slides against just the right spots. Instead of moving away, Anakin presses himself against the cool wall, trying to get as close to that heavenly feeling as he can. Face burning as he dips a hand back into his pants, feeling the damp remains of his previous orgasm, Anakin gasps when he touches his cunt again. He’s utterly too rough with himself, as he ruts against his hand, nearly drooling as he listens to a deep, raspy moan that gains volume. Anakin shudders, muscles jerking, as he hears one last grunt. The pleasure that leaks from the next room recedes, rolling back as his neighbours finally call it a night. Anakin lays in his bed, sweaty and panting, fingers wrinkled from his pleasure.
The next day he nearly falls asleep during his lessons, and he does fall asleep during his meditations with Master Jinn. Anakin can’t even bring himself to care as he’s getting scolded. All he can think about is joining his mystery neighbour in bed.
It’s a pain trying to pull his bed away from the wall again. It takes a few minutes until there’s enough space for him to wriggle and worm his way between the gap, accompanied by more swearing and sweating than anticipated. Gingerly, Anakin peels away the tape holding up the metal. He pulls away the covering and places it on the floor as quietly as he can. His neighbour has been silent these past few evenings, but Anakin doesn’t know if that means he’s gone or just hasn’t taken a bedfellow.
He presses an eye to the hole, heart in his throat for no good reason. The room is close to dark, just as it was the first time Anakin spied on it. But there’s a crack in the blinds this time, proof that someone has opened and closed them, and the thin stripe of illumination lands on a neatly folded pile of clothes. His neighbour must be organized enough to bring and take his robes from the laundry, but busy enough to have to put them away later. Anakin doesn’t see any piles of dirty clothes. There are no identifying knickknacks. The bedspread is neatly made on the bed, a few feet away but lying parallel to the wall that Anakin spies through, the head of the bed just blocked by the curve of the hole. No wonder he could hear each moan and grunt so clearly, he was practically sleeping next to them as they fucked.
Once he’s sure that he can’t gain anything else from spying, Anakin hesitates. For a moment, he wonders if he should pass a note through the hole. It feels juvenile, like when he used to ask Do you like me? Check Yes or No notes during class. He wants to know who his neighbour is but maybe that’s too forward or betrays his age. Maybe it’ll just freak them out. Being ‘creepy’ around people he likes is a common criticism that he’s received, despite his best efforts.
He decides that he won’t do anything - won’t put anything through the hole but he won’t cover it up either. Maybe his neighbour will notice and absolve Anakin from the responsibility of making a choice. It seems like a longshot, even as he thinks it, but by the time he’s settled on that decision, it’s time to go meet Qui-Gon for lunch in the refectory.
When he returns after lunch, lessons in the greenhouse, and a long shower to wash off all the mud and sap that got stuck on him, when he managed to upset some kind of large pitcher plant being studied, Anakin nearly misses the pale circle of light shining on his bedspread. Someone is in the other room. Anakin holds his breath and waits, listening for movement - creaking of the bed, fluttery breathing, feet stumbling over each other as bodies frantically undress - but he hears nothing. He turns his lights on and deftly makes his way forward.
The sounds of him shedding his boots and crawling over his bed don’t inspire any movement on the other side of the wall. Anakin presses his face against the opening, only seeing a dimly lit room, and the folded sock-covered ankles of someone resting on the bed. The rest of their body is hidden from view.
Suddenly, Anakin is all too aware of his braid, his rank in the temple, and more importantly, his reputation. He’s a padawan, a senior padawan, but a padawan still. He’s annoying and ill-tempered and hard to teach. The knights that like him don’t really like him. Aayla has told him that she can only handle him in ‘small doses’, a sentiment that most of his age mates and other knights seem to agree with. Even his own master started asking for more time apart once the shine of teaching ‘the chosen one’ had worn off. Not even Obi-Wan, known for being polite, kind, and diplomatic, can stand being around him long enough to pass on wisdom, take him on missions, or even just share a meal, as is typical for lineage brothers.
He can’t call out, can’t ask, for this strange knight to fuck him. He’ll recognize Anakin’s voice, or he’ll make his way to Anakin’s room and be disappointed when he sees who it is. Anakin has gotten enough ‘No’s on all his childish love notes, has gotten enough giggles and scowls and good reasons for why people might reject him. And that’s fine, he supposes. He can’t make other people love him, no matter how much he wants it. Some people are just hard to love; that’s what his mom used to tell him, and she said it so gently that it couldn’t have been a bad thing. This isn't about love, though. It’s about pleasure. Anakin is good at pleasure. All the masters tell him that his hunger, his devotion to it, is what holds him back. His agemates tell him, sometimes in jest, but mostly not, that pleasure is the only reason why anyone puts up with him. A starved child never learns moderation.
He wriggles away from the wall and disrobes down to his underwear. His skin is tacky from nerves and anticipation. He grabs one of his pillows and shoves it to the ground, giving his knees a more forgiving resting place. Kneeling, already wet, half his legs cramped under his bed, willing to accept anything, Anakin thinks maybe he should feel some level of shame or embarrassment for how badly he wants this. But he doesn’t. He spies through the hole again, making sure that his neighbour is still there. He is.
Anakin sticks his fingers through the hole and wiggles them around for a few moments. He feels a bit silly, acting like a worm to bait fish, but his rudimentary antics pay off. He hears a noise of surprise, the soft thud of a datapad being placed on a bedside table, before soft footsteps make their way over. Calloused fingers brush against his own before he quickly retreats. Moving fast enough that there’s no time to spy his face, Anakin leans forward, pressing his lips to the hole. He opens his mouth and stretches his tongue so that it peeks through the other side of the wall. There’s no mistaking his intention, no confusing this pose with one of innocent curiosity or friendship.
Heartbeat blocking his hearing, he still hears a faint chuckle and rustle of clothing. He waggles his tongue a little bit more, earning a scolding tsk at his impatience. Then, gently, he feels the soft, slick head of a cock pat against his tongue. His neighbour taps it against the pink, willing flesh, clearly enjoying the way Anakin whines with want, desperate to have it fully hard and in his mouth. Taps turns to sliding it further into Anakin’s mouth, almost teasingly, as Anakin brings his tongue back in, giving him more flexibility to twist it around the shaft and head as it moves. He still hasn’t actually seen it, so he pulls back, enamoured as the cock seems to follow him, until it’s pressed as far as it can go, the metal walls blocking its path.
Shining with spit in the lowlight of his room, Anakin thinks it’s the prettiest cock he’s ever seen. Big and thick, strong veins dancing across it, the head all red from where it pokes out of the foreskin. He can see just a few faint pubic hairs at the very base, mostly blocked by the wall, but the hair is thick and dark, and Anakin wishes he could bury his nose in it. He wishes the hole were big enough that he could see everything, could see the nice, firm testicles that surely hang below, that surely want Anakin’s plush lips wrapping around them. But even just the dick alone looks perfect for him, so much better than any of the other cocks he’s seen and sucked - always in hidden-away corners of the temple, always belonging to a senior padawan too shamefaced to talk to him the next day.
There’s no shame about the desire in the little thrusts against the wall, making the cock bob and sway. Anakin almost giggles before he wraps his lips around the head, pulling in his cheeks as he sucks and pushes himself down the shaft. He hears a low groan from the other side of the wall and flushes with pride at the confirmation that it feels good. He sucks harder, petting the underside of the cock with his tongue, and using his hand to stroke what he can’t fit into his mouth. He sighs and moans around it, letting the vibrations tickle it, and relishing as he hears an answering moan of pleasure from the other side.
His free hand twitches and worms its way into his underwear, petting his dripping cunt and pressing against his clit. Already he’s daydreaming about what this cock will feel like inside his pussy, stretching him open wider than he’s ever been, pushing him to his limits. Those rough fingers that only momentarily brushed against his own; how would they feel prying him open, wringing every drop of pleasure from him?
He pushes himself closer to the wall, taking in more, letting his eyes water as he gags and retreats, only to push himself again. The appreciative grunts and curses he hears - so raw and animalistic in pleasure - spur him on even as his jaw aches and his tongue grows tired. If he were looking someone in the eye, he could place his hands on warm hips, he’d probably either pull away and ask for a break, or wait until hands tangled in his hair forced consistency onto him. But this cock is just so perfect, stretching his lips, making his pussy drool, invading his dreams. More than anything he wants this dick to always be hard for him, to perk up at the thought of the sinful lips that lie in wait beyond the thick metal walls of the temple. He doesn’t want to pull away and have to explain himself through the gap, doesn’t want his paramour to think - or know - he’s childish and weak and can’t take it.
Anakin whimpers as he gags again, this time because of an unexpected thrust. He hears the sounds of skin slapping against metal as the heat of his mouth is chased. He tries to stay still, becoming a perfect cavern of pleasure, letting his mouth be used. His thighs tense as he continues to play with himself, frantic fingers unintentionally matching the frenzied pattern of thrusts.
He gags and sputters in surprise, pulling back a little, when his mouth is wholly invaded and warm come floods his mouth. A deep, growling moan reverberates through the wall, coaxing Anakin to stay still, to swallow and reward the pulsing, twitching cock in his mouth, instead of pulling back and coughing. Throat burning and eyes watering, he waits until his partner begins to pull himself back with a sigh. Anakin watches as the spit-covered, slowly softening dick slips from his lips, back to its side of the wall.
Then he sees a pelvis, a thick treasure trail, a chest and -
Anakin’s eyes widen. His neighbour is kneeling to look at him. Shy and suddenly insecure, Anakin throws his hand over the hole, pressing against it tightly as if he were trying to keep out water or a strange poisonous gas. An amused chuckle erupts at the sight of tanned skin blocking the view. Anakin assumes that that’ll be the end of it, but then he feels the soft, damp touch of a tongue against his palm and the faint press of lips touching his skin. Then his skin is abandoned, left damp and cool in the air. He waits as he listens to shuffling footsteps. Waits a few moments more before sliding to the side, just to make sure that he’s hidden as he crawls into bed, fingers plunging into him as he tastes what remains at the back of his throat, coating his tongue.
The next day Anakin feels like he’s walking on air. Nothing can get under his skin, not the distrustful eyes of masters as he walks down the halls, not the unseasoned porridge that he’s served for breakfast, not even Master Windu using him to demonstrate common flaws in forms. Each usual annoyance just ran right off him. Master Windu even praised him on his ‘wonderful temperament’ that day and complimented his improvement, almost trying to balance out the unsoftened critiques he dished out for nearly an hour. Usually, even that would piss Anakin off, but instead, he just smiles, bows, and thanks him for his lesson.
Nothing can get Anakin down because someone wants him. He woke up to see a few blunt fingers wiggling through the hole, a mirror of what he had done the evening previous. Nervous but wanting, Anakin crawled over, gave a hesitant lick to the knuckles, and waited until his true prize was revealed. In the daylight, it was just as pretty, just as delectable as the night before. Listening to muffled groans through the wall and nonsense words that he couldn’t make out over the sounds of his own heartbeat was better than any alarm clock. And when he was rewarded with the sharp taste of come in his mouth, Anakin shuddered as he came too. Suckling at the cock, he waited until it was pulled from his mouth, slowly, hesitantly, as if his mystery lover wanted to stay with him too. After a wake-up like that, of course, he’s energized and in good spirits.
He blushes and stutters when Master Qui-Gon raises an eyebrow and asks why he sounds so hoarse. But his Master is always suspicious of everything Anakin does, even in his proudest moments. Anakin assumes it comes from the fact that he stuck his neck out to train him, leveraging the whole ‘chosen one’ title to the extreme. (Anakin knows that Obi-Wan has always been doubtful of such a claim. He senses that sometimes, like now, Qui-Gon is also dubious if Anakin can climb the pedestal that has been built for him.) But as suspicious as his master may be, he is also aware that Anakin gets into many inoffensive shenanigans that he does not care to know about, so it only takes a few vague, handwavy motions, a “y’know?” and Qui-Gon nods. The day goes on.
When he returns to his room, he rushes back to the hole, like a pathetic puppy seeing if their owner has returned. The room on the other side is dark. No one is waiting for him. It’s to be expected, Anakin tells himself, pulling himself away and dejectedly walking to his desk. He pulls out the rest of the coursework that he needs to finish by the end of the week. His mystery lover is, of course, a mystery. And a knight. He’s probably busy. At least, unlike Anakin, and his precarious living status in this wing, his neighbour is unlikely to change rooms anytime soon. Whenever he returns, Anakin will be here.
I've been a bit less active lately cuz I've been busy with life and trying to write my longfic for the Obikin Big Bang event and I've been feeling like i've been having a tough time finding writing inspo
so i decided to make a prompt meme on ao3 !!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
:) its just a place for people to submit star wars/obikin prompts! it's mostly for me but since it's public anyone can get inspired by things that are submitted. please read the little introduction paragraph but i hope that some prompts come in and i can warm up my writing muscles from them!!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Rating: Explicit
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Anakin Skywalker
Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Dubious Consent, Age Difference, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Obi-Wan Kenobi is Anakin's Master, Bottom Anakin Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker Has a Vagina, Top Qui-Gon Jinn, Unhealthy Relationships, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, Padawan Anakin Skywalker
Summary:
It was getting harder to convince Obi-Wan to let Anakin go on these extended ‘retreats’ that Qui-Gon so often liked to suggest. It was taking longer to sway him, took more needling from Anakin, and, frequently, more compromise than Qui-Gon was hoping for. He could tell by the tensing of his jaw and the furrow of his brow that his old apprentice was itching to say no, even now.
--
Even if Anakin would never be Qui-Gon’s Padawan, Qui-Gon knew that Anakin would always think of him as Master.
I return from the dead to post porn based on some incredible art by @netherworm that ive been thinking about ever since i saw it ages ago <3 shout out to Mazza for beta reading this !! Read the fic on ao3 but mind the tags B]
next up on my quest of giving obi-wan and anakin the weirdest professions/meet cutes is: obi-wan as a professional declutterer/organizer and anakin as a man with teenage children and slight hoarding habits.
obi-wan, of course, fell into this profession because he often feels like everything is so out of his control that he needs to have perfect control in SOME area, and that just happens to be his home. he has a variety of organization systems, is able to clean just about any living space, and more than anything, he likes being able to exert control and order over a space. he likes being able to give other people that same control too.
anakin, on the other hand, also yearns for complete control but gets that from just... keeping everything. he grew up poor and that taught him to cling to anything he has. no, he can't throw out that rusty box cutter because what if he needs it later on? no, he won't get rid of that terrible drawing leia drew when she was 4, even though the paper is disintegrating and all the sparkles fell off, she draw that for him so its his and no one can make him get rid of it. he keeps canned food that he hates past the expiry date. everything he's ever built is somewhere in his garage. he has a box of the twins baby teeth somewhere in the attic. after a lifetime of accumulating things and after 16 years of raising kids, his house is a constant mess and no one except anakin can see any order in it.
so the twins put their heads together and convince padme that what dad needs is a professional to go in and help him get rid of things. it's not a difficult notion to sell (padme, when they were married, of course tried to bring some order to their shared house, but each attempt ended in failure and frustration for both of them)
so in comes obi-wan, thinking that this job will be basic, by the book, it'll take a week, tops. of course, with anakin, that isn't the case. it takes days just to 'organize' the living room (rearranging items into piles, cubbies, and boxes that make them easier to find. very little gets thrown away).
in the end, the house is still packed to the gills with stuff. people are able to walk through the garage without risking tetanus now, at least. there's no longer any expired food in the kitchen. obi-wan was able to consolidate all the twins oldest (worst) art pieces into a single extra large moving box, carefully labelled so that it doesn't get thrown out, which resides in the attic. and if anything gets too messy, too difficult to live with, well. it's good thing one of the things anakin refused to part with is obi-wan.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
title: from now until forever (spend the night together)
relationship: anakin/obiwan
rating: E
word count: 2.8k
tags/warnings: PWP, stewjoni biology, weird stewjoni biology, homestuck genitalia, nooks and bulges
summary: Anakin doesn’t know how Obi-Wan manages to look so cocky, cool and confident, and self-assured while sitting spread-legged and dick out. Well, bulge out, technically. That’s what Obi-Wan called it when he described in detail what he wanted to do with Anakin when they finally saw each other again, voice tinny and staticky over the comm, as he told Anakin to touch himself from hundreds of parsecs away.
A/N: one of my entries for Stewjoni Biology Week!! featuring classic homestuck troll biology :) to see all the fics and art that were posted check out the AO3 collection or the twitter !! this also fulled my AU square for obikin bingo @obikin-events for full list of tags on this fic, go to ao3!
Anakin doesn’t know how Obi-Wan manages to look so cocky, cool and confident, and self-assured while sitting spread-legged and dick out. Well, bulge out, technically. That’s what Obi-Wan called it when he described in detail what he wanted to do with Anakin when they finally saw each other again, voice tinny and staticky over the comm, as he told Anakin to touch himself from hundreds of parsecs away.
Anakin can’t help but keep his legs tightly pressed together, his hands keep moving to try to cover his dick. He’s half-hard already and has been since the Resolute docked on the same planet as Obi-Wan. When they finally reunited, Obi-Wan had pressed a gentle, almost shy, kiss against Anakin’s lips - the first in the many months since they’d been apart. What they had was both new and old - new in that they finally broke down the barriers between platonic, familial, romantic, and sexual that previously stood in their way, but old because their urges and feelings were well-worn and familiar.
They just hadn’t gotten the chance to have sex yet. The last time they were close enough to touch, Obi-Wan was injured and Anakin was busy with Ahsoka, and it was only just before both were shipped out to opposite edges of the galaxy that Anakin broke down. Pathetic and embarrassed, crying like a child that he didn’t want them to part, crying until Obi-Wan pressed a cool hand to his face and told him that he didn’t want them to part either. And since then, it had just been sending messages over the comms whenever they had a spare moment, calling each other when one was just walking up and the other finally going to sleep, sending charged and longing glances at each other as they projected into meetings.
Now they were together. And Anakin had no clue what to do. When he first ran into Obi-Wan’s arms, he shyly suggested that they sneak away from the Negotiator and the military docks. They could go closer to town and find a hotel. Obi-Wan shook his head and chuckled at Anakin’s confused expression.
“We’d have to pay a fortune in cleanup fees,” Obi-Wan said. “My quarters are better suited for what I have in store for you.”
Sitting naked on Obi-Wan’s bed, watching as Obi-Wan’s bulge slithers out of the smooth, rounded sheath - his nook, Anakin thinks dumbly - leaving a watery blue mark on everything it brushes against, Anakin finally understands what Obi-Wan meant when he talked about clean up fees. He almost forgets to breathe as he watches it unsheath, the base getting wider the more it comes out, the flexible, tapered tip growing more adventurous as it can reach further. The whole appendage is a majestic teal-blue, as is and the slick that drips off of it. The few times Anakin has been unfortunate enough to see Obi-Wan bleed, his blood had been the same.
“Well,” Obi-Wan says, the teasing note in his voice almost insufferable. “Is it up to your standards?”
“I have no idea what to do with it,” Anakin admits, feeling hopelessly juvenile. While his own dick twitches, Obi-Wan’s flicks around and squirms. Obi-Wan brings a hand to it, and the bulge wraps around it. Not the other way around.
“You could touch it, to start.” The teasing lilt of his tone has diminished but not disappeared entirely. “Don’t worry, dear. It won’t bite.”
Anakin grumbles but scoots closer to Obi-Wan, who leans back against the headboard of his bed, looking as comfortable as ever. Anakin brings a tentative hand, his flesh hand, to the writhing limb and jumps when it surges over to meet it. The tip twitches and worms its way between his fingers, curling around them, like it's trying to hold his hand. It’s not as firm as Anakin’s dick, there’s more give underneath the slimy skin, but it’s strong enough to spread and squeeze together Anakin’s fingers at will. He’s surprised by how much colder it is than he expected. Not freezing or unpleasant, but noticeably cooler than his skin. (He always loved how cool and comforting Obi-Wan always felt. There was nothing better than his Master laying a chilly hand on his forehead when he was feverish as a child or his refreshing embrace after a spar gone well.)
He lets out a giggle, silly and stupid, as he moves his hand in a mimicry of how he jerks off. The bulge moves with him, guiding him, keeping his attention solely on it to not let it slip from his grasp. Translucent blue fluid bleeds through the gaps in Anakin’s fingers and drips down his wrist until it splatters onto the thick towels that Obi-Wan laid out on top of his sheets.
“See,” Obi-Wan’s voice almost startles Anakin, so caught up was he. His voice has a breathy quality to it now, and when Anakin glances up at his face, he sees Obi-Wan’s half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks. “Nothing to be worried about.”
“I wasn’t worried,” Anakin lies. He pouts when Obi-Wan snorts. “I wasn’t!”
“No, no, of course, you weren’t.” Before Anakin can argue some more, he presses on. “Did you prepare yourself like I told you?”
Anakin flushes a deeper pink. He nods softly. “Yes, Master.”
It was agonizing, trying to sneak away from his crew long enough to finger himself open (“At least three wide and as deep as you can reach.”) and put in the long, tapered plug that Obi-Wan shipped to him. (How he managed to sneak the package in with the regular shipment of rations, medical supplies, and parts, Anakin didn’t know.) For hours, Anakin had to walk, sit, and move through the Resolute, as if there wasn’t a silicon toy in his ass. He only found relief after Obi-Wan had let him to his room with a large hand resting on his lower back and when he excused himself to the washroom to freshen up. As soon as the plug was out, abandoned in the sink (Obi-Wan made him wear it, so he could clean it up.), Anakin missed the stretch and heft of it. Now, he understood why Obi-Wan insisted he wore it.
“Such a good boy,” Obi-Wan praises. Anakin smiles and his dick twitches, getting even harder. “What position do you want to start in?”
Anakin has imagined himself in so many of them with Obi-Wan but the twisting bulge in his hand, and the leaking slit that he can spy underneath, where it's coming out of, have wiped his mind blank.
“What’s easiest for your… uh… for you?”
Obi-Wan grins wolfishly. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about me, dear.” He leans over and presses a sweet kiss against Anakin’s open mouth. Anakin’s eyelids flutter and he presses closer, moaning lightly. Hunched over uncomfortably, hand around Obi-Wan’s dick and making out with him, Anakin would be happy even if they just spent the rest of the night like this. But Obi-Wan promised all sorts of strange and wonderful things and it seems like he’s intent on doing as many as he can.
“Why don’t you lay back and we can see how it goes from there,” Obi-Wan suggests as he pulls back. A spiderweb-thin string of spit hangs and stretches between them. Anakin can’t take his eyes off of it until it snaps and drips down his chin. It takes him a moment to register what Obi-Wan said but once he does he nods. It takes another moment to let go and pull his hand away from Obi-Wan’s bulge, reluctant as it is to lose Anakin’s pleasurable grasp.
On his back, Anakin realizes just how many towels Obi-Wan has layered onto the usually stiff beds that, even Jedi General, are given. It’s almost plush from all the layers. Anakin wonders whether Obi-Wan had to save up for all these towels, whether he had to consciously plan to use them for this evening, or whether they count as a species accommodation and were provided for him. Anakin hopes it is the latter - that all the bickering at the senate over military funding and taxes ended up funding the towels that Anakin is going to get fucked on. Even if it isn’t, he’s sure that Obi-Wan will get a kick out of it when he tells him what he’s thinking. It can wait until later, though.
Obi-Wan gets to his knees and hovers over Anakin, planting a hand next to his head and smiling down at him.
“Hi,” Anakin whispers and immediately feels silly for doing so. But Obi-Wan just smiles wider.
“Hello,” he replies. “Are you comfortable?”
Anakin nods.
“Alright. Tell me if you want me to stop.” Unlikely, Anakin thinks. He strains his neck to watch as Obi-Wan grabs his bulge, starting at the thick back and sliding his hand towards the tip, holding it steady as he shuffles closer to Anakin’s winking hole.
“Oh,” he gasps when he feels it stroke his hole. He spreads his legs wider, earning him another ‘good boy’ from Obi-Wan, as he presses his bulge into Anakin. At first, it doesn’t want to go in, too content mapping the rest of Anakin’s ass with its blue film. Then, it catches Anakin’s rim, feels how warm and wet and open Anakin is for it, and it starts squirming to get into it. The tip is so thin, only a little thicker than Anakin’s pinky, but it quickly grows in thickness. The cool, watery slick that it produces eases the slide-in.
Obi-Wan stops just shy of pressing all the way in, but Anakin already feels stretched so wide. Unlike his fingers or any toys he’s ever used, Obi-Wan’s bulge keeps moving even while his body is still, flailing and twisting deliciously inside him. Anakin lets out a breathy moan.
“You like that?” Obi-Wan asks, teasingly. Anakin nods. “I knew you would.”
“Shut up,” Anakin whines. Obi-Wan complies, but only because he decides to start thrusting, pulling his hips back until only the first few inches of him are left inside, and then all the way forward, each time getting closer to being fully sheathed in Anakin’s ass.
It’s embarrassing, how quickly Anakin loses the ability to control the words he says or how loudly he says them. How could he be expected to remain poised when Obi-Wan was reaching so deep inside that Anakin thought he always feel empty after tonight? His bulge kept brushing against his prostate and curling back on itself, stretching him even wider. Each motion makes Anakin’s legs shake. He reaches up with his mechohand to tug at Obi-Wan’s hair. His Master moans as he lets Anakin pull him down into a kiss, sloppy and uncoordinated, spit bubbling between the corners of their lips. With his free hand, Anakin reaches between their bodies - his warm and mostly hairless, Obi-Wan’s cool and hairy - and wraps his flesh hand, still sticky and slick from touching Obi-Wan’s bulge, around his dick. He moans just at the thought of using Obi-Wan’s precome as lube, much less the actual sensation of it.
Anakin’s moans and little screams of pleasure only increase as Obi-Wan gets rougher. Each thrust is accompanied by wet sounds, as Obi-Wan’s bulge leaks more fluid until it drips out of Anakin’s hole and down his ass when he’s not plugged full. When Obi-Wan finally presses all the way in Anakin’s hole is stretched wider than it’s ever been before. He feels breathless and Obi-Wan sounds breathless as he grinds against Anakin’s ass for a few seconds. The tip of Obi-Wan’s bulge seems to understand that Anakin is teetering on the edge and it presses and undulates against his prostate. It only takes a few more sloppy strokes of his cock and Obi-Wan pressing adoring kisses against his neck and Anakin is crooning as he comes.
He expects Obi-Wan to give him a moment to calm down. Instead, Obi-Wan groans as he watches Anakin come undone and, bizarrely, shuffles toward the edge of the bed, pulling Anakin along with him.
Anakin makes a noise of confusion as he’s dragged but Obi-Wan just shushes him by pressing two fingers into Anakin’s mouth for him to suck. It’s nearly automatic, the way Anakin wraps his lips and tongue around them. He isn’t happy that it’s being used as a silencing tactic but lets Obi-Wan maneuver him until his ass is hanging off the edge, supported by a now-standing Obi-Wan.
Anakin feels better about his comparatively shorter fuse when he realizes how erratic Obi-Wan’s movements have become. His hair is flustered to his face and his eyes glazed over, mouth slightly slack. Still tingly with pleasure, but no longer drowning in it, Anakin feels how wet his ass and the back of his thighs are now. Drops of blue liquid splash out with every thrust. It drips down Obi-Wan’s chest, some drops are even stuck in his beard.
As Obi-Wan’s moans get louder and his thrusts get sloppy, more slick spills out of his bulge. Anakin’s dick twitches and Anakin lazily jerks it. Obi-Wan hunches over Anakin again but now it seems more involuntary. He pants and curses.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Anakin, oh, I’m going to come.”
“Yeah?” Anakin whispers. “You gonna do it inside?”
“Really?” Obi-Wan asks. Inside, Anakin feels his bulge thrashing, pressing against Anakin’s soft and tender walls. He tries clenching around it and Obi-Wan makes the most delicious sounds. “Are you sure?”
Anakin thought he was the romantic, but Obi-Wan sees starstruck at the idea. He nods. “Yes, Master. Please come, I want to feel you.”
Obi-Wan has never agreed to anything Anakin’s said so fast before. The few sweet words are enough in his love-drunk state. A few more minutes of choppy thrusting, his bulge practically twisting itself in knots, and he’s coming, groaning lowly. Instantly, Anakin realizes why Obi-Wan seemed so surprised that he wanted him to come inside.
As Obi-Wan comes, more translucent slick oozes out of every pore of his bulge, even dripping out of his nook. Instead of the steady drip… drip… drip that had been leaking out of him before, now a veritable wave gushes out of Anakin every time either he or Obi-Wan moves. It splashes on the industrial tiled floor of the bedroom, splashing to cover Obi-Wan’s feet, legs, and the edges of the towels. Anakin, also, realizes why Obi-Wan moved them. Drains are in every room on the ship to make the olympian task of cleaning these flying war machines possible. Instead of having to replace an entire mattress, Obi-Wan and Anakin will only have to awkwardly smuggle a few mops into Obi-Wan's room to clean up.
For all the slick that leaks out, more of it stays plugged inside Anakin, as Obi-Wan continues fucking into him and his bulge writhes. Anakin groans in pleasure and pain, as his tummy begins to be pressed taut from all the liquid stuck inside. When Obi-Wan peels his eyes open from where they’ve fluttered shut, the sight of Anakin squirming, filled with come, makes him moan even louder, and another wave of slick pulses out.
It feels like forever and a day of being stretched and filled, but finally, Obi-Wan pulls out. He moves slowly, letting a steady stream of blue genetic material leak out until Anakin is a shaky, moaning mess. His hole twitches and flutters as Obi-Wan’s bulge finally slips out, less firm than it was before, but still moving autonomously. His legs are shaking and he needs Obi-Wan’s shuffle back onto the bed, a trail of blue leaking out of him, staining the towels with each movement.
He pants heavily but looks at Obi-Wan with wide pleading eyes until he crawls onto the bed and lays next to him. Against Anakin’s sweaty skin, his Master’s cool touch is a welcome respite.
“Obi-Wan,” Anakin rasps, twisting until he can look Obi-Wan in the eye. He has so many things he wants to say. That was amazing. That was the weirdest fucking thing that I’ve ever done. I want to do it every night. I don’t want to leave you. Let me stay here forever. Instead, he swallows and asks, “How long until we can do that again?”
Obi-Wan barks out a laugh. He reaches for Anakin’s flesh hand, tacky with come, and holds it tenderly. “No need to rush. We have all night, love.”
Anakin wants to say That’s the problem, it’s only for the night. He wants to say I want to bottle this feeling so that I’ll always have it.
“You didn’t answer the question.”
Obi-Wan hums. “Give me until I can walk again and then let you swallow my bulge until you choke.”
Anakin swallows and licks his lip. “Okay,” he says. “Alright. Don’t take too long, then.”
Obi-Wan chuckles and looks at him lovingly. “I’ll do my best, Anakin.”
absolutely no idea if this is your thing or not but bp!anakin+tentacles? obi-wan can be involved in whatever way you see fit 😌
ANON I NEVER FORGOT ABOUT YOU!!!
title: improper methods of scientific inquiry
ship: anakin/Obi-Wanrating: E
2.7k
tags: dubcon, tentacles, bp!anakin
summary:Anakin stumbes upon a new and interesting species while bathing. Obi-Wan is a scientist at heart.
For day 2 of monsterfucker march: plant monsters and tentacles!
SEE ALL TAGS AND FORMATTING ON AO3
fic below the cut
Anakin wasn’t one to mind a bit of dirt and grime, but for once, even he was excited for a good scrub. He could only imagine how Obi-Wan felt. Though, his many grimaces as they waded through knee-deep mud and large sweat stains appeared on their robes made it clear enough what he thought about their hygiene. The planet they were on was tropical, humid, and so much damper than Anakin was used to. Everything they came into contact with seemed to ooze something - sap, toxins, drinkable water. Their robes were likely stained beyond repair and Anakin’s master would sooner burn them when they returned to Coruscant.
All the layers of sweat and dirt would just make slipping into the cool river seem all the better, in Anakin’s opinion. After many long hours setting up their new camp, categorizing and stabilizing the specimens they collected, Obi-Wan had finally grown tired of Anakin’s tired complaining and sent him off to bathe.
The water was cool, but not cold. It ran just quick enough to form ripples on the surface, obscuring all that lay beyond the bright indigo flow. Anakin even found a perfect little nook in the bank with rocks he could sit on while keeping his shoulders and head out of the water. Whenever Obi-Wan pulled himself away from whatever worms or moss he was pouring over, he was going to be so pleased with the little restful space Anakin found.
Shedding his clothes with more fervour than ever before, Anakin made a half-hearted attempt to rinse them out and scrub some of the more uncomfortable stains out. He left his soaked robes on a sunny rock, though with the humidity he knew they might not dry all the way through. No matter, Anakin thought. Obi-Wan was likely to want to wash Anakin’s clothes again with his own when he joined him, and they could finish drying them by the fire that night.
Anakin reached over the river banks to grab his toiletry bag. He rifled around in it, grabbing a bar of soap. He scrubbed vigorously, wanting to wash off all the muck that had accumulated over his and Obi-Wan’s two-day hike into the wilderness, but he also wanted to get the cleaning over with. Then he would be free to chill out and relax until Obi-Wan joined him. His master was sure to be more efficient with his cleaning and then they’d be off to something more productive than lounging in the world’s most comfortable river. After nearly drowning himself trying to raise his foot high enough to wash it, slipping on his stone seat in the process, Anakin chucked the bar of soap back into his bag. He could wash his hair later after Obi-Wan joined him. Then he wouldn’t get accused of lollygagging this entire time.
Anakin sighed and slumped further into the lapping water, letting it tickle his Adam's apple. The currents actually tickled him on his legs too, around his ankles, then calves, behind his knees and his thighs and-
Anakin’s eyes shot open from where they’d fluttered shut, as tickles turned to insistent pressure. Anakin jerked forward, or he tried to shoot up, flailing as slimy strength kept his legs pinned to the rocks. His hands thrust into the water, and he frantically grabbed at what had grabbed him. It felt like roots or a stem. Smooth and slick but it pulsated with each movement. When Anakin jerked his hand away and out of the water, feeling it making a snap for his wrists, his fingers were covered in slippery mucus.
He tried to kick his legs and the thing just held tighter, wrenching his legs further apart. He tried to turn to claw at the river banks, and the tendrils wrapped around his hips, keeping him firmly in place. Anakin huffed and blustered. He had washed his undergarments with his robes; if he craned his neck he could see them, drying in the sun. He felt exposed and embarrassed. He wasn't scared though. He sensed no ill will from… whatever this was. He thought maybe it was a plant. And though he couldn’t see his master, he was only a few dozen feet away. If he yelled, Obi-Wan would come for him. (And surely scold him, after hauling his naked ass out of the river.)
Anakin jolted as the tendrils danced around his skin, seemingly feeling adventurous now that he stopped flailing as strongly. The smooth surface wiggled as it undulated across and around his legs. Some of the tentacles felt thin as a pencil, while others felt thick and sturdy. The way they tightened and then released, it almost felt like a massage. The sensation made his muscles quiver and then relax, and he found himself relaxing, tipping his head back against the bank. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t so bad. He sighed and let out a little laugh. As the tentacles moved up his legs, they touched ticklish spots on his thighs, the crease where they met his hips and-
Anakin gasped when a tendril slid across his cunt, dragging across his clit. The smooth texture seemed to pulse as it touched his warmth and his legs were pulled further as it wriggled across him. He tried to wiggle out of its hold, but it only wrapped around him tighter, pulling him down a few inches. Anakin strained to keep his chin above water as the tendrils explored more of him. They tickled his stomach and belly button, reached up to brush his nipples and ran across the smooth scars under his pectoral. They almost seemed to scurry back down when they almost brushed the water’s surface. Anakin would have found it funny, maybe even a little cute, if he didn’t feel more and more tendrils working their way up his legs, holding him even more firmly in place.
He swallowed as a thicker tentacle prodded his cunt with more interest, curling and unwinding, spreading his lips and rubbing against his opening. Anakin stopped struggling, biting his lip as he felt a moan bubble inside his chest. The tentacle was gentle but firm, it felt about three fingers wide. Having felt that Anakin had stopped moving, the hold on his relaxed, and they wriggled almost excitedly. Maybe… maybe seeing what would happen wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
He glanced over his shoulder, trying to peer over the river bank to see if Obi-Wan was still preoccupied. He couldn’t see or hear him coming closer so he canted his hips, trying to direct this semi-sentient creature toward where he was growing slick and needy. Whether the tentacle actually knew where to go or whether it just stumbled upon it by chance, Anakin couldn’t tell and didn’t care. He let out a low groan as the blunt, round tip prodded his hole, twisting and squirming until it popped inside. It was broader than Anakin was used to starting with and it made his hole ache as it pushed further. But living in water made its surface slick and slimy, leaving little friction to burn as it moved. Once Anakin took a few deep breaths, relaxed further, and grew accustomed to it, it felt nice. It moved organically, random in its twists and jerks and thrusts. It was more exciting than any of the toys he kept hidden away in the Temple. Anakin gasped and laughed as the tentacle fumbled around, as it drew out and pushed back in, and other tendrils tightened on his hips - not quite like hands but equally as good. He couldn’t anticipate the next move; each zing of pleasure was a surprise.
Graceful but sure footsteps made him widen his eyes and try to sit up.
“You found us a lovely spot, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin couldn’t twist to see him fully, but his master’s tone was appreciative. “How’s the water?”
“It’s-” Anakin swallowed and cleared his throat, as the vine twisted itself thicker and thrusted. “It’s good.”
Obi-Wan hummed. Anakin heard clothes rustling as he disrobed, then the soft splash as he stepped into the water and sat a short distance from Anakin. The Jedi, though they wore many layers, were not shy about their bodies; Anakin was certain that Obi-Wan was just as nude as he was, though his body was hidden amongst the rippling tide. What would he say if these tendrils were attracted to his master as well?
“You look flushed, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said, frowning slightly. “Did you want more privacy?”
Anakin shook his head. If he asked Obi-Wan to leave then he would have to explain why. Maybe not now, but later around the campfire. Plus, Anakin felt some of the thinner tendrils prodding at his hole as well, trying to work their way in, stretching him even further. As mortifying as it would be to ask for help, he might need it, should anymore try. “No, no, I’m fine. You can stay.”
Obi-Wan nodded softly but relaxed against the natural rock bench. He reached around to his toiletry bag and extracted a small bar of soap and began his ablutions. The light suds and bubbles further obstructed Obi-Wan's view of what was happening under the water as they floated past Anakin.
Anakin shifted and shuddered as he squeezed and his body was further explored. It felt like the tentacles were making their way… deeper. Like they unlocked something inside him, had worked him open, were plundering a place he’d never reached before. A place he hadn't let anyone else reach either. He couldn't hear it over the sound of the river, of his master scrubbing his skin beside him, but Anakin could feel the squelching, the obscene sounds that his cunt made as it was stretched and used. Anakin let out a whine as the largest tendril inside him curled so deliciously, brushing up against all the perfect spots inside him.
“Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked. Anakin pried his eyes open to look at his master’s questioning expression - his furrowed eyebrows and slightly pursed lips. “Are you sure you’re quite alright?”
Anakin tried to nod but let out a gasp as the tentacles surged upward, bumping against his walls almost painfully, knocking the breath out of him. His already red cheeks deepened as his eyelids fluttered.
“… Anakin?”
“Don’t be mad,” Anakin moaned. He spied Obi-Wan from under his eyelashes, watching as his expression went from concern to suspicion. “There’s… there’s something in the water.”
Obi-Wan’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”
“It’s not dangerous!” Anakin whined, even as he was subject to more erratic movement. “I think- oh! I think it’s a plant?”
“And what’s going on with this plant?” Obi-Wan asked. Anakin bit his lip. “Padawan! Tell me, now!”
“It’s inside me,” Anakin whispered. His whole body shuddered as the thin tips of the tendrils flicked and curled gently inside him, feeling almost like an apology for the batter-ram behaviour of the largest.
“Inside? What do you… oh,” Obi-Wan sputtered, cheeks growing red as his eyes flickered to the water’s surface then up Anakin’s pinkened chest and face. “Oh…”
Anakin swallowed. “Yeah.”
“Is it… is it hurting you?”
Anakin almost laughed. He would be sore tomorrow, and some of the movements weren’t exactly good. But these exotic sensations were so good even as they made him whine and made tears prickle at the corners of his eyes.
“No,” Anakin sighed. “No, Master, it’s… fine.”
Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “Do you want me to remove them?” Anakin shook his head. “Alright, do you want me to… leave you be?”
Anakin shook his head before he even thought about it. “Stay, please.”
Obi-Wan’s expression shifted from concerned and confused to something new and yearning. Something curious and hungry. Anakin had seen part of this look before, in recent months when they’d sparred, when they bathed together in springs and rivers, not unlike the one they were currently in, when Obi-Wan tucked Anakin’s braid behind his ear, almost pained, almost reverent. And the other part of his expression… was similar to how he looked when he found a new bug species, when he watched as some wild beast roamed the wilderness, when he watched some strange bacteria under a microscope, living, breeding, and dying all within the same hour. Despite claiming to have little knowledge of the living force, Anakin’s master so loved all the living things around him and wanted to watch, care for, and understand them.
His Master wanted to understand the things that were inside Anakin, the things that were making him gasp and whine openly now that he didn’t have to hide it.
“Let me feel,” Obi-Wan whispered and Anakin whined out a yes. He slid closer to Anakin and gently ran his hand - so wide and rough and gentle - down Anakin’s stomach, fingers twitching as they brushed over tendrils, as they carded through Anakin’s pubic hair until they reached where Anakin was spread wide around the tentacle fucking into him. Tracing Anakin’s flushed lips, he swore. “Fuck, Anakin.”
Obi-Wan’s thick finger pressed against Anakin’s hole, making him whine in discomfort as his body tried to let more in. But his master was kind and retreated, bringing his fingers to Anakin’s clit and rubbing soothing circles. Pleasure made Anakin’s hips twitch, even as they were locked in place.
“How remarkable,” Obi-Wan murmured, as a thin tendril reached up to wrap around his wrist, squeezing for a moment before unwinding. He pressed harder against Anakin’s clit, moaning as Anakin twitched and buried his head into Obi-Wan’s shoulder.
“Do that again,” Anakin begged, praying that Obi-Wan would listen and that the tentacles would follow suit. So far they seemed content to thrust in tandem with Anakin’s clenching, to twist as Anakin bore down, to push deeper every time Anakin just barely got used to their depth and girth. Mercifully, Obi-Wan obliged, mouthing against Anakin’s temple as he swirled his fingers. Anakin reached down to hold Obi-Wan’s wrist, keeping comfort and pressure as he moaned and convulsed, finally getting the sweet release of an orgasm, stuck between the smooth surface of the plant and the rough skin of his master.
For a brief moment, the plants seemed to still before they too shuddered, almost in ecstasy. Anakin let out a whine as they began to move against his sensitive walls.
“What is it?” Obi-Wan asked. Anakin glanced up and saw his wide pupils and flushed cheeks. He was sure that if he reached down into the water, he’d find his master hard and wanting. But his tone was full of that scientific curiosity that Anakin loved and loathed in equal parts. “What are they doing?”
“They’re-” Anakin swallowed, and furrowed his eyebrows. What were they doing? He tried to focus through the pulses of pleasure and the sweet ache of overstretching. They were… knotting themselves? Twisting? “I think they’re… bulging?”
Obi-Wan inhaled sharply. He reached down, petting Anakin’s puffy cunt and brushing against the tendrils. He hummed.
“I think you’re right, Padawan.” He looked down into the pellucid waves. “You know, I could… remove them, if you wished.” Removing most likely meant cutting through them, hauling Anakin out of the stream like a baby tooka that fell into a bathtub, before whatever the tentacles were attached to tried to fight back. Anakin sighed. It would be nice to stretch out on the bedrolls that Obi-Wan no doubt set up, to take a quick nap in the afternoon heat. Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “Or…”
“Or?” Anakin repeated, trying to be teasing, but sounding stupidly hopeful.
“We could… see what it does next. Purely out of scientific inquiry, of course.”
“Of course,” Anakin repeated, sounding breathless even to his own ears. He felt his pussy stretch as a bulge seemed to pass through a tentacle, moving up, up, up, until it had to squeeze through Anakin’s overfucked opening. He moaned when it popped in. Obi-Wan, still petting his cunt, must have felt it too. “Well… we are here on a scientific mission.” He swallowed as he felt more churning inside him. “We can’t abandon our mission.”
Obi-Wan mouthed against his temple again. Maybe by the time his curiosity was sated, he’d be ready to kiss him on the lips. “You’re absolutely right, padawan mine. We’ll just have to remember to write our findings later.”
Anakin almost giggled. He’d even let his master take pictures later if he wanted. So long as no one else ever saw them.
