𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓋𝒾𝒸𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉
Summary : When your Master comes back from mission, ready to scream his emotions, or make you scream them.
Ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ: Master/Padawan relationship, love confession, worshipping, PiV, size kink, breeding kink, mating press, missionary, pussy eating, vaginal fingering, big cock, bigger Anakin, slight degradation.
A/N : a happy belated birthday to @anisangeldust my wife <3 I love you and here’s your birthday gift : 4.2k of pure smut with a 6’8, 220lbs Anakin Skywalker. This work is kinda poetic cuz I’m a poet…
𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓋𝒾𝒸𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉
Anakin Skywalker stood at the doorframe of your room, the twin suns of Tatooine's memory searing his vision even here, light-years away. The years had sculpted him — 6’8, 220 pounds of wiry strength and coiled power, his frame cast in sharp shadows beneath his Jedi robes. His muscles were taut beneath the fabric, but they weren’t the reason he felt like his skin might burst into flame.
You were standing a few meters away, barely reaching his chest, your delicate frame lost among the gigantic room. His “Padawan,” the one he told himself was just that. The one he had been so careful to hide his obsession for. So careful to control his gaze, to smother his hunger behind careful smiles and glances he hoped were subtle. But the Force wasn’t subtle in the way it surged around you. It crackled in his bones every time you spoke, every time you laughed.
And today, he was done pretending.
Your head turned, and you spotted him. A smile bloomed on your lips — unguarded, bright. His pulse hammered.
His jaw clenched, and he strode toward you, closing the distance with long, deliberate steps. Each one felt like a step off a cliff, a plunge into gravity he couldn’t resist anymore. You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, curiosity flickering in your eyes.
He stopped just inches away, towering over you, the heat of his body palpable. He couldn’t stop the way his fingers curled, aching to touch you. His voice, low and rough, broke the silence.
“Tell me I’m not imagining this.”
“Master,” You smiled brightly.
His heart clenched at the word, sweet and devastating in your mouth. Master. The title was a barrier between them, a wall he had built brick by brick, day by day, to keep you safe. To keep himself sane. But now, hearing it fall from your lips, it felt like a mockery. A cruel joke played by the Force itself.
"Don't call me that," he growled, the words torn from his throat. His hand shot out, fingers curling around your jaw, tilting your face up towards his. Your skin was soft, impossibly delicate beneath his calloused palm. He could feel the rapid flutter of your pulse, matching the frantic pounding of his own heart.
His gaze dropped to your lips, full and pink and tempting beyond belief. He leaned in, breath ghosting over your skin. "Call me Anakin," he breathed, his voice rough with need. "Or nothing at all."
The air between them was electric, charged with tension and desire. He could feel the Force pulsing around you, drawing him closer, taunting him with the forbidden fruit of your body. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, tracing the soft curve, and he swallowed hard.
"I've tried to resist this," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "Tried to tell myself it was wrong. But I can't anymore. Not when you look at me like that."
His free hand slid down your back, spanning the curve of your waist, pulling you flush against him. He could feel every inch of you, soft and yielding against his hard planes. His hips pressed forward, grinding against you, and a low groan escaped his throat.
"Tell me you want this," he whispered, his lips brushing yours with every word. "Tell me you want me."
“M-Master…I…I—” You blushed furiously. To your utter surprise, he kneeled in front of you, and even in this position, he was taller than you.
His knees hit the floor with a soft thud, the impact jarring through his joints, his legs folding like a supplicant before an altar. Even kneeling, he was still eye level with you, his face mere inches from your trembling form. The position was unfamiliar, humbling, a stark contrast to the power he wielded. But it felt right, somehow. Necessary.
His hands found your hips, large and warm, spanning the delicate bones. He could feel the heat of your skin through the thin fabric of your clothes, the way your body trembled beneath his touch. His thumbs rubbed slow circles, soothing, coaxing.
"Shh," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "There's no need to be afraid. I won't hurt you."
His gaze locked with yours, intense and searching. He could see the confusion, the uncertainty swirling in the depths of your eyes. He understood. This was new, uncharted territory. For both of them.
Slowly, deliberately, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against your stomach. The movement forced you to look down at him, your hair falling forward in a silky curtain. He breathed in deeply, the scent of you filling his lungs, his senses. Sweet and intoxicating, like the spices of a thousand worlds.
One hand slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair, tugging gently until your head tipped back, exposing the elegant line of your neck. His lips brushed the sensitive skin just below your ear, a feather-light touch that sent shivers racing down your spine.
"Tell me what you want," he whispered against your skin, his breath hot and damp. "Tell me how to please you."
His other hand slid lower, cupping your ass, pulling you harder against him. He could feel the heat of your core, even through the layers of clothing separating them. It took all his willpower not to rip them away, to bare you to his hungry gaze.
But this wasn't about him. It was about you. About giving you what you needed, what you craved. Even if it killed him.
He was only a man after, a man made to worship, a god…or a woman. You nodded « T-the bed, Master » You stammered, blushing under his heated gaze. Nobody ever looked at you with such reverence —with such devotion.
A single word, a command whispered from your lips, and he obeyed without hesitation. His hands slid from your body, leaving you feeling bereft, cold. But the loss was brief, replaced by the heat of his presence as he rose to his feet, his tall frame towering over you once more.
In one fluid motion, he scooped you into his arms, cradling you against his chest like a precious treasure. Your head nestled perfectly in the crook of his neck, your face buried in the warmth of his skin. He could feel the rapid flutter of your pulse, the way your breath hitched with each step he took towards the bed.
The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he lowered himself onto it, settling back against the pillows with you still clutched tightly in his arms. His hand slid up your spine, tracing the delicate curve of your back, the dip of your waist.
"Is this what you want?" he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "To be worshipped? To be adored?"
His other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, intense, burning with a hunger that took your breath away. A hunger that mirrored your own.
Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, his lips hovering a hairsbreadth from yours. "Tell me," he breathed, his voice rough with need. "Tell me what you need. What you crave."
His tongue darted out, wetting his lips, and you couldn't help but follow the movement, your own tongue peeking out to moisten your dry mouth. The air between you was electric, charged with tension and desire.
One hand slid down your side, skimming over your hip, your thigh, before settling on your knee. He pushed your leg up, opening you to him, his fingers trailing fire in their wake.
"I want to hear you say it," he growled, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. "I want to hear you beg for it."
His hand slid higher, bunching the fabric of your skirt, pushing it up and up until cool air kissed your heated flesh. His fingers brushed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “P-please…Master…I need you.” You whimpered, his words like poetry in your ears.
His breath caught in his throat, your plea echoing through his mind like a prayer. The words he had longed to hear, the admission he had craved. He could feel the force of his desire, a living thing pulsing between them, urging him to claim you, to make you his.
But he held back, restraint a fragile thread, fraying with each passing second. He wanted to savor this moment, to memorize every breath, every sigh, every shudder of your body.
"Look at you," he murmured, his voice rough with awe. "So beautiful. So perfect."
His hand slid higher, fingers brushing against the damp heat of your core. You gasped, your hips bucking into his touch, seeking more. He obliged, his thumb circling your clit with maddening slowness, teasing, tormenting.
"You're so wet for me," he growled, his lips trailing down your neck, nipping, sucking, marking you as his own. "So ready for me."
His big fingers dipped lower, sliding through your slick folds, teasing your entrance. You whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders, your body arching into his touch.
"Please," you gasped, your hips rocking against his hand. "Please, Master. I need you inside me."
The words were his undoing. With a low growl, he surged forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, claiming you, possessing you. His long fingers pushed inside you, stroking, stretching, preparing you for his cock as you moaned from the large intrusion.
He broke the kiss, panting, his eyes wild and hungry. "I'm going to fuck you now," he rasped, his voice raw with need. "I'm going to make you mine."
His obsession consumed him, a raging inferno that scorched his every thought. His cock throbbed, heavy and hard, aching to bury itself deep inside your welcoming heat. But it wasn't enough. He wanted more. He wanted everything.
"I'm going to fill you up," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "I'm going to pump you full of my seed until your belly swells with my babies."
His fingers plunged deeper, curling against your inner walls, stroking that sensitive spot that made you see stars. "Imagine it," he purred, his lips brushing your ear. "Your body round and ripe with my children. Your tits heavy and full, leaking milk for our young."
He could picture it, the image seared into his mind. You, glowing with life, your skin stretched taut over the evidence of his possession. His cock twitched at the thought, pre-cum beading at the tip.
"I'll keep you barefoot and pregnant," he promised, his voice a dark rumble. "My personal breeding mare, ready and willing to take my cock whenever I please."
His thumb rubbed circles around your clit, the pressure just right, sending jolts of pleasure shooting through your body. "Say you want it," he demanded, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Say you want to be bred like a bitch in heat."
Anakin’s eyes darkened with possessive hunger as he gazed down at your petite form, his cock throbbing with the need to claim you, to make you his. But even in his lust-fueled haze, he recognized the challenge before him. Your tight, untouched pussy would require patience, care, and plenty of preparation before it could accommodate his massive member.
"Such a tiny little hole," he rumbled, his fingers exploring your slick folds, stroking and teasing. "So small and tight. Made just for me."
He brought his fingers to his lips, tasting your essence, savoring the sweetness of your arousal. "But don't worry, my sweet. I'll stretch you out. I'll make you take every inch of my cock."
His thumb found your clit, rubbing firm circles, coaxing your body to open for him. His other hand slid down to cup your ass, kneading the supple flesh, holding you steady as he worked you open.
"That's it," he encouraged, his voice low and soothing. "Relax for me. Let me in."
Slowly, carefully, he began to work a finger inside you, the digit sinking into your tight heat. You gasped, your walls clenching around the intrusion, trying to push it out. But he was patient, gentle, stroking and massaging until you began to relax, your body accepting his touch.
"Good girl," he praised, his voice rough with approval. "Such a good little cock sleeve, taking my finger so well."
He pumped his finger in and out, twisting and curling, seeking that special spot deep inside you. When he found it, your back arched off the bed, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips.
"That's it," he growled, his own breathing growing ragged. "Take it. Take everything I give you."
He added a second finger, then a third, stretching you wider, preparing you for the inevitability of his cock. All the while, his thumb continued its relentless assault on your clit, pushing you higher, closer to the edge.
The sight of your tears, glistening like diamonds on your flushed cheeks, only fueled his desire. Your nails scrabbled at his scalp, your body writhing beneath him as he worked his fingers deeper, stretching you wider, preparing you for his massive cock.
"That's it," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Take it all. Take every inch."
His hand twisted, his fingers curling and scissoring, opening you up, making room for his girth. You sobbed, your back bowing off the bed, your walls clenching around his invading digits.
"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunted, his own hips rocking forward, his cock sliding along your thigh, leaving a trail of pre-cum in its wake. "Such a perfect little hole, made just for me."
Anakin could feel your body yielding to his touch, your muscles relaxing, accepting his invasion. Slowly, carefully, he began to pump his fist in and out, fucking you with his hand, stretching you, readying you for the real thing.
Your cries filled the room, a symphony of pleasure and pain, your nails raking down his back, leaving red welts in their wake. He reveled in it, in the knowledge that he was the one causing you such exquisite torment, the one bringing you such intense pleasure.
"Almost there," he panted, his own body trembling with the effort of holding back, of not ramming his cock into your prepared hole and fucking you until you screamed. "Almost ready for my cock."
He added a fourth finger, then a fifth, his hand disappearing into your heat, his knuckles brushing against your entrance. You keened, your eyes rolling back, your body shaking with the force of your impending orgasm.
"Come for me," he commanded, his thumb pressing hard against your clit. "Come on my hand like a good little slut."
And you did, your body convulsing, your walls clamping down around his fingers, milking them, greedy for more. He worked you through it, his hand never stopping its relentless movement, prolonging your pleasure, pushing you to new heights.
The sight of you coming undone, your face contorted in ecstasy, your body shaking with the force of your release, nearly undid him. His hips bucked wildly, grinding against the sheets, his cock throbbing, aching for relief. But he held back, his jaw clenched, his muscles rigid with the effort of not spilling his seed too soon.
"Fuck," he groaned, his voice strained. "You're so fucking hot when you come."
He withdrew his hand slowly, watching as your hole fluttered, clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled. A fresh surge of lust crashed over him, and he had to take a moment to regain his composure, to rein in his desire before he lost all control.
When he finally raised his head, his eyes were wild, his pupils blown wide with need. He crawled up your body, his lips and teeth and tongue leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He captured your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your cries, tasting your pleasure on your tongue.
The sheer size of Anakin was overwhelming, a testament to his virility, his power. His cock jutted from his body, thick and heavy, the veins pulsing beneath the smooth skin. The head was an angry purple, leaking copious amounts of pre-cum, glistening in the dim light of the room.
He positioned himself between your legs, the broad head of his cock nudging against your entrance. You could feel the heat of him, the hardness, the raw masculinity that emanated from his very being.
"Look at it," he growled, his voice rough with lust. "Look at how big it is. How it's stretching you out, making you mine."
He pressed forward, the head of his cock popping past your entrance, stretching you wider than you ever thought possible. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders, your body resisting the intrusion.
"Shh," he soothed, his hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your lips. "Relax. Let it in. Let it claim you."
He pushed further, inch by agonizing inch, his thick shaft splitting you open, filling you in a way you'd never been filled before. You could feel every ridge, every vein, every throbbing pulse of his cock as it slid deeper, deeper, until it couldn’t.
You mewled and clawed at his back “Too much…too m-much Ani…” You couldn’t take all his cock and it bruised your insides.
His heart clenched at the sound of your distress, at the pain in your voice. He knew he was big, knew that taking all of him would be a challenge, even with the extensive preparation. But he had gotten carried away in his lust, in his need to claim you, to make you his.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse with regret. "I'm sorry, my love. I didn't mean to hurt you."
He pulled back slowly, his cock slipping out of your abused hole, leaving you feeling empty, aching. He gathered you into his arms, cradling you against his chest, his hand stroking soothing patterns on your back.
"Shh," he murmured, pressing soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, your lips. "It's okay. We'll take it slow. We'll do this right."
"That's it," he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he peppered your face with gentle kisses. "Just breathe, my love. You're doing so well."
His hips rocked forward, inch by inch, his massive cock slowly sinking into your tight heat. He watched your face intently, gauging your reactions, ready to stop at the first sign of discomfort.
"Fuck," he grunted, his eyes rolling back as your walls gripped him like a velvet vice. "You feel incredible. So tight, so perfect."
He paused when he reached the barrier of your cervix, giving you time to adjust to his size. His hand slid between your bodies, finding your clit, rubbing slow, steady circles, coaxing your pleasure.
"That's it," he encouraged, his voice a low rumble. "Let yourself feel good. Let yourself enjoy it."
He began to move then, shallow thrusts that gradually increased in depth and intensity. Each slide of his cock sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, building, intensifying, until you were writhing beneath him, your nails digging into his back.
Anakin’s sheer size was overwhelming, his large, muscular body blanketing yours, pinning you to the bed. His arms, thick with corded muscle, caged you in, his hands splayed on either side of your head, his fingers curling into the sheets. You felt small, delicate, completely at his mercy.
"You're mine," he growled, his voice a low, possessive rumble. "All mine. My perfect little mate."
His hips snapped forward, driving his cock deeper, harder, faster. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, your walls clenching around him, greedy for more.
"Feel that," he panted, his breath hot against your ear as he pressed on your lower belly where the shape of his gigantic cock was bulging. "Feel how deep I am. How I'm stretching you out, claiming you."
His body covered yours completely, his broad chest pressing against your breasts, his hard abs grinding against your soft stomach. You could feel every inch of him, the heat of his skin, the power in his muscles.
His movements became more urgent, more primal, as he shifted your legs up and over his shoulders, folding you nearly in half. The new angle allowed him to penetrate you even deeper, his cock ramming against your cervix with each powerful thrust.
"Fuck," he grunted, his eyes wild, his face contorted with pleasure. "You're so fucking tight. So perfect."
His hands slid under your thighs, gripping your hips, pulling you onto his cock with each snap of his hips. The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with the force of his thrusts.
"Take it," he growled, his voice a low, menacing snarl. "Take my cock. Take everything I have to give you."
He pounded into you relentlessly, his balls slapping against your ass, his cock stretching you to the limit. You could do nothing but hold on, your hands clutching at his arms, your nails digging into his skin.
The sound of the bed frame cracking, the mattress sagging beneath your combined weight, only fueled his lust, his desire to claim you, to mark you as his. His hips pistoned forward, his cock slamming into you with brutal force, the head battering against your cervix with each thrust.
"Yes," he snarled, his eyes wild, his face contorted with pleasure. "Fuck yes. Mark me. Leave your claim on my skin."
He could feel your nails raking down his back, your legs kicking weakly at his sides as he held you in place, impaling you on his massive cock. The pain of your nails, the sting of your skin breaking, only served to heighten his pleasure, his need to dominate, to conquer, to own the woman he loved so fully. He wanted to consume you, nest in the crevices of your heart.
“Anakin…An-Anakin…Ani…” You moaned helplessly as he worshipped you like a goddess. You couldn’t even think about anything else, only him, only your Anakin.
His name never beheld such beauty before you had moaned it. Between the curves of your lips his name was given meaning at last. His soul was starved in want of your own and he knew that within the cathedral of your ribs laid his beating heart.
His hips snapped forward, driving into you with renewed vigor. The bed creaked and groaned beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust. He could feel your walls fluttering around him, your body tightening, climbing towards its peak.
"Come for me," he demanded, his hand sliding between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit. "Come on my cock. Let me feel you."
He rubbed firm circles, his touch unrelenting, pushing you closer to the edge. Your moans grew louder, more frantic, your body shaking beneath him.
"That's it," he panted, his own release building, his balls drawing up tight. "Let go. Let go and come for me."
The feeling of your walls clamping down on his cock, rippling and squeezing, was his undoing. With a roar of completion, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing, his seed jetting forth in thick, hot spurts. He filled you, claimed you, marked you from the inside out.
"Fuck," he grunted, his hips jerking, his body shuddering with the force of his release. "Fuck yes. Take it all."
He collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his cock still buried deep inside you. You could feel his heart pounding, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.
"That was..." he began, his voice rough, hoarse. "That was incredible."
He rolled to the side, pulling you with him, cradling you against his chest. His hand stroked your hair, your face, your body, soothing, comforting.
"You're amazing," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "So perfect. So beautiful."
He held you close, savoring the feel of your naked body against his, the warmth of your skin, the scent of your hair. In that moment, he felt complete, whole, as if a piece of himself that had been missing had finally clicked into place.
“Anakin —Master, you’re heavy.” You whined, squirming under him.
He propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at you with a tender smile. "What is it, my love?" he asked, his voice soft, concerned.
He could see the exhaustion in your eyes, the way your body trembled slightly beneath him. The realization of his weight upon you hit him like a physical blow, and he quickly rolled off, gathering you into his arms instead.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "I didn't mean to crush you. Are you alright?"
His hands roamed over your body, checking for any signs of distress, any indication that he had hurt you. But aside from a few faint bruises and the telltale ache between your legs, you seemed unharmed.
"Rest now," he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I've got you. I won't let anything happen to you."
He settled back against the pillows, pulling you close, your head resting on his chest. He could feel your breaths evening out, your body relaxing into his embrace. And as you drifted off to sleep, he held you tight, his own eyes drifting closed, a contented smile playing on his lips.
Tags ; @qalijahbydior , @anystalker707 , @the-gray-maiden , @anakinca , @cloverina , @dazednstars141 , @valyna27 , @theoriginalsinner28
