Twenty-five year old Obi-Wan is a Jedi Knight, and an emergency landing isn't anything he hasn’t handled before. But there's something strangely familiar about this planet, something he can’t quite identify... and soon he and his new Padawan Anakin are having to face up to an echo of the past that he'd almost let himself forget.
Work rating has changed to E and there are some new tags to mind!
Second part of the present for @paleoleigh, with extra thanks to @temporarysins69 for beta'ing and letting me know what landed... and what I needed to kick up a notch 😈
WIP Wednesday Thursday because @temporarysins69 made a post that legally obligated me and I just saw it -
This is from fourth row far left chapter 3, the ending of which is STILL KILLING ME!
Under the cut for unabashed smut.
"You can…" A breath. The stranger seems kind; certainly they're gentle, and careful that Obi-Wan should feel good too. He trusts them. "You can fuck me."
There's no answer, and the steady slow stroking of the stranger's hand on Obi-Wan's cock only barely hesitates, but after less than a minute — six breaths — something warm, and lubricant-slicked, and about the width of the largest bead, rests for a moment against Obi-Wan's suddenly not-very-relaxed-after-all arsehole, and nudges gently at him.
Obi-Wan is afraid. He doesn't want he doesn't want he doesn't want — he does want, he tells himself firmly, snatching his hand away from the yellow button, because if he can choose this, and wring some pleasure out of it, and say no when he feels like saying no, then he wins, and the terrible man from the spaceport loses.
"All right?" the stranger's voice prompts, warped by the membrane, and;
"All right," Obi-Wan says firmly.
He slumps against the padded bench, and forces himself to unclench his fists and remember how good the beads felt stroking at his insides; like he'd wanted it to go on for hours. This will just be like the best part of the beads, over again. This is what he wants. And when he relaxes, and is slowly spread open, hole twitching and flexing as the stranger's length nestles warmly into him, Obi-Wan almost gasps at the gentle intensity of being filled without pain. His body melts, accommodating the slick glide of the hot flesh that eases him open until every nerve lights up with sensation, and shifting back against the press of the stranger's body inside his own, brushing over that sensitive place and sending stars flying behind his eyes with every stroke.
SO EXCITED to draw for @grievingauthor’s fic, Glorify The Hunter! It was SO fun to work with you for the @obiwanwhumpminibang, the mythosaur skull we came up with is probably the coolest thing I’ve ever drawn.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Because I'm going half way around the world home for the holidays soon and I cannot be checking the comments on this on my parents' WiFi - here's chapter 2 of what was going to be a oneshot, my beloved fourth row far left.
Senpai noticed me and handed me a plate of fabulous ideas for whumping Obi-Wan really pretty effectively.
I would quite like to do that and have a HORRIBLE idea for how to pull it off.
I'm aware I have followers/people from before the Star Wars brainrot came back with a vengeance and definitely before I got into nsfwhump on main, and my Aotearoa peeps in particular did not follow for this. I like y'all and don't want to cause anyone unnecessary concern/distress.
would you rather:
ew no keep that shit on AO3
i will tag 'obiwhump' and you will block that tag if you don't wanna see it
dedicated sideblog that I will definitely forget to use
With the heavy paw on his sternum, Obi-Wan could barely breathe, but still he struggled, trying to push the creature off him. It dug its claws into his chest, and he cried out in pain. He tried to gather the Force to aid him, but here in this room, this nexus of the Dark Side, the Light was impossible to reach. Like it wasn’t even there.
