#norena (oc) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cillivnz · 1 year

Text

hatefuck [anakin skywalker]

PAIRING — ANAKIN SKYWALKER x F!READER

GENRE — SMUT, ANGST (if you squint)

TROPE — ENEMIES TO LOVERS

WORD COUNT — 5289

WARNINGS — hate fucking, cursing, jealousy, very sexual themes, smoker!reader, reader uses seduction/sex as a tactic of interrogation, mentions of masturbation, mentions of cunnilingus (reader!giving), torture, sadism, murder, gore, degradation, name-calling, pet-names, dom!anakin (kinda)switch!reader, choking, slapping, spanking, fingering (metallic hand used), rough p in v sex, clit stimulation, biting, breast/nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie.

reader’s sexuality is not labelled, but has been in intimate relationships with males and females.

the imagine is obviously anakin x reader, but there is very little oc!antagonist x reader, female oc!stripper x reader, and implied (only by jealous anakin, unless you’re into that) obi-wan x reader.

NOTES — Miralka - fictional strip club. Romer Rangil - OC target in this fiction. Norena Kwi'lek - OC stripper, has been in intimate encounters with reader. Y/L - Your Last Name.

hatefuck playlist.

It's been three months since you planned on arresting Romer Rangil, an informant for the Sith from within the Republic. Though he was a prominent member, he barely showed his face; the only place ever to see him "off-duty" was a strip club under the name 'Miralka'.

So, you find yourself getting ready to go there.

Deciding to shower before dressing up, you let the cold water cleanse the sins away. You had grown accustomed to doing things a little alternatively; a little less Jedi. You had been the Order's last resort ever since you became a Knight. Whenever Obi-Wan's constitutional methods would fail, they'd turn to you. You were a professional seductress — a sex symbol from the Order that no man, or woman was safe from, because no matter how great one was, even the mightiest fall for lust.

Even the chosen ones.

Your mind trailed off to Anakin Skywalker as you began washing your hair. You thought about all that he's been saying to you about the mission, and practise sessions where you'd have to pretend he's Rangil and seduce him. That was the highlight of your day— to watch the august Skywalker squirm beneath you.

You lost track of time reminiscing, but pulled yourself together and left the shower. Anakin has never, not once, shown interest in you. Even when you were hovering over him, begging him to share his secrets as Rangil.

Little did you know, Anakin Skywalker hated you.

He hated you for leaving him with blue-balls every time you'd enter the room, and he hated those fucking practise sessions, where the only thing separating your desperate holes from his cock were those stupid Jedi rags.

You sighed, trying not to let it get to you. You looked upon Anakin as a challenge, but you'd be lying if you said him not succumbing to your sex appeal made you lose confidence.

A knock startled you. "Y/L you ready, or what?"

"Or what, Skywalker." You hear him let out an agitated sigh and mutter "fuck's sake".

You cringed a little at how insignificant he had always managed to make you feel on missions.

"Calm your tits, I'm getting dressed." You retort; when you looked at your clothes for the evening, doubt washed over you. "Actually, Anakin, could you help me out." You called out. After a few moments of silence, you assumed he's left, when he said "Open up."

You did as asked, and let him in your apartment.

He looked at you. Your back towards him.

You wore the tightest latex pants and a cropped vest that was holding on to itself for dear life. He stared at your ass while you said something he couldn't even register. When you turned around, his eyes pierced through your buttoned vest. Your boobs were pushing out of the blouse like the buttons were to burst open and knock someone out in the eye.

Your low-waist pants were tight as if they were your skin; the hem of your thong was clearly visible. You had even worn a naval piercing, which Anakin had no clue when you got. Who knows what else you had pierced?

"Anakin?" You called, his eyes staring right into yours. He looked at you, but his mind was elsewhere. "Anakin." Again, no response. "Anakin Skywalker!" You yelled causing him to blink several times, "What was that?" He leaned closer and licked his lips.

An odd gesture, but not absurd.

"How many buttons do I open?" You asked, to which he gave a perplexed look.

"How slutty is slutty?" You rephrased.

To your surprise, he walked closer— eyed fixated on your chest— making your heart jump. His hands rested on your breasts, fingers coming in contact with the buttons. He opened the first— eyes flicking back to your own— then the last, then the second, and finally the fourth, leaving you with only the third, the button in the middle, closed.

"Slutty enough." He whispered in your ear. His fingers lingered on your chest, down to your abdomen. He stroked your belly piercing with his index, causing you to let out a shiver, and left. "I'll see you outside." He said before leaving.

You smirked. It seems the mighty are beginning to crumble.

You did your hair and makeup; wet hair clinging to your frame perfectly, a mysterious smokey eye, and heeled boots with your latex pants. A small black necklace was your finishing touch.

Packing your menthols, you left, feeling sexier than ever. You met Anakin a few blocks away from Miralka. He stood by a streetlamp, head thrown back, staring at two fireflies flying together.

The sight was comforting to you. Maybe it was the way the insects played with each other in the horizons like it were theirs to claim that reminded you of Anakin and yourself, or maybe it was Anakin himself. You knew he was a handsome guy, but the dim yellow light of the lamp accentuating his most vulnerable attributes made you realise Anakin Skywalker might just be the most handsome guy.

"I can feel you staring." He spoke, still watching the fireflies. "Can you blame me?" You rhetorically asked with a sultry tone. "Yes, I can. Focus on the mission, Y/L."

'Ah, there he is', you thought when he replied coldly.

You roll your eyes and head for Miralka. You pull out your pack of cigarettes and light one outside the entrance. Anakin's eyes bore into yours.

───── ON A PREVIOUS MISSION ─────

"You shouldn't smoke these." Anakin grabbed the cigarette from your lips at threw it on the ground.

"Hey!" You smacked his arm. "What's it to you, Skywalker?" You questioned, agitated.

In all your years knowing him, you'd have only referred to Anakin by his last name when he pissed you off, and the tone in which you said it instead of cheekily calling him "Chosen One", or sweetly dragging the name "Ani" when you needed him to do something for you, made him hate his last name.

He looked over to the rogue commander you had been torturing for hours.

You lit another cigarette, inhaling three long puffs. Before Anakin could tackle it from you — being the poster child for healthy lungs — you took the cigarette and pressed the burning butt on the Commander's forehead. He shrieked in pain, emitting a chuckle from you, and another one of those looks from Anakin that you couldn't decipher yet.

You knew he was pissed at your bad habit, but you chose to save that conversation for later. You continued smoking as you made your way inside.

As anticipated, Miralka was packed with people. Friday nights are a sinner's delight here, and the dancers, too, are welcoming. Walking further in, you took notice of everyone present, and their various escorts, or designated strippers, some of which recognised you from when you went undercover here a few years ago. You gave them a brief nod, trying to act like your area of popularity wasn't this nightspot.

Toward the end of the joint sat your target, surrounded by three girls and scores of bottles of the finest liquor. His broad back was towards you, but they way heads turned to stare at you gave you the impression that Romer Rangil was aware the hottest girl in the club just walked in.

Out of the three girls sitting on and around him, you were familiar with the blonde one sitting on the bar. Her olive skin, long legs, slender frame, dyed blonde hair and pale green eyes is what made Norena Kwi'lek catch your attention when you worked a case here. She saw your face, recognising it even in the dimmest of lights— scanning your physique. Norena was a bright one. Judging by your outfit, and the look of sadistic pleasure in your eyes, revealed that you were here for business and not pleasure, which briefly bummed her out.

She raised an eyebrow, to which you raised two of your own. You weren't sure whether this was indicated at your clothes, going after a man possessing notoriety like Rangil, or the fact that you were smoking indoors when a sign directly behind you specifically said not to, but mimicking Norena's gesture gave her the hint that you needed her and the other two ladies out of there.

"Another bottle, baby?" Norena asked Rangil, stroking the left side of his face. "Make it three." He winked at her. "Alright, girls, come with me." She extended her arm for them to wrap themselves around as they walked towards you, "You babes go get yourselves some Cuvee, I'll meet you at the bar," she said to them before turning towards you. She looked around— eyes illuminating in the dark— before pausing in a particular direction.

"I see Chosen One's still obsessed with you." You follow her gaze, only to see Anakin staring intently at you. She chuckled, making you look at her. "He's such a tool," you snort at her remark. You look back at Anakin, clearly remembering how he's not a fan of Norena.

When you and Norena met four years ago, you and Anakin were Padawans, freshly turned Knights, yet your Maverick methods of prevailing justice were notorious even then. Your task was to arrest the previous owner of Miralka, who used the strip club as a front for forced prostitution and trafficking. Norena was new to the joint and immediately forced into prostitution. When you began investigating undercover, she was the first girl who caught your eye. Undeniably beautiful, with ginger hair then. You and her shared quite a few moments, and soon her shyness was replaced by the little promiscuous wildfire inside her, a trait you both shared.

Even after you arrested the son of a bitch, you still paid visits to make sure Norena was doing alright; sometimes dragging Anakin along, and he hated it.

He hated waiting pointlessly for you to finish wasting dawn after dawn. His agitation once got the best of him when he bust open the door of her room, and lo and behold— you were giving her cunnilingus while fingering yourself.

Norena, grabbing the collar of your vest tore you away from your daze, she pulled you closer, her tall frame towering over you by a few inches. "Good luck," she said, leaning in and kissing you.

You smirked obnoxiously, loving the affect your entirety had on her, Chosen One over there and pretty much half of Coruscant.

Feeling more confident than ever, you made your way towards Rangil; Anakin following closely, but still maintaining a believable distance. You sat next to him, waiting for him to succumb to your presence.

"Well, hello there." His tone smug and sultry, but it was what he said that made your eyes widen as you thought of the man who trained you.

"Hi, darling." You whisper, seductively. "I haven't seen you around." His body now faces yours completely; looking at you attentively. Playfully, you asked, "What makes you so sure," to which he replied, "I'd remember a face like that."

If it was another lowlife you were given the task to arrest, you'd have barfed in your mouth by now — but the small difference in that was that Romer Rangil was far more attractive than the photos.

And so, you blushed.

"What do you say we get outta here?" He said, looking back and forth between you and your cleavage. "You read my mind, handsome." Grabbing his hand, you run out of the club acting like a bunch of teenagers which made Romer chuckle deeply.

You felt a certain dark energy lure you towards itself, aching you to stay, but with the target so close to cracking, you decided to leave this unknown aura hanging.

The streets outside Miralka were lone as a wolf, quite contradicting to it indoors, but even if the atmosphere around you was bustling with chaos, you'd still focus on Rangil, and that feeling in your gut that you'd fade into the night perfectly. You smiled to yourself at just the thought of Romer's pretty face all wound up and bleeding at the command of your blade. 'He'd look so pretty in a torture chair,' you fantasised.

The course of reaching his apartment was a wind of whiplash that only his kiss broke you out of. Romer acted quite the gentleman, carrying you to his room, but throwing you on his bed was a ravenous display of his lust which the heat between your legs ached to reciprocate. You looked up at him with eager eyes, calculating how much fun can you obtain before this pleasure became poisonous. You've had sex a few times with people involved— primarily Norena— but never during missions. 'First time for everything,' you smirked to yourself.

Romer tore your vest off and you threw your pants away. He was stripped to the bone, analysing your physique as you did his. Romer Rangil was a gorgeous man, much younger than other men of his notoriety. His bronze skin, amber eyes and dark, buzzed hair made him your most desirable prey yet, and you'd be lying if denied thinking against the Order's instructions and having your own fun with this little criminal.

His fingers trailed your thighs leisurely while he leaned closer. When his fingers hovered over your clit, you snapped, bucking your hips forwards to chase the contact you so desired. "Fuck." He moaned, when his fingers felt your wet slit.

He grabbed his cock and led it to your hole.

Barely had the tip eased in than something you could never fathom took place. Your back arched as you let the feeling of Romer Rangil be engulfed by your cunt; with half-open eyes you see the silhouette of satan growing larger and larger as he made his way towards you. The red lights of Romer's bedroom reminded you of a brothel the minute you were carried to it, but it complemented the shadow in a way only the lust exuding out of your body could justify. Your eyes shot open when the Devil stood behind the shoulder of the man you preyed on.

Anakin Skywalker's tanned skin always ignited a cat's curiosity inside you, wanting to find out how it feels against yours; his fawn hair that you've wanted to tangle your fingers in while you picture him assaulting your needy cunt with his mouth, and his scars. The fucking scars tainting his flawless beauty to the point where even the nastiest of them only add on to his perfection. Right now, all of the things you loved about Anakin Skywalker were amplified in the red light.

The battle between your eyes and his carries on eternally. His blue irises bore into yours, but this time was different. They appeared like two angry planets darkened by the corruption of lust and loathe. You see him raise something you couldn't make out, but you regretted your delay. "Anakin, NO!" By the time the words left your mouth, Anakin's light saber ignited, and a hole was burned into Romer Rangil's head.

Your mouth hung in air, bewildered as you saw Rangil's eyes roll back while blue light impaled his skull.

"Skywalker, you fucking bastard!" you screamed as Romer's insensate corpse collapsed on you. His blood now smeared all over you, making it look like his head exploded next to you.

You made an attempt to push his heavy body off of you, but noticing no avail, Anakin used the force before you could to swing his body off the bed, which thumped against the wall with mighty force and collapsed. "What is wrong with you, Skywalker?" Your tone was offensive, and manner of questioning made Anakin hate his methods for a minute, but no hate overpowered Anakin's for you. "Three months," you continued in anger, "Three months we planned this— we worked for this— I worked for this, Skywalker." Anger boiled inside you, not even your lustful needs could overpower the psychotic anger inside you, that the whole Order feared. "That's the thing with you, little Chosen piece of shit," Your tone changed to sultry, "Little Skywalker hasn't been the same since your bitch on Naboo—" An intense pressure squeezed your trachea, not even the softest moans or pathetic whimpers came out. You looked up to see Anakin stretching his hand out, choking you with his force like he was destined to kill you. You'd never admit it, but death danced over your head as Hangman himself got off on seeing you in all vulnerability.

You realised you're covered by nothing, now that Rangil's body is out of the way, and you needed to survive. You spread your legs with whatever strength you had left, causing Anakin's eyes to immediately penetrate your cunt. The longer he stared, the more his grip on your throat loosened, and more grew his ever-hard erection. You used his dazed state to your advantage and got away from his embrace.

Now was your time to torture.

So you thought when Anakin's grip tightened far more than before, causing you to gasp for dear life. His eyes still glued to your glistening cunt, he confessed, "I can hear your thoughts." "Your filthy, selfish, disgusting thoughts." "Fuck you," you thought, making sure he heard it loud and clear.

"Oh, you will." He smiled sickly.

In a split second, the noose of death loosened around your neck and you broke free, gasping for air with teary eyes. "Son of a bitch!" You said in between breaths. "Are you done?" He sneered.

You caught your breath a minute later and pestered him with questions again, "Why?"

He just looked at you.

"Because I despise you." He made his way to you. "I despise you in ways you can't fathom, Y/N," "You think you're high and mighty with galaxies of men wrapped around your little finger?" "You think I don't realise your desperation to have me?" He caught your attention here.

"That I don't hear your pathetic little moans when you finger yourself thinking about me? That I don't realise you specifically sit on my lap during practise so your ass can rub against my crotch?" "Don't think I don't count the number of people you've pity-fucked thinking I'd succumb to jealousy."

"You will never have, Y/N Y/L,"

"Because you are beneath me."

Lust, anger, blasphemous lust. You had never let anyone— no man or woman, no Knight or Mace— speak to you in a manner so derogatory, but Anakin Skywalker had a tendency to become an exception in every aspect. Your exception. Your felt your wetness leak out of you, and Anakin seemed to have noticed.

"Pathetic. You disgust me, Y/L." He sneered, but smirked to himself when he saw a pool of cum beneath you which wasn't there before.

He moved forward, now towering over you. You were forced to look up at him when he grabbed your chin. You batted and looked at him through your long lashes. Your lust-blown orbs challenged his to a deadly game ending with no losers, and he hated it.

He hated that even when he has you right where he needed, you still had that audacious look of arrogance on your face. You know your worth and your affect on mortals, and that's what turns Anakin Skywalker on the most.

You stared at each other for an eternity— one man cannot serve two masters but can two masters serve one another?

"Don't fucking look at me like that." His voice was laced with venom, "Like what, Master Skywalker?"

And you were the serpentine.

Anakin's metal hand wrapped around your throat, the sensation being much more excruciating and exciting— knowing he could kill you with a snap. He lifted you up with unexpected ease and brought you his level. "I hate you." He spat out.

"Show me how much." You challenged.

He accepted by clashing his lips with yours. This wasn't what you imagined your first kiss with Anakin to be like. You fantasised about wholesome tenderness where he disguised his undying love for you under his impassive demeanour, but no. His apparent hatred made you feel disgusted with every fibre of your being, but aroused you like nothing ever before. The kiss was crusade for dominance, more vehement than any you've shared before.

He kissed along your jawline, eliciting a moan from you that satisfied him. Your began touching your self, slowly stimulating your clit. Immediately your self service was met with a harsh slap across your breast. His lips planted wet kisses along your neck to your ear, nibbling on the earlobe, he inquired, "Did I allow you to touch yourself, whore?"

You froze for a moment.

He made his way to your neck and sucked on your sweet spot harshly, before making his way to your plump lips again. "When I ask a question, baby," he spoke between kisses, "You fucking answer."

"Y-You didn't..." you manage to whisper. Pleased with your honesty, he pecks your lips sweetly before retorting, "Then how come I catch you playing with yourself?" The solemnity in his voice was threatening, his growling tone causing your hand to immediately retreat and fall to the bed. He smiled sinfully, "That's more like it," before wrapping his metallic hand around your throat and slamming you on the bed.

His vice-like grip continued to slowly rob you of air, again, it's sinister to think how a single snap of his robotic arm could be the end of you, what's sad is that you find it exceptionally erotic.

He placed kisses on your hips, kneading the curves; he placed another below your naval piercing, another above it. His eyes then flicked to your breasts, and he smirked knowingly; your pierced nipples were erect, aching to be stimulated, and his mouth looked just right for the task. He thought so, too, letting out a shameless moan as he put one in his mouth, while his free hand tugged at the other pierced one. You felt a jolt of pain when he bit the flesh above your breasts. The soft skin readily broke, drawing beads of blood. "Son of a—" Your exasperation was met with a smack on your face. The moan that followed was astounding; Anakin's eyes were nearly slits, his plump lips twitched. You, too, were caught off guard by just how brazen you were.

He used both his hands to open your legs, you were hesitant at first but his blood soaked eyes made you compliant. His metallic fingers grazed your soaked thighs, before fondling your folds. You gasped when two of his stone cold fingers glided into your pussy. "Ani, fuck," you groaned in ecstasy, eliciting a 'tsk' from him, "That name won't grant you mercy." He warned before setting a brutal pace of penetration.

"Anakin!" You shrieked, cunt displaying hostility towards the sudden, foreign attack. Ignoring your cries, he made his way towards you.

Darkness towering over you, the red lights accentuating the crimson hatred that exuded out of Anakin for you since the day he saw you. It was uncertain what triggered it, perhaps the fact that you laid it out for everyone, except him. You were even willing to give it to Obi-Wan, he thought, but not him, and for that he began hating himself.

You were at fault, he thought. "Too damn pretty for your own good," he whispered, more to himself than you, his flesh hand gently stroking your face, running through your messy hair. "You're gonna burn in hell for your lust," he ultimately concluded, not anticipating your smart mouth to retaliate once more. "And you're gonna burn with me." You smirked, causing him to bite his lip, brow contorted in pleasure.

You took his eyes, closed in bliss, as an opportunity to rub your clit, not a second later, you came. Tragically, you were unable to ride your high, as you've spent many a night fantasising, his metallic arm coaxing the most ungodly orgasms out of you— he was godlike, rather, for you almost saw Him when he turned you on all fours and slammed his cock inside you. You screamed, the spontaneity was agonising, your walls ached from sensitivity, yet the Chosen One showed no mercy, drilling into your cunt, tugging at your hair, biting your shoulder, spanking your ass that bounced on his cock.

"Anakin, please! S-slow down..." You beseeched, earning a rough pull of your hair. "Why should I? Hm? Why should I listen to you, baby?" His thrusts were threatening— deep, quick and rough— just when you thought this couldn't get any more overwhelming— it did.

It really was your fault— you finally laid it out for Anakin— a chance to avenge himself. The years of denying him, the pent up anger, frustration of Amidala, his nightmares. They left him a mere void vessel of anger, and you. You provoked him to pursue his infatuation with Padmé. How cruel was it, to her, too, that Anakin thought of you with every touch of their skin? How he only kissed her with passion when you were shoving your tongue up some girl at a strip club? Or when you purred the word, 'master' when addressing Kenobi. It was your fault he felt this way, and that the only cure, as preached by you, was to fuck away the pain. So, don't blame him for pummelling your pussy, drunk off of his enemy's cunt.

He kissed your spine, lips barely grazing your soft flesh, before pressing himself onto you, closing any humane space between you two. His cock hit you deeper, you felt your cervix being taunted by his conceited cock. To add to your torture, his flesh fingers made their way to your engorged clit and began rubbing it fervently. "Please..." Your voice almost gave out as you whispered to him, "Make me cum for you." Unseen by you, he frowned. "Why? Are you worthy of it? Why not let your punishment persist?" He questioned, but you felt his thrusts sloppier, unmatched to the rhythm of your hips. "Because..." You clenched around his cock, eliciting moans from the both of you.

When you looked back in disbelief to make sure it was still Anakin, your Ani, that made that angelic sound, you witnessed the sight of your life. Fawn curls clinging to his face— you've never seen his hair so messy, his was so contorted in bliss, his cheeks so rosy, and his lips almost bleeding from the way he bit them to prevent you hearing these sounds. You wondered why, but he'd tell you, you weren't worthy of them.

At last, the constellation of fate aligned, realisation exploded in your mind like your morals collapsing the second you lay eyes on Skywalker. Finally, it made sense. Why it was only him who made you doubt the Maker.

"Because, I love you." You screamed, tears staining your face. You were out of breath, fucked out still, from your first orgasm, yet the Chosen One coaxed another orgasm out of you. The most powerful Jedi, opening your mind, and your cunt.

His eyes widened at your revelation, and he abruptly moved away, almost stopping all movements, including breathing and blinking, but the sight of you pushing back, grinding your ass against his hips was enough for him to snap out of it and fuck—

—hatefuck you.

"Yes, yes! Give it to me, Skywalker. Show me how much you hate me." You moaned pornographically, causing Anakin to retreat to his previous position, pressed into you, before grabbing your chin with his metallic hand and kissing you. As his tongue slipped into your mouth, you felt him thrust one last time. The sheer velocity and force of it had you coming undone with a scream of his name.

"That's it, you beautiful girl. Cum for me, darling." He encouraged you to ride your high, still playing with your clit, still thrusting into your cunt, yet softer, more gently now. "Oh, fucking Maker, Anakin!" You grabbed him by the hair and kissed him, feeling him shoot into you.

Ecstasy was an understatement to describe this feeling. You were mocked, degraded and denied by this man, you took a fucking wrecking ball and smashed every wall of your demeanour, admitting feelings to HIM that you hadn't determined for yourself. You could curse yourself your entire life, but right now, all that mattered was this closeness, this vulnerability. How soft he looked with his eyes closed as he pulled out and collapsed beside you. How adorable he looked when he smiled to himself, and how disdainful he looked now when he replaced that grin with a grimace.

"Get up." He grabbed your arm and lifted you up with ease. You were like putty in his embrace, flush against his chest. He towered over you, scanning your face for answers you didn't know he had questions for. "Look at me," his soft tone urged you. You did, and his heart skipped a beat.

Anakin often wondered when you'd looked the prettiest. The first time you saw each other? On Obi-Wan's birthday when you ditched the robes for a little black dress? When he yelled out your name in Norena's room, and you looked up at him with doe eyes, your plump lips listening with her juices. Today that question was answered. Right now, right here.

Anakin swore you are the most beautiful of maker's creations, that He spent wise time making you,

and that you were made for him.

"Did you..." his eyes faltered, your weak hands, shivering, grabbed his chin, forcing him to eye you. He sighed, as if disappointed in himself. "Did you mean what you said?" You smirked, tongue grazing your teeth, playfully. "Gotta be specific, Skywalker." Your sultry voice teased him, yet again. His metallic arm landed on your throat. "Do not fuck with me right now, Y/L, or I swear to Maker, I'll fuck your brains out." You gulped, not doubting the threat for a second. "I do mean it." He looked relieved but not satisfied. "Need to hear it— need you to say it, Y/N, please." The urgency on his face, the love in his eyes; you felt your own watering. "I love you, Anakin Skywalker. Now, would you stop making me cry?" A tear ran down your cheek, voice breaking with overwhelm.

"Aw, but you look so pretty when you cry." He chuckled, sending shivers down your spine. "Fuck you, Skywa—" You were about to turn around and leave when two strong arms pulled your close and ravenous lips devoured yours, passionately, lovingly.

Breathless, he pulled away, a glimmer in his eyes you'd never seen before. "And I love you, Y/N Y/L, so, so fucking much, it's gonna be the death of me." He kissed your forehead. "Now, let's get out of here."

"Obi-Wan's gonna be pissed." You both said at the same time. Laughing, as you got dressed, you couldn't help but ask, "Did you really have to kill him? He could've been useful to us."

He only scoffed, before saying, "Nobody gets to touch what's mine from now own, and live to tell the tale." As you walked out of the grave apartment, you couldn't help but smile. "So, I'm yours now?" Your mischievous tone elicited a smirk from him. "Have been, for a while," he grabbed your hand. "And you?" You couldn't help but ask.

"I've been yours since the moment you came into my life, Y/L." You blushed, and he chuckled.

So, the Chosen one loves you, and you love him the way he deserves to be loved.

happy birthday, hayden. ❦

main masterlist. star wars masterlist.