Anakin Skywalker Imagines

Rut

•An Anakin Skywalker x gender neutral reader smut imagine.

•Warnings: Masturbation, Anakin fucks his bedsheets & his pillow thinking about you.

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Anakin parted the curtain attached to his tent and stepped inside, relieved that he had been parted from the war for at least another day.

He let the curtain slip back into its original position, making his way to the small portable shower that he had set up.

He felt entirely disgusting. Usually, the grime and dirt didn't bother him, but his clothes were sopping wet from the mud and rain, making them stick to his skin. His hair was greasy and dirty, its ends tainted with dried-up blood.

Somewhere along the line, he had hit his head. Captain Rex had been concerned for him, but as usual, he told Rex that it didn't bother him. That part was true, but bleeding from his head while commanding an entire battalion wasn't necessarily the best idea unless it was because in the end, they came out victorious anyway.

He stripped himself of his dirty, grimy clothes and moved into the small shower, turning the overhead showerhead on.

When the warm water hit him, Anakin immediately melted into the feeling, wanting to stay there forever. It was a shame that he couldn't though since he didn't have an unlimited water supply as he did back home at Coruscant.

Coruscant.

Oh, how he missed it. He had certainly been out here too long. He needed to go back, he needed to feel good in his warm, comfortable bed with tons of blankets, good warm, clean clothes, and most importantly, you.

He hadn't seen you in Force knows how long--possibly around two to three months--and being away from you was taking a toll on him. Usually, on long sieges like this, he would just holo-message you and there'd be no issue. However, on this particular siege, the time zones were always off. Whenever you were awake, he was either asleep or wiping out a mass army of droids, and when you were asleep well, he was still wiping out a mass army of droids.

Out of all the time he had been out here, he could only count exactly three times he'd been able to see you or talk to you, and it was killing him.

He dug his fingers into his hair, eyebrows furrowed at the frustration that was coursing through him. He just wanted to be home, damn it. But no, there was one more siege that he had to go through.

He parted his fingers through his curly hair, sopping it up with as much water from the weak water pressure as much as possible. He squeezed and wrang it out, trying to focus on getting the blood out of his hair instead of focusing on you so he wouldn't have to feel so frustrated.

But by the Force, he missed you so much. He drooped his head, letting the water run down his neck and his back, splashing onto the tarp underneath his feet. He smiled softly when he remembered taking shower with you, how your fingers would work through his hair effortlessly and how he wouldn't have to worry about it because you knew how to take care of him.

He missed your hands, he missed your touch, the way they felt, the way they would give Anakin anything he needed, the way they worked and pushed and prodded so effortlessly and fluidly. He missed holding them and kissing them, and--strangely enough--licking food off of them when you offered it to him, and gripping them tight when he was worried, and missed having them wipe away his anxious tears from his face. He missed all of it.

Oh, how he wished your hands were on him now... Maybe running your fingers through his hair... Or even washing his body... Or running them down his back...