•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...
Damnit.
This wasn't what he needed.
He already missed you so much. He didn't need a dose of horny added to the mix.
He couldn't even begin to count the times that this had happened to him over this siege. It was just about the same, almost every few weeks when his mind was out of focus, he would start to think of you, and suddenly you under him or on top of him, or doing whatever, and suddenly he'd have a fucking boner.
He groaned, looking down at his dick to find it hard and pressed up against his stomach.
He hated this. Jacking off. And then what? What was he supposed to do? Just go to bed? It was the same routine with him and his dick. His hand around it, pumping it, letting out a few groans, a few moans, and then a release. Sometimes it didn't even feel good. It was just a whatever, to him.
He'd heard basic locker room talk from several clones, admitting a few other ways they've gotten off, but Anakin's always said he'd never let his pride go to the point where he'd fuck his bedsheets. He didn't mean to sound insulting to other clones, but of course, they just laughed and said whatever. They knew Anakin would give in eventually.
He bit the inside of his cheek and stared down at his dick, wondering if he should just jack off in the shower or let go of his pride and fuck his bedsheets.
Nah, I'll just go with my hand, he thought, dismissing the clones' suggestions. He wrapped his flesh hand around his hard shaft, feeling the familiar veins along his long length, he began to pump himself, letting the water guide his hand smoothly. He pursed his lips together, feeling a new conflict arise within him once again.
What if the bedsheets felt better?
No. The warm shower was enough. It would do him good. He'd pump himself off here in the shower and he can go back to bed and pretend none of this happened and be fine to focus on the mission early in the morning tomorrow. Yeah. That'd be fine.
But you've never tried it before.
He shook his head at his thoughts, dismissing them entirely, refusing to let them get to his head. He continued with his hand, pumping the pink skin, letting it go down from his swollen, pink head to the base, veins protruding from the sides, showing just how swollen his cock had gotten.
Damn, it was only a few thoughts too. How fucking needy was he?
He continued pumping his shaft, pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind so he wouldn't have trouble with his orgasm. He just needed to cum so fucking bad, it was aggravating at this point.
The water was nice, it was helping, at least--
Oh fuck.
Anakin looked up at his shower head and found the water come to a halt, his eyes widening in immediate panic.
No, no, no, no.
He looked down at the system where the water was coming out of and found no more water in his supply.
Great. Just great. He'd spent the entire shower time jacking off instead of getting clean.
"Nice one, Anakin," he mumbled to himself, letting go of his dick. He grumbled and moved out of the small shower area, packing up all of the portable shower items and tossing them into their designated bags.
He grabbed a towel and ran it over his body, wiping off the remaining dirt and whatnot. It would just have to do.
After getting everything situated, he pulled on a fresh pair of sleeping pants and made his way to his bed, his raging hard-on still very prominent.
There was nothing more he wanted than to go to sleep and sleep peacefully, at that. But Maker.
He stood there before his bed, examining the small cot. He looked at it, biting the inside of his cheek, and crossed his arms at the dirty spread of bedsheets.
He didn't know how many times he had probably accidentally came on that thing just from using his hand. And to think... To think of actually fucking the bedsheets and purposefully cumming on them? No. No. He was insane. Go to bed, Anakin. You'll be fine in the morning.
No, I won't. I'm never fine in the morning. There's always that same fucking boner.
He groaned in frustration and ran his flesh hand down his face, pacing back and forth in front of his bed.
This wouldn't be so difficult if you were here. If you were here, he could have you however he wanted. And right now he wanted you under him, moaning desperately, fingernails scratching down his back, body bouncing--holy fuck, if he could've gotten harder he would've.
He held a fist under his nose, pressed to his mouth with chest feigning desperately. He stopped pacing and stood still, looking at his bed.
Just do it, Anakin. Who gives a shit if you fuck your bedsheets? I don't. Your dick certainly doesn't.
He groans, throwing his head back, finally falling for it. "Fuck it, " he mumbles, sliding off his pants, letting them fall to his ankles on the ground.
He gets his feet out from the pants that circled them and moves over to his bed, shaft in hand.
Thank the Force he had a private tent. He would be horrified if Obi-Wan had joined him on this mission.
He then climbs on top of his bed, laying his stomach down on to the mattress, his cock pressed firmly against his stomach. How was he supposed to do this?
Just start... Dry humping the bed?
He felt awkward though. His arms were at his sides, his cheek pressed against the mattress. He huffs, deciding to grab a pillow and place it underneath his chest, holding on to the pillow as if it were a body, or if it were you.
Here goes nothing.
Slowly, he starts moving his hips, his shaft grinding against the mattress. Anakin groans at the new feeling, his eyelids flutter, imagining it was you he was doing this to.
Slowly fucking you, moving slowly and deep inside of you, long, languid thrusts would scrape against your walls where you would moan his name, and he'd moan yours.
"Oh fuck..." He muttered, closing his eyes. Damn, as much as he hated to admit it, this was entirely so much nicer than his hand.
He pursed his lips together, enjoying the feeling of the sheets bundling up together to form different textures around his dick. He pushed the pillow out from under his chest and put it in front of his face so he could bury it there. He bit down on the pillow, pretending it was you and your skin. He sucked and pulled with his teeth, driving him to a new high, he began to thrust his hips quicker, his cock throbbing at the feeling of needing to cum.
"Fuck... I'm so close... " he groans, grinding his hips deeper into the bedspread. He was almost there, god he was so close. He could feel that satisfying feeling tighten up in his stomach. He needed a release, and fast.
He looks up from his pillow, vision wanting to fade to white, but oh?
Oh looks back down at his pillow--a new idea forming in his head.
He stops his thrusting, declining his orgasm, but he didn't care. He was sure this new idea would work.
He gets up from his bed with weak knees. He moves over to the side and takes his pillow and folds it in half, creating a slot in which he could insert his shaft.
This was certainly desperate, but fuck it if he cared.
He pushed himself into the pillow, a long, relieved moan fell from his lips. Finally, something that felt familiar, and maybe even looked a little familiar.
He holds the pillow up with both hands and gets himself back up to the pace he had when he was fucking his bedsheets.
In no time was he imagining that it was you, bent onto your stomach, ass up in the air, back slightly arched. He wanted to reach over and run his hands down your back and pull on your hair, and to run his hands over the globes over your ass cheeks, spreading your legs wide open for him. What he would give to hear you moaning his name right now...
His chest was quickly moving up and down now, his head was thrown back, damp hair fell off of his face, eyelids fluttering and his mouth dropped open into an o shape. Maker, it felt so good to be inside of you after all of this time.
He began to pick up his pace, moving quicker than before he shoved himself deeper into the pillows, his pelvis hitting the soft plush, a soft thud bouncing from them every time his hips met the fabric.
"Fuck, holy shit, " he muttered breathlessly followed by a moan. "Damn, you feel so good... So good... "
He could feel his stomach begin to tighten up again, his cock twitching from the need to cum. He was sure his dick was prominently red now, pre-cum had probably been smeared all over his pillowcase. He didn't care though, he was in what felt like Heaven. Besides, he could just use the other side if he needed to.
His pace began to grow sloppy when he was getting to the edge, his cock twitching relentlessly. So close...
"Fuck, (Y/N), I'm gonna cum--"
With one swift thrust, Anakin feels himself topple over the edge, his seed spurting out of his cock, a long, relieved moan with your name strung into it came from the bottom of his stomach, his eyes squeezed shut at the feeling of his cock finally releasing something that had been held up for so long.
His body falters over the pillow, but thankfully his hand catches him and holds him up over the mattress. He's a mess, breathing quickly, legs shaking, metal hand clenching the sheets, pillow drenched--fuck. If only you could see him now.