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cilil · 1 month

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✧˖ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑨𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 °.

Are you looking to name a Maia or Vala OC or to write about an Ainu character, but aren't sure how to name them/refer to them? You've come to the right place! Here's a fun little breakdown of Ainur names (there's also a tldr at the bottom for quick answers). Hope it helps!

Level 1: What others call them (near, far, wherever they are)

Much like other characters in the legendarium, Ainur have different names in different languages and their identities may be seen differently depending on which culture they're currently interacting with.

One great example for this is Gandalf. His original name in Valinor was Olórin (related to "olos"/"olor" which means dream or vision), while the name Gandalf came from old northern Mannish and means "Wand-Elf". To the Dwarves, he was known as Tharkûn, which is Khuzdul for "Staff-man", and his Sindarin name was Mithrandir, which means "grey wanderer". These are just a few examples of his various names and nicknames, but you get the idea.

If you have other characters referring to the Ainu in question, consider which language(s) they would speak and see if a name has already been given to that Ainu in the specific language. Otherwise you can translate one of their existing names or give them a new one based on how you think the culture/group of people whose perspective you're currently writing would view the Ainu. An example to illustrate the latter: On Númenor Mairon was referred to as Zigûr, which means "wizard" in Adûnaic - fitting for a sorcerer.

As for the Ainu(r) character(s) you're writing, consider that they may also need different names in different languages depending on who they interact with. Ainur are omnilingual and will typically introduce themselves according to the language others around them speak. Depending on how open they want to be with their identity, they may simply give a slightly altered version of their name that reflects the other language (for example the Adûnaic version of Melkor is Mulkhêr), translate their name or make up a new one or accept one that was given to them. However, the name they identify with and use in their inner monologue may be a different one*... and this is where we move to the next level.

*Important side note regarding this: While Morgoth and Sauron are commonly used names for Melkor and Mairon, these names were given to them by other people and are intended to be derogatory, so even though it's not always explicit in the text, we can safely assume that they do not self-identify as such and stick to their more "flattering" original names.

Level 2: Quenya

When Ainur are introduced in canon, a Quenya name is usually given as their "real" name. Again, Olórin is an example (one among many) for this.

Having a Quenya name is pretty essential for every Ainu who lives in/has ties to Valinor and can be important for the ones in Middle-earth too depending on the time period and how they self-identify. Be sure to look up the Quenya names of existing Ainur characters and have a Quenya name ready for your OCs, unless they were never in Valinor and explicitly cut themselves off from their kin and culture. Gothmog might be an example for this, being an Ainu who is pretty much exclusively identified with a Sindarin name and seems to at least not object to the usage of his "evil Balrog name"/isn't mentioned to identify with a different name instead. However, even in such a case consider that other Ainur might still remember the character in question by their Quenya name and continue to use it.

Level 3: Valarin

As you probably know already, Valarin is the language of the Ainur that they created when they began taking physical forms. While they still use it among themselves and some Valarin words were adopted into Quenya, the alien and at times unpleasant sound of Valarin prompted them to learn Quenya instead to converse with Elves.

Would the Valarin name be a more "accurate" name of an Ainu, given how it was their first language and they only later translated their names? You could say that, and some authors have chosen to use Valarin names for that reason.

However, the main issue with Valarin is that so little is known about it and it can be intimidating and/or infuriating to even try using it aside from the few known Valarin names, which are:

Aȝūlēz (Aulë) Arōmēz (Oromë) Mānawenūz (Manwë) Oš(o)šai (Ossë) Tulukhastāz (Tulkas) Ullubōz (Ulmo)

Alright, don't panic. Valarin is, at least in my humble opinion, not a must. The texts themselves use Quenya, the Quenya names are a translation of the Valarin names and the Ainur in general are known to self-identify by their Quenya names a lot, for example Mairon liked calling himself "Tar-Mairon".

If this however isn't satisfying to you and you would still prefer to have Valarin names ready for the Ainur you're writing, but can't make much of what little is known (less than 20 words and names respectively), you can still "make up" your own Valarin rendition of the Quenyan names. Here's how:

If you look at the ones I listed above, you may have already noticed that there are strong similarities between the names. Manwë, for example, comes from the Quenya root "man" with the ending "wë", and you can see these elements being present in his Valarin name as well. So I'd suggest you take the Quenya root and simply... make up a name that sounds like it could be proper Valarin (yup, we cheese it). To give you an example I've seen floating around in fanon: Melkor's name comes from the Common Eldarin (common ancestor of all Elven languages) "melek"/"mbelek", which means powerful (root "bel"/"mbel"), and Valarin names people use for him are usually some variant of "(M)Belekorōz".

Level 4: "True Names"?

But wait, some of you may say, didn't you say that the Ainur only invented Valarin when they took physical forms? Yup, I sure did. The Ainur in fact existed before language was even a thing - as spirit beings who communicate telepathically (via good old ósanwë) by nature they don't need it among themselves.

And this why I think not even the Valarin names are technically the "true names" of the Ainur and that they in fact don't have "one true name". Given how the use of ósanwë, especially in an environment like the Timeless Halls where no physical barriers exist, allows them to pretty much project their entire identity, emotional state and being to one another, there should have been no need for names. Rather, they would have "titles" or "descriptors", a sort of summary of who their identity and function. You can arguably see that in Melkor's name still: "He who arises in might".

Now, again, what I'm saying in the paragraph above isn't explicitly spelled out in canon, but rather the conclusion I've come to after researching and thinking about it. I would also advise against giving various Ainur half a sentence as their original "name" for your Timeless Halls fics - I thought about it, but realized it would be both obnoxious to write and unpleasant to read.

[TLDR] To conclude my advice is this: Quenya as the original/default name is completely fine, you can create a Valarin version if you want to and otherwise you may need additional names in other languages depending on the setting and situation, as outlined in level 1. With that being said: Happy writing and character creating!

#ainur answers #ainur #maiar #valar #writing guide #tolkien oc #tolkien legendarium #silmarillion #silmarillion oc #ainu oc #it's a long way to say that you could theoretically just make a quenya name and maybe add a sindarin one and be fine in most cases #anyway uh #if you have further questions #feel free to send asks #or dm

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imarvelatthestars · 8 months

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Essence

Pairings: Clone Veteran (from Kenobi) Tai x f!Reader

Warnings: hoooo boy, there's some spice at the end of this one, but also some hurt/comfort feelings mixed in! oral (m receiving) and lots of dirty talk, hint of voyeurism and possible dom/sub vibes?

Notes: I really loved this chapter and I had fun playing around with their dynamic again. As for the filthy part, I don't have much real world experience with this particular act, so I hope it came out okay 💀

[previous chapter]

The marshal is wicked clever. She’s arranges for a tent for the two of you to share until morning, which isn’t far away but at least you’ll be able to get some rest before journeying back to town, and she spends the rest of the night making peace and special arrangements with the Tuskens.

Tuskens. Not Sand People. They are the stewards of the planet, according to Tilelli, the original people who cultivated the land and grew into a civilization. Not monsters, not a people to be feared but simply to be respected. And several nearby tribes all have peace with Mos Nefta thanks to her, this happened to be a desperate time and a special case of drought that has prevented their usual water sources from manifesting this season. The tribe is sick. That’s why they stole, that’s why Tai was endangered and Nej was injured. Not because of savage bloodlust, but because of desperate fear. You can understand this, but you’re still wary of them.

You do appreciate the tent, though. There are blankets and robes, and the walls of the tent are substantial enough to keep yours and Tai’s body heat in. It’s the first time in well over a week that you’ve both been able to be alone, although it feels like so much longer, and you’ve managed to worm yourself under his clothes and against his skin, a whisper of normalcy in the chaos that has become your life of late.

“Missed you,” you whisper into his sternum. It’s punctuated with a feather-light kiss to his skin.

His voice rumbles deep in his chest. “I’m here now, my love.”

There’s so much you want to say and it’s been weighing on you for a while now, but this doesn’t feel like the time or place to say it. You’re hesitant to shatter the beauty of the moment, to say anything that would even slightly push him away. You need him pressed against the entire length of you because you need to know for certain that he’s here with you.

“Don’t ever leave me again.”

You can feel his smile against the top of your head. “Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, mesh’la.”

Another kiss to his chest, this one somewhere above his heart. “What’s that mean?”

“Beautiful.”

Oh, you like that. You gift him with another kiss in response, slightly higher than the last and more prolonged. The tent is too dark to make out his face, but that doesn’t matter. You have his face committed to memory already. “Should use that on you sometime, old man.”

“That’s the wrong word,” he chuckles. “Not meant for the likes of me.”

“Shut up.” Your fingers map out the approximate shape of his cheek and then lightly swat him there. “You’re beautiful to me. Your eyes, your smile.” Are you imagining it or is your chest literally aching with love for him? “I love the way your cheeks dimple. I love you, the way you smell.” Your nose drags up his chest to his neck where you bury yourself in him. Warm and sturdy. Safe. Home. “Mesh’la.” The word is strange on your tongue, but you love the way it sounds.

The dunes are quiet and the Tuskens have mellowed into assorted snoring patterns. You think you catch a hint of Tilelli’s voice at one point, but it’s too faint to be sure.

“You were brave today.”

And it makes you laugh because you felt anything but. “Well, you didn’t see me before. I wasn’t so brave then.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “You’ve been brave for so many days. Too many.” He prompts your head back so he can kiss you properly. “I’m proud of you.”

Don’t be, you could say. Or, it was nothing. Let’s talk about something different. You could say a dozen different things to dismiss him in the wake of your embarrassment, and you almost do, but ultimately you don’t. It’s been a lot and you’ve had no choice but to be brave or lose him. So you accept the compliment for what it is.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t ever do it again, though,” and you’re sure he’s only half serious. “Scared the life out of me, girl.”

“You scared me. I was worried sick!” Skin meets skin as you slap your hand on his chest and push. “Maybe if you weren’t getting yourself into trouble all the time.”

He’s as quiet as the desert then, and it hits you that he’s taken your light-hearted barb as something infinitely more serious than first intended. Your hands find his face and you swear you can just the glinting of light in his eyes if you tilt your head just so.

“Not like that, Tai. Honey, no. Don’t… don’t do that.”

“You’re right, though,” he says after a moment. “This is all my fault.”

No no no no no no no, how can he even think that? Is he serious? Everything that’s happened and he’s blaming himself? You start to protest it because how could you possibly continue to let him blame himself for things beyond his control when he shushes you, runs his hands over your shoulders to calm you, a cue to wait. So you do.

The rough edges of his accent have become guttural after this pause, and the evidence of his guilt is there in the way his voice cracks and drops at the end. “I don’t deserve you. Never have. I’ve tried, but I’ll always be a soldier.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should. I’ve killed people.”

The time before the Empire’s rise is hazy at best. The history holos tell one story and those who actually lived say nothing at all, but you have glimpses of memories that don’t match the propaganda you’ve been fed. You know there were Jedi once, a great and powerful race of magicians, but you’d never known much about them before they were wiped out. You know the clones were an army that served at the Jedi’s side, and you know that they helped to quell their rebellion. You don’t understand the politics of it, you weren’t paying that much attention. You were too busy trying to stay afloat in Daiyu’s constant waves of crime and chaos.

You’ve never pressed him for it. What happened in the past is just that – it’s over and done with. You love him for who he is now and for the joy he’s brought to your life. But ever since that night, it’s become more and more obvious that his past still seeps into his present and yours.

You swallow. “I know. It comes with the job. I, I don’t hate you for that, Tai. You know that, right?” He shifts beneath you and you can feel his agitation bubbling up on his tongue, eager to spill out and pin everything on his own shoulders, and you’re not letting that happen. “Stop. I don’t care what you did in the past, it doesn’t define you. I don’t define you by what you were. You’re not a killer to me, you’re not some homeless guy on the streets to me. You’re my person. I’d give up everything for you, okay? I did. And I don’t regret it. If this is anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I shouldn’t have done what I did, I shouldn’t have put my hands on that trooper, but I did. I… I saw them hurt you and, I don’t know, I snapped. We’re here because of me and it kills me every day.”

This wasn’t how you wanted the night to go. You wanted to bask in his presence, bathe in his warmth for a handful of moments before reality came crashing back in and you had to return to Ilo’s front room, to that stupid bar and its stupid patrons. You wanted to pretend for a single second that things were quasi-normal. How foolish you’d been to think that reality wouldn’t force its way back into your little fantasy.

Everything is suddenly too hot. His skin grates on yours, not because of him but because of you. Because you’re ashamed and he’s touching you and he shouldn’t. Fuck. You go swinging up into a sitting position, curling in on yourself as the blanket pools in your lap and his hands falls away.

“I’m sorry,” and it’s little more than a broken sigh. “You work so kriffing hard every day and it breaks my heart. You were tired on Daiyu and you’re more tired here, you’re exhausted, and it’s all my fault!”

One of Tai’s hands lands on your wrist. It burns you up inside. “What are you talking about?”

“This. Don’t you hate me for this? For having to come here?”

“I could never hate you-“

“And I could never hate you!”

Why are you angry? Why is it suddenly rushing over you like a storm, eating you up, charging your body with its electricity? Why is it so damn dark when all you want is to see his beautiful, beautiful face and hold him forever?

“I just hate this. I hate that stupid name I have to go by, I hate that I can’t just be me. I hate that we had to run because of me being an idiot. I hate that we can’t live together on our own, alone. I hate that I can’t touch you because Ilo might hear, or because maybe you’re angry with me, because I disappointed you. I hate that I’m not strong like you and Cody are. And I hate those stormtroopers and I hate the Empire, and I hate what they did to you.”

“Sweetheart,” he starts to chant, a gentle, pleading thing that urges you onto your side again, back in his arms and flush against his chest. He does his best to calm you and you do your best to let him, even though you feel like shit. “This wasn’t your fault.”

You sniffle. “And it wasn’t yours.”

His breath fans out across your face. “Then it isn’t either of ours.”

And you’re okay with that. The guilt still lingers in your belly and you can still feel it tight in his chest, but it’s a step toward self-forgiveness for both of you and that’s enough for now. It has to be. It will be.

He guides you both onto your backs with the blanket pulled up over your shoulders and under your chin. The weight of his hand is gentle on your cheek, a reminder not to let yourself drift too far away, just like the palm of your hand on his sternum does the same to him. You fall asleep like that, alone for the first time in forever and almost content.

The way back to town isn’t nearly as arduous as the way out of it was. This time Tai is being carried on the back of a bantha instead of dragged behind it. This time he has a blaster tucked into his waistband, taken off his love’s hip so you needn’t carry that burden for him; he’ll protect you both. This time the marshal is with them and she’s a remarkable negotiator, so he feels safer, a hair more at ease. It’s a bit like having a CO again. She knows more about these people and this land than he does, she has the tactical and intellectual advantage, but he trusts her and he’ll follow her orders. It’s oddly comforting to fall into that pattern again, and only mildly disconcerting if he allows it to be.

The war is over, he reminds himself, this is different.

And different it is because he never had you around back then. He wonders how his life would have been different, how he would have been different. Not that it changes anything. He’d rather have you now after it’s all over than to have you and potentially lose you back then. Still, it’s curious.

His hand settles at the arm draped around his ribcage and it tightens almost immediately. He smiles. There’s a lot on his mind right now, but it feels so small in comparison to this, to the simplicity of your touch, your cheek on his shoulder. It’s hard to see what’s going on back there, but he swivels his head around anyway and is happy to see you awake. Your eyes flicker to him and dank farrik, he could melt right then and there.

You’re so beautiful.

Perhaps that’s just his heart talking, perhaps he’s incredibly biased, but he doesn’t care. You’re beautiful and you’re his.

“We there yet?” you croak. Your voice has been scratchy since you woke up, likely due to the night air, but he can still pick up on your sarcasm. There you are.

“Getting bored, are you?”

“Mm, bored of the bantha, love, not you.”

“Shame,” he sighs, “I like it. I was thinking I might keep it.”

You snicker and rub your cheek into his shoulder blade. “Oh yeah? We gonna keep it in the bathroom or the kitchen?”

He scratches his chin thoughtfully. “Could share the room with Ilo.”

“Oh Maker, I’d rather live outside than with the two of them.”

Tatooine is not his favorite place in the galaxy, in fact it’s pretty low on the list, but it is in this one moment because it’s where your laughter is. It’s where you are. It’s where your arms wrap around him and your body heat seeps into his skin, miserable though it is at midday, but he’ll never complain about it so long as you’re with him.

The rest of the ride home passes slowly – he’d never really realized just how much sand there was until then – and Tai’s grateful when the party halts at Nej’s dwelling, a structure very similar to the one you, he, and Cody had stayed the night in in Mos Eisley. He slides off first to help you down, but he never lets you stray far; he keeps your hand tight in his. It’s here that Tilelli thanks the Tusken guides that had accompanied them and they amble sluggishly back the way they came.

She flicks the brim of her hat so the entire thing shifts to rests at her hairline. It’s more of her hair than he’s ever seen and even so, it’s just a few dark, wispy strands. “Right then, you two. ‘fore we head down there, I wanna make sure we’re all clear.”

You frown, but nod. Tai inclines his head a bit.

“I’ll explain everythin’ – how we found ya, the deal I struck, you two don’t hafta say a word. Probably be better comin’ from me since y’all are newcomers. Don’t wanna stir the pot much.”

“Thank you.”

Tilelli takes his offered hand and shakes it, smiling. “My pleasure, Tai.”

It doesn’t register with him for a minute because that’s his name, why shouldn’t she call him by it? But then he remembers where he and who he’s supposed to be. And he looks to you when he realizes that she must have heard you say it the previous night. Panic burns down his esophagus as he suddenly starts to spiral. Where can you both go? How quickly will you be able to leave? What if, what if, what if-

“We all got secrets ‘round here. Yours are safe with me.” She tilts the brim of her hat toward the rim of the canyon, just a few paces away from the dwelling’s foundation. “Shall we?”

By the time night falls again some hours later, you’re so tired you can barely keep your eyes open, but you’re determined to stay awake for as long as you can. You have so much work to do. There’s still shattered glass on the floor and all kinds of scuff marks from work boots and metal scraping on stone, and there’s the food that was left out, and that’s not even considering all the things you have to unpack and sort through in the-

“’s late.”

The sudden depth of his voice startles you enough that you nearly drop your broom. You rest one hand on your hip while you catch your breath, one brow quirked up and the other dropping down as you catch a glimpse of Tai passing into the main room.

“I’m just trying to-“

“I know,” he says as his hands come to pluck the broom out of yours. “I know, sweet girl.” It clatters on the edge of the counter when he sets it down very purposefully beyond your reach. “But you need rest.”

You shake your head. “I have work to do.”

“It can wait.” His nose brushes yours as he leans in for a whisper of a kiss, something that pulls you from the duties you’ve assigned yourself and begs you to fall into him. “It’ll be here in the morning. Come to bed.”

You want to dig your heels in and fight him on this, pretend you’re not nearly as tired as you really are. You want to get as much done now as you possibly can so that tomorrow is easier. You want to make a good first impression, you want to show Nej that you’re every bit the hard and capable worker that Tai promised you’d be, and if you don’t get this clean up job done then you’ll fall short of all those expectations. And you can’t do that, you won’t.

“Nej will understand. He’s not like Ilo.”

“But Tai-“

“No,” he rumbles. A shiver runs down your spine when his thumb traces the slope of your nose. “Sleep. If not for yourself, then for me.”

Low blow. You could never deny him anything and certainly not when he asks you like that. Your eyelids flicker for a moment, dipping low as they’re tempted by the sudden idea of sleep, resting beside him, drifting off in his presence. It’s so tempting. So… nice… Maybe if you just lean on him for a second, yes, that’s okay. That’s nice.

You’re vaguely aware of his voice continuing on, but it’s hazy and difficult to understand. All you can understand is his tone, soothing, deep, gentle, everything that he already is to you conveyed in the pitch of his words, whatever they may be.

Sleep. Sleep sounds good. It sounds cozy. It sounds like him. Wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, that’s where you also want to be, so you follow the darkness luring you to sleep and you curl up in the sounds of him until you’re surrounded by it. You don’t dream that night, but you rest better than you have in a very, very long time.

And when you wake in the morning, your skin already warm and covered a thin layer of sweat from the boiling heat of the desert, you find for the first time in a week that you have awakened in Mos Nefta and your lover is still at your side. He hasn’t risen before the sun to shower and hike to the canyon’s surface, he hasn’t left his side of the bed lukewarm-cool and empty. He’s there, asleep, snoring, and with all the little anxieties that usually crease his forehead notably absent. And he’s just barely touching you with his one hand stretched in your direction so his little finger can brush your arm.

Mesh’la. You think it over and over again. You’re not sure what language it is that he never dares to speak, not where it comes from or why he keeps it hidden, but this one word is overflowing with truth. He is beautiful. He’s not perfect in the way that the galaxy says he should be and he’s a man half haunted, but all his imperfections and all the love he gives you, all the love you feel for him, adds up to mesh’la.

He deserves to sleep a little longer, but you’re a selfish woman and you crave him more in this moment than ever before. Your palm finds his cheek as you awkwardly shift above him, trying not to jostle him too much while also trying to get as close as you can. His brow furrows a bit when you tilt his head, likely moments away from stirring, but it’s okay, he’ll understand. You just need to…

“Sweetheart- mmh!”

It’s clear that the kiss takes him by surprise. His limbs go stiff for a moment, then limp, and then finally, his hands are on you, pressing you to him with the slightest pressure, exhaling into your mouth (his morning breath is awful, but he’s cute so you’ll allow it), and sighing so prettily.

“Missed you,” is the murmur left on his lips when you finally pull away. “Love you,” is scattered repeatedly between the following round of pecks across his face. “You’re so handsome, baby. So mesh’la.”

A gargling sort of sound comes sputtering out of him in response, somewhere between a choke and a laugh maybe? “What’s gotten into you?” he hums with a lazy smile.

Ah, yes. You were wondering when he’d notice just how far your hands have wandered. But what’s so wrong with admiring your lover’s body when it’s been so long since the last time either of you felt safe enough or comfortable enough (or alone enough) to do so?

“Getting out of Ilo’s house, for starters.”

He laughs properly this time, all rumbly and gruff with his early morning voice that makes your stomach drop. “That all?” he asks as he curls his fingers around the shell of your ear and down your jaw.

“Is that not enough?”

You suppose there’s more to it than just moving into a proper room, although you feel so much better cocooned into Nej’s only spare room than you ever did in the more sprawling space of Ilo’s front room. At least here there’s a proper bed. And a door. Real privacy. You already feel more like yourself here, but there’s also the fact that despite all the fear and stress of the Tusken’s raid and the hours that Tai was missing, the two of you rediscovered your equilibrium in that tent. Alone in the Dune Sea. Finally able to give the apology you’d been too afraid to voice and to receive his understanding. Finally able to understand that he'd been blaming himself as much as you’d been blaming yourself.

Leaving Daiyu had hurt. Leaving behind your home and everything extra that you’d collected over the years, everything that couldn’t fit into a pack. And nothing about Tatooine has been easy. But he’s here with you and he’s alive, and isn’t that enough?

“Just feel more like myself, I suppose,” you finally explain after a few moments. “And after almost losing you, it’s like I never want to stop touching you. Just to make sure you’re still here with me.”

Tai nods. “I am here. Always. And I’m alright.”

“I know.” One of your hands slips under his sleep shirt and his breath stutters. He tries to play it off and act as though it doesn’t phase him, but you know him and you know his tells. The sudden stillness of his chest, the pulse leaping out from his throat, the crinkle of his brows. “Still. Should probably check everything, make sure you’re in peak condition.”

The smoky chuckle he gives you is so delicious. “Is that right?”

Karking shit, you want him bad. The craving that’s been building up and up in your blood suddenly boils over into desire, hot and sticky and utterly carnal. It thunders through you like a storm, drives your body on instinct rather than conscious thought. You know your way around him better than you know anything else. All you want is to touch him and hear him shudder and make love to him until your body gives out and neither of you can remember your names. So you put your hand around the base of his head and pull him in for another kiss before he can stop you.

Your tongue slips into his mouth and past his teeth, seeking, taking, sucking, tasting every inch of him that he can give. You hope to drown in him, let his essence soak into yours until it's impossible to tell you two apart. And when he moans into your mouth and grips harder at your waist, it only spurs you on even more. You start nipping at his tongue, then retreat and latch onto his lower lip, drawing it between your own as you dig your canines in.

His eyes burn so molten hot that you're almost afraid he'll snap, but truth be told, you wouldn't mind if he did. Tai could bend you over right now and take you, and you'd kriffing beg him for it. Your body has been silently craving his for so long that you're not even sure you'll last once he starts putting his hands inside your clothes.

"Don't. Tease."

"Or what?" Your arms slide up and over his shoulders to trace over the veins in his neck, the thick cords of muscle that are now straining under his skin. "You'll fuck me?"

He shakes his head. "No, sweet girl. I'll make love to you." You open your mouth to fire back some smart retort when he yanks you hard against him by the waist and your mind goes completely blank as limbs slot into place and you find yourself half on top of him, half melting into the mattress. "Build you up and break you down to make up for all the time we lost."

Fuck, you can't breathe. "Promise?"

One of his cheeks dimples when he smirks. "I'm a man of my word."

He always has been. Your loyal soldier, the man who's made his home in the chambers of your heart.

You kiss him again, slower this time, while you snake a hand down his chest, over the swell of his tummy to the hem of his boxers. You’re salivating by the time you retreat from the warmth of his mouth. You need to taste him. It’s never been such a strong need before, not like this, and if you don’t get your mouth on him in the next minute, you’re surely going to explode.

It's at the exact moment that you slip under the fabric and wrap your hand around him, of course, that there’s a knock at the door. You don’t mean to, but your hand tightens on instinct and it’s everything Tai can do not to shout out at how alarmingly good it must feel because you can feel the vibrations of his withheld moan all the way in his gut.

“Yes?” you call. Tai seems otherwise occupied at the moment.

“Suns are up.” It’s Nej. “I was hopin’ Nax’d be able to get to work on the equipment early today.”

A very wicked idea comes to mind. You run your thumb over the head of Tai’s cock just as you reply, “He just woke up, but he’ll be ready in a few minutes.” It’s projected just loud enough that it hopefully muffles the grunt he lets out.

The look he sends your way is absolutely foul. Oh, he looks like he could kill you. Or maybe he looks like he could fuck your brains out. Perhaps that’s why his eyes are glinting so dangerously. You smile as sweetly as you can manage, but it quickly devolves into a smirk. You’re not fooling anyone.

Nej gives his thanks and you can just make out the sound of his crutches as he hobbles back down the hall. Good. The moment he’s out of earshot, you’re going to town on your man. If you live that long, of course, because with the way he’s looking at you, it’s entirely possible he’ll smother you to death. Not a bad way to go so long as it’s between his thighs.

“Minx,” he growls, still quiet enough to not be heard beyond the door but with all the venom and fierce arousal you see in his eyes.

You squeeze him again. “I’ll be quick, mesh’la.”

And the sound he makes must rewrite the chemistry of your brain. “Kriff, don’t- don’t say things like that,” he huffs, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh, I don’t know.” There’s nothing casual about the way you slowly wet your lips and flicker your eyelids so your lashes flutter. There’s nothing casual about the way you fix him with the exact same “fuck me” eyes you gave him in that bar so long ago. “You look like you’re enjoying it,” and you’re sure to quicken the pace of your strokes as you say it. “Now lay back, old man. Let me wake you up properly.”

He almost certainly has some witty remark on the tip of his tongue, but he keeps it to himself. Or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe that glazed over shine in his eyes really means he’s too far gone to even notice or care that you just called him an old geezer. Maybe he wants you just as badly as you want him, so this little barb doesn’t rile him up like it normally would. Instead, he watches you settle onto your stomach between his thighs, soft and warm and ready, and he lets you take him into the damp heat of your mouth, run your tongue along his length until he's shuddering and sighing. He sounds like the prettiest, sweetest symphony.

Tai settles a hand on the crown of your head. Its weight is firm and heavy, but hesitant. He's probably holding back. Doesn't want to hurt you. No time for that. Nej is waiting and you have a mission to complete – you need to taste him and it needs to be fast. But being fast doesn’t mean you don’t tease. You still run the tip of your tongue along the dip in his head, still take a moment to lick a long, slow strip from his base to the top, and you do make sure that you never look away. Want him to see how deep your desire runs. Want to see him unfold for you.

“C-Can’t. Hold out. Much longer.” Oh, and his teeth are bared, shining in the dim slivers of light coming in through the window shade. “Mesh’la.”

His legs are starting to shake and you manage a smile around his fullness, just for a breath, just long enough for him to see it and moan.

“Fuck, your mouth. Dangerous little thing.”

You hum cheerily in response. Take a deep breath, unlock your jaw as far as you can and lower yourself until you’re taking more than you usually can. Then you swallow.

It all happens so fast. His legs tense up and the tips of his nails dig into your scalp, hold you on him until you’re choking and sputtering just like you wanted to be, and he’s coming and coming and coming. Every noise he makes goes straight to your cunt, floods your senses until the creases of your thighs feel slick and your stomach is twisting. Every jerk of his hips and desperate, breathy whimper that comes out of him is so fucking intoxicating that even though he’s finished and made a complete mess of you, you don’t want to stop. You just need a second to breathe and then-

Then he’s pulling you off, gasping for air as you resettle beside him. There’s something about the way his eyes are going in and out of focus, how his chest is rising and falling so rapidly, how unbelievably sexy he looks all fucked out, Maker, this man is going to be the death of you.

He relays the same sentiment once his breathing has settled.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t like it?”

He makes a big show of rolling his eyes and huffing as if he’s genuinely annoyed, but you know he’s just flustered. Big old softie.

“I think you liked it a little too much,” he murmurs. His nails scratch over the back of your neck as he kisses you, prompting you to mewl softly into his tongue. “Shame I have work to do. Guess I won’t be able to make love to you like I promised.”

“That’s alright,” you start to say. I can wait, you want to say. I had fun teasing you, you almost say. You’ll make it up to me later. But he cuts you off with a swift nibble on your earlobe and all you can get out is a lewd little whine.

There’s a moment between his tongue swirling under your jawbone and his teeth nipping at your neck where your brain blacks out and you swear you can feel him between your legs, but that can’t be right. He has to get ready for work. You’re just not thinking clearly from the arousal and the early hour and, and… And the fingers gliding through your slick are definitely real and he’s definitely trying to distract you from it or rile you up with all the attention lavished on your throat, and now you can’t even think clearly because all there is is him and his fingers and his tongue, and, “Right there, right there, fuck, baby. Tai, Tai-“

And just like that, his fingers are gone and your body is flashing hot and cold in his absence. Hell, he’s already climbing off the bed as if he didn’t just wipe your brain of all cognitive thought with a single touch. “Like I said, my love, I have work to do.”

No, wait. Hang on. This wasn’t supposed to go like this. “But-“

“Shame, really.” He’s already pulled on his trousers and started on his belt. “But duty calls.”

Now he’s just being mean. You crawl out of bed like some long-legged, newborn bug who hasn’t learned to walk just yet. “Tease.”

The dimple in his cheek returns when he smiles at you. “Minx.”

“You’re just gonna leave me like this?” As if you weren’t okay with that just 10 seconds ago. But then he’d touched you and that went screaming out the window.

Tai’s quiet at first. He slips on his undershirt, lips pursed as he thinks. Then he pulls on his work shirt and starts working on the buttons. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, but he’s the only flame you’ll ever burn yourself with; you reach out and snag one of the buttons, slip it through the loop, and let your fingers linger after. There’s a beat, a breath, then two. The tension in the room is so thick that the air feels humid.

Just as you withdraw, his hands lock around your wrists. His head tilts up and his eyes catch yours. Oh. Your stomach drops to the floor the moment before he crowds you in against the wall. Danger danger danger goes the alert in the back of your head, but it’s him, it’s Tai. The only danger is the possibility of you coming on the spot if he says something dirty enough.

“You’ll work hard today, won’t you?”

Confusion creases your brow. “Yes?”

Something rumbles deep in his chest when he leans in and pins you to the wall. “You’ll be good, cyar’ika?”

You don’t know this word, but you love the way he makes it sound, so you nod eagerly. “Yes, baby, I’ll be good.” Whatever good means.

“And when the suns set.” His breath warms your still damp skin, a chill runs down your spine. “When our work is done, when Nej has gone to sleep and the desert is quiet.” Fuck. Fuck, he’s so close, he’s so riled up, and he’s so, so close, you can feel him everywhere. But you still can’t touch him, not with your hands pinned to the stone. “I’ll make good on my promise.”

"Build you up and break you down to make up for all the time we lost."

Your eyes very nearly roll back into your head. “You, you promise?”

He leaves you with a chaste, tender kiss and a nip at your throat. “Always.” And then he’s gone.

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#clone trooper tai x reader #tai x reader #clone veteran reader #daiyu veteran x reader #clone trooper veteran x reader #clone trooper nax x reader #nax x reader #tai #the tai saga #star wars #lmfao this chapter is for the tai girlies AND the tilelli girlies #for my tilelli girlies i am potentially thinking of a cute little oneshot or two of her and a theoretical reader or oc girlfriend👀#anyways. will the next chapter be pure smut and minimal plot? absolutely yes thanks for asking

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