knowing me, knowing you • anakin skywalker x reader
ayyyyy here's the wip i was talking about !! 🤠
synopsis: modern!au, cop!au. you and Anakin are assigned a mission that forces you both to come to terms with the past.
first of all: acab. second of all: everything i know about police hierarchy, guns or laws is what i learned from brooklyn nine nine and wikihow lol please take this for what it is: filth with (confused) feelings ❤️
as always, +18 only. and my askbox is always open for new prompts.
tags: exhibitionism, drug use (not by the main characters), shootings, violence, unethical + totally unrealistic shooting lessons, tough breakups, undercover cops doing very shady things, this doesn’t have the happiest of endings, i kinda miss songfics and you can tell by this work
word count: 4.821
You nervously fiddle with the fragile fabric of the flimsy, short shiny dress you wear under your oversized fake fur coat as your Uber drives to the nefarious destination of that night’s mission. You notice the driver shoots you some glances as if to coyly tell you he knew what your job was, when in reality, you knew he didn’t know shit.
The anticipation that bubbled in your stomach had nothing to do with the place you were about to go or the people you were eventually supposed to arrest, but instead it had to do with who was supposed to arrest these people alongside you. Captain Windu was quite kind not to assign any missions for the both of you since the incident, but according to him, no other profiles fit the assignment as well as you and Detective Skywalker’s.
Bullshit. You knew this was Mace’s way of making you overcome by force whichever discomfort still left by your and Anakin’s breakup and putting a halt to the fruitless and neverending bickering sponsored by the precinct’s once dream couple every time someone paired you in anything together. Since you two parted ways, work life with Skywalker became unbearable to the point you considered asking Mace for a move, something Obi-Wan, your precinct’s sergeant, vehemently discouraged you to. You eventually gave in and stayed, colleagues eventually learning not to put you in the same room except in full-team briefings, but you could tell Mace was tired - no, exhausted - of dealing with whatever was going on between you.
The script’s fairly simple: you, the new girl at the Zygerria nightclub, will catch Lars' - Anakin’s - attention, who will try to negotiate with your target (who goes by Jango Fett, according to the investigation) for a night with you using a shit ton of state-owned cocaine as his hand in the deal. Of course this was far from a one night only operation because Lars had to earn their trust, and so did you. You got in your best shape in years, actually learned to pole dance, do a mean routine to N.E.R.D’s “Hypnotize U” and survive inside of a very female-unfriendly place/business; all while reporting your progress to Obi-Wan at the end of the day.
Again: the fact that this night was decisive for the sting didn’t bother you at all. This was far from your first rodeo and your reputation in the precinct preceded you. The fact that it relied so much on you getting that intimate with Anakin after all that you’ve been through is what does.
Seeing him still emotionally and physically hurt, despite the many months that passed since your relationship ended. You haven’t fucked anyone else since (which definitely wasn’t his case, judging by how cozy he was with Detective Amidala lately), and you felt like it genuinely ruined you in the matters of romance and flirting. Not that you were particularly good at it from the start, but loving Anakin was easy, inevitable. You weren’t actively searching for it, or anything really, yet he found you and struck you like lightning; leaving permanent bolt-shaped burns in your skin as the electricity and warmth gave place to resentment and mutual isolation the moment you realized you had totally different perspectives for your futures and Anakin was selfish and petulant as a child.
The car arrives at Zygerria. You take a deep breath and exit the car unceremoniously, after tipping the driver generously even if he wasn’t the warmest - that’s precisely what you needed on a night like this. You arrive way more quietly than you usually do, attributing your slight change of demeanor for your closest girls and bartenders to a bad breakup.
Which was kinda the truth, to be honest.
You store your purse and coat in one of the lockers before fixing your makeup in order to look irresistible for the men and occasional women that occupied the nightclub’s lounge - or perhaps for the one man in particular you hoped that night was as hard for as it was for you. The fabric barely covering your skin, despite being very light and allowing the wind to blow all over your body, accentuated your curves beautifully and bore within its confines the promise of showing more than it should every step you took.��
As you walk around the lounge, you gently and charmingly dodge eager bystanders, their touches and their beckonings as you look for Lars. You wonder what he smells like tonight - his “special evenings” perfume, maybe? The one that penetrated your skin and your senses like a tattoo every morning you woke up by his side?
How is that in any way an important question to ask yourself, anyway?
After spending the time you did with the other girls, you can’t help but think of how much of a lovestruck, abandoned-by-her-businessman-lover stripper vibe you’re giving out through your behavior. But you were a woman on a mission. Literally. You look for him furtively and in every corner of the room your eyes can reach.
The moment your eyes reach his you can notice him getting steadily into the character. You’ve met many Anakins throughout your personal and professional life, having not met Lars yet makes the pit inside your stomach grow a few inches wider in anxiety. You stride towards the bar and ask for a Moscow Mule in order to calm your nerves as he walks towards you.
What killed you a bit too about doing this with him again was the fact that Anakin was so fun to work with in operations like these. He tried new accents all the time and succeeded in using them, he was always experimenting with makeup, wigs… he was a master of disguises and you could always tell this was an aspect of the job he particularly enjoyed. This time, though, he was barefaced expect for the fact he covered the scar that crossed his eyes; he opted for a shorter, clean-cut haircut that, paired with a very fucking expensive and precisely tailored designer suit he was wearing, exuded power and money to every other human being that got the opportunity to shoot him a look, which every other girl did take.
Before they could have the chance to swarm him like moths, he reaches you with that smirk of his, which you felt wasn’t exactly real. This thought shouldn’t cause you the pain it still does. “Hey, darling.” Slight Scandinavian accent. Of course, Lars is a very Scandinavian name. His voice was slightly deeper than you remembered. Needless to say, it’s been a while since you heard his voice given that you’ve grown distant, choosing silence over animosity as the circumstances surrounding you gave you exactly what you thought you needed: space. You couldn’t tell if he deepened his voice on purpose for this role or if his cigarette habit came with a vengeance since you broke up with him. “Haven’t seen you here before.”
“Hey,” you did your best to keep up with him. You were no Viola Davis, but you did your best. “How’s your night going, Mr…”
“Sjöberg. Lars Sjöberg.” He takes your hand in his and places a gentle kiss in it. You can feel time freeze and sparks fly around your characters. “To be honest with you, I think I could use better company to spend it with. You seem just perfect. What's your name?”
“I’m Mel.”
“Short for Melanie?”
“The word for honey in many languages, actually.”
“I see.” He chuckles. After he asks the bartender for a glass of whiskey, he whispers in your ear: “I know you taste just as sweet.”
You blush furiously at his choice of words, especially his picking of “I know you taste just as sweet” over “I guess you taste just as sweet” in a scenario like this, and you can swear that for the first time in years you could hear his accent falter in the middle of a mission. It was just for the authenticity of your reaction, you remind yourself. Thankfully the Moscow Mule arrives just in time for you to swallow some large gulps before you answer your fellow detective: “Our club overlooks a lot of things, Mr. Sjöberg. But in order to find out how I taste, you gotta see how I move, first. And reward me generously for it.”
The distance between your bodies becomes smaller too quickly for you to register precisely how, and you now feel his warm breath on your neck. “I’ll take whatever you're willing to give me”, he mumbles, before leaving the naughtiest and most discreet of kisses in your skin. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
Shit. You almost forgot how smooth Anakin could be sometimes. You down the rest of that liquid courage before your perfectly manicured nails trace his chest seductively: “Want to go somewhere more private?”
-
Anakin’s legs are splayed wide over the lavish, purple sofa of the VIP room alcove. He holds his drink firmly with one hand as the other rests in his thigh; his expression enigmatic while you give him a lap dance to Chloe x Halle’s “Ungodly Hour”. You adjust your choreography to surreptitiously communicate with him, your moving body dangerously close to his. He swallows thickly at the proximity.
“Where did you place your gun?” He whispers, one finger gently moving a lock of your hair out of the way in order for Lars to get a better look at your glimmering chest.
“Precisely where I’ll need it to be when we’re there. I know this place from the inside out by now.”
His unoccupied hand traces your waist and your back in a featherlight caress. You shiver at the familiarity of it. “Good. I don’t feel like making a spectacle of Jango’s arrest tonight. Ideally, everything will happen very swiftly.”
“Oh, it’ll be a spectacle from start to finish, Mr. Sjöberg. Specially if we fuck it up. How many briefings did you miss in order to spend more time with Amidala?” You ask him with a bit more venom than necessary – your entire question didn’t have the necessity to be made, actually. You just let it out out of spite.
In order to distance yourself from his touch but also make sure you weren’t being heard, you peek out of the alcove. No burly men in sight. You take a deep breath before returning to your routine.
Anakin dodges the question and your unnecessary (?) bitterness. “What do you mean we can’t make it discreet?”
You huff in annoyance at his lack of preparation. “We can, but I told you plenty of times that Jango's room is full of his own bugs from the floor to the roof. We’ll face an entire army if we’re not cautious enough, and we’ll have to entertain him in order to get what we need.”
“Do we even have the backup for this?”
“Of course we do! Plenty! Do you think I’m an idiot? And do you even remember what we’re supposed to do to get him to do what we want?”
It’s true what they say about breakups: you tend to only remember the nicer things in your relationship whenever the yearning hits. Well, you were just reminded of one thing that was deeply annoying about Anakin and working with him: he was too sure of himself to stick or pay attention to plans. His silence is the answer you need. “Fuck, Anakin.” Your face wrinkles in irritation. “The moment we go there and you make your bid for me, he’ll probably ask me to give you a trial. We’ll then give him something to look at - he’s a perv. He’ll love that.”
You sit on his lap and unabashedly grind against him to the rhythm of the song - knowing he’s unable to do anything about it, that’s the best way you can find to get your revenge on his recklessness all while teasing what’ll come further in the night. And it’s surprisingly on character too.
The breath that rushes from Lars is a sharp one; you can see how his pupils dilate, hear the pattern shift in his breathing. He palms your hips in order to keep the movement steady. “Just like that.” You moan, already disarmingly wet by the indirect and clothed friction of his already rock-hard cock against your pulsating clit. “He’ll turn all systems off because he’ll want the sights and… and sounds all to himself,” you explain, both of your bodies quickly overtaken by the desire you two still have for each other. “And he’ll excuse his men from the room.”
“How do you know that?” He groans and you feel his grip on your hips tighten.
“I just do,” you limit yourself to answer. “Unlike some, I do my research.”
And just before you get to the point of no return, one of Jango’s henchmen arrive to pull off the brakes in your interaction, making you briskly get off Anakin’s lap. Skywalker tries to hide his crystal clear excitement at having you on top of him after so long. “Sir, sorry to interrupt, but if you want to play, you’ll have to pay.”
“‘f course,” he answers, trying to recompose himself. “I do want her for a night, Rex. Can we arrange that?”
“Always, sir.”
-
“Good to see you again, friend.” Jango Fett greets Lars with a wide smile on his face and an enthusiastic handshake. Judging by how reserved Fett usually was, you deduce Anakin did a great job at making Jango warm up to him. Or, like many men in this world who only love women in a certain kind of way, he was only able to show true affection for other men.
He takes his seat behind the lush marble table now separating him and his “Swedish” acquaintance. Anakin follows, taking the seat in front of him while you stand still in one of the corners of the [stereotypically, really] opulent room, close to where Rex and Cody also stood. You’re glad that on your way to Fett’s “office” you got to fetch your coat again, because it was eerily cold too. “So you’re interested in my new girl.”
You found it fascinating how he talked about you as if you weren’t even there. Lars takes a good look at you as if to make his point even more clearer. “Very.”
Jango’s eyebrows raise in amusement. He thinks you got lucky. “Well, I do work with the finest product this city has to offer. Rates might be a little higher than you’d expect them to be. What price can you pay for exclusivity?”
Lars pushes a small bag of cocaine in Jango’s direction. “Purest you’ll ever come across.”
Jango opens the bag, collecting a small sample with a nearby key and snorting it with the precision of a pro. Judging by how hard it hits him, Lars is definitely telling the truth. “Shit. That’s fucking diamond.” Fett wipes his nose, stunned, leaning back against the chair with a sigh. “How did you get it?”
“I have my contacts.”
“How much?”
“88 pounds.”
“Don’t fucking play me. Just like that? All with me in mind?”
“I’ve had my eyes on Mel for a while.” Anakin beckons you to sit on his lap, keeping his composure flawlessly intact at the slightest hint of Jango’s cocaine-fueled change of heart. You stride towards him and follow his unspoken command. “All with her in mind.”
“That’s fair. Fuck, she’s one lucky bitch.” Jango fills a cup with whiskey and downs it fast, not bothering to think too much. Perhaps Anakin’s signaling of complete confidence helped here. Jango could smell fear and anxiety - he bragged over and over about all the undercover cops he dodged or killed. “Show him what you can do, baby. You're worth it.”
“How can I prove to you I’m worth the investment, Mr. Sjöberg?” You ask Anakin, your voice deviantly silky.
“How about we finish what we started down there?” His voice is raspy with need. “Hey, Fett, care to give us a little privacy? Your men, I mean. Too crowded.”
“C’mon, a trial’s a trial. These men have seen way more scandalous things.” Fett scoffs, the chemical hyper confidence doing wonders to his system. Anakin’s eyes quickly meet yours in worry. “Do you mind watching, boys?”
“Not at all, sir.” Cody replies, his tone scornful.
“See?”
Welp, your thorough research just bite you beautifully in the ass. Anakin will probably give you hell for this.
“Is anyone else going to appear?” Anakin asks Jango, his hand caressing your leg while you see the gears in his head turning.
“Not unless you change your mind and want them to.”
“I don’t. Just to be sure.” Your colleague manhandles you so you can straddle him in front of the men. “C’mon baby. Think you can do this for me?”
“Of course. ‘s my job.” You reply, bending your knees slightly and straightening them again, rubbing up against the bulge in Skywalker’s pants, feeling your heart skip a couple of beats at the contact and at the fact that the three other men in the room are eyeing you just as hungrily as Anakin is.
As you sway your hips experimentally against his cock, the proximity allows him to feel you brought the best kind of protection with you inside your coat: your gun. A little more confident with the change of plans he’s designing in his head, he mutters, expecting you to understand where he’s getting at while his fingers coyly caress the weapon hidden in your hips: “Don’t be shy. Rex and Cody are probably wishing you took care of them.”
Jango chuckles. You answer, in a very low whisper. “Would you let me take care of them while you and Jango watch?” You indeed get where he’s getting at.
“Sharing is caring. Think you really could do it?” Anakin felt himself growing harder in his own pants with each roll of your hips and he couldn’t deny that even though the real implication was that you were about to shoot these two men, the fantasy of seeing you ruined by them wasn’t one Anakin was completely against, but that’s something he’d keep to himself to his grave. The fact that you were doing this right now, and in front of such dangerous people nonetheless, was already too much to process.
“Yes. But I want to give them a show first.” Understanding that you indeed needed them to be distracted - and this was a golden opportunity to give in to some of your most reprehensible kinks, too, because why not? - you press your face into his neck while he holds your hips tightly. This was all the incentive Skywalker needed to keep going.
Earnestly, you keep rolling his hips over and over again back into the bulge in Anakin’s pants, eliciting escalating moans from him. He motions for you to stop your movements and before you can reach the small gun you have on you, he asks you: “May I?” Motioning to move your very delicate panties away from your core.
He wanted to fuck you in front of them before the arrest took place. Claim his territory.
He was having way too much fun with this. And fuck it - so were you.
“Anything you want, Lars.”
You help him to free his dick from its fabric confines without leaving him completely naked from the waist down - your big ass coat sizeable enough to conceal his reallocation of his gun - and you tremble above him as he drags the tip of his cock against your pussy. “Fett, fuck, can everyone listen and see what’s going on here? Now that I mind.” He feigns worry.
Shit. The bugs. You were so drunk with lust you almost forgot about them. So hypocritical of you.
“No, Lars.” Anakin notices Fett pressing some buttons and he hopes he turned his microphones and cameras off. “Sorry about that. Go on. No one but us can see or hear you now.”
“Thank you. Three's already a crowd.” Skywalker sighs, basking at the sight of the trail of wetness leaving your fingers as you accommodate him a little better inside of you. You lowered yourself on his cock pornographically, a very indecent moan escaping from your lips as a result of you two finally joining in one. Anakin shoos you. He missed seeing himself disappear in your welcoming, dripping cunt; you took him so well even after all this time.
Your lips freeze in a silent ‘O’ and your eyebrows tighten as you adjust to his considerable size once again. “You’re so fucking tight, princess. Take your time.” His lips hover over yours in a silent promise of a kiss as he turns a loose strand of your hair away from your face in a gentle gesture. You reach his mouth, fulfilling it, and after a lustful swirling of tongues that leave you lightheaded, you bite his lower lip playfully as you slowly start to ride him and the uncomfortable stretch gradually gives place to mind-numbing pleasure.
“Fuck, Mr. Sjöberg,” you sigh, pleasure heightened at the sight of Rex and Cody palming themselves to the vision unfolding in front of them. “You feel so good.” And God knows you truly meant it. After he teases you just enough for you to remember his size, both of his hands cup your asscheeks so he can fuck you deeper and properly, making you gasp at the adjustment of pace. You bury his face in your neck once again so you keep yourself from getting too loud at the heavenly invasion his cock is bestowing on you.
Your nails press against his tanned skin in a quiet plea to just keep going. While you feel the grasp you have in the situation is slipping away, you couldn’t have asked for a better way to lose control. “Listen,” he struggles to whisper between ragged breaths as your walls stimulate him for all he’s worth. “I wanna try something. Put your hand back where it was, love.”
“Okay,” you answer, a bit unsure of what he’s trying to do while you wrap your fingers around your gun again. It’s hard to think clearly when you’re as cockdrunk as you are. You could even be afraid that Jango and his cronies would be suspicious of the dialogue between you and Anakin, but given how concentrated they were in how your bodies clashed against each other in a desperate pursuit for release, you doubted they were going to do something about it. “Alright.”
“Remember our practice in California?” He lowers his whisper even more in order to make sure he’s not being heard clearly; for them to think his words are sweet nothings only as he buries himself inside of you again and again. It couldn’t be further from reality. “Put it to good use in 5…”
Ah yes, the time you and Anakin got sent to arrest Asajj Ventress.
You missed 12 shots before you got lucky enough to get your hands on her. She was your first higher profile arrest, though far from being your brightest.
Anakin, still your boyfriend at the time, promised he would rent a shooting range for an entire weekend just for the two of you. You felt a bit humiliated at first, but you knew it was necessary; he was the kindest at suggesting it and making his promise come true too, which made it easier for you to accept.
“4…” You’re scared shitless of the fact that you aren't able to do much more than take him, moaning out every time he pushes into you again. Whining at the loss of him when he pulls back. How the fuck were you supposed to incapacitate Rex and Cody?
“The most important thing along with being steady is to focus regardless of what’s going on around you or with you. Allow me to demonstrate.”
Of course there was a reason he wanted the range just to have the two of you in it.
Anakin Skywalker slowly worked your pants and panties down your thighs, spreading small kisses over feverish, eager flesh. By the time he had you trembling in anticipation and unable to keep his eyes off his, and before he buried his face between your legs, he gave you a devilish smirk. “Eyes up. I need you to be focused.”
“3…” You tried hard to piece two and two together while feeling the wetness between your thighs and hearing the sweet slick sounds of his cock moving so easily inside you.
You obey, sighing at the subsequent contact of his tongue and talented lips against your soaked cunt. His movements were experimental, unhurried yet immensely powerful. A drop of sweat slid down your face as you picked up your gun, keeping your finger outside the trigger guard, extended straight and flat on the side of the guard. “Ready,” he croaks between drags of his tongue against your most sensitive spot. You hold your weapon in the firing-ready position, nodding to yourself in reassurance.
“2…” Heat and the musky, spicy scent that is pure Anakin surrounds your senses. Pressing against your chest and filling your nose while his filthy words fill your ears like an overwhelmingly good version of white noise.
“Steady,” His warm and wide hands grasped at your asscheeks as he kept laving over your clit just fast enough to bring you steadily closer to climax, making your legs part even wider and your attention become even more split between the entity kneeled below you and the targets in front of you. You were unashamedly whining at the stimulation, resisting the painfully strong urge to close your eyes and let go. But you wouldn’t and couldn’t let him down.
“1…”
He pressed his tongue hard against your clit and dragged slowly upward, fingers digging into your butt to keep you skin tight close to him, and you came undone.
“Fire.”
To your utter befuddlement, the target dummy was never shot with such precision.
Just like Rex and Cody’s shoulders. Anakin just came deep inside of you while pointing his gun at a completely fucked up Jango, whose post-nut clarity hasn’t quite landed yet. “Jango Fett, you are now under arrest.” He uttered through heavy breaths, giving you a chaste kiss before you got off his lap and fixed yourself as much as you could in literal seconds. Your legs are still slightly trembling as you stride towards the injured men, cuffing them with cable ties you also hid in your coat after you kick their guns away. You throw one at Anakin so he finishes the job with his past acquaintance.
After he finishes reciting Jango’s Miranda Rights and listing all of the charges that led to his arrest, he tells the man, not taking his eyes off you: “You were right about one thing, actually. She’s sure worth it.”
-
The shared ride home is eerily quiet - just like the rest of the aftermath. You expected more bickering over the things that could’ve went wrong: ifs, buts, but nothing came.
And you hated that even more. But as fun as the mission was, there was no turning back to what you once had. Everyone probably thought that the fighting was just repressed desire to go back to each other’s arms, and maybe it was, but it was also a lot of unresolved pain that made you crystal clear that even though Anakin made you happy in so many ways, you were like a wishing well to his bolt of electricity, like Fiona Apple once wrote.
The words to her song Werewolf echoed repeatedly in your head.
We could still support each other, all we gotta do is avoid each other. Nothing wrong when a song ends in the minor key.
“What did you do in order to earn their trust and admiration like that?” Anakin’s voice breaks after a considerable time of not using it.
“What I had to do. Why do you care? We got the job done.” You answer apathetically.
He sighs, keeping any further words to himself.
“It was just a job.” He states, more in order to convince himself of that than to convince you. You feel like there’s more to come but you stop him dead in his tracks.
“It was just a job.” You answer in a reassuringly firm manner, grabbing your headphones and using sound to drown out the quiet.
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