#modern!anakin drabble

[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 15th

modern!anakin x cumming untouched

you were mortified, and you can’t fathom how it even occurred in the first place.

anakin had wanted to wait.

he had experience in the past, an era before he met you where he was more reckless with his sexual partners — but since maturing, and getting to know you, he wanted things to be different. he wanted it to be special, especially when he figured out you’d never been touched like that before. time was a precious thing now, where he’d go days and nights thinking of how good he wanted to make you feel, listening out to each little gasp you made when the two of you would kiss, and having to peel himself away, half hard and full of self restraint everytime.

the time had finally come, where you’d decided to be intimate together after a particularly romantic date. anakin had done everything right, and that had only riled you up all the more. he was the perfect gentleman — opening your car door for you, bringing you flowers and pulling out your chair at the restaurant, but under the candlelight there was still something so uniquely rugged and boyish about him that made you clench your legs beneath the table. you felt yourself become uncharacteristically aroused as you tried to focus on what you were speaking about across from him as he sat staring at you intently, nodding attentively to show he was listening, his tongue prodding at his snakebite piercing out of habit. you couldn’t help but trail off, distracted —wondering how it might feel to have the cool metal of the piercing down below on your body.

when he’d clocked onto your state, the look you both shared silently sealed the deal of what the two of you would be up to later on — his mouth stretching into that charming wide grin you knew so well, all white teeth and smile lines, and you couldn’t wait to finally have him on you, or better yet — in you.

the two of you had barely made it back to your apartment, tension thick as honey as he’d followed you inside, stealing touches from eachother until you’d wound up in your bedroom, gasping into his mouth. you could feel yourself getting hotter and wetter by the second, feeling as though you were lacking oxygen but couldn’t bring yourself to care. all you cared about in that moment was anakin, and having him where you wanted him.

as he sucked on your tongue, large hands sliding up your top and into the cups of your bra to thumb at your hard nipples, you couldn’t help but let out desperate, high pitched and depraved sounds to convey your need to him. “this okay, baby?” he cooed, his open mouth not leaving your lips as he asks. you let out a sound resembling “uh huh” but can’t get any words out, otherwise.

luckily, for him that’s enough and he continues. you don’t notice that you’re squirming on the bed, grinding your hips down into the mattress until he tugs lightly on your sensitive nipples and suddenly something is unravelling. the coil in your stomach that you were unaware of had snapped, and you yelped— gasping, panting and whining against his lips. you tried to get your words out, shock and confusion evident in your loud mewling when you tell him “i’m cumming!” all of a sudden.

there’s a millisecond where he freezes, pulling back slightly and looking at you with big dilated pupils and swollen lips. his brows furrow as he continues to play with your nipple with one hand and uses the other to pull you against him, letting you bury yourself into his collarbone as you ride out the unexpected and slightly alarming orgasm. “okay baby, it’s okay!” he cooes comfortingly, letting you dig your nails into his tattooed forearms. his voice is gentle, kind and a little confused as he tries to comfort you through it, your breathing suggesting the shock of it might make you hyperventilate if you weren’t careful.

you’d gotten yourself so worked up, that you’d cum just from him playing with your tits. you felt totally humiliated, as if you’d ruined the whole thing by getting overexcited. you slow your hips that were involuntarily jerking against the mattress and take jagged breaths against him, letting him rub his big warm hand up your spine. “there you go, wow — sensitive girl aren’t you?” he let’s out a delighted laugh, leaning back slightly to try and look at you.

he notices your tearful expression and is quick to take your cheeks in his hands, smoothing his thumbs over them. “you’re okay, just got a little excited, sweetheart. it happens.”

you look up at him, doe eyes twinkling with potential tears. “i ruined it.” you sulk, looking down at your lap.

he’s smiling again. in that typical, life ruiningly anakin way.

“you have no idea how sexy that was, pretty girl.” his voice is raspy and low and he drags his lips across your puffy ones, letting you shakily exhale into his mouth as you listen intently. “you’re new to this, so you might not know a lot and that’s okay, i’m here to teach you.” two large hands find their way to your knees and he parts them slightly, thumbs rubbing soothing circles. he’s not moving too fast, just slowly letting you feel him get closer. “the great thing about having a pretty little pussy,” he begins and you whimper at his vulgar words in disbelief, his hands beginning to slide up your thighs. “is that it can cum for me as many times as it wants to.” his hands slide up your skirt, fingers hooking around your panties as he pulls back, looking you in the eye. “so, how about — i get these off.” he taps your hips concealed by your lace underwear. “and i can give you a couple more, just like that but better.” he proposed and you involuntarily spread your legs, staring at him in disbelief.

“yeah?” he pushes.

“please.”

“atta girl.” he kisses your nose and slides the destroyed fabric down your thighs, chuckling at the mess before getting to work.

requested tags ! : @hanasnx @jellydodger

[prettybabyyyy]

modern!Anakin is so skater boi you can’t change my mind

[interloved]

nerdy!anakin skywalker who’s secretly a freak

requested by poll!

description box; the nerd with the glasses that tutors you turns out to be not so innocent after all. and he looks even more delicious without his glasses.

warning; heavy nsfw warning, mentions of cheating and an affair, porn with a bit of plot, anakin is a total pervert and freakyyyy, smut under the cut!, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

ANAKIN SKYWALKER IS A nerd, and it’s by default that he doesn’t associate with ‘your kind’.

the popular kind, the pretty kind.

the ones that run around with the football players, the kind of people that have this certain aura that just makes everyone look at them the second they walk into the room.

most of the popular people at your school were known to be arrogant douchebags, unintelligent jerks and vain bitches who thought they were above everyone else. but not you, though.

you were different. you were popular, really uniquely and breathtakingly beautiful, but your heart and soul were just as pretty as you. you also had a jerk of a boyfriend, and you really sucked at mathematics and physics. but luckily for you, your desk mate anakin skywalker, who also happens to sit next to you in physics classes, knows that. and also happens to be a very valued tutor.

“another D?”

anakin’s gaze is deplorable, his lips are pressed together in a pitiful way.

“yeah,” you wince as you examine the big, red D on your paper, “can’t say i didn’t expect it though. i thought the questions were really easy—maybe that should’ve given it away.”

anakin is hesitant, he doesn’t want to upset you—he knows you’ve been called stupid and dumb plenty of times by teachers, but really, he knows you’re not. really, you excel at subjects like history, english or music, you just… need a little tutoring. but he also knows you’re too prideful for that. you’ve never been bad enough at a subject to need tutoring, but you’ve been consistently getting D’s the whole year and there’s nothing anakin can do.

he would’ve let you copy his answers, but the teachers never look away during exams. he wouldn’t have done for just anyone—he would’ve only done it for you.

you’re the kindest person he’s ever met. you probably don’t remember but about four years ago, maybe a little more, he was getting bullied really bad. and not just by anyone, a guy named dylan. he was your boyfriend at the time. and still is. fucking asshole. anakin hated him passionately.

but you’d broken up with him after you’d caught him throwing punches into anakin’s stomach. you had yelled at him, even slapped him, you had taken anakin by the hand and went to the school nurse with him. and you were so kind to him. so sweet. so nice.

honestly, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he developed a huge crush on you. but he never confessed, he knew you were out of his league, and not his. especially after your (shitty asshole! anakin would treat you so much better) boyfriend dylan had apologised to him and you in a heartbreaking manner through a big gesture, and you had forgiven him.

ever since, dylan and anakin still give each other dirty glances and nasty glares, but he never laid hand on him again.

anakin would like to describe you and him as friends. you talked to each other in every class you had together, especially physics, because you sat next to each other, and you always greeted each other in the hallways.

but you guys have never hung out together and you’ve never been to his place, or he to yours.

“listen, maybe you… maybe i can study with you.” anakin muttered gently, carefully studying your face expressions as he made his suggestion.

your eyebrows formed into a frown, “you think that’ll help?”

anakin nodded, relieved you weren’t taking this as badly as he’d thought you would, “yeah, sure. i’m a tutor, you know? i can explain stuff pretty well.”

“oh, i wouldn’t want to impose—” you’re quick to deny, you hate bothering people.

fuck, you’re the sweetest person there is. truly an angel sent down from heaven. anakin made up his mind, right there. he would do anything to make you his.

“no, you’re not imposing. i want to. i want to do this for you.” he smiled, but seeing your hesitant face, he added, “besides, we’re friends. isn’t that what friends do for each other?”

a small smile tugged at your lips. “really? you… you’d do that for me? but i really don’t want to be a bother! you’re so smart and clever, you probably have so many tutees and you’re probably so busy—”

anakin would be replaying those words in his mind tonight. non-stop.

“listen, i really don’t mind. it’ll be like us hanging out. ‘kay? you don’t need to worry about it, i’m happy to be at your service.”

you hesitated for a second. and then you smiled, and anakin knew he’d won. “OK, then. it’ll be like a hangout.”

“it’s settled then,” he smirked at you, “my place? tomorrow afternoon?”

you laugh.

“your place, tomorrow afternoon.”

YOU HAD ABSOLUTELY NO idea how you ended up like this. in his bed. in this position. moaning and whimpering his name.

you were on all fours, legs trembling and quivering, your arms weak and the only thing that was holding you up was anakin’s toned arm, hooked under your waist, holding you up firmly as he thrusted into you.

you had never noticed it before, but his arm… looked so… delicious when it was flexed.

“that feel good, darling?” the smirk in his voice is all too evident, he got off on the way you were so fucking responsive to his every touch.

his hands went from caressing your thighs and kneading your ass to playing with your nipples and tugging back your hair.

“haven’t even begun properly fucking you and you’re already so soaked. does your boyfriend not fuck you, darling?”

your mind is nothing but chaos, and your stomach all fuzzy, and the only thing you can do is whine around his cock, writhing underneath him. you nod, you just nod because your boyfriend’s cock doesn’t kiss your cervix like this, your boyfriend’s cock doesn’t fit into your womb so fucking well, because your boyfriend doesn’t make you feel so, so, so good.

“n-need you to go faster…”

he kisses his teeth with his one, making a quiet ‘tsk’ sound. “that’s not very polite, demanding others like that. what’s happened to your manners, angel?”

he’s fucking you agonisingly and painfully slowly from behind, the question papers he brought and physics notes he made for you, just for you, carelessly scattered in front of you. your hands are gripping them as you moan.

“f-fuck, ani—please just… won’t fuck me faster? can’t… can’t, ‘m not—hah—”

“all right, all right, doll,” he replies to you sweetly, bending over next to your ear, still thrusting into so painfully slowly, “only if you admit that you love me more than your boyfriend.”

your eyes widen. “b-but—”

“ah-ah. no buts. say it or i won’t let you cum.”

you loved your boyfriend. you did! but anakin just made you feel so, so good…

“love you more than my boyfriend,” you moan quietly, closing your eyes in shame.

“‘m sorry, what? i didn’t catch that.” he grinned teasingly.

“ani,” you whine, “don’t be like that.”

he laughs. “all right, all right. cum for me, doll.”

author’s note;

i have never written smut like this before. please have mercy on me 😭😭

[hopesworlld]

wearing an ‘i love emo boys’ top in front of sam monroe !

( swearing, kissing, mentions of cum )

“what the fuck is that?” sam snickered when you entered his bedroom, a wide smile twisted on your lips twisted into a wide grin.

“my new t-shirt,” you giggled, sliding your jumper off of your shoulders and putting your hands on your hips, modeling the top for him. it was a plain black y-shirt with ‘i love emo boys’ written on it in white text, the love replaced with a red heart.

“where did you find that?” sam asked, standing up and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close, your hands came up around his neck, clinging to his as he lifted you up, swinging you off the floor and spinning you around.

“sam!” you screeched, laughing as he tossed you onto the bed. “i found it on etsy and i thought it was perfect,” you said as sam climbed onto the bed after you, grabbing the bottom of your t-shirt and tugging it down so that he could look at it better.

“emo boys?” he then asked with a raised brow and you looked at him with narrowed eyes.

“sammy, c’mon!” you groaned, “you know that you are the only emo boy i want,” you said, grabbing his shoulders and tugging him down so that he is laying on top of you, his face pressed against your chest.

“well then your top should say that,” he murmured, nipping at your chest lightly. you rolled your eyes affectionately, pressing a kiss on his forehead.

“you know how you can prove it?” you asked him, a small smirk twisting on your lips and sam looked up at you curiously, “you could cum on my top, make everyone know who i belong too,” a groan fell from sam’s lips as he pushed himself up on the bed so that he was hovering over you.

“yea, wanna walk around looking like my pretty little cum rag, babe?” sam asked, hand slipping between your thighs and you let out a heavy breath.

“yes, sammy, please,” you begged, hands clutching at his t-shirt tightly and he grinned.

“i fucking love this top” he said before pressing his lips to yours.

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

i ❤️ emo boys !

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

If someone were to have asked you what music you thought MODERN!ANAKIN SKYWALKER listens to, you would've had no idea what to say. Even now you're a little confused, as some alternative-rock crossed with hazy indie dream-pop plays in the room while you're seated on top of him. His large hands clamped on your hips have you rocking faithfully over him, his head of wild curls propped up by the pillow underneath it, intense eyes boring into yours as you listen to music that you would've described as "a little depressing." It's what he chose, and the steady beat reminds you to take your time grinding down on him. The rhythm of your hips match the tempo, and you slow your roll. Every deliberate movement of your body ripples your muscle and tissue in a most delicious way, the kind of demonstration that has Anakin's teeth aching to bite into it. "That's it, angel, you like showing me how pretty you look on my dick?" There's an edge to his voice, lower than usual, gruffer. A darkness in his eyes as he blows a breath through his flared nostrils when he adjusts, jostling you in a way that brushes his tip against your cervix.

You curse, and brace against his broad chest with a splayed hand. "Baby, you gotta be careful. I'm not ready yet." you confess, rutting through the minute sting as his blunt fingernails dig into your skin. You try to distract yourself, give yourself some time to loosen up. "What are we listening to?"

Through furrowed brows and a breath he sucks in, he answers you, "Glare, Quannnic, Loathe, a little Deftones. Do you want something else?" By the sound of it, he knows not everyone shares his music taste, and you tilt your head at him, endeared by the way his tongue sticks out between his lips. Obviously he doesn't take it personally if you choose something else.

"No, no. I like it." you say, winded. Even if it's a little slow, you try to take advantage of the opportunity for more conscious sex. Less about getting to the end as quickly as possible, and letting waves travel through your body, moving like fluid over him to massage his cock with your insides.

"Oh, fuck, princess. I like it like that. Keep moving it like that." his praises shoot straight through you, loosening you up enough to ride him a little harder. Those blue eyes focus where your bodies conjoin, watching the glimpse of his shaft peer through your lips as you rock. Your cute little clit brushes his trail of pubic hair with each move, and he bites down hard onto his lip. He can feel you getting wetter, more flexible. He glances up to meet your gaze, his abdomen curling to flex and protrude every muscle as he fights himself to stay put and not take over. "Are you ready yet? Can I fuck it?"

[cosmicanakin]

౨ৎ HOW ANAKIN IS IN BED.

੭୧ . . . anakin skywalker x female!reader.

warning(s) smut┆power dynamics┆overstimulation┆possessive!anakin. 𓇼 in conclusion, anakin is a freak in da sheets, yall. eighteen plus! adult content | minors do NOT interact.

　✧⠀ ⠀⠀　𓈒　⠀⠀ ⠀૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ꪆৎ masterlist.

anakin embraces his inner passions fully in bed. between the sheets he unleashes a primal intensity. he worships your body with devoted mouth and hands, learning just what makes you cry out the loudest. he takes his time bringing you to the edge over and over until you're a quivering, desperate mess. but when you finally beg for release, he denies you at first, dragging out your ecstasy mercilessly until you're sobbing his name. only then will he slam deeply inside to complete your unraveling, swallowing your screams with a fierce kiss. he brandishes you with dark marks too, covering your skin with proof of who you belong to. and when he spills inside with a guttural groan, you know no one else could ever satisfy you the way he does. in bed, anakin is a commanding, dominating lover who leaves you thoroughly ravished and entirely his.

[sargeant-bxrnes]

ride

summary: [au] anakin finally bought that bike he wanted so badly, and invited you to try it for the first time with him. riding won’t be the only thing you’ll be doing on that bike.

content/warnings: modern!anakin, fast driving, bikes. | SMUT: dirty talk, praise, unprotected, messy & rough sex, sex on top of a bike, outdoor sex (no one is around)

wc: 2.4k

my masterlist!                     requests are OPEN

You'd never been partial to motorcycles, they weren't easy to drive, not to mention dangerous, it was always more practical for you to stick to four-wheeled vehicles and you'd preferred it that way so far.

But when Anakin finally bought you that motorcycle he'd been saving up for... you understood the appeal. The motorcycle was sleek, painted a deep, jet black that seemed to absorb the surrounding light. The glossy finish gave it a mirror-like quality, reflecting the world around it. Chrome accents adorned its frame, catching the glint of streetlights and passing cars, the handlebars gleamed, polished to perfection— you didn't know much about bikes, but you knew it was pretty.

"So?" he asked with a little knowing smile, looking at your face to gauge your reaction. "what do you think of it?"

"It's really pretty," You said honestly to your boyfriend, admiring it from up close, your finger softly trailing over the chrome accents. "I get why you've been so obsessed with it."

"Aha! I knew you'd get it," He chuckled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips, pulling back slightly to whisper over them. "So... wanna take it for a ride?"

Your heart fluttered at the touch of his lips and the whispered invitation. "Yes, I'd love to,"

"Good thing I also bought two helmets then." He mused casually, as if he'd known all along that you'd agree to go for a ride, as he nods his head to the helmets hanging from the handlebars. "Ready?"

"Mhm." You walked closer to the bike, taking your helmet from handlebars and putting it on. "want me to sit in front of you or behind? You're the driver, baby, so however is more comfortable for you."

"Oh," he looked at the bike, quickly thinking about the logistics and the safest option. "I think I want you sitting behind me, you can cling to me that way and I can focus on the road"

Anakin walked closer and swung his leg over the motorcycle, straddling it, and then looked over his shoulder at you, as he placed the red helmet on his head. "C'mon princess, hop on."

You moved closer to the bike to get on it, it was a bit of a struggle since the bike was considerably taller on the back, but you managed to sit behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, securely but not too tight.

Anakin smiled at the feeling, and gave your hand a soft squeeze before moving his hands to the bike, starting it up with a roar. He took his time adjusting everything until he felt comfortable with it, slowly driving out of the parking lot.

"You okay back there?" he asked over his shoulder as he drove down the empty street, taking in the feel of freedom that only comes from riding a motorcycle.

"Yeah, you're pretty comfy." You replied humorously over the hum of the bike, leaning your head against his shoulder.

Anakin chuckled, the vibration of it traveling through his body and into yours. "I'm glad to hear that," he mutters before glancing in the rearview mirror at you, a smile tugging at his lips.

You looked around as he kept driving at a good speed, soon the city was left behind as he took a route to the outskirts of the city, where it mixed with the beautiful forest surrounding, you held on tight to him from behind, admittedly it felt real nice to have his body pressed against yours, the wind on your face and the soft vibrations of the bike underneath.

Anakin smiled at the sight of you enjoying yourself, and removed one of his hands from the handlebars, he carefully placed it on your thigh next to him and squeezed softly, letting his hand slide higher.

"What do you think?" he asked casually, raising his voice so you could hear him.

"It's amazing," You admitted over the road noise, your hands firmly planted on his abs. "you're a really good rider."

His heart swelled with pride at your words, turning his head slightly to kiss you, it was a risk, sure, but he couldn't help himself.

"Thank you," he murmured, grinning from ear to ear as he felt his cock beginning to twitch in his pants, it could've been the feeling of your closeness or the vibration of the bike, he wasn't sure. "I try my best."

You enjoyed the ride, but admittedly, you too were getting slightly horny. The bike was vibrating and humming under you, sending vibrations up all the right places, and every bump on the road had your heart skipping a beat, your breasts were firmly pressed against his strong back, not to mention his hand kept caressing your thigh softly. — Still, you remained silent about it, not wanting to distract him.

Anakin felt your body growing hotter behind him, the growing heat between your legs, his cock throbbed harder in response. He knew exactly what you were feeling as he leant back, pressing his back against you.

He felt so good, you unconsciously ground against him as the bike went over a speed bump, making your body slide closer to his.

Anakin groaned softly, his eyes narrowing for a moment as he tried to focus on the road ahead. He knew he should focus on driving, but with you pressed against him like this... it was hard not to give in.

Realizing what you were doing, you pulled back to not invade his personal space, just as the bike went over another speed bump, this one hit just right, the perfect vibration and friction against your clothed pussy, you managed to bite back the moan, barely.

He moved his eyes to the mirror to glance at you, seeing the struggle it takes for you not to moan out loud, it only made his cock throb harder inside his pants. That's it.

"Baby," he calls out to you over the constant hum of the bike, his voice roughened by lust— without another word, he took a sharp turn into a secluded area at the side of the road, surrounded by bushes and pretty trees, before stopping the bike and turning off the engine. "I need you."

You don't even question what he was doing, you know, you stood up from the bike and got down, assuming you two would do it against a tree, but...

Anakin quickly unfastened his helmet before setting it down on the bike's handlebars, he kicked the foot stand so the bike would still. He then turned back to you with a hungry look in his eyes.

"Right here," he murmurs, wrapping one arm around your waist and pulling you close against him as he reached for your chin with the other hand to tilt your head up towards him. "let me have you here, yeah?"

You bit your lip, both from arousal and nervousness. "How are we... gonna have sex on the bike though?"

He chuckled softly, his warm breath fanning across your lips as he answer. "Ride me." he murmured, leaning in to press your lips to his.

The kiss was deep and passionate, tongues danced against each other as they explored the taste of one another's lips. It was a needy, hungry kind of kiss that leaves both panting for more.

Following his request, you moved over to straddle Anakin, as he straddled the bike. Was it risky? Maybe. Yeah.

Automatically, his hands moved to your hips to keep you steady on top of him. He could feel right off the bat how wet were for him and it only fuelled his desire.

"Fuck," he rasped out, leaning forward slightly to brush his lips against yours once more before capturing them in another searing kiss, he was clearly as desperate as you were. His hands slid up your body, unbuttoning your shirt and unclasping your bra, blindly cupping your breasts in his palms.

His mouth left yours to trail hot kisses down your jawline and across your neck before reaching your breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth, he twirled his tongue around the hardened bud, grazing slightly with his teeth before sucking on it gently, and then moved his mouth to the other breast to give it the same treatment.

"God," he groaned against your skin, letting go of you momentarily to run his hand over the length of his cock through his pants. The rough fabric scraping against his swollen head is almost unbearable for him. "I need you so fucking bad."

"I need you too," You admitted, filled with need and a noticeable lack of hesitation, you rolled your skirt up, bunching it up over your hips, exposing your wet panties, making sure to not move too much so the motorcycle wouldn't tumble, your thighs were over his, but his pants, boxers and your panties were still in the way.

Anakin tore his eyes away from your body, taking a moment to compose himself before looking at you again. He reached down between the two of you and grasped onto his cock through his pants, he couldn't take it anymore. With one swift motion, he unbuttoned his pants and undid the zipper, pulling his cock free, letting it spring up, the cool air making him gasp slightly. — he was harder than ever, his tip red and swollen, leaking precum already.

You whimpered in empathy at the sight, your mouth watered, but to be fair, you were too damn horny to just suck him off, so you rose your hips, hovering above him as he still straddled the bike, making it easier for him to have access.

Anakin's cock visibly twitched as you positioned yourself over him, the friction of your bodies together almost unbearable. He reached up to cup one of your breasts again while he used his other hand to guide himself towards your wet heat.

"Please," he begged softly against your skin, his fingers lightly teasing a hardened nipple as his cockhead pressed insistently against your wet panties. "I need this."

You rocked your hips, rubbing your pussy against his cockhead through your panties as you nod in consent. "Y-yeah, please."

Anakin took that as his cue, using one hand to slide down your body until he was holding onto your hips. He leant forward slightly and reached between the two of you again, taking hold of your flimsy panties in his fist before giving them a sharp tug, they come off with a soft ripping sound, exposing your wet pussy, his cockhead was now fully nestled between your wet pussy lips, it felt so damn good, and it looked even better.

The mere friction and the sight of his cock rubbing against your pussy made you moan slightly, you lifted your hips more, so he could guide and slide his cock inside you.

Anakin's breath hitched as he guided the head of his cock against your entrance, sliding it up and down your slit to gather some wetness before pressing forward slowly, feeling the tight heat enveloping him, he kept his eyes on the scene, observing your pussy slowly stretching around his cock. "Fuck, that's it, just like that."

You moaned softly again, both due to the feeling and the praise, as you felt every inch of his cock as he slid in. One of your hands held on to him, and to the bike with the other.

Once fully sheathed inside you, and after giving you some seconds to adjust, he braced his arms on either side of you as he started thrusting slowly into your wet pussy. The sensation indescribable, and he knew it was only going to get better.

"God, you're tight baby," he groaned out loud, tilting his head back with a shudder that ran through him at the sheer pleasure. He picked up the pace, driving deeper inside of you with each powerful stroke, his hips slamming against yours in time with rhythm.

"Just like that Ani, right there." You moaned in response against his neck as he kept fucking into you, your thighs still firm against his, the motorcycle was incredibly firm under both, rocking a bit but nothing dangerous.

Anakin moaned low in his throat, feeling you milking the head of his cock with each downstroke. He began thrusting harder and faster now, lost to the sensation of having you wrapped around him so tightly.

"That's it, baby, that's it, you're taking me so, so good." he praised against your skin as he took firmer hold of your hips, moving you up and down on his cock in a satisfying rhythm for both.

"B-baby it feels so good-"

Anakin groaned out loud, his hands gripped your hips tightly as he began pounding into you harder still. He could feel himself getting close already, the familiar pressure building in his balls and behind his cock.

"I know it does," he coos back at you, nipping lightly at your earlobe before dragging his teeth down to nip softly on your neck.

As soon as one of Anakin's hands slid between your bodies to rub your clit, you were a goner, feeling your orgasm getting closer and closer, your pussy clenched rhythmically around his cock.

Anakin felt you going tense around him, the knowledge that you were close enough to orgasm sent his own desire skyrocketing. He started thrusting harder into your tight heat as he continued rubbing your clit in tight circles.

"Cum for me, c'mon pretty girl, cum for me," he incited against your skin, nipping lightly at your neck before soothing it with a soft kiss. The combination of his rough love and gentle affection pushed you over the edge as you finally gave in to the pleasure coursing through you.

The sudden tightening of your pussy sent him over the edge as well. He groaned loudly into your neck as he came inside of you, his hot seed filling you up with every pulse. "Fuck," he whispered roughly against your skin, holding onto you tightly as he tried to catch his breath. "I love you."

You let out a breathless chuckle, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend in a hug, feeling his cock twitch inside your pussy due to the after orgasm. "I love you too."

Anakin returned the hug tightly, feeling your warmth envelop him. He leant his forehead against yours as he tried to catch his breath, still trembling slightly from the intensity of the sex.

"God," he whispered softly into your hair before pressing a gentle kiss there. "that was... fucking incredible."

"It really was." You agree, whimpering as you slid his soft cock out of your pussy with a soft pop, a bit of his cum dripping out. "we should probably head back home before we get caught, though."

"You're right," he whispered back as he nodded in amusement, reaching down to wipe off any remaining cum on your legs, pushing it back inside with his fingers, earning another moan from you. "Let's head home."

[cillivnz]

TRICKSTER

pairing. anakin skywalker x f!reader

trope. best friends decide to fuck? idk.

synopsis. when you decide to flex your tricks with a keg-stand on anakin, he decided to drink with you, but not the liquor— your pussy.

warnings. NSFW. 18+. modern au. porn without plot, alcohol consumption, brief dubcon (turns consensual), cunnilingus, brief ass-eating (return of analkin), outdoors, cursing, mention of alcohol poisoning, pet-names, slight degradation, vaginal fingering, breast-play, cum-eating.

a/n. i need both things incorporated here; a keg stand and anakin eating me out. i’ve used a picture of sam monroe here, i just felt like it fit the au better, let me know if you guys maybe would wanna read something for him? twirls hair, bats eyelashes at you.

“ANI, WATCH THIS,” you ask him, for the third time in a row to watch you cannonball into the lavish pool. anakin feigns faux pride in you, clapping sarcastically when you swim up to the surface to see his reaction.

the clear poison coursing through your veins, the bittersweet smirnoff that you’ve been chugging neat, had began working its magic into your senses.

you were home alone, your parents’ place left to you all by yourself as they left for business outside of coruscant. with the sun shooting heatwaves directly at your city, you decided what better way to make peace with your solitude than to invite your childhood best friend over to drink the day away?

ANAKIN SKYWALKER WAS MORE than happy to oblige to your “pretty please’s,” pulling up to the house in nothing but black trunk shorts, while you were in a black, skimpy bikini.

he’d been ogling at you the whole time, too.

you pretended not to notice the bite of his lip when your cleavage would come into sight, and shrug away the feeling of his eyes devouring your ass whenever you had your back towards him.

with his help, you had set up a keg-stand, eager to impress with some tricks up your sleeve.

“hey, anakin,” you called out, a mischievous half-smile tugging at your lips. “hm?” he looked up to you. the liquor trickling down his stubbled chin, his brows furrowed at the feel of his tastebuds dying at the hands of the alcohol. using the back of his large hands, he wiped off his face.

you squirmed at the sight.

he was your best friend, but you had eyes.

anakin’s always been a gorgeous boy, the perfect man to have. easy on the eyes, funny, attentive, possessive, and just so, so good to you.

and only you, it seems.

nobody else gets this princess treatment, none but you.

you smiled triumphantly, you were fawning over a man that wasn’t even yours, but you’d be damned if you cared to stop.

“check this out!” you raced over to the stand, getting in position to start chugging.

WAS THIS A BAD IDEA? probably.

would you care to stop? fuck no.

anakin looked over at you, amused. he raised a brow at your current state; ass in the air, tits flopping in the barely covering bikini top, your form slightly wavering, causing him to walk over to you.

“very impressive, trickster.” he tried not to chuckle. “need help?” he asked, snaking his hands around your waist to steady you. your heart skipped several beats at the gesture, now realising how awkward this position is.

his face so close— too close to your ass— that you felt his hot breath on your wet skin.

his hands began to roam, kneading the flesh— whatever flesh he could touch, massaging your waist and hips, before making his way to your chest. you nearly choked on the beer shooting up your mouth when he untied the strings of your bikini, letting the top fall to the ground.

“hey, sweetheart,” he mocked your earlier tone,

“SWEETHEART, WATCH THIS!” he grinned devilishly before shifting your thong to the side and shoving his face between your folds.

your legs instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, trying so hard not to choke on the relentless liqueur shooting through the pipe.

anakin was cruel, what if the liquid went down the wrong hole and you choked to death?

speaking of the wrong hole, his tongue now licked the tight rim of your ass, smirking to see you writhe in discomfort.

“anakin, what the f—” you gasped for air as the pipe left your mouth.

“shh,” anakin spoke against your drooling slit, sending shivers down your spine (or up, since you are hanging upside down?) “don’t waste, and show me all the tricks you’ve been talking my ear off to show.” his arm wrapped around your slim waist to steady you, while the free hand traveled down to your chest to pinch and pull at your nipples.

you moaned, gushing around his face. his little stubble pricked at your skin, while his tongue sent sharp jolts of pleasure through you when he taunted your clit with the tip; the sensation, delicious, much like the taste of you for anakin.

“such a sweet cunt, i can’t believe it took just one bottle of vodka to get you laid out for me.” he slurred against you, sucking harshly on your clit, easing a finger into your walls.

you moaned pornographically, gagging on the pipe.

for your sake, and his, he better finish what he started before you die of alcohol poisoning.

but with the fervency with which he was assaulting your poor pussy, you ought to rest assured.

“cum on my tongue, slut. i wanna taste you in my mouth, not the booze.” he grabbed you by the hips and began grinding your entire body on his face; drenched in your juices, but not once stopping, he sucked the soul out of your swollen clit, while his fingers curled against your g-spot.

you clenched your thighs around his head, not that anakin minded, struggling to drink beer while anakin was doing just fine drinking your juices.

with one final lick on your clit, and one final thrust of two of his fingers, he had you coming undone in his mouth, like he wanted.

he helped you down, but wouldn’t leave you alone. he groped your breasts roughly, shoving his tongue into your mouth. you weren’t even given a jiffy to yourself to breathe.

when he broke the kiss, he had that mischievous look on his face; the one that gets you into the best kind of trouble.

“ani—” you said his name in a cautionary tone, but it was too late; he swept you off your feet and headed indoors.

“anakin, let go of me!” you chuckled, flopping around like a fish out of water on his shoulder.

“not a chance,” he tsk’ed at your request, like it was the stupidest idea ever.

“unless you want me to fuck you outdoors?” he looked over at you, a hopeful glee in his eyes.

your tricks have come around to bite you in the ass, little trickster. now, brace yourself for a hell of a pounding.

main masterlist. more of anakin.

[weixuldo]

So I got a few Ani ideas and I need u to tell me what u think… it’s been awhile but the beast has been arisen

1. Anakin is getting bigger and stronger and his robes are getting tighter which is annoying him- but you just can’t help but dread the day he finally gets new ones (think in between aotc and rots- he trains harder and builds more muscle- THIGHS 4 DAYS)

2. You’re a well known figure in the public eye of coruscant (probably a senator) and get approached by a curious kid. Anakin watches in amazement as you handle the child so naturally and he can’t help but wanna pump a baby into you right then and there

3. 23 year old reader/ late 40s anakin ( luke and leia are 20) You met the twins in college// bsf w leia- luke is nice ig (luke has a massive crush on u)

- anakin always thought you were pretty (his dick twitches when you call him mr sw). You apply for a summer internship at a big business as a secretary for a temp job and happens to be his business. ur his secretary and end up just living at his house for the summer ( ur not from that city)

4. frat boy anakin and naiive reader (mixed signals, toxicity and smut)

5. Line cook ani and waitress reader during their break 🤭

Pls pls pls lmk what idea u wanna see next!!

[laylaplease]

Ani loves taking his pretty girl out for cute winter dates. It gets all chilly and snowy; her cheeks flush in soft pink and nose tingles from the cool breeze, which is a perfect excuse for him to adjust her scarf. "C'mere, love. Let daddy get you nice and warm." He tucks you in soft wool material and kisses a snowflake off your brow. Anakin is in absolute awe about how gorgeous HIS princess is, with white covering her hair and hands clutching a hot coffee cup – seeking a warm remedy for her reddened knuckles. He's obsessed with the fact that by the end of your little wintery adventure, your body will be covered in chills, and the only place to find relief will be the warmth of his embrace.

[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 25th

modern!anakin x virginity loss

god, he’d be so sweet on you.

always telling you that ‘it’s okay’ and that he ‘can wait’ even though you can feel his hard on pressing against your ass when you sit on his lap every time the two of you make out. he wanted to be careful, make you comfortable, find out what really makes you tick.

you’d been building slowly towards sex, starting with him rubbing you over your panties until you came one evening when he was sleeping at your house, a stuffed animal from your childhood digging into his spine as he crams himself into your bed, hand down your pyjama shorts cooing sweet nothings at you as you made a mess inside your cotton panties. it was the first time he’d touched you intimately at all, the movie the two of you were previously watching still playing on the screen, the only thing illuminating the room. “you feel that, pretty girl? can you tell me how it is? need t’hear some words, yeah?”

the next few times were strictly him still getting you off — dry humping with you on his lap, his back leaning up against the tree of an empty field one your picnic date. your sundress was bunched up around your waist, short gasps falling into his parted lips as you grind your pantie-clad crotch against the hard-on in his basketball shorts, whimpering and digging your nails into the material of his black tshirt. his snakebite piercing skims your lips when he talks. “its okay beautiful, make yourself feel good — know you need it.” a big warm hand stroking your clammy back.

you then graduated to riding his thigh a week later in his living room, anakin manspreading on his arm chair having placed his playstation controller to the side to attend to you when you’d given him the needy eyes and sweet pout telling him you were ‘thinking about last time’ in that innocent voice of yours. he’d talked you out of your panties this time, your skirt rumpled on the floor as you hump his sweatpants covered leg, naked from the waist down as he coaches you through it, more and more vocal each time he gets you off. “my needy girl, aren’t you? m’gonna have a problem on my hands if you can’t control yourself like this, aren’t I? what’s gonna happen when i’m not here for you to hump like a little puppy dog?” he tests the waters with his teasing, a giant grin on his face— noting the way you collapse against him with a pornographic moan when he does so.

the same evening, you couldn’t bare to blue-ball him any longer and begged him to let you give him a handjob atleast. it didn’t take much convincing, and not long after he’d calmed you from your orgasm, you were quickly pushing him towards his as you perch on his leg, staring at him with wide submissive eyes, listening to his every direction as you pump your wet hand up and down his shaft. he’d learnt by now how much praise effects you, and now he was gathering that you needed it just as much when you weren’t the one being pleased, rather doing the pleasing. “am i doing okay, ani?” you’d politely enquire, the hand that was resting on his own head would come down to stroke your cheek lazily, eyes on your hand. “yeah baby, my best girl. you wanna twist your hand a little for me? yeah just like that. maybe spit on it a little more. fuck, good fucking girl.” you really liked how he spoke when he felt good.

you’d come to him only two days later, shy and polite as ever asking to suck him off. “i read about how to do it good in cosmo.” you tell him proudly, albeit slightly naively as you flop down on your stomach on your bed, kicking your feet behind you as you converse with him casually. he chuckles from where he lounged against your headboard. “oh yeah? you a pro now?”

you nod with a happy ‘mhm’ which he finds adorable as he tilts his head a little, regarding you curiously. “my love, you’ve seen how big it is. i don’t know if you’re ready for that in your mouth. might choke.” he bites back another chuckle and you shake your head urgently, scrambling up on the bed to kneel right beside where he sat with wide eyes, ready to convince him.

“no way, my gag reflex is pretty good! i swear!” you plead and his gaze darkens just a touch, focused on your lips now.

“lets see. open up.” he lifts his hand, tapping your bottom lip with his two fingers. you don’t question it, welcoming his fingers into your mouth until they’re pushing deeper and your brows are furrowing, watery eyes fighting the urge to roll back as you stare at him. he’s grinning now, feeling his dick chub up a little in his sweatpants. “uh-huh.” he proves as you gag a little.

you grasp his wrist, blinking away your tears as you press a kiss to the tips of his stiffened fingers when he pulls them out, holding his hand there as you stare up at him desperately. “let me try, please?”

and how can he say no when you ask so nicely? of course, he lets you suck and lick on him to your hearts content, being the perfect teacher until he’s giving you the first real taste you’ve ever had of him.

a week later, he finally gets to finger you — properly.

you’re snuggled into him, open mouth panting into his neck as he scissors two fingers inside you. “oh god, ani.” you sob as if it hurts and he shushes you, puckered lips pressing to your temple and spare hand rubbing your back.

“baby, y’keep begging me to fuck you but you can’t even take these fingers. you want it or not, hm?” he cooes gently as if he isn’t ever so slightly humiliating you.

“m’trying!” you hiccup.

“and you’re doing so good for me.”

finally, after a few weeks of combining all that you’ve learnt from anakin — you can’t wait any longer, and neither can he. with you laid out naked before him, he caresses your cheek.

“is it gonna hurt, do you think?” you ask, and he scratches behind your ear.

“it shouldnt, you’re so good at taking my fingers now aren’t you? think i got you nice and ready.” he explains as you nuzzle into his palm for comfort.

his tip nudges at your entrance and you’re already mewling. “you ready for me, pretty? you gonna tell me if you wanna stop?”

“yes ani, please!” your manicure digs into his tattooed shoulders.

he’s so good with you, hissing through his teeth when he gets all the way in, kissing away your shocked expression at how deep he feels. he has the patience of a saint, hands stroking your skin and soothing you until your hips are writhing against his, begging for him to fuck you. “look at you, you proud of yourself, sweet girl? getting fucked by your boyfriend, just like you wanted. gonna take it nice and slow, yeah?” he huffs, practicing self restraint.

it’s not often you can make someone cum the first time you fuck them, let alone cum as hard as anakin makes you — but by the time he’s done, your legs are shaking and you’re limp, only able to be scooped up into his arms and held, his hoarse voice shushing your weak whimpers as you jerk from the aftershocks.

“did so good. so good.”

[distortionbobble]

"do you ever shut up" no... and nobody asked for this but i'm thinking about situationship!anakin right now. minors dni. fic has no warnings rn . might expand this one. modern au.

see the thing is, if any of your friends had gotten into this, you would have done a whooole extraction mission to get them out of it. a situtaionship? with that fine-as-fuck man? pretty wavy brown hair and that stupid fucking smile... baby your eyes look like the ocean i'm not arguing with you...

you found him on hinge during one of your dry-spells. the first thing you noticed was how pretty this man is. his profile featured pictures of him hanging out of the window of his car, gravity pulling his hair down as he flashed the camera a prize winning smile. another picture inside a restaurant, just a hint of manicured nails in the corner of the photo.. taken by an ex-girlfriend, maybe? you hum, and scroll down to see the rest of his profile.

"anakin, 22... figuring out my dating goals," you murmur to yourself, munching on your popcorn. okay, figuring out dating goals, that means... means what? a situationship? fuck, do you even have that in you? you're ready to x him out but something makes you wanna look at that face just one more time. fuck, he's pretty.

before your better judgement can stop you you're typing out a quick response to his prompts. green flags i look for are... good at legos. okay, that's cute, right? maybe he doesn't know what his dating goals are because it's kind of intense to be like, i want a long term relationship. that is a lot of pressure. you respond by sending him the lego flowers bouquet that's sitting on your coffee table (yes, your ex gifted it to you. no, that doesn't matter to you. what he doesn't know won't kill him. besides, it was a good present).

does this count? you respond, tossing your phone to the side to focus on Love Island playing on the TV, not expecting a response from anakin for at least a couple days. which is why you're almost shocked when the screen lights up with a notification from hinge.

anakin: yeah, looks pretty good to me ahaha

anakin: sent an image

anakin: rate the set up?

you open it with curiosity and a little bubbly feeling in your chest-- a cute boy matched with you, you're pretty sure it's well within your rights to be a little excited. it's a rather impressive set up of a few different lego sets, all built meticulously. you spot a few that are difficult to get your hands on, and think for a second on how to respond to him.

you: do i spot the indiana jones temple escape set?

anakin: oh my god yes that's my favorite set lmao, took ages to get it

you: dude that's so lucky

you stare at the screen, biting your lip. fuck, this is such a dry-ass conversation, it'll probably die out anyways so you don't bother sending a follow-up

anakin: honestly pretty lucky in general w all my sets. i've got a coupe unopened ones if you wanted to hang out and do them w me sometime tho? might be fun.

oh my god. oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. okay, be cool about this. wait, is this code for a hookup? okay, hang out and do them with him = y'all fuck after the legos? or before? you're confused. but like, legos sounds like a fun time.

you: sounds like a good time. does friday work? we could pick up some takeout from this place on jefferson ave, if you're down

anakin: down for friday. but i was thinkin i could make you somethin? i can make a mean miso soup, if you're down.

you: seeya friday, then :)

--

you brought chocolates. to his apartment. and after you knocked on the door, you're thinking maybe this wasnt such a good idea, after all. the chocolates, and the being here in the first place.

but anakin opens the door, and his apartment smells so good, and he's got a set of space post card lego sets already open with the accompanying instruction booklet next to him.

"hi," you smile up at him, a wave of shyness washing over you as you look at him. how are people allowed to be this pretty? it's like the camera didnt do him justice, because he's at least 20x more attractive in person.

"hey. it's nice to meet you," anakin responds with a grin of his own. "d'you wanna come on in? i've just put some of the veggies into the stock. got some tofu and stuff, bok choy, it'll be good," he says, shutting the door behind you as you enter his apartment.

"nice place," you say, looking around quickly before you take off your coat and shoes.

things flow easily between you too. he tells you about his day, his job, asks you about yours, asks you about your favorite movies. you ask him about his lego sets, his decorations, his favorite music, how he learned to get so good at cooking (the soup is fucking delicious). he puts on a grateful dead song on his speakers as you work on the sets, laughing when he asks you to separate two legos that are stuck together with the nails that you have ("don't you have one of those lego-separating tools?" "those. are for pussies.").

the sets come together what feels like too quickly. you almost wanna tear it apart so that you can have an excuse to just stay for a little longer, but it doesn't seem like anakin is eager to kick you out either.

but it's late, and you should go. as you head out for the door, you feel your eyes drifting to his lips-- his pretty bottom lip, plush and rosy and you wanna sink your teeth into it-- and you know he notices too. he doesn't say anything. is a first date too early to kiss?

"well," you say, lingering at the door. "i, uh, had a good time tonight."

"me too," anakin says, equally as awkward. he leans in just a little, so that his face isn't so far, so that you don't need to look up so much.

well, that's it. no invite to a next hangout. you try not to let your face fall as you wish him goodnight and thank him for the miso soup.

you've only made it out of his apartment complex when your phone lights up with a message.

anakin: d'you wanna do smthn next week?

you smile.

[interloved]

toxic!anakin skywalker; ex boyfriend edition.

description box; your ex boyfriend anakin skywalker finds you at a party after weeks after your alleged break up. in his eyes, you’re still his girlfriend, so… why’re you hanging out with that guy? have you forgotten you’re his? you probably need him to remind you again… and he’ll do that with pleasure.

warnings; nsfw warning, mature themes like violence —> minor blogs do not read, TOXIC BEHAVIOUR LIKE THIS SHOULD NOT BE ROMANTICISED!!; porn with plot, anakin is a toxic little psychopath as always (therapy when??), smut under the cut!, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

part one.

ONE THING ABOUT YOUR ex boyfriend anakin skywalker that you absolutely hate is how a fight between the two of you never fails to become a yelling match. anakin doesn’t always initiate it, you have to admit that, sometimes you did too, but it was usually his fault it became an argument at all.

another thing you hate is how the two of you have an unofficial “break up ritual”—and it’s escalated so badly that it’s gotten to the point where your friends are telling you to break up with him. constantly.

they say it’s unhealthy, it’s toxic, he’s not good for you. they say he’s controlling, he’s possessive, and that he’s a gaslighter. they say he’s a master manipulator, that his issues can’t be fixed by anyone, and that you should leave him before it’s too late.

it’s not like you haven’t tried. you have, you just keep failing again and again somehow. maybe because if anakin is anything, it’s addictive. you’re not sure what it is, but something about him always has you crawling back, back to his comforting embrace, back into his apartment, back into his arms.

you don’t know how he does it—maybe it’s that damned “break up ritual”. he’ll yell, you’ll yell back, he’ll cry and beg you to forgive him and to come back home, you’ll give him the cold shoulder for a month or two, he begs you to come back again, you make up (have sex), pretend that fight never happened and repeat. it’s always the same.

but this time, it’s different.

anakin and you have been broken up for about two months and a half, and your ex boyfriend is getting nervous. it’s never taken you this long to return home—usually, it’s never taken you more than two months to come back.

but never this long. and you’ve never attended a party without him. let alone talk to a guy. ever.

anakin’s fingers drummed on his steering wheel at somewhat irregular intervals, and he looked at the house he was parked in front of. the pictures his friend had snapped and sent him were blurry and dark, but there was no doubt he had captured your small frame—and the guy standing next to you.

“OK, that’s it.” he snarls, and he closes the door of his car.

you belong to me, he thinks.

IT DOESN’T TAKE YOU long to figure out the guy you’ve been talking to ditched you. you’ve been wandering around, looking almost everywhere for him, but you just couldn’t seem to find him. it appeared like you had been left alone.

but then, you found someone else. leaning on a doorframe. head slightly cocked, a small, triumphant smile. one that you were used to more than anything.

“ani?” you whisper in confusion, and you were thankful the music was too loud for him to hear that damned nickname you always used to call him. he made his way to you and for one split of a second, you considered just running away.

“hey, you,” he grins at you, “partying, huh?”

you blink. this was… too normal. he was acting like you guys had never broken up. but you were willing to believe he’d changed.

“yeah. um, my friend ditched me for dinner, sooo… now i’m here.”

he clicks his tongue, “aw, that sucks.” and suddenly, he’s looking at you with such an intense gaze. he’s always been this way—so overwhelmingly intense, possessive but intense. passionate, but intense. scary intense.

“i would’ve never ditched you.”

and there it is again. that possessive glint in his eye.

“i don’t belong to you anymore,” you mutter, looking away.

and then, all of a sudden, “i miss you.”

your head whips around. you didn’t expect that—partly because anakin isn’t the type to admit his feelings in generl, and partly because anakin’s never been the one to try and get you back. it’s always been you crawling back to him, never him chasing after you.

it’s such a stupid thought but, maybe he’s changed. he hasn’t

“listen, i know what you’re probably going to say, but why don’t we grab a coffee some time and just, i don’t know, talk—”

“sure,” you find yourself answering, you answered too quickly for your own liking and because you want to soften your response a little, you add, “why not? it’ll be nice catching up.”

anakin grins at you with a way that is just so unmistakenly anakin, and flashes you cheeky wink. “it’s a date, then.”

and maybe it’s because you’re lonely, or because you’re tipsy, or because you really do miss anakin too, but you return his mischievous smirk with a little smile of your own. and maybe it’s because you’re drunk, but you genuinely believed he had changed.

how wrong you were.

PART TWO COMING SOON!

[2dayihaveaheadache]

I hear my heart breaking tonight

Guess who is back? Obikin RomCon AU, still inspired by Mitski lyrics, found another gem in my drafts...

(a movie still that may or may not have been the inspiration for the last scene :-)

AU prompt: Anakin is born in messed up circumstances, forced to travel from one city to the next, never forming any sense of real identity or feeling of belonging until they somehow end up in Tatooine, a town somewhere in Oregon - but that can't be it, can it? Is that all he can expect of life? That is until he meets Obi-Wan Kenobi, a boy two years his senior, so untouched by the bad sides of life, unreachable, that stands for everything that he can never have. An idolized love is born. But Obi-Wan deserves someone better than him, doesn't he?

(My roomate literally demanded for hours for Anakin's perspective on the happenings of "I glow pink in the night in my room" (here the original text if you are interested, it's not necessary to be read for this one) It turned into an expanded version with character study aspects (writer's anger I call it). Prepare for a long ride and a few TW unhealthy coping mechanisms, strong words, Anakin has anger issues and is need of a hug, seriously give the man a hug, and a steamy situation is mentioned. All thank my roommate for the idea and ENJOY!)

Anakin was six years old when the harsh realization of how fucked up his life is hit him for the first time. Fucked up, fuck, fucking, Life is shit. A cheap bitch with an open backdoor for every motherfucker. As an adult thinking back, these curses and slurs pass his mind. But back then, as an innocent kid, he might have not known them but til this day they express perfectly how he felt, rolling off his tongue with this perfectly burning sensation.

Fuck. It tastes as it feels. Harsh pronounced with a tad of spit to it, the k vibrating in the buccal cavity. Red-hot coal on his tongue.

Fucked up.

Sitting there on the terrace in their small backyard, his legs dangled over the edge, a crumpled tissue in his hands for his runny nose, it had hit him like a truck.

His 6th birthday was last week. A muffin on the breakfast table had marked the passing of another year in Oasis Spring. A cheap chocolate chip treat, that came bundled with others in the two-dollar section of the bakery aisle in the local supermarket. The muffins had smelled of lemon, not in a refreshing or natural way but in an annoyingly and excessively sugary manner, much like scented soap. The kind you find in tacky highway motels.

But his mother had smiled, so he had tried his best to smile too, forcing it onto his face. “Close your eyes, blow out your candles, and make a wish, Ani.”, she had said, “But don’t tell anybody or it won’t be granted.” He had nodded and then done as he was told, shut his eyelids, pursed his lips, and blown out his candles. Something inside him had halted. He hadn’t known what to wish for. Just one stupid wish. Something childish. Something other kids his age would wish for, but what did they actually wish for?

He didn’t know.

At the end of the day, what was there to wish for in Oasis Spring?

Six lit candles for another year stuck in the middle of the desert, six candles for more midnight microwaved lasagna dinner with plastic forks, country music, and fight at the breakfast table, six candles for more barking dogs in the neighboring backyards and the clinking of bottles next door, six years candles for another year closer to sweet sixteen and the taste of his first canned beer, six candles for being stuck here just like anybody else.

So, there he sat, a week later, barefoot on the terrace of their cookie-cutter tract house, with a runny nose and cargo shorts that barely covered his bruised knee. A band-aid had been plastered over it, carelessly, already peeling off. His skin itched, scratched from falling onto the sandy asphalt all day. He rubbed with his fingernails over the wound gingerly, careful to keep sand out of the scratch just like his mother had taught him. “You don’t want it to get infected.”

He was six and still not able to ride his bike properly. Shame tinted his cheeks and his eyes started to burn. Stupid training wheels. It was not his fault that here, in stupid Oasis Springs, all the roads were sandy and full of potholes.

And in this god-forsaken place, he would remain all his life, gradually becoming more and more like the others. The signs had always been there – the stale muffin with the floury dough for his birthday, the screaming adults inside doing “grown-up talk”, the bruises on his mum’s arm, the scratches on his knees. His life was a mess and he was stuck in it.

He was angry and at the same time he wanted to cry, so he pushed his knees up to his chest and swung back and forth, trying to calm himself down.

There was no one to console him. The other kids would only pinpoint at him and the adults were inside, the door closed, impossible for him to get in. His mum had sent him out to play like he was a toddler or a dog or some kind of pet. He scoffed angrily, wiping away his tears. She had knelt down to him, ruffling through his tousled curls, and told him that he should be a good boy now and go out and play with his friends – except he had no friends and she knew that.

He was too tiny for his age, all bones, and sinews, skinny like matchsticks, doe-eyed like a girl, always dressed in the same shorts and T-shirts from charity shops, and got his hair cut by his mum, which meant not at all or bowl cut at best. The curls reached down to his shoulders, and the ends were bleached by the desert sun, making him appear blond – like a stupid cherub or something. The kids at elementary school had dubbed him Tinykin. The perfect target to be made fun of. They grabbed him by the hair, rolled him over the asphalt (the one with the potholes) or stole his shoes – just as they had done today.

In the past, his mum had only smiled at him when she saw the bruises on his arms and legs. Bath day comes only once a week, Bathtuesday with lukewarm water and cheap shampoo. Sometimes he tried to avoid it, feeling ashamed of his marks, throwing a tantrum, and crying like a baby. Anything to escape her sad smile. Her treatment was always silent, almost mechanical. She never said anything and merely applied a band-aid over the black and blue marks, as if they would help anything. They never did, band aids were for open wounds, not bruised skin. But she felt better doing it, taking care of him. He recognized it in her eyes, so when he had to, he let her do it.

 Just for the sad smile to stop.

He found himself on the verge of crying ugly his doe-eyes out, which made him look like a girl, feeling rejected, put back into the role of a toddler, unable to communicate his pain, clenching his aching knee and thinking how fucking unfair the world was. It was not his fault he was born this way, with a girly face, with a mum that does only sadly smile, growing up in fucking Oasis Spring in Arizona, in the middle of the unforgiving desert, with grocery prices unpayable and no way to escape it all.

If he could, he would grab his bike and ride into the horizon just like the end in one of these western movies, he watched in the middle of the night when mum and the man they live with were absent – just with his bike and not on a horse. In some daydreams, he pictured himself with a cowboy hat, a smoke nipped between the lips, his plastic Nerf gun clicked to his belt like Terence Hill or Bud Spencer in “God Forgives… I don’t.”, a lasso coiled on his back, and a herd of cattle ahead.   

But of course, he was six and was not able to climb on a bike properly. He was chained to this place like a dog to its cage. A sob broke free from his throat. Fucking life. Never granting him anything.

Maybe he should have wished for that last week, the candles still burning in front of him atop his pitiful muffin.

He pulled his legs closer, hugging them like they were his only solace, much like he’d hold his stuffed bear at night. Maybe his mum was right with sending him out, he was behaving like a toddler, sniffing back tears with his eyes filled to the brim. Six years of age but still a tiny-winy crybaby inside. He will not cry; he told himself and clenched the underlip between his teeth, refusing to let the emotions take over. He was not a girl like his peers said he was. Not a Pussy like Bud Spencer or Terence Hill would say – or he imagine them saying.

So, he roughly wiped away the tears, that kept coming, and grimaced, feeling utterly ridiculous. Like an idiot with a painted face in the corner taking up space.

Inside the house, he could hear his mum’s angry shouts; followed by a loud thumb as if something had been thrown down to the ground. This time the fight seemed to be different. The arguments were typically loud and harsh, but never physically violent. The property was never damaged. The things they own were sacred because they only own so little. Shoes were worn until they fell apart and even then they were hoarded rather than thrown out. In this family, they seemed more inclined to hurt each other than their possession.

Later, the windows were shut, sealing in the noise, the screams, the world – leaving isolated Anakin outside.

The adults had forgotten about him. Anakin spent the night on the terrace, curled together into a ball, still barefoot with a runny nose, clinging to his clothes and shivering in the night’s sudden chill. Sleep did not come easy to him, it always slipped from his grasp before he could dive into it fully. No dream he could escape into. So, he spent the night staring at the starry sky, cursing fate, doubting God (he never much was of a religious person), or whatever higher-up power was up there.

Was it too much to ask for just someone to hug him? To tell him that it is ok to cry?

Or simply remember that he was freezing outside and open the door?

The next morning, his mum packed their bags, stuffing random things into their suitcases. She was angry, cheeks redden with frustration. It was the first time Anakin saw her in furious and it was almost like she was ashamed of her wrath. She wandered around the house, piling up his toys, cooking utensils and other random items. At one occasion, she threw a plate against the wall in her haste. Then she felt apologetic, collected the shards, clumsily pieced them together with one minute glue from the dollar tree and then at the end, kissed him on the crown of his hair, telling him that everything would be alright. “Don’t worry, Ani, I promise.” He wasn’t sure whether she said that for him or for herself.

It was evident that more than just a plate had been broken and it wouldn’t be as easy to be glued back together as the cheap china.

She was like a hazard, pushing clothes into the suitcase with so much force, that the zipper ripped open. Anakin watched as she cried and then brought yarn and needle and fixed the bag. It was a never-ending cycle of emotions and shattered glass. Sometimes things got messed up in her hurricane. What followed was a halfhearted attempt of redemption and a kiss on top of Anakin’s head. The fleeting touch of her lips that she gave him out of some obligation she felt. To be a better mother, to look like a better mum or to feel like a better mum. She loved him, he knew that, so let himself be hugged, kissed, or plastered with band aid to make her feel better – or just to avoid her sad smile.

After a couple of hours, she packed their bags into her car, stuffing it to the brim until nothing more fitted inside. It was not her car technically. It belonged to the man lived with them in the cookie cutter trac house and who had been the other partner in the screaming match last night. But this morning his mum did not care for his and her, splitting things up, just taking with her whatever she could get her hands on. It seemed like she did not care for a lot of things, wandering around the house like a whirlwind, leaving behind a trail of destruction. So, she loaded their things into the trunk, fastened Anakin’s seatbelt, drove out of the garage and sped down main road.

It was a Friday morning, they left Oasis Springs.

The early morning sun had bleed over the horizon and the first heat shimmer lingered over the asphalt. It was four hours until school would start and two until the town would slowly start waking up. Most of their neighbors had closed window shutters, not noticing them passing by, too caught up in their own world. Only the old Nicky, an ex-veteran, sitting in his white tank top and boxershorts in the front lane, barely raised his head when they drove past him. He muttered something like “God...”  

Oasis Spring wouldn’t miss them.

Anakin asked why they had left his bike in the house, he still wanted to learn riding it. His mum only smiled as answers. It was the sad one. The one he hated. So, he kept his mouth shut, not pressing any further.

He looked out of the window, recognizing remnants of his childhood pass by. The streets with the potholes, he had wished to speed down on his bike till the crossroad. The neighborhood, tract house lining up the next tract houses but not the nice variant Anakin saw in movies. No white picket fence, no mown front lane, no swings in apple trees. The difference to a trailer park was little. Then the concrete cuboid with the tiny sandy backyard, that was his elementary. The pathetic palm tree on Kinsey Alley, which he had fallen down and scarred his brow when he was four, doing some stupid bet with the neighbor’s boys. Mr. Miller’s house with the dog cage in the backyard. Anakin had sneaked to it one time, expecting cute pups. Instead, he found a Pitbull, barking at him aggressively.

Last night he had cursed Oasis Springs, his life, but even now driving past it, he was carrying it within him, in this car, in the air he breathed, in his mother’s heart. It was inescapable. There would be other Oasis Springs, different sandy streets, new kids mocking him, other barking pitbulls and more screaming matches behind closed doors.

Because his life was fucked up.

His mum’s eyes were focused on the road as she turned the steering wheel to the right, right like she was driving north, out of the town. She did not notice her son clenching his hands to fists – or if she did, she did not say anything.

After five minutes Oasis Springs was out of Anakin’s sight when peeked out of the window. Seven more hours and the godforsaken desert was gone, after two days the whole state of Arizona. Out of sight, not quite yet out of mind, he thought, running his fingers over his bruised knee.

=

After eight years of running, ending up in Oregon and with that in Tatooine was not the plan – at least not from the beginning. They just happened to stay there. At first glance, Anakin thinks Tatooine is just one of the many intermediate steps, they do on their trip. It always works like that, his mum chooses some town nearby, she gets a job there, they move out of their motel room into some kind of semi-permanent living condition with the new money and then she gets him to attend the education there. Once the bills start to pile up and the dept collectors chase them, she packs their things, drives north as she always does, and then they start somewhere else from scratch again.

But somehow, they manage to stay in Tatooine. The bills still come in, and the dept collectors still knock at their door but nothing drastic happens that would force them to run away like always. No screaming neighbor, no bad ex-boyfriend, and definitely no dead man in the pool. 

After three months of working, his mum finds them a tiny apartment a five-minute walk down the main road, she takes over the night shift at the local Wendy’s and enrolls him in Tatooine junior high. He is 14 and a half, too old for junior high but that is their only option. His CV is a patchwork of gaps and bad grades, so he repeats a year. It’s only for his best, the teachers say and his mum believes that. 

She tries her best, she really tries, he knows that when he sees her putting her strands into the hair net, flipping burgers in some greasy diner till late at night, and then cleaning the floor on her knees for the extra bucks.

He knows it when she comes home at night, still trying to be cheerful after a long day of work, and when she tries to buy him things to make him fit in better. 

These things are clothes from Goodwill, band T-Shirts from the late 70s when she was young. Music, that nobody listens to anymore. They are not his style – they are black, at least - but she loves it when he wears them, make her feel like a good mum. So, he does it. No matter, that they do the opposite of what his mum thinks they do. 

She never wants him to get a job, even though he has got pretty good at tinkering with vehicles, she wants him to focus on school instead. As if he would care for that, he curses silently, it is only purgatory. The moment he walks in, the teachers have already formed their opinions about him, just punishing him ends and ends for simply existing. 

In Tatooine, he finds Mace, a grumpy old man, who owns a workshop on Jefferson Alley, a seedy neighborhood but good enough for him. Anakin is 15 now, all the height he missed when he was a kid, has rushed to him in his teens. So, now he towers over all his peers and most of the adults, tall and lanky, all bones and sinews. He looks older than he is and he uses that to his advantage – at least, he thinks he can outsmart Mace. 

Mace knows Anakin’s real age but he decides not to comment on it. He lets the boy tinker in his workshop – that is more a garage than an actual shop – lets him spray paint the cars, wash off the dirt, and if Anakin is patient, lets him help fix the vehicles. He pays the boy a minimum wage in the garage but what can Anakin do? He is lucky enough that Mace even lets him work there. 

Sometimes Anakin ditches school just to take over one shift, midday especially, feeling better with his hands dirty under some engine cover than in the hallways or the physics classroom. His engineering talent is only wasted there. He loves the smell of the motor oil, the grease of the machines, and the scent of the solvents in the paint, better than anything the school can offer. 

But most importantly, Mace lets him be himself – or the version Anakin has become. Mace gifts him the first mechanical parts for the build of a motorbike, which he has no use for anymore. He does not comment on Anakin’s black-painted nails and once the boy asks him, he just shrugs with his shoulders and shaves off the boy’s curls with a razor blade. It is nearly buzzcut, in the back there are still some longer locks, that Anakin ties together to a tiny ponytail, a short mullet. 

The haircut makes Anakin feel relieved like he finally shed off his past, he is no longer girly with his now-cut-off curls. No one can grab him by the hair, roll over asphalt or steal his shoes.  

He is not Tinykin anymore. 

The kids in school fear him with his shaved mullet. The scarred brow from the fall when he was four, the black nail polish, the oldies Rock’ n’ Roll’ T-Shirt, and the biro doodles on his arm, which he draws because he has no tattoos yet, looking realistic though. They all perfect the image people want to see in him. 

For the first time, Anakin feels powerful. His looks, his attire, and his public image have become his armor, shielding him from any sort of harassment. Tinykin is gone. The kids whisper when they see him in the hallways with held-up hands but stop when they feel his glare on them. Fear is control, he realizes, brushing through his short hair with one hand, one leg crossed over the other, the used combat boots shimmering polished, red shoelace marking him as a leftist. 

So, he lets them stare at him, he lets them call him a Satanist and he lets the teacher think of him as a delinquent, never granting him the hallway pass. As a provocation he smokes on the school grounds, shares a pack with the older students, smudges coal liner under his eyes, and picks up any fight he can, snarling with bared teeth like an animal. 

There is surprisingly much power in his lanky limbs, he thinks one night, hunched over the sink, observing his bruised rips in the mirror. He hisses once he touches them, his skin is adorned by black and blue marks, some already fading while others blossom on top of them. Battle marks. Soldiers are proud to carry them, so he should feel the same. 

Tinykin can bite now, he has gone through a metamorphosis, and he is like Chuck now. A Pitbull. No longer girly. 

And it makes him feel good, the adrenaline rushing through his veins when he sees red. Him pushing his body further than he ever thought was possible, the limps aching out of exhaustion, the sinews impossibly stretched but still going further. And he likes the dominance, the sentiment, when the others crouch beneath him, feeling sorry about whatever comment they made about Anakin or his mum. Anakin makes them beg – or wishes to make them beg, wishes to spit on them.

The thought is aggressive and venomous. Suddenly he is afraid of it, afraid of going too far, afraid of the Pitbull inside. Still, he is dependent on it, addicted to the taste of blood on his tongue. So, he just continues. Fist fighting, bleeding, caring for the wound, and fighting again. 

One day he will end up in the hospital but he still does not care. 

One fistfight later, it is enough, states the school when they call him into the administration office. He just shrugs it off, his lips bleeding, from one punch, adrenaline still rushing through his veins. The other one looks worse, is his only thought as he stares down at his split knuckles. 

It has consequences. Everything has consequences. Life does never grant him anything. 

The principal’s office calls his mum and tells her about his disruptive behavior in class, how his grades have fallen since last December in every subject, that he has vandalized the school toilet with Anarchic political propaganda, dresses inappropriately, and is missing in every second-class unit. She apologizes over the phone, begs him to not throw him out yet, and gives him another chance, offering a donation with money they do not have. 

So, they let him stay and punish him with detention. For two weeks he scrubs gum from school desks, cleans the dirty tiles in the toilets, or sweeps the schoolyard. His mum takes over another shift at Wendy’s to pay off the money and smiles at him sadly. There is disappointment in her eyes. He feels embarrassed, pinches his bruised lips, avoids looking at her, and still starts to cry, feeling suddenly like his real age, a fifteen-year-old teenager, and hugs her like a little kid. She only hushes, strokes through his now short hair, and plasters one of her infamous band-aids over the cut on his lips. 

Her words are that people like them just have it harder in life, so they must keep fighting. 

People like them? People who just take their legs and just run away all life?

He hates that expression, hates that he was born like that, that he never had a fair chance, and feels a sting of hatred for his mum. Why did she even get him in this messed up world if she knew his life would be a fuck? She had done that to him, chained him to this, made him endure it. 

And if she talks about fighting back, why does she always submit to others and crawls on her knees over the dirty tiles in some diner just for a few bucks more while other people spit at her?  

Why did she back off just because the principal called her? Why did she not have his back like a real mum would? Why did she not defend him? 

But his mum only wraps her arms around him, holding him tightly, smiling at him. It is the sad smile, the one that always shuts him up. She walks through the tiny living room area, grabs two plates from the kitchen cabinet, and puts the takeaway on the dishes. It is left over from Wendy’s she got to take home after her shift. “Come on”; she says as if she had not just bribed the principal, “Turn on the telly, there is a Bud Spencer film on Channel 3.” 

For a second he stares at her. He has just cried a minute ago but he turns to the TV, a cheap model he got from eBay for free, and turns on the screen. It awakes with a screech, that makes him wonder how long the model will last. She takes the seat next to him on the couch. “Everything will be alright.”

He cringes and feels the sudden urge to curl up into a ball or disappear. He truly feels like 15 now. Nothing is fine and she knows that. But she searches for his warmth and cuddles him. He feels uncomfortable with the contact, incredibly stiff, but he lets her do it just so that the fucking sad smile disappears.  

That night his mom falls asleep in front of the Television while watching Anakin’s favorite Western. In the dimmed lights of the electrics, he recognizes the exhaustion, that marks her face, new wrinkles have formed next to her eyes. He carries her to bed, sitting next to her for an awkward minute. He fidgets with his fingers, feeling embarrassed of his teenage anger outburst from before but not knowing how to put it into words, so silence stretches out in the room. 

“I’m sorry.”, he tries to whisper, barely audible. “I’m sorry for calling you a bad mum.” He nearly swallows the words, that is how uncomfortable he feels speaking them. 

He waits for her to react but she is already asleep.  

Maybe she is a fighter, he thinks as he rests her head on a pillow, a warrior just in a different way than him. She is not young like him and has not the power in her limbs to just start a fight with everyone who behaves nasty. 

Another wave of embarrassment hits him, so he escapes the room, flinging a window open, gasping for breath, just out of that room. 

So, he sits on his windowsill, biting his bruised lips ashamed, the pain clearing his head. With his nails, he breaks off the Black polish, a nervous habit. His mind conjures images of his six-year-old self. The same heated anger wrenches his heart, he hears the phantom scream of his mum inside, cries ugly with a runny nose, cursing the world silently for his fucked-up life. 

He does not want to wake her up that night. Does not let her see that she made him tear up. 

=

Half a year after his 15th birthday, he has collected enough parts to build an entire motorbike from scratch. Mace helps him and tells him the do-s and don’ts of the process while handing him the screwdrivers. Once it is finished, he pads the teenage boys on his shoulders. There is even a spark of pride in his eyes.

Mace has grown into some sort of fatherly figure over the last year for him. The man has a stoic face, never emotionally caring for others, never hugging Anakin, never asking how he feels – but he helps Anakin, never asks questions when the boy is on his mat at 2 am or if he has school tomorrow, just silently guiding the boy into the garage and to his newest project.

Mace never raises the wage, still paying the boy only a few bucks an hour but he buys him lunch when Anakin takes over the midday shifts – that is the deal, midday shift for a Chicken Sandwich, or he gifts the boy mechanical parts for Anakin’s projects and lets him build them in his garage once he is finished with his tasks. 

One of them is the motorbike. At 15 and a half Anakin’s bike is finally ready, half a year too young to be legally driving it, but who cares for a license in Tatooine? He grabs a can of spray paint and colors it in black to match him but something is missing. Mace nudges him slightly, handing him another spray can. It is red. He adds another single line, creating the illusion of fire when it is speeding down the streets. A flaming motorcycle, could be a reference to a Comic book, Ghost Rider, or something, Anakin grins to himself as he puts on the helmet to drive it for a test run. 

It is Mace’s Helmet, the same for the Jackett, that Anakin has thrown over his shoulders, some bike gang insignia stitched on the back, two knives crossing. The older man has said that he had no use for it anymore and now that Anakin has a bike, it would be better off with him than lying around in the dust of his closet. Anakin had started to tear up but Mace had just hushed, grabbing the boy for a brief hug, in which both felt uncomfortable and later just stared at the ground embarrassed. 

It was too early for such an intimate act. 

When his mum recognizes him pulling up in front of their apartment building, she is anxious. She runs down the stair, meeting him, about to scold him but then she sees the joy in his face. 

So, she asks if he is now finally able to live his dream and ride a bike. He nods and he speeds down Jefferson Alley, his mother clinging to him in the backseat, screaming against the wind.

For the first time in fifteen years, Anakin feels truly happy, adrenaline rushing through his veins. Maybe his life isn’t as fucked up as he thinks. 

=

He is sixteen when his curls have grown back so that they reach his jaw now. He lets them hang loose, never caring for them with any styling product like his peers do. They frame his angular countenance, the small chin, the sharp bone structure, that has grown more prominent in the last year. His face still has big eyes and plush, reddish lips but they are contrasted by his sharp jawline now. He looks different, harder, matured, marked by life just like his scared body, he thinks when he sees himself in the mirror. A fighter. A troublemaker. 

The brio doodles on his arms have become real tattoos, once he has hit sixteen. Now a barbed wire twines around his triceps, fading down into billows of smoke, a cityscape blooming on his lower arm. His chest is covered by a St. Andrews cross. Rex looked at him strangely when Anakin requested to let a catholic motive cover his chest and lower abdomen. He raised his brows the stencil hovering in the air. Are you Sure, his eyes said. Anakin has only nodded., 

He is not religious but it’s a sign of protection. Why should he not feel a need for protection? 

He still spends most of his time at Mace’s workshop but somehow school has become more prominent too. The cause is the invention of the Tatooine High Physics Club – not that he is particularly interested in Physics, quanta, or atoms, they just give him the perfect opportunity to tinker. Last month he built his first robot and the other had helped him with the programming. IT has never been his strong suit. To a certain degree he was interested in the construction of electronic devices but the world inside, the software has never been his aim. Partly fault for that was that he has never had a computer at home and has ditched most of the classes where it was used – but suddenly it became of interest to him. 

It is a better future, his mum tells him one dinner, IT is better than whatever he does at Mace’s garage. He could study computer science someday. He looks at her, suddenly feeling nausea, the leftover from yesterday rumbling in his stomach. He digs his nails into his palms, biting his tongue, holding any backlash back. 

They have started to have a lot of conversations like that since he started Highschool. 

Just look at him, he thinks, the tattoos, the black painted nails, the music taste, the red shoelace in his combat boots, the biker jacket over his shoulders, he is not the guy for Uni. It would be the same as in school. Everywhere he goes prejudice marks his way. He would have to fight harder than anyone else, suddenly get a good GPA, and find a scholarship. As if he could ever afford to go to college on his own. 

He would just end in a purgatory of endless debts, that he never in his life could pay back. 

He will just end like his mum. After the school graduation, he will work at Mace’s workshop full-time but that will never be enough money to support them both, so he will take over any job he finds, flipping burgers in some kind of fast-food chain and cleaning the floor for the extra few bucks. 

He swallows. It is like he was born to become like that. It was his destiny from the start and after all these years of ditching school, fighting, and doing the absolute worst he has only dug his grave further. Life was never fair to him. The fucking world is unfair. He was destined to become like that and everybody has pushed him further on that path. 

Anakin feels sad and then angry. All the sadness that does wrench his heart, he pushes it into his anger. Wrath is an easier emotion to deal with than tears and all the fuck. When he feels angry, he can get drunk and pick up the next fight till his knuckles split open and blood runs down his cheeks. Life does make Anakin kneel to it but in a fight, he can make others kneel to him. Be the one in the prominent position for one fucking second in his life. 

When adrenaline is running through his veins, the only thing that counts is who is the better fighter and not who was born in the better situation. 

Or he could fuck, get wasted and pick up someone, lets himself be dragged into a cheap motel, and then shag like an animal. It’s carnal intercourse, not lovemaking – who has time for that and who is the idiot and believes in love – then he is like a predator, just doing whatever his body needs to let go of this anger. The next morning, he forgets whoever his partner was, not that it does ever matter to him. He just leaves the motel room early the next morning.

He has become an arsehole, he realizes, and his mum would be disappointed. 

So, sitting there at the dinner table, all his behavior of the last years, all the time he has acted out of anger or thought he has fought the unfair system, start piling up on his shoulder, revealing themselves to be only burdened. 

Others have never liked him, so he became unlikeable instead of trying, bared his teeth, and hissed like an animal. 

Others have seen the delinquent in him, so he has become the delinquent, smoking on school grounds, fighting, and ditching class. 

He runs to the bathroom and only vomits, tears streaming down his cheeks, his hands gripping the sink. His mum does ask him what happened later, there is a spark of worry in her eyes, but he refuses to answer, once again putting up the face of the insolent child, the troublemaker. 

“I’m sorry.,” something deep inside whispers. 

=

Anakin has his first time with a man the day his mum gets the cancer diagnosis. It is a rainy day in August, and the cloud ceiling lowering over the town of Tatooine, suffocating him from above. How ironic, a fucking symbol for his emotions. He chokes, he swallows, he lights himself a smoke, grimacing bitterly. 

The hospital calls him at work, midday shift like usual. Mace tells him to pick up the phone, he suspects nothing, speeds down to the telephone, and answers. For the next fifteen minutes, he listens to the doctor in a trance, answers yes when it is needed, yes to if he would pick up his mum – she is still affected by the anesthetics from the screening, yes if she should start chemo and yes if he would cover the costs.

It takes him another fifteen minutes to realize what it does mean for them as a family, what he has agreed to. Stage four breast cancer, chemo, no health insurance. They do not have the money for treatment, in no world will they ever have. The doctors tell his mum, she knows it, he knows that she knows. He picks her up, she tries to say it, he ignores her, and the rest of the ride home is silent. 

He carries her up the stairs, sets her down on the couch in the living room area, pulls her favorite blanket over her, and rests her head on a pillow. She tries to protest, tell that she is no porcelain doll but her voice is hoarse, her arms are shaky and midway she realizes that herself, so she stays silent, ashamed. He makes her a cup of chamomile tea, the cheap one from the supermarket around. They talk, they talk about everything, how lovely he was as a child – he only remembers himself crying, how she always dreamed about opening a real restaurant – he only knows the taste of leftovers from Wendy’s, and what his dreams for the future are – he lies to her about studying, she knows but she still smiles, clinging to the nice words because what else has she left?  

They talk about everything and nothing. 

In the end, he is exhausted, excusing himself, lying about having a shift at Mace’s workshop, willing down the sobs that want to escape his mouth, brushing his hair into his face to hide the specks. 

He wants to escape the apartment where he only finds disappointment in his mother’s eyes, where they only lie to each other, and where the air tastes of death, that suffocates him with every breath. 

 He feels bad for going, leaving her alone, leaving the death-forsaken woman but he still does it., crying with a runny nose, feeling selfish, and at the same time desperate for a hug. 

That day he finds himself in the same bar, he always goes when something bad happens to drown himself in liquor. The barman Yoda already knows him and his favorites. The first few shots are on the house and then an “anonymous” person starts paying for them. Anakin does not care enough to actually ask who it is, he just drowns them in one go and grimaces at the burning feeling in his throat. 

The world starts turning around him and it is a pleasant feeling, nothing is clear, and everything is hazy. He roars like an animal, falls from his barstool, and fails to stand up again when a stranger helps him up. He has a nice face and friendly hazel eyes – at least Anakin thinks he has. He offers the teenager a hand and tells him he would drive him home; the smile is open and honest – too nice for a seedy town like Tatooine. 

Anakin tries to protest but the stranger has already manhandled him out of the bar. He is placed in a car, diagonally laid over the backseat. He feels like he wants to vomit but the stranger is nice, helps him up, holds up his hair, and helps him unbutton his shirt. It is hot in the car, and the stranger smiles. 

The moment, Anakin lays bare on the cheap plastic leather of the Ford, he realizes what is happening. The stranger has started to fidget with Anakin’s jeans, fumbling at the zipper. There is still a genuine smile on his face, telling Anakin that everything will be ok, abusing Anakin’s drunkenness. His jeans are pushed down to his knees, exposing his boxer shorts and his bare tighs. Anakin is suddenly shy, trying to cover his naked skin but the stranger pushes his hands away, pining them over his head with force. 

Anakin’s mind is still gone, still sitting in his apartment with his mum, conversing stifling Smalltalk, crying for his mum and missing her so much but his body does react for him instead. He feels a warmth forming in his core, a tinge of drunk arousal, mixed with disgust for himself. It is strange and his drunk body tries to convince him that it is hot. 

Then he is flipped over, his chest hits the backseat and he moans at the sudden friction. His jeans are pushed down even further, his boxershorts following. Nervous fingers explore his backside, the touch is fleeting, unsure, embarrassed. The fuck itself happens in haste, it is quick and dirty, the other man fucks him bare, nervously, fingers grabbing Anakin so tight that it bruises for a second and then disappearing, never quite there, as if he wants to leave no trace. The stranger gives Anakin the feeling that he is a plastic toy, something to be used and then thrown away. 

For a second Anakin does not care, likes the sound of bodies slapping against each other, the feeling that he has some use. It does his job and makes him forget about his fucked up life for a second. 

Once the stranger is finished, he cleans himself with a wipe, pulling up his trousers as if nothing happened, and leaves Anakin dripping on the backseat. So, there he lays, another man’s body fluids running down his thighs, still in a drunken haze, with a mum with stage four cancer, he grimaces bitterly. 

He does not feel angry, he does not cry. He just feels empty. The St. Andrews Cross burns on his chest. 

The embarrassment takes another day to enter his system. Then the wrath follows, wrath is easier to deal with than embarrassment, than feeling dirty, than the need he has to shower to wash off the other man’s scent from his body. So, he lets the anger roar in his chest. 

=

He meets Obi-Wan Kenobi for the first time at a house party – meeting for the first time is not the right expression. He knew Obi-Wan Kenobi before, he recognized him in the hallway when he saw the copper strands and the horn-rimmed glasses. Kenobi is the president of the Physics Club Anakin sometimes attended, Kenobi is the golden boy of the student newspaper, he was the guy on the bleacher that Anakin saw when he finished PE class and Obi-Wan has collected his dad's car a few times at Mace’s garage. 

So, technically he knew Obi-Wan Kenobi before but this evening he gets to know him for real. Whatever that means. 

Rex, Anakin’s tattoo artist, and semi-best friend, drags him there. Rex is two years Anakin’s senior, has a bleached buzz cut, arms covered with black and blue Ink, and a smirk, that Anakin can hardly say no to. Last summer Mace hired him and the two have instantly linked. Rex is not the best mechanic but he needs the money, so they made a deal. Anakin taught him the fundamentals and for that, he got a discount on the tattoos he wanted to get. 

His mum has stopped working four months ago, half a year after her cancer diagnosis. Too late in Anakin’s opinion, too early in hers. They have started to fight more often. She thinks that he is too overprotective over her, he thinks she is only working herself to death. She scolds him for his life choices, he screams at her how she thinks he is paying for her chemo. It only escalates and, in the end, both cry and he is feeling once again like the true teenager that he is, clinging to her like a little child. 

So, Anakin lets himself be manhandled by Rex to the party in Quinlan Vos’ house. It is near the Jefferson Alley, a quick walk by foot from Mace’s workshop, far enough from his apartment, and far enough from his mum. 

Since his mum’s cancer diagnosis, he has dropped out of school, working full-time at Mace’s garage, the count of his tattoos has doubled, now covering more than just naked skin. There is now a bike and a sandy backyard on his left thigh. Fucking Oasis Springs, he thinks, he could not escape his past, so why not embrace it? 

He has thought about a tattoo of his mum’s name but then he discarded the idea, as too cheesy. She would hate it, tell him that is like looking at her own gravestone and she is still very much alive. 

He has just grabbed his third beer – his drinking habits have become worse too – when he notices Obi-Wan. The other man, also two years Anakin’s senior – in the same year as Rex, wears a white polo shirt, stuffed into his cord jeans and cute horn-rimmed glasses. He looks like he does not belong to this party, totally out of place with his outfit and the nervous laughter that speaks of insecurity. Anakin nudges Rex’s shoulder but the other man just shrugs in a manner of Why would I care, so Anakin steps closer to Obi-Wan. 

The other man has something about him, that makes Anakin want to look closer at why he is so nervous. Anakin has no savior complex but something like the abuse, that happened to Anakin in the parking area of Yoda’s bar should not happen again – or at least, if Anakin can do something against it, so he steps closer to overhear the conversation. 

They talk about “Seven Minutes in Heaven” and Obi-Wan seems nervous, and uncomfortable with taking part but Quinlan Vos - Anakin cursed a silent “arsehole” – seems to be reluctant to listen to his friend. He has put one arm around his shoulder, nudging him closer, trying to encourage him. It makes Anakin cringe, it is uncomfortable to watch, makes his inner Pitbull bark aggressively, and makes him want to split his knuckles open on Vos’s skull. 

Since his mum’s diagnosis, his anger issues have become worse, too. He fights, smokes, and fucks more than ever. – much to his mum’s disappointment but it is the only thing keeping him together, keeping him working at Windu’s, and with that the only thing paying for the chemo. 

So, Anakin joins in last minute, kneeling himself to the circle, taking another sip from the beer. Some raised brows but nobody refuses him to take part. He is Anakin Skywalker, a heavy drinker, a delinquent, known for his bed stories – why not have him in a round? 

The bottle gets spun a couple of times but nothing happens to him or Obi-Wan. People get taken to the closet; they snog there until the next couple takes their place. Anakin is bored, he stares at Rex who has already found himself another activity, he yawns bored. Maybe he should have stayed at home. 

That changes when the bottle stops in front of Obi-Wan, who lets out a nervous laugh. “I guess it’s my turn now.”, he says with a voice that sounds surprisingly tiny for a teenager. He brushes with one hand through his copper strands and rearranges his Polo Shirt, the glasses nearly fall from his nose because of his hasty movement, his cheeks are blushed and his body posture speaks of insecurity. “Who wants to do it with me?”

The question is asked with a tone that breaks Anakin’s heart. It reminds him of himself, him before most of the bullshit had taken place, before his job at Windu’s, before his first tattoo, before his first fist fight, before his mum’s diagnosis, before he has become who is now before he was broken. It is like looking into a mirror and seeing the young boy in Oasis Springs with a runny nose who just wanted to learn to ride a bike to make friends. Tinykin, he wants to sigh. 

Anakin feels stupid to raise his hand that quickly but what else can he do? The Pitbull in his chest roars with the need to protect, bite away Quinlan’s greasy hand from Obi-Wan’s shoulder, protect Obi-Wan at all cost, shower him with compliments till all insecurities go away – but Anakin is not a man of nice words, life has hardened him, so all he can do is stand up and play the part of the heartbreaker who has taken a liking in the shy boy. 

Nobody makes a comment, they do not care enough – or they care enough to spread a rumor the next day, whatever. So, the two get taken to the closet and Obi-Wan laughs more nervously as if his insecurity would disappear if he does it more often. It is a painful sound in Anakin’s ears, making his heart wrench. He wants to grab Obi-Wan’s hand, squeeze it, tell him that everything will be alright – but it would only scare Obi-Wan way, too soon. 

The closet is so small that both must stand with only a few centimeters between them, a contact that is forced to be intimate and uncomfortable. Obi-Wan shivers, trying to distance himself, laughing one more time when he realizes that Anakin notices it, it is like saying “Nothing against you, but could you please stop invading my personal space?” 

Anakin clears his throat and steps the tiny step back, that he can take in the small closet. His back hits a shelf with canned food. 

“So, we have to kiss now, don’t we?”. Kiss is pronounced breathy, a word with insecurity laced to it. Obi-Wan has never kissed anybody, it is clear as daylight, and he is nervous to do it now. He does not want to do it, he just feels like he needs to do it. 

“We don’t have to do anything”, Anakin answers and takes another sip from his beer. It is room temperature now, tasting disgusting on his tongue but still better than nothing, a bit of liquid courage for the next words. “Just because some bastards tell us to do something, we don’t have to do it.” 

“You are Anakin, right?”, Obi-Wan asks unsure, trying to change the subject. “I saw you a couple of times in Mace Windu’s shop, you work there, don’t you?” 

Anakin only nods, adding another “Still do.” after the silence stretches out uncomfortably. 

“I have not seen you in school for a really long time. You used to attend Physics Club; I noticed you there a few times but then you just stopped coming. CP30 still needs the new gadget for his eyes, the boys have been too shy to add it without you.” Obi-Wan’s chuckle is still nervous. “Why did you stop? – I mean coming, why did you stop coming?”

“Bad things happened.”, Anakin answers taciturnly, taking the last sip from his bottle, already regretting it. The closet is so tiny that he feels the warmth the other man radiates, a bead of sweat runs down his cheek, and he wipes it away, trying to grin reassuringly. Everything is alright. He brushes a lock behind his ear, suddenly feeling itchy, and uneasy on his feet like he needs to do something. He starts drumming on his empty bottle, avoiding eye contact. 

It was a stupid idea to cage himself with Obi-Wan in a closet that barely measure two square meters. 

“You still can come, CP30 is waiting, nobody will touch him if you don’t want that.” 

“I-“, tries Anakin but Obi-Wan’s nervous talking interrupts him, the other man fidgets with his fingers. “We have classes as always and the Physics classroom is open as usual, Thursday afternoon and Fridays till 3 pm.” 

“Yeah”, grumbles Anakin, staring at everything other than Obi-Wan, trying to get his inner Pitbull under control that roars to surge forward and kiss him til all the nervous words stop flooding from his mouth. The other man’s cheeks are still blushed from the heat and some of his copper strands are damp, slightly curled, making them look impossibly fluffy, that Anakin gets the itch to brush through them.

It is an itch he should not scratch. 

“I’m sorry, I’m making you uncomfortable.” 

“No-“

“I just thought after you volunteered that you might be slightly interested.” 

The shy man makes Anakin cringe. Obi-Wan looks so unsure of himself, pushing and pulling at his Polo shirt, cheeks heated because of his words. Obi-Wan has never kissed anyone before, roars his inner Pitbull, why don’t you take his first kiss? You are a good kisser, you could make him enjoy it. 

Anakin plunges forward, cupping the other man’s face with a swift movement, surprised by his actions. He turns his head away, staring at his shoes instead, the combat boots are old and used, has bought new ones since his mum’s diagnosis, saving any money he has. His voice is hoarse and slow when he continues, “Ehm -I am interested.” 

Then he leans in, brushing his lips slightly against Obi-Wan’s forehead, getting addicted to the taste of the honey-kissed skin with the slight hint of male sweat, the urge blooming to taste it with his tongue and then he wills it down, jerking back like he has burnt himself, nearly falling over himself, embarrassed by his own animal-like thought just to take. 

In that second the closet is opened and a weirdly grinning Quinlan Vos eyes them, scanning for a sign of snogging. He eyes Obi-Wan’s damp curls, his heated cheeks, and the Polo shirt. 

“Happy Seven Minutes in Heaven, Obi.” 

“Ehm-“

Anakin feels like he wants to vomit. 

= 

Anakin is 17 when Obi-Wan graduates. He watches from afar, sitting on the bleachers Obi-Wan used to sit on, smoking a pack – he has even called Mace for a free day, knowing that this will only end in Yoda’s or some stranger’s backseat, all just to stop the throbbing sound of his breaking heart. 

It’s like watching everything, that could have been, and at the same time never will be. He could be standing there, getting his A-Levels done, posing with his friends in these stupid robes, hugging his mum, and hearing her whisper into his hair how proud she is. 

But it will never be. He will never finish school and instead works full-time to pay the bills. And what friends? The kids, that have harassed him in Oasis Springs or the kids who were afraid of him in Tatooine? Who would be standing here with him now, grimacing like an idiot for some graduation photos? 

You could have been a part of this now, the Pitbull whispers to him bitterly as Anakin lights himself another cigarette, you could be standing there now, planting a kiss on the shy boy’s lips if you just had been brave back then. You could be there now as just a friend and maybe even as his boyfriend. 

I am broken, sighs Anakin, I have a fucked-up life. Obi-Wan deserves better, Obi-Wan deserves the world, he should leave this shit hole that is Tatooine and finally find someone who cherishes him. 

So, he sits there and watches from afar as everybody becomes older, graduates, leaves the town, starts studying and he just stays Anakin, working in Mace’s garage, sitting the evening with his mum in front of the telly, watching some western, crying himself to sleep at night for everything that could have been. 

= 

Anakin is 19 when he meets Padme again. The night before he has drunken until he blacked out and she had been the first face to greet him in A&E. As strange as it sounds, they fall in love quickly – or she falls in love quickly. She is a doctor, she likes to heal, likes to take care of, likes to amend and he is her little project. She thinks she can fix him, takes him out, controls his drinking and smoking habit, stops him from fighting – she is good for him, his mum smiles. 

He reads that Obi-Wan has left Tatooine. He is for the first time in the Newspaper for some charity event in New York, that he attends with his newlywed wife. She looks pretty, tall, blond with a perfectly proportioned body and the wedding ring glimmers on her finger. Obi-Wan has not changed much, it has been years and yes there is a beard now covering his dimples, but there is the same insecurity, the same shyness in his posture, that makes Anakin's inner Pitbull beg him to take care of him. 

He is happy now, he tells himself and smiles bitterly, Obi-Wan has become what he has deserved, a perfect life. 

But Anakin cannot help to feel jealous of the other man, of all the possibilities the other has, no chain caging him in Tatooine, no mum with stage four cancer, no same old job, that he carries out every day since he is fifteen, no debts that he can never pay back, no emptiness in his heart, that he cannot fill. 

But isn’t Anakin happy now, too? He has Padme – at least he has someone, he should be happy now. 

And his mum loves Padme, they form a bond quite easily – she loves Padme probably more than he does and that hurts. Padme is perfect for his mum, the definition of a woman with a golden heart, for the first time his mum is truly proud of him. It hurts his heart to lie to her like that, to pretend to be the happy boyfriend in love but he does it. 

When their high school friends start asking them why they are not married yet, he decides to propose to her. He does everything the others do, he books a restaurant, hides the ring box in his best jacket, and then falls to his knees when it is the right moment. She smiles, cries out of joy, and showers him with kisses – he only feels uncomfortable, fidgeting with his fingers. Later on, he blames it on his nervousness. 

He is 20 when he stands at the altar waiting for the bride. He is 21 when the twins are born and he holds Luke and Leia for the first time in his arms. 

He tries to be happy, tries to be a good father, reads all the fucking books about parenting, makes himself a total idiot just to make the kids love, shows them his favorite westerns, lets them ride on his back, and sleeps next to them every single night for the first three nights of their life. 

And he tries to love Padme, God knows, he tries so much. He takes Padme out for date nights, tells her how beautiful she is every morning, and kisses her open-mouthed and hungry to make her feel loved and desired in the marriage just to make him feel less guilty that he thinks of another man every time in bed. Over the years, he learns to love her, as cruel as it sounds, he learns to pretend to love her, to say the right things to make her smile. 

And no matter how hard he tries; his life remains fucked up.  

= 

Anakin is 36, a divorced man, father of two teenage kids in puberty, with the first few grey hairs growing on his scalp when he wakes up early, yawning, rubbing his tired eyes, expecting to find the bed next to him empty and unused, just like he is used to it. 

But instead, this morning a warm body is curled to his, a chest and a soft belly pressing against his backside, arms intertwined with his face and grumbling something like “Don’t go. It’s too early.” 

A sweet, soft smile curves his lips as he leans down to kiss the other man’s cheeks and brushes his fingers through the copper strands. “Obi-Wan.”, whispers into the other man’s hair, tracing the jaw with his fingers, tracing the lines of his beard. 

For the first time in 36 years, he has a chance to be happy - however, his fucked up life may be. 

(this is a draft, that means it is still in the condition of a draft, not betaed... just wanted to rant about the idea, so enjoy!)

[hanasnx]

arm kink: revisited

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: for @justadmiringanakin WARNINGS: f!reader | arm kink | size difference | choking | squirt & hump mention.

“Anakin?” you call, craning your neck over equipment to spot MODERN!ANAKIN SKYWALKER as he works through his set of pull-ups. You swallow, coming to a stop a couple feet away from him. Ashamedly, you’re in awe. With every jut of his chin over the bar, his biceps swell with the effort of lifting himself. Ankles crossed neatly behind him in perfect stance, there’s not a muscle of his out of place. All of it on display while he wears a black side slit shirt. Precise, and well-taught, he releases grunts through his teeth with each crest, controlling his breathing to the second to maximize his energy. That concentrated crease in his brows is intimidating, set features, pursed lips that expel a shot of air, eyes that unwaveringly focus on his task.

You don’t know how many of these things he’s done, but there’s a sheen of sweat that glistens on his skin in such a delectable way you just wanna lick him clean. Curly hair weighed down from moisture, beads at his forehead, you feel faint.

Tendons emphasize their paths through his arms, swollen biceps thick and veined pulse as he moves. Briefly you fantasize what it’d be like wrapped around your neck, and the fantasy furthers the longer you watch how his muscle redistributed his weight on his limbs. His brutish hands that connect to his hefty wrists dwarf the bar they’re wrapped on. His sides, exposed by the cut of his top, ripple with motion, like a bag of fucking ropes. You can see a flash of his abs every so often, but the defined lines of his serratus catch your eye as they shift under his skin. They remind you of the cut of a shark’s gills.

You barely register he’s stopped while your mind runs away with you. He drops to the floor, wipes his face with a towel, and chugs water all while you stand practically comatose. If you hadn’t been, you would’ve drooled over the way his larynx bobbed from every gulp. With how horny you are now, you could’ve sexualized that as well, conjuring a plan to sit on his neck to hump his Adam’s apple and choke him with your thighs.

“Angel?” his affectionate nickname for you snaps you out of it, jumping in place as you recognize the towering figure looming over you. Failing to explain yourself, you trip over your silent words, re-forming your gaping mouth until he quiets you indefinitely. “Let’s go home.”

By home he means the shower, he means bed, he means cunt. Forced to swipe at your clit with your own hand while he’s rolling his hips into you, showcasing every muscle that works so hard for you. He peacocks for you, deliberately this time, and you would’ve been soaked even without his fat cock shoving its way into you. Massive hands rest on your legs to keep your spread while he’s on his knees, arching his spine to push his cock into your propped-up pussy. “Getting fucking tired of your staring, you know that?” he breathes, hypocritical considering his most obvious staring problem, and his most obvious enjoyment of your voyeurism. He likes showing off. As if to scold him for it, you squirm and try to escape him, weakly crawling back on your hands only for him to yank you back easy. “Gimme that cunt, baby, don’t run away.” You’d disobeyed him taking your fingers off your clit, so he keeps his grip on your hips to draw you into his thrusts which makes his already bruising and long cock fit that much deeper into your hole. Practically kisses your cervix, jerking your entire body.

“I can’t take it, Ani! Can’t take it!” you insist, thrashing and clawing at the sheets.

“Well, if you listened to me—“ he begins, speaking while he rearranges you harshly, manhandling you onto your stomach and peeling your pelvis off the mattress to meet his. He muscles his dick back in, feeding it right to your puffy folds. You cry out, but he doesn’t even afford you that dignity. He curls over you, making you feel small with his hot skin against yours, enveloping you. An arm winds around your neck, tucking your larynx into the crook of his elbow. When he gets a good grasp, he ruts into you, and you’re slick as fuck. “Now get your fucking hand back on that clit.” he spits into your ear, his swollen bicep pushing into the side of your neck. Eager to please him again, you do as he says, clumsy fingers massaging your bud. “Atta’girl.” You breathe hard through your open mouth, pulling in air as his arm keeps you right where he wants you, using it to pin you into taking whatever he gives you until you squirt all over him from just his cock.

[skyguys-princess]

He’s just so… I can’t even describe him.

Boy is an angel 🪽

Late Night Call | Nerdy!Anakin x Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: MDNI 18+, masturbating (both), voice kink, praise, nerdy!anakin is a whiny little mess.

summary: Your voice is enough to get Anakin all worked up.

The silence of the night seemed to be swallowing the entire city as Anakin lay sprawled in his bed, staring at the ceiling. With a yawn, Anakin lifted the blocky landline phone off its cradle, the dial tone echoing through the receiver. As he recited the familiar numbers, he couldn't help but feel butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

"Hello?" a gentle voice answered on the other line.

"Hey, I didn't wake you up did I?" Anakin mumbled into the phone, his voice barely above a whisper. The soft sound of rustling sheets and a yawn came from the other end of the line.

There was a pause before you replied. You knew that voice. "No, you caught me at a good time. What's going on?"

"Oh, well, nothing really I just wanted to talk to you," he stammered, trying to mask his nervousness. "I'm putting off writing this paper too actually," Anakin admits almost sounding like he was ashamed of himself. "I don't know, I just don't feel like its good enough." He brings his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, he could feel the small migraine coming in through to temples of his skull.

"Hey, it's alright," your soft voice reassured him from the other side of the line, sending a wave of calm washing over his senses. It was enough to ease his nerves, even if just a little. "You're human, and mistakes happen. You can't expect perfection from yourself all the time."

As the comforting voice continued speaking into the phone, Anakin's breath hitched in his throat. His heartbeat pulsed rapidly in his ears, matching the cadence of the soft whispers. Slowly, the warmth that had started in his chest spread through his limbs, igniting a fire within him. His thoughts raced, his imagination running wild with images of you on the other end of the line, your voice painting vivid pictures in his mind. The soothing voice was a siren song, drawing him in deeper with each passing second.

"What're you writing about anyways?" your voice rings softly through the line. Anakin clenched his eyes shut, his grip on the receiver tightened, as if he could somehow draw strength from the cold plastic. This isn't right, he chided himself, yet he couldn't resist the pull.

He cleared his throat nervously. "Well, it's about a new tech startup in Silicon Valley, something boring like that." Anakin managed to amswer, his voice cracking slightly. His hand subconsciously rubbed against his crotch, and he discreetly adjusted his pants, feeling the bulge growing bigger. He needed to calm down. Fast.

You hum slightly, the topic taking your interest. "That's sounds intriguing, I'd read it. I'm writing about the use of real fur in the fashion industry." Anakin's heart skipped a beat hearing your reply. Real fur? That sounded controversial, edgy, something that would definitely get you a passing grade.

"Oh, really?" he managed to choke out, trying to keep his voice steady. "Do you think it's... you know, ethical?"

"Not at all, there's always faux fur y'know?" you scoff. He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself. This was school-related, he reminded himself sternly. "Well, I mean, if the demand for real fur decreases, the industry will eventually adapt," he reasoned, trying to sound rational. "Plus, there are ways to ensure animal welfare during the process."

"See! You're so good, it's not even your paper and you're already shooting facts." you praise him innocently. God, he could've came in his boxers if he wasn't being so careful. His head was buzzing with ideas of how he might prolong the conversation so that you could carry on speaking. He just needed to hear you voice.

"Thanks." Anakin laughed nervously, trying to deflect the compliment. "So, um... how's everything else been? Anything exciting happening in your life besides your classes?" He couldn't shake the image of you in that little skirt you decided to wear to class the other day, your tits swaying enticingly in the tight sweater you wore. If it was up to him, he would've fucked you in that classroom in front of everyone. His cock twitched in his pants, growing harder by the minute.

"Not really, my roommate's gonna be out of town for a family thing, so I'll have a whole boring week by myself." you explain.

"Oh, really?" Anakin's eyes widened in delight, his heart racing faster than ever. He shifted in his seat, his cock throbbing against his pajama pants "So, uh, want to meet up sometime? Just you and me?" He forced himself to sound innocent, but his voice cracked slightly, betraying his true intentions.

His hand reached down his pants, feeling the head of his cock peeking out from his underwear. He wrapped his fingers around it, stroking slowly, trying to calm down. He had to focus on their conversation, at least until she agreed to meet up with him. He inadvertently let a whine slip out of his mouth as he swept his fingers across his sensitive tip.

"Anakin? Are you ok?" you ignore his question. Is he? No, he wouldn't. You think to yourself.

"Y-yeah just keep talking, 'm listening." Anakin stammered. His hand continued to stroke his cock unabashedly, increasing the speed slightly. He was so lost in the mind that he didn't even think about the possibility of you being able to hear the quiet slick sounds coming from his end of the line.

He is.

"Ani, I know what you're doing." you state bluntly. His eyes spring open and his hand slows down its movement on his cock.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't help it, y-you can hang up if you want I just-" he blurts out his words but you instantly interrupt him.

"Why would I want to hang up?"

"What?" Anakin couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was sure you'd call him a sick freak and never talk to him again.

"I'm not hanging up," His heart raced wildly, his cock throbbing harder than ever. He couldn't resist your voice. "Does it feel good Ani?"

"Mhm, wish it was you." he admits breathlessly, his fingers tightening around his cock. Anakin's heartbeat pounded in his ears.

"Yeah? Tell me what you're thinking about baby." you chide. You could feel your cunt getting increasingly wetter as you continued to speak to him, it makes you squirm as the heat continues to spread through your body.

"Just you, 's always you," he confessed, his voice cracking with lust. "I wanna touch you and taste you everywhere." His hand picked up speed, and his cock twitched violently in his pants.

"You wanna taste me?" you egg him on. His voice sounded so desperate it was almost pathetic.

"Uh huh, I wanna taste you," Anakin's voice trembled with desire. "Everywhere. Mmph- your lips, your neck, your pussy, everywhere."

He couldn't help but wonder how you would sound, how you would taste, how you would react to his advances. His hand moved faster, his cock throbbing violently in his pants. He needed relief, needed you to stop teasing him.

"Are you gonna be a good boy for me Ani?" you whisper, your voice dropping down an octave.

"I'll be anything you want me to be," Anakin panted, his voice hoarse with desire. "Just please keep talking." He couldn't contain himself anymore, his hand moving faster. "I'll do anything you say, just tell me what you want."

"I wanna hear you beg to cum." you demand as you begin to slowly graze your beating clit over your panties, soon dipping your hand underneath them to be met with your soaking cunt. "You're making me so wet Ani." Your fingers swirled little circles against your tiny bud, causing you to let out a small moan.

Anakin groaned, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please, I need it so bad." He couldn't stand it anymore, he had to release the pressure building up inside him. "I'll be good I promise," he pleaded, his voice breaking. Anakin's heart stopped for a moment as he heard the wet sounds coming from the other end. "Are you touching yourself?"

"Mhm, feels so good." you moan as you curl your delicate fingers inside your drooling pussy. His cock jerked in his hand and  his mind filled with images of you fingering yourself.

"Ah- fuck." His hand moved faster, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants. He bit his lower lip, trying to control himself, but his body betrayed him. "I'm close, so close-" he panted. His hips rocked back and forth in sync with each stroke. and he could feel his orgasm building up, he knew it wouldn't be long now. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and his breathing became shallow and erratic.

"Cum for me pretty boy, I wanna hear you." He couldn't hold it back any longer. With one last hard stroke, he came, his balls tightening and his cock spurting a warm stream of cum onto his blankets. He let out a loud groan, his entire body shaking with pleasure.

You can feel your own orgasm creeping up inside you as you vigorously pumped your fingers into your cunt. "Shit Ani 'm cumming!" you squeal. Anakin's eyes widened, a low growl escaping his lips as he heard you ride out your orgasm. His chest heaved, little beads of sweat trickled down his face as he tried to catch his breath.

For a moment, you both sat there, panting and recovering from your orgasms. Then, finally, Anakin found the courage to speak again. "We should... we should probably hang up, huh?" he said hesitantly.

"I guess we could," you chuckle at his awkwardness. "I'm tired now." Anakin smiled weakly, wiping away the remaining streaks of sweat from his forehead. "Yeah, I guess so," he agreed, his voice still hoarse from his orgasm. He looked at his watch, noting the time. "There's no way I'm finishing this paper tonight." He laughs at himself.

"Me neither, I'll do it eventually." you smile at his awkwardness, you always found it cute. "Will I be seeing you in Callahan's tomorrow?" you ask him, hoping he'll be there waiting on you with an empty seat next to his like always.

Anakin chuckled softly, feeling a bit embarrassed but relieved. He quickly cleaned himself up and took in a deep breath. "Yep, I'll be there," he replied, his voice steady once again. "Maybe we could grab coffee afterwards? If you're free, that is."

There was silence on the line before you spoke, but he hoped you'd accept his invitation. He needed to see you again, to be near you.

"That sounds great Anakin." you beam.

He smiled, grateful for the chance to talk to you without all the tension hanging over them. "See you tomorrow, then." he added, his voice friendly and casual.

You said your goodbyes and Anakin ended the call, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over him. As he hung up the phone, he glanced down at his sticky pants, a small smile playing on his lips. He couldn't wait for tomorrow's class.