untitled blurb 001 | anakin skywalker x afab!reader
rating: explicit | wc: >1k | note: omg hiii first writing since december?!?!?! i've been listening to a lot of spicy audios on quinn and i was inspired.
You’ve been a brat all day and now you’re paying for it.
Anakin has been depriving you of a release for what feels like hours. Denying you orgasm after orgasm and the glint in his eyes, the teasing smirk on his lips tells you that he enjoys it. He’s got you on a short leash and every time you think he’s going to let you come, he pulls back-his cock, his mouth, his fingers- and effectively pulls you away from that high.
“I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet,” Anakin chastises. He paces the bed, staring at you with furrowed brows. There can’t possibly be more ways of denying you. You’re at your wits end, you are so frustrated and worn down, you feel like you might cry.
“I have, Anakin,” you implore, not daring to get up from your laying position on the bed. “Please. I’m sorry, Ani. Just let me come, just once. That’s it.”
You’ve been a brat all day and now you’re paying for it.
Anakin has been depriving you of a release for what feels like hours. Denying you orgasm after orgasm and the glint in his eyes, the teasing smirk on his lips tells you that he enjoys it. He’s got you on a short leash and every time you think he’s going to let you come, he pulls back—his cock, his mouth, his fingers— and effectively pulls you away from that high.
“I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet,” Anakin chastises. He paces the bed, staring at you with furrowed brows. There can’t possibly be more ways of denying you. You’re at your wits end, you are so frustrated and worn down, you feel like you might cry.
“I have, Anakin,” you implore, not daring to get up from your lying position on the bed. “Please. I’m sorry, Ani. Just let me come, just once. That’s it.”
“You’re sorry?” Anakin scoffs. “Which part are you sorry for? For disobeying my direct orders when I told you not to pursue Kaavon on your own? Or when you were indulging Clovis in his petty crush on you? Letting him touch your arm and hold your gaze when you knew I was watching.”
You admit, batting your lashes at Rush Clovis was a low blow.
Anakin has crawled on top of you, one leg slotted between yours. He presses his thigh up to your cunt, still wet and needy for him to finish you off. Nose to nose and heavy breath fans your face when Anakin says, “Or are you talking about the time you blatantly flirted with me in front of Obi-Wan and Windu. Hmm? Which is it? What exactly are you sorry for?”
Maker, you were really on something today. You don’t know what got into you. Maybe it’s the fact that Anakin has hardly been home for more than a day before shipping off to another mission. Or the fact that when he is here, it feels damn near impossible to get his attention. Maybe it was nice knowing that someone is actually interested in you, even though you would never betray Anakin. Or maybe, just maybe it was nice knowing Anakin still gives a damn about you.
“All of it,” you murmur. “All of it, Ani. I’m sorry,” you breathe just before Anakin drops his lips down to yours, inhaling your apology like it will heal all of the wounds you sliced in his heart. “I just…” you mumble.
“Shh. I’m not finished with you yet,” Anakin’s tone loses its edge and your heart hammers with excitement when he pulls you by the hips and lines his cock up with your entrance in one fluid motion. Finally, you think. You arch your back off of the bed, elbows pressing deep into the mattress as you yearn to be closer, closer, closer. Every neuron is firing in your brain and you can’t keep still. Why is he moving so damn slowly? Just fuck me already! “No,”Anakin nips at your ear harshly. “If you don’t stop fucking squirming I’m going to hold you down with the Force.”
Anakin drags himself in and out of you painfully slowly, so much so that you can feel every ridge and vein on his thick cock. You’re going to explode from the friction alone because honestly, this just might be enough to make you come. And that is fucking pathetic. “That would be…” you’re interrupted when Anakin finally begins a steady rhythm of his hips. “Oh, fuck.” your eyes clamp shut.
“Eyes on me, angel,” Anakin orders sweetly. His hands roam your body, stopping at his favorite place on the sides of your thighs. Oh, how he loves grabbing onto your flesh and leaving his handprints on your skin. Because you are his and his alone. And he will never let you forget it.
“That would be inappropriate use of the energy field that binds the whole galaxy together,” you finally finish your thought with a playful smile across your lips.
“Just shut up and let me fuck you,” Anakin grins. No objections to that.
When you finally do come, it’s the most glorious, relieving wave of pleasure you think you’ve ever felt. The hearty scream that erupted from your throat was that of 6 denied orgasms and an emotionally charged evening. Anakin works you through the subsequent aftershocks, each of them releasing the tension in different parts of your body. Once you’ve come down from it all, Anakin washes you down with a warm cloth. He kisses over the places he was a little too firm with and praises you continually.
“You did so well, my darling.”
“You know I love you, don’t you?”
You and Anakin end up in a tangle of sheets and limbs, just the way you like it. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. But I’m here now. I’m all yours.”
You wish that were true. Your night ends just as the sun begins to crest over the cityscape of Coruscant and you know Anakin will be leaving you once again in just a few short hours.
college anakin who lives in the same co-ed bulding as you, and when you and your roommate get in a huge fight, you walk down the hall to knock on his door first. you've been friends since freshman year even though he can be an ass sometimes - it's never towards you, so you two get along good.
hey, you okay? he asks, clearly confused, but not annoyed. your eyes are red from crying during the fight.
i'm so sorry ani, look... can i stay here tonight? you can totally tell me to fuck off, i can go somewhere else. you tell him, silently begging him to just let you rest in his room. he got lucky this year and got a single room, and the couch is unbelievably comfortable - even moreso than your twin bed.
yeah, come in he doesn't hesitate or even ask why, just moves out of the doorway and lets you in. it's clear that he was in bed before, and maybe even sleeping. the blankets are messy and the tv is on, but quiet. his hair is messy, and he obviously threw on sweats to open the door, with the way one cuff is awkwardly caught around his heel and they're low on his hips.
i'm so sorry you keep saying in the dim light, his room only illuminated by the television. he shushes you and moves a blanket and a pillow to the couch.
tell me what happened. he instructs, and you sigh, then dive in, explaining the huge argument. how it started, why it started, and how it ended in you walking down the hall to his door. he doesn't speak over you, just listens and furrows his brow more and more as you tell him the things she said to you.
so yeah, i don't know. i just couldn't stay there tonight. i didn't wanna sleep in my car, thanks for letting me crash anakin. you finish with a big exhale, finally looking him in the eyes for more than just a second or two. he's exhausted, that much is clear. it's midterm week, and he cares way more than he lets on about his grades, so you know he's been working hard.
you can stay a couple nights if you need to, until you can talk to the housing department. you're not staying with her anymore. he tells you, resting a hand on your back, and you lean into him just slightly. your roommates words echo in your head.
thank you. i'll talk to them tomorrow after class. you tell him, starting to lay down on the couch, but anakin gently grabs your wrist to stop you.
you take the bed, i'll sleep here, don't argue with me either just go get some rest okay? he says, stopping you from denying his offer before you can even get the words out. you go back and forth for a second, but he wins the debate, and you climb into his double bed, warmer and softer than you could've guessed. you mumble goodnights to each other, but you lay awake. ani and you have shared a bed before, once at a party out in the county, when it was either share a bed or one of you take the hardwood floor. and once when you were both the tiniest bit tipsy, and hooked up last school year. the longer your body keeps you awake, the more you crave some form of comfort. tossing and turning can only keep a girl sane for so long.
ani... are you awake you ask after what feels like hours.
yeah, unfortunately he grumbles back. it's pitch black in the room now.
can you just come lay with me, this is stupid you ask, scooting over to the wall in anticipation of his approach. he doesn't reply, but you hear him get up and walk over, then feel him get under the comforter next to you, then wrap a strong arm around you and pull you into him, so he's completely enveloping you. it doesn't take long now for you to fall asleep, with his chest against your back, arm tight around your waist. you don't know what's coming next with your living situation, but it doesn't matter so much now.
Summary: A week of chaos. From the end to the very beginning. You find yourself in the darkness, remembering how the light touched your skin first. When you fly too close to the sun...
CW: 18+. dead dove do not eat, non-con, gun play, knife play, knife riding, death threats, dirty talk, dark content. | word count: 3.3k
a/n: Hope you enjoy it! DNI if you don't like the topics listed and DNI if you are a minor. Happy riding!
Comically, he could argue with any soul that crossed the empty streets that life doesn’t have a price. He could laugh at the soft-spoken, naive answer of self-value, laced with the dumb kindness of human nature. Humans are kind by nature, or that’s what idealists say; what— a sane person, he thinks— would say is that humans are selfish by nature, the realistic approach.
Since the start of times, the number two has been sacred. There are two worlds to join in the afterlife: Heaven and hell. Two deities to recognize: God and the Devil. Two spectrums: Good and bad. Two cycles: Day and night… and two options: To kill, or get killed.
It could also be described as a constant phrase he learned while growing up: “The strong one will eat the weak one”, eight words haunting him like the plague, following him and patting his shoulder at every failure, and congratulating him at every success. Strength equals power, money equals power, intelligence equals power… but can a man have it all without losing his mind? Or perhaps he is just getting philosophical when he shouldn’t. Unlocking the windows with ease as his mind races with the never-ending turmoil of an unfair life, edging him to do unfair jobs, and win dirty money.
Although Anakin Skywalker has learned that some hot dish soap helps clean the blood stains over dollar signs.
Twisting the knife— an anxious habit— Anakin stands beside your bed, watching your immobile boy. There’s a soft smile plastered on your face, you must be having a nice dream… too bad it won’t last long. Leaning down, the tip of the knife dances over your neck, careful— careful. Not yet. Those aren’t his instructions. Although his boss never specified the in-betweens.
His lips ghost over the shell of your ear, raising goosebumps in your slumber. Your skin is aware of the intruder, the instincts kicking in. “Hey,” His voice is barely audible, but his warm breath sends a jolt of adrenaline like a lethal injection directly into your veins. “Wake up.”
Your eyes shoot open, body jolting forward only to be pushed back by the knife against your throat and his gloved hand over your face. There’s no need to use brutal force, it’s easy to fuel your fear; blue eyes staring into yours through the holes of the black ski mask. He can tell you are shaking— in fact, he can see it.
“Don’t move, don’t try to scream. If you do, I’ll slice your throat from ear to ear. Smiley face, that’s why I like to call that,” He chuckles when he sees you shivering. Oh, to be the strong one grants him with a power that makes him feel alive. Who cares about repercussions when simple acts and sighs like your tears make him feel immortal? “Do I make myself clear?”
You nod weakly. Every fiber of your being is yelling at you to run, to push him and throw him everything within your reach but you can’t move. Your body is paralyzed and for the first time in your privileged life, you realize something frightening. When he pulls back and lets go of you, the loud exhale that escapes your lungs pleasures him even further. Good. Everything is going according to plan.
It doesn’t matter how much money you have. You can die just like anyone else.
“See, I can imagine you already know why I am here,” Anakin continues, chuckling when you shake your head. “No? Uh, I thought you’d be smarter. Well, I guess money can’t buy intelligence.”
Your eyes flicker to his wrist, watching him twist the knife. At least he isn’t all over you. How can a human be so calm while toying with another’s future? As if it wasn’t a delicate situation, as if money was everything in the world— pathetic.
Stuttering, you run toward the only option your brain knows. “I’ll d–double the price. I’ll triple it,” Your legs move, hanging them on the edge of your tall bed. Anakin arches an eyebrow, he could’ve killed you for moving. Yet, he is somewhat interested in your offer. “I can pay much more than whoever hired you.”
“Oh, really?” Anakin laughs. It’s a cold, bitter laugh. There is no humor in it. Only cruelty. “And what makes you think money was the only thing I got paid with?”
“Who hired you?”
He laughs again. It has been seconds since you heard him laugh for the first time and you loathe the sound already. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out, darling. Or maybe I’m lying. Maybe it’s just like the movies and I get a mystery envelope with money and your name. Would that make you feel better?”
He is definitely mocking you, which normally would raise your anger and bring out the worst in you— right now it seems like a bad choice. Anakin can’t blame you for questioning, every victim does, sometimes he grants them their wish— when they aren’t that important— sometimes he just does the job, hoping they die with their doubts as their last thought. Your life's on the line, it must be the first time someone has pierced your little bubble… so yeah, he can’t blame you.
“Please don’t kill me, I’ll… I’ll do anything.”
There it is. Classic. His favorite words. Anything means anything. Everything is fair in love and war— everything is fair at gunpoint. “Anything?’ He repeats. “It’s not like I haven’t heard that one before.” His sarcastic tone flies over your head. You cannot pay attention to anything else besides the ringing in your eardrums and the palpitations of your heart.
Anakin finds great joy in fueling the terror in your soul. It is something he wasn’t exactly born with— or at least, during his loneliest nights, buried in alcohol and money, surrounded by his guns and his ghosts. He isn’t afraid of them, they can’t hurt him.
“Anything,” You confirm, lip wobbling and tears streaming down your cheeks. His task was awfully simple, yet, there is something he must do first now that he sees you more clearly. Anakin doesn't have the pleasure to witness such a pretty downfall often.
In a swift move, Anakin lifts the knife over his head, smirking wider when you raise your hands in a pitiful attempt at self-defense. Expectant, you sob one last time before the pain comes, before the burning sensation of piercing skin and crimson blood.
Which never arrives.
The sharp blade pierces through the sheets and the mattress. Ripping the stitches and creating the most awful sound you have ever heard in your life. That could’ve been your face. Did he miss his shot? Is his aim that bad? Your vision is blurry due to the thick coat of tears, crystal clear and salty that trickle down like tiny diamonds.
“Money is not enough this time, sweetheart,” He coos at you, cupping your cheek and brushing your tears in a fake act of kindness. His pursed lips make your stomach twist. You never thought there’d be fates worse than death… but here you are. “I won’t kill you—” His words make your shoulder fall for a second as a smile dances on your chapped lips like the weak swing of a butterfly’s wings. “Yet.”
“What do you want from me?” You sob, placing your hands on your lap, not sure what to do with them. You are in no position to fight. You are under the mercy of a clear psychopath. Someone without morals, without ethics and values— under the claws of a monster.
The worst part? You don’t even know who is pulling the strings tied over the monster’s claws.
“Don’t be sad, sweetheart. I’m sure you will find it amusing— and if you don’t I don’t care,” If you weren’t begging for your life, his voice could’ve been attractive. Even his eyes. His fucking eyes that seem to pierce your soul. “You see that handle?” He points at the knife with his chin. “I want you to lift your cute nightgown and ride it. You can close your eyes and imagine a cock, I’m sure you’ve done it before from what I’ve heard about you. If I like the show, I’ll let you ride my cock— and if I don’t like it. I’ll kill you.”
“You cannot possibly ask me to—”
A small squeal escapes your lips when the muzzle of a gun comes in contact with your temple. The steel is frigid against your burning skin. There are no words left in your throat, if you weren’t terrified you would’ve thrown up.
“You don’t like to think, you don’t like to listen— I’m starting to believe you are actually stupid, princess. You either fuck that knife or die.” Your whimper. Irritating. Infuriating. Fucking lovely.
Lifting your hips from the bed, you kneel with the little strength you have left. Anakin never removes the gun from your temple, in reality, he presses it further, watching your skin dent slightly. Lifting your sheer nightgown, you clumsily hook your finger at the waistband of your panties, tugging them down with embarrassment.
“Please don’t make me do this,” You beg, losing balance momentarily as your panties hang from your ankle.
There is a storm echoing in his laugh. Like pouring rain falling over your heart before it even reaches your ears. “If you don’t do it, I’ll force you. I will enjoy it more… and then you’ll die.”
The flat tip of the blade handle feels like steel against your folds. The touch is feathery light, perhaps unintentionally gentle. You are glad there is a thick leather wrapped around it— otherwise, it might hurt even more.
Rocking your hips slowly, you close your eyes focusing on anything else. You will not enjoy this. You refuse to give him pleasure. If this is the way you die— at least you want to imagine you put up some kind of fight. Despite your constant thoughts— foolishly thinking your mind is stronger than your body— when the handle comes in contact with your clit, your body instinctively jolts. You stop. You don’t talk.
You don’t want to die. You don’t want to die, and you don’t want to enjoy it.
“Spread your legs wider and don’t stop moving. Don’t make me go there and open them myself,” His voice is low. “Show me how much you don’t want this.” His voice mixed with the adrenaline brings you to a borderline dizzy state.
Resuming your movements, you bite the inner part of your cheek, flinching when his free hand cups your breast. “See? Is not that difficult to obey. I know you are so used to getting your way, little princess. But not this time. Not with me.”
His thumb traces your nipple poking through the silk. You hate yourself for this— even more when you find a steady rhythm. Your clit grinds against the flat top and throbs, quickly begging for more. Hooking the barrel underneath the thin straps of your nightgown, Anakin lets them fall, exposing your chest.
“Don’t come. If you do, your tiny brains will make a bloody mess over your lovely canopy and walls. Now fucking ride it.”
The leather glistens with your arousal. It’s pathetic, humiliating, miserable. When you position yourself above it, when you flex your knees to fit it— that’s when everything you are— breaks.
The handle stretches your walls in a way that couldn’t be more uncomfortable. Your arousal helps but only much. Unhurriedly, you begin to ride it just like he commanded you to, just like you have to. Your pussy clenches around it, you can’t even fool yourself and think it is a dick. Nothing could help you now. No one can save you now.
“Seems to be you can listen sometimes…” Anakin observes, removing the gun from your skull to press it against the valley of your breasts. “Don’t think I can’t see how wet you are. Are you that deranged you are enjoying this?”
Are you?
Is he?
You just have to do this. Right?
Too many questions, no answers.
“Faster.”
Increasing your pace, the tears make themselves known again. You are enjoying it. Your walls are dripping, your pussy is begging for more. The slick sticks to the leather like a second layer of shine, the sounds your body is making are against your will— but you can’t stop moving. Anakin breathes loudly, his own excitement evident. You cannot see the outline of his erection underneath his black cargo pants but he feels it, throbbing, leaking, eager to bury itself in you. Hear you sob and feel you clench after every cry.
“So fucking wet,” He mumbles, pressing his lips against your sweaty neck. The soft cotton of his ski mask brushes over your skin, bringing you a nasty comfort. “Remember, if you come… you die.”
The muzzle now dances over your nipple, distracting you from the burn in your lower stomach for a second— when his hand finds your clit. Circling it quickly, roughly, Anakin exhales again right in your ear.
“I can’t wait to fuck you. I hope you are ready to die while I bury my cock inside you.”
A loud moan, mixed with a throat-ripping wail falls down your lips, body writhing and hips trashing. The handle is as deep as it can go, and before your vision goes white you feel the gun poking underneath your chin. Your hands curl around the hem of the nightgown you are still lifting, almost piercing the expensive and delicate fabric. Your orgasm is strong, it clouds your senses and for a moment the euphoria makes you forget how you just marked your destiny. The handle is sticky just like your thighs. The world is spinning.
Your life is ruined.
Just as your vision goes white, it goes black.
Monday. 10th.
Politics are known to be comparable to walking on thin ice. One false step and you sink— all the way to the cold and lonely bottom. Made only for the ones who can twist and turn others under their will and for those who aren’t scared of the nerve-wracking possibility of being a hero or a villain.
When your father offers you the vacancy for Campaign Manager you don’t hesitate to take the opportunity. Daddy dearest always serves opportunities such as these on a silver platter. Why would you refuse? Sure, a week before the presidential elections might be signing a death sentence, but why would you care? Even if you fall, your safety net is insured, secured and endorsed.
“Are you sure you can do this alone?” Natasha Andrews, your father’s assistant lowers her clipboard, focusing her dirty blue eyes on you from beneath her thin-gramme glasses. “We have a week before the election, these last days are crucial.”
“I’ll be fine!” You answer confidently. To have such confidence and naivety that being young gives you. You just feel invincible. “I read some of John’s final projects. A few venues and bookings won’t scare me.”
“I don’t think you are seeing the big picture here,” Natasha calls your name patiently. Removing her glasses, folding them and placing them next to her clipboard, you can already imagine a boring lecture about responsibility. You’ll be fine! “Your father has an image to maintain, a reputation to hold and the statistics are growing in his favor. This last week is to secure the win. Your father chose you for a reason.” Another way to say ‘There are high expectations. You better fulfill them.’
Huffing, you take her words as a weak attempt at an insult. You understand the big picture. You’ve been surrounded by the big picture since you can remember. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Natasha runs a hand through her ginger locks, taking a deep breath. She’s too old to deal with all this. “Look. I know you are young and I’m sure you have wonderful ideas for the campaign, but our time is limited. We can only continue with the schedule and hope for the best. If your ideas can be incorporated into the events then you are more than welcome.”
Always used to getting your way, you find baffling how someone who doesn’t know can defy you— or in your eyes, Natasha is doubting your capacities. Standing up, you point at her. Your manicured nail, painted a crimson red holds an almost accusatory tone. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone— not even your father. There is no chance of failure, because when you are young… you are on top of the world.
“No, you look. I know you are worried but I can do this,” You reply, not bothering to hide the patronizing tone in your voice. “My father knows I’m more than capable. You may not know me but you will. If I want to change the date of a venue, or if I want to make a goddamned pool party we will. I know what’s best, I know what will work.”
Natasha raises an eyebrow at your words, her expression hardening slightly. “I never doubted your… abilities, Miss. We have a schedule we must follow. Nothing personal. It is your first day in your position. Can you even name three key supporters of Jonathan's campaign? Have you planned a meeting with potential donors for when your father wins the elections?”
The assistant has a point, but you won’t give up. You will never lose a fight.
“Easy, everything you say is too easy,” You narrow your eyes, placing both palms on the desk to hide how they shake from frustration. “If I say the word, my father will fire you. It doesn’t matter how long you have been working with him. I’m his daughter.”
That’s your wild card.
And as usual, it works.
Sighing through gritted teeth, Natasha rubs her temple. How can an educated girl like yourself be such a despicable person? “Go on.”
The smile that brightens your face beams like flames. Threatening to consume everything on its way. Everything is easy when you have the influence. You were born with it, what’s wrong with using it? “Alright… key supporters….”
The redhead scribbles down as you talk, from all you know she is playing hangman with your face on the stick figure, not that you care, of course. Your mood heightens as she just listens and comments on trivial things such as locations and schemes. You knew it would be easy. You just need people that follow you.
“We can do the last meet-and-greet at Cafe Serenity. My father invested in the project and the owner owes him that. I’m sure if we present the petition he will accept,” You talk, tangling the wires inside your head. “I can schedule an interview with Channel 7, Global News Network, and Insider Globe, they do most of the coverage during the elections and my father knows the actionist in GNN…”
“The meet-and-greet sounds good. It’s the perfect strategy to calculate the supporters Jonathan has. Plus the media coverage will be wonderful,” Her jaw clenches as she talks, but you are too busy staring at your nails to see the daggers coming from her eyes. “You’ve got a good grasp on this.”
“I know,” You smile, ignoring the fake smile.
Suddenly, your phone rings. It’s an unknown number. A frown etches on your face as you pick it up. Excusing yourself from the table, Natasha nods, her blue orbs gluing to your back; if looks could kill…
Closing the door of the meeting room behind you, you bring the phone closer to your ear. “Hello? Who is this?”
Silence.
“Hello?”
A feminine voice breaks the silence. The unknown woman calls your name and your heart stops momentarily. It sounds vaguely familiar, and it carries a heavy accent that you can’t pinpoint from where.
“Lisseth? Is that you?” Your chirp echoes through the empty hallway. “I can’t believe you are back!”
MINORS DNI 18+
WORD COUNT: 8.4k
SUMMARY: the neighborhood serial killer has a soft spot for you. you didn’t realize how really close you were to him. after your best friend confesses his feelings for you, he confesses something else as well. something far more sinister.
NOTES: this piece features dark themes in honor of halloween. anakin based on sam monroe from life as a house. both in appearance and personality. (as giffed above). so it’s like a modern, college, no jedi au hehe | my kinktober fic for the month bcos i couldn’t participate in the full month 💀 | i made a playlist & listened to it religiously while i wrote this piece :) i also imagine it’s the halloween party’s playlist.
WARNINGS: dead dove do not eat | explicit sex | dark themes | serial killer things | f!reader | dom!anakin | breath play (choking + suffocation) | features murder by blunt force trauma so blood (reader is unscathed btw) | touching blood + blood consumption | size difference, impact play: slapping (f + m receiving), tit slapping | unprotected sex | exhibitionism | dirty talk/degradation | no specific ask for consent + slight coercion | features drinking & smoking weed/nic.
“Can you imagine it? I just feel like our town isn’t the type to have a serial killer.”
“Oh, shut up, Jeremy, it’s not that big of a deal,” you replied. “It’s probably just some crime of passion blown out of proportion.” The plastic of your chip bag crackled when your fingers dug in for more.
Jeremy nudged you, his strong arm jostling you in a way you would’ve disliked if it wasn’t coming from him. “Aw, you’re just saying that ‘cause you have that nasty serial killer obsession,” he teased, grinning down at you from his seat above you on the concrete steps.
“It’s not like that! I just study the thought process because of purely scientific fascination.” You did not appreciate the way you could see Jeremy’s dimples when he smiled at you like that, unable to meet his gaze for longer than a couple seconds. “I major in psychology for a reason,” you muttered sheepishly, aware of how flushed you were getting.
ANAKIN SKYWALKER, who’d remained quiet as he listened in, nursed his cigarette. When he spoke, the smoke blew from his lips, “Yeah, (y/n), I’d say you’ve got a pretty nasty affliction. You don’t remember when we watched Scream and you told me you thought Ghostface was hot?” That brooding look shifted in judgement, arching his brow at you.
“Don’t say that!” you leaned over to push him, making him snicker at you. It was too early to reveal that to someone like Jeremy.
As you expected, Jeremy reacted with an exclamation, eyeing you accusingly, “Oh, you do, do you?”
“Don’t you have class to get to, man? Head out,” you shoved your thumb over your shoulder, and he stood from the steps. You couldn’t help but notice how cute he looked in his jacket. He was a pretty big guy, broad and muscled. It was easy to deduce he played some football in high school. Tilting your head at him as he adjusted his clothes, both Jeremy and Anakin saw the way you were checking him out.
Jeremy moistened his lips. “I’ll see you later then?”
Before you could respond, Anakin chimed in, “Yeah, man, don’t forget. My place, eleven.” With Anakin’s good natured pat on Jeremy’s backpack, he got him to move on, hopping down the steps.
“Yeah, see you guys.”
While Jeremy traveled further out, yet another one of your opportunities to say goodbye was squandered when Anakin added another thing, “Don’t forget to dress up~!” he called in a cant, and you recognized it as his way of making fun of you.
“Ani,” you scolded through a clenched jaw, “can you stop?”
Anakin merely frowned, screwing the end of his cig into the concrete, staining it with ash to put it out. “Why do we hang out with that guy?” He repositioned himself, leaning back onto the concrete with his arms up, and legs spread.
“I think he’s cute, and I like him. I’m hanging out with him, nobody said you have to.”
Anakin pouted his lips, shrugging minutely, “These are my steps.”
“You can’t monopolize concrete stairs.”
“I can if I piss on them. Doubt you’d come near them then—”
“Anakin!” your scold dissolved into laughter.
You’d known Anakin for years. You were in college together now, but you met when you were children. Living next door most of your life, you spent a lot of time with the kid whose parents were never home. It became an effortless habit to invite him over, where the two of you would spend time together silently, whether it was to work on homework alongside one another or while he messed with his guitar, you listening to music in your earbuds, or movie nights. Your parents took pity on him, and you’d learned firsthand that Anakin wasn’t easy to love or get along with for the most part. However, they tried, and in no time he’d warmed up to them with enough family dinners.
He’d been your closest friend, and he was fiercely loyal. The memories of how reckless he’d been on your behalf were some of your least favorite: the bloody noses he’s gotten, the broken arm—one time he split your skateboard over someone’s back when they’d pushed you down as young teens. As you grew up alongside one another, you had a front row seat to watch how he altered himself. He dyed his hair, got all those piercings, and wore eyeliner for no other reason than dramatism.
Frightfully intense was another descriptor you’d use. Anakin felt your eyes on him as he drove you home from campus. “Sure are staring a lot for someone who can’t fight,” he muttered, and your lips curled in amusement at how he read your mind.
“You’re one to talk,” you replied, inclining in his direction to run your fingers through his hair. “You gonna keep the black and blue?”
Your nails sent chills down his spine, and he batted your hand away, “Quit touchin’ me. I’ll shave it off if you don’t stop grabbing at it like that.”
“I bet you’d still look good,” you said without thinking, turning your attention to your phone in your hand. Anakin lingered on that compliment, and pulled into his driveway.
“Alright, get out,” he ordered, gathering his stuff. The doors of this old, beat-up truck creaked as the two of you exited.
“You’re not gonna walk me to my door?” you teased, clutching your books to your chest. Rounding the car, he squinted at you.
“Don’t be a ninny.”
“You’re bossy today. What’s gotten your panties in a twist?”
Anakin’s large hands found your waist, pushing you in the direction of your house next door. You swallowed, but your mouth was dry, wide eyes staring at him. He didn’t seem to notice.
“Get your little ass inside, (y/n).”
“You stressed ‘cause of the party? Didn’t finish your engineering homework? I can help you, you know!”
“(y/n),” he said warningly, impatience setting in because of your idling. His expression was endearing to you, and you chuckled.
“Okay, okay.”
Since Anakin’s parents were never home, he had free range of the house, and in honor of Halloween, he wanted to trash the place with a party. Neither of you knew a lot of people, but once word got out of a Halloween party, it snowballed. As soon as you’d finished getting ready, you admired yourself in the mirror. You’d thrown together the costume out of anything you found in your closet, the subtle makeup holding the character together. Twirling, the white dress bore an uncanny resemblance to that one famous picture, not to mention flattered your figure.
“(y/n)!” your friend called you over from the porch, and your heels clicked against the pavement.
“Hey! So glad you could make it!”
“Of course! Anything for Anakin,” she responded so carelessly, your countenance flashed a furrowed brow. It dissolved into a smile, shaking your head at your reaction.
“Yeah… Yeah! Right?” You were surprised at how such a subtle comment caught you off guard, and your friend said nothing else as you entered. What could she want with your Anakin?
Compared to the cold weather outside, the inside was boiling. Bodies were pressed together, dancing to the pounding music. The bass shook the house, strobing lights confusing you. You identified that Anakin’s huge speakers from his studio had been moved from his room down to the living room, and it impressed you that he’d done it himself. It wasn’t like Anakin to accept help.
There was beer pong and a circle smoking a joint in the kitchen alongside a punch bowl that was mostly straight up vodka at this point. Since the girl on the porch, you didn’t see anybody you recognized. When two fingers poked into your sides, you jumped, startled. You whirled around, “Ani, I was looking for you—” you began to say, but cut yourself off at the sight.
A tall figure, dressed in black and a chest holster, long sleeves rolled up to the elbows, gloves, shirt tucked into pants… with a Ghostface mask. A fake knife twirling in his hand. Speechless, you stared, “Is that…?” you were about to ask Anakin if this was really his costume, when he reached up to take the mask off. Jeremy’s face met your gaze.
“It’s me!” He grinned at you, “What do you think?” Clearly, he wanted you to know he wore it for you, especially because of what Anakin had mentioned.
A disappointment hung in your chest at the fact he wasn’t Anakin. You mustered a weak smile. “Wow! You look great,” you responded, trying not to be rude. He did look hot, the outfit fit him great, the mask is a kink of yours, but something felt off. It was missing something. He sheathed the fake knife and took your hand in his free one.
“You too~” he purred, guiding you to twirl for him when he held your arm over your head. You did so, relaxing into it. “Marilyn Monroe?”
“Yes! Great guess.”
He inclined in your direction, “It’s the eye makeup that gave it away.”
“Thank you! I tried so hard.” Instinctively, you backed up a step.
It was hard to speak over the din of the room, but you two managed since he insisted on standing close to you.
That lingering unease was impossible to shake, and you questioned if you should be feeling this way about the guy you liked. Here he was, dressed better than you expected he could be, in this character no less, but Anakin occupied your thoughts. Part of you wanted Jeremy to put the mask back on.
“Have you seen Anakin? I can’t find him,”
Jeremy let you speak in his ear, and pulled back to shake his head. “No, I haven’t. Let’s look over here,” his hand stayed in yours, leading you through the crowd.
“Hold on, Jeremy, this is hard!” you referred to attempting to cut through the crowds. He merely shrugged at you.
“Dance through it!”
You had to admit, it was a smooth trick, because instead of looking for Anakin, you were now dancing with Jeremy.
It was packed tightly, and it was the perfect excuse for Jeremy to move in. Since it was fun, you allowed it. Within arm’s reach of each other, it quickly turned to pressing up against one another. The music took over, blaring, bleeding into your thoughts as you let it move your body for you, swaying with the beat. Effortlessly, Jeremy had your back to his chest, bunching up your skirt in his hands, guiding your hips to move against him. The act had butterflies erupting in your stomach, how he danced so fluidly betrayed the control he held over it, and it had your mind drifting to how else he could put it to use for you.
Much to your dismay, he’d discarded the Ghostface mask, but it’s not like you saw his face while you were grinding on him.
Anakin, who had been so wrapped up in getting his house ready for the onslaught of guests, didn’t have a costume, and didn’t care to buy one. It was one less thing on his to-do list. Jogging down his stairs with his guitar in hand, a stranger offered him a hit of a joint which he took, nodding to them in gratitude before continuing his search for you. You’d texted him you were here a while ago but he was occupied, knowing you’d busy yourself. He laid his guitar down onto the counter by the side door.
The people he’d asked hadn’t seen you or didn’t know who you were. Anakin wasn’t worried, but lit a cigarette anyway. It balanced in between his lips, and a random girl from the smoke circle offered a light, holding it up to him. He flashed her a quizzical look, but leaned in anyway, puffing to ignite the end, and pinching it in his fingers. On the table near her was a discarded Ghostface mask.
His chain rattled against his leg, striding through the crowds, gradually tightening together as he traveled further in. He looked over the bouncing heads, the music surging.
Jeremy was the first face he recognized, and then you, pressed up against him. His eyebrows pinched together, eyeing the two of you, noting how naturally you molded together. Anakin’s jaw clenched.
The instant Jeremy’s lips latched onto your neck, and you tilted your head to grant him the access, Anakin shot his hand up in the air. It was just his luck that Jeremy saw him before you did.
So Jeremy acknowledged him, having not realized what he’d just been caught doing, he muttered to you that he’ll be right back. He managed to squeeze through, leaving you to dance alone as he approached Anakin, who towered over everyone.
“Hey, what’s up, man? Lookin’ for (y/n)?” It was an expected question, considering Anakin and Jeremy never interacted outside of you.
Anakin pulled the cig from his mouth. “No, actually,” he replied over the music, slinging an arm around Jeremy’s shoulders to pull him further away from you. “Was looking for you. You’re strong, right?”
“I mean,” Jeremy gave himself a once over, “yeah. What do you need?”
“C’mere, man, someone passed out in the bushes, need you to help me carry him inside so I can sober him up.” As Anakin explained, he led Jeremy to the side door. To fill in the silences as they made their way through the sea of people, his curiosity got the better of him, “What’re you supposed to be, anyway?”
“Oh, uh, Ghostface. Can’t tell without the mask,” Jeremy answered with a chuckle in spite of himself, scratching the back of his head. “Total coincidence you mentioned him earlier.”
Yeah, total coincidence, Anakin thought, taking a drag from his cigarette as the wheels in his head turned. His lips held the cigarette as he grabbed hold of the Ghostface mask from the table as they passed by, stuffing it into his back pocket.
Awkward, Jeremy added, “‘Course, we just have to be quick ‘cause I wanna get back to—”
“To grinding on my friend?” Anakin finished for him, staring at him with raised brows while Jeremy sheepishly could not meet his intense gaze. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you back to the dance floor in no time,” He patted Jeremy’s chest once and detached from him. Eager to get this over with, Jeremy strode in front, heading out the side door.
Anakin lingered, puffing his cig to hear the crackle of paper. He held it in between his lips, and he flexed his hand to pop the joints. Deft fingers enclosed around the neck of his guitar he’d left on the counter, and followed Jeremy out.
“Hey, man, I think the guy left on his own,” Jeremy began to say, turning to face Anakin who had raised his electric guitar, and swung.
The body of the instrument shattered against Jeremy’s cheek, the sickening crack of bones sounding as the body slammed against the outside wall of the house, sliding down to streak the wood in red. Anakin, splattered with blood, tossed what was left of his guitar, held together by the wire strings, into the bushes.
No one was sober, and it was a Halloween party. Blood on the wall was not an uncommon decoration, nor was a seemingly dead body crumpled on the ground. Anakin knelt down, replacing the Ghostface mask back over Jeremy’s smashed-in head, the cowl concealing the deed.
Anakin blew smoke from his pursed lips, and put the cigarette out onto the mask’s forehead. He rejoined the party.
You’d gotten tired of waiting easily, and you escaped the dancing bodies. Not being much of a drinker didn’t stop you from making yourself a drink. Since the punch bowl was vodka, you rifled through Anakin’s fridge to grab cranberry juice, pouring it into your red solo cup to make the horrid taste of alcohol go down. Having been left alone, your nerves were getting to you, and you enlisted the help of liquid courage in order to face Jeremy again. Nothing was wrong, but since you were getting closer to him, that pit in your stomach grew at the thought of him asking to take you home. It wouldn’t be a stretch since the two of you danced so closely together, and it would’ve been in character from your experience with men. It wasn’t like you hadn't considered going home with Jeremy, you liked him, but you hoped he wouldn’t ask—you needed more time to get to know him.
Your brain had run away with you, guzzling down the drink to calm yourself. When a hand is wrapped around your waist to get your attention. Startled for a second time tonight, you assumed it was your dance partner, “Jeremy—!” Your hand braced yourself on his chest and came eye to chest with Anakin.
“John F. Kennedy,” he corrected like it was obvious. “I just had to keep my head on.”
Relieved to see your friend, you instantly relaxed, your expression softening to break into a grin. “So you just…” you gestured to him, his normal clothes splattered with red, “covered yourself in fake blood, Mr. President?”
Anakin shrugged, dragging you from the kitchen by your waist. “I wanted to match with you, Marilyn.”
“How so?”
“They boned.”
“John and Marilyn did not have an affair!” you replied incredulously, allowing him to lead you, not registering it when his large fingers splayed around the rim of the solo cup, plucking it from your hands to set it on the table that you passed by.
“Oh, c’mon,” he goaded, shaking his head with a frown. Heightening his voice to pitch light and airy, he sang the famous song, “Happy birthday~ Mr. President~” It made you giggle and hit his chest.
“Shut up!”
Anakin continued his trek, and you were grateful he kept his arm around you as the front door came into view. “Come on, I wanna go to your house for a second. It’s too much in here.”
“I shouldn’t leave,” you looked over his shoulder, finally remembering Jeremy who’d said he’d be back. An additional wave of anxiety washed over you, and you decided a break would be best. “Yeah, okay.”
Your hesitance followed by compliance was noted by your best friend, and when the two of you reached the porch, you were somewhat disappointed to not see your friend from earlier. An intrusive thought popped into your head that you wished she could’ve seen you and Anakin leaving together. The music leaked from his house, some remix of Katy Perry’s E.T.
“Did you make a playlist for this?”
“Yeah.”
“I showed you this song.”
“You want me to interrupt the music to tell everybody which songs you showed me?”
“It’d be nice to be credited.”
He scoffed. “It’s freezing out here, let’s just get inside.”
The alcohol kept you warm, however you hadn’t had enough to be too buzzed. “Is there a reason you’re avoiding your own Halloween party?”
Anakin had settled into your bed, tossing a ball up to catch it repeatedly. “It was too loud.”
You took this opportunity to fix your makeup in the mirror. “Where were you? When I got there I couldn’t find you.”
“Seemed like you found a way to occupy yourself.”
At the mention, you realized Jeremy must be looking for you. You’d only been here for a few minutes, but it was rude to keep him waiting. “Hey, we should get back soon.” Anakin’s expression shifted to something indecipherable, flashing furrowed brows when he cleared his throat. The makeup brush in your hand made a sound when you dropped your arm, frustrated with him. “Look, you don’t have to like him, I like him, and—”
“Where are your parents at?” Anakin interrupted you, and you lost your train of thought.
“Oh, they’re out tonight. Business trip somewhere on the east coast and gone for the weekend. I didn’t tell you?” The emotion that had coursed through you dissolved, and you went back to powdering subtle blush onto your cheeks. He tossed the ball up one last time, letting it fall and roll from his chest and he brought his fingers up to chew the sides of them. A single glance at him told you he was nervous about something. “What’s up, Ani? You wanna tell me what’s been getting you so worked up lately?” you spoke through your parted lips, focusing on re-applying your eyeliner.
He sighed hard through his nose. “Nothing, I’m just…” His hands came to grip his hair, tugging on it. It’s always been hard for Anakin to express himself verbally, and to make it easier you came over, kneeling at your bedside.
“What?” you encouraged, taking his hand in yours.
It was a quiet moment as he inhaled deeply, meeting your soft gaze.
He leaned in—you didn’t pull away—until his lips were on yours. It was tentative, and you felt his warm breath fan over you as you kissed him back, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. His palm cupped your cheek, tilting his head and intensifying the kiss.
It felt so good. So right. Your hand tangled in his black hair at the nape of his neck, and when his lips parted in surprise, on instinct your tongue invited itself in. It unlocked something within him because his tongue met yours with fervor, and his thick arm wrapped around your waist. Unable to get the contact he wanted, he pulled apart from you, cutting the string of saliva connecting you two. You panted as he ripped off his flannel, setting his boots down onto the ground to lean over and go for you again. Finally realizing what had just occurred, your hand shot out, halting him by his chest. Without heeding your warning, his hands handled your waist, pulling you to your feet as he stood. The action had you fluttering, but this was wrong.
“Wait, wait, Ani, wait—”
“See that’s the thing, I don’t want to wait anymore.” Since you would not give him your mouth, his lips latched onto your neck, rewriting whatever Jeremy had left there, sending tingles throughout your body. Weakly, you pressed your palm against him.
“Listen, Anakin, this isn’t right. I should get back because Jeremy’s waiting for me.”
That caught his attention, and he recoiled, hands squeezing your upper arms. “You wanna know what Jeremy’s doing right now? You wanna know?” he asked, anger shining through in his voice at being rejected, his firm grasp remaining on one of your arms to yank you along with him out of your room. Your bewildered countenance stained your face as he brought you to another window, showing you the side of his house. “Look out.” It didn’t make sense to you, his behavior. You faced him, attempting to put a calming hand on him but instead he jerked you in the direction of the window, jamming his finger against the glass. “Look. Now.”
Unappreciative of the way he treated you, you did as he requested to get this over with. At first, you saw nothing, “I don’t see anything…” until a body on the ground came into focus from behind some foliage, a Ghostface mask, and a sense of worry overtook you. “Oh, my God, he’s passed out,” you exhaled, moving to leave the house, “I have to go help him.”
Anakin stepped in front of you.
Your frown hardened, “What?”
“I can’t let you do that, (y/n).”
“You’re being weird, he could be hurt. I need to go see him. There’s…” You pivoted your head, hair falling over your shoulder from the motion, and once your gaze settled onto the streak of red on the wall, panic replaced worry. “Blood on the wall… Anakin! There’s blood on the wall!” You turned to him, pushing at his shoulders when your fingers came into contact with something cold and wet.
Your friend was silent.
You pulled your hands from him, examining the blood on your trembling hands.
Stomach dropping, you stepped back from him. Your head spinning so fast you dizzied, you braced yourself on the window behind you. He knew and he didn’t tell you that Jeremy was hurt. Was he the one that did that to Jeremy? He couldn’t have. Could he? He’d always been protective. Did he knock him out? What reason could he have?
It was not the fact it was plausible that scared you. What scared you was the fact there was blood on your hands from touching him.
It was not fake.
It had to be Jeremy’s.
You could be next for knowing.
He didn’t take his eyes off of you, and you crept against the wall slowly, staying as far away from him as possible.
“(y/n),” he said warningly, trained on the route you could be taking.
“I need to go.” You watched his tongue poke out to moisten his lips, and you went for the exit.
“(y/n)!” His arms wrapped around your torso, lifting you from the floor as you thrashed in his grip.
“Let me go! Let me go!”
“Let me explain!”
“No!” Your body was moving for you out of fear, and when he set you down you tried to elbow him. Anakin was much larger than you, and much stronger. He maneuvered you to face him, and allowed you to bang your hands against his chest. “You—! I can’t believe you!”
“I know, I know, just stop. Stop!”
“No!” Your heel came down hard on the top of his foot, and he cried out, grabbing hold of it while you fled. Unfortunately more athletically inclined, Anakin swooped in, cutting your path off to the stairs. You screamed, passing him before he could clutch you.
“(y/n)! Come here!” His heavy steps thundered after you as you dove for your room, whirling around to slam the door when his hand shot out to catch it before it closed. You shoved as hard as you could but he kept it open, wedging it open. “Don’t run away from me, sweetheart, you know how much I like it.”
You knit your eyebrows together, incredulously questioning, “You’re joking at a time like this?” Taking advantage of your guard down, he grabbed your wrist, and like a little doll, he tugged you over to lock the other one in his harsh hold. “Hey!”
“I can’t let you leave,” Anakin told you, a solemn lilt to his voice and your first thought was how he was going to hurt you too.
Somehow, you still believed he wouldn’t be capable of that.
“Ani, Ani, please,” you pleaded. “Before you do anything or say anything, please hear me when I say I love you, I love you and I mean it, and I can help you, please just don’t—”
“I know, I know,” Anakin rolled his eyes as he backed you up, your knees hitting the side of your bed, tripping over it and he pinned you there. A much more sinister assumption replaced your old one. Your wide eyes stared up at him as he straddled you and locked your hands over your head. “God, (y/n), do you have any idea how fucking sexy it is when you beg like that?”
Your mouth fell open at how he spoke to you, “What are you talking about?”
“Fuck, baby,” he leaned down, lips connecting to your jaw and you jerked away. It only gave him more access to your neck, peppering kisses along the column.
“Stop, stop, Anakin, don’t do this.”
“Would you rather I keep chasing you?” he reproached and that familiar heat pooled in between your legs. It was like your body recognized this as some sort of sexual act, whereas your brain was in a frenzy at the unsafety.
“Did you hurt Jeremy? You can tell me,” you told him, lips quivering as you fought tears. You couldn’t cry right now. Not in front of him.
“Aw, I got blood all over your pretty dress,” he cooed, eyeing you up generously. One of the sleeves had fallen off your shoulders. “You know a white dress like this makes you look like a little virgin,” he mused, a crooked grin adorning his lips.
“I know you defend me. Did Jeremy do something? Tell me, Anakin!”
“Jeremy didn’t do a damn thing,” he told you, meeting your gaze as you were silenced. “Except think he could put his hands on you.”
“You’re—!” you wiggled underneath him, attempting to worm your way out of his hold, “— crazy!” He dodged your head from butting him, and you managed to roll the two of you to the side and off your bed. Landing on top of him, knocking the wind from him, you scrambled up. Somehow, you were able to slip your hands from his frantic latchings and beelined for the stairs. You skipped some, and landing funny on the floor, you regained your footing as he called after you. He wasn’t far behind, and you weren’t going to get to the front door in time. You opted to hide. In a dark room, you slid behind a door, and your heavy breathing would give you away if you didn’t calm it.
His voice raised to ensure you’d hear him. “You don’t feel safe, angel? Not even with me?” he grinned sinisterly as he searched his surroundings.
You prayed.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you forced yourself to draw in a slow deep inhale.
Heavy boots echoed.
“Got to admit, this is turning me on a little bit,” he mused, that familiar playful tone controlling you like always, gasping to speak before you realized you were giving away your position. Frozen in place, you couldn’t bring your feet to move. Silence from him indicated he hadn’t heard you, and you thanked your lucky stars.
Anakin’s head snapped in your direction at the noise of your breath, and picked up a stray item from the kitchen table. He’d pinpointed you were somewhere in corridor that connected rooms, and he pressed himself against the wall by that doorway. Glancing inside, he tossed the item across and hid.
The sound told you he’d passed by the open door you were concealed behind. Gently, you removed your heels, your feet against the tile as quiet as a field mouse as you crept around to see he wasn’t in the room where the noise was made. You dashed for the front door, and when you passed the doorway, a large hand clapped around your mouth, muffling your scream as he locked you in his embrace.
“Hey, shh, shh,” he soothed, slamming your back against the wall with his palm at your upper chest and shoulder. Fighting for oxygen, you clawed at his fingers. “Listen to me, baby, listen,” Anakin could see how dilated your pupils were in your wide eyes, pleading to him to release you as you futilely fought against him for air. The way he stalked you, caught you, and stared at you like you were his prey had your heart beating so fast you could pass out. The notion distracted you from doing anything effective against him. “I’m not going to hurt you, (y/n), and I’ll let go if you promise to behave.”
Lashes fluttered as you neared your end, vision blurring, driving you to nod furiously at him. You were released and you fell against him, his towering frame supporting you as you gasped for air. As you recovered, Anakin tongued the inside of his cheek, pinching your jaw to force you to look at him. Lazily, you allowed him, lightheaded. “Now that I’ve got your attention, pretty girl, I need you to hear this. Did you mean it back there? When you said you loved me?”
He clenched his teeth, and you lingered on his lips, reminiscing on the kiss you’d shared with him and the influence it had over you. It was no secret you were attracted to him, you loved him as a friend, and you got jealous when the girl on the porch talked about him.
Impatience got the better of him, and he jostled you to wake you from your trance, “Answer me, princess.”
The way he was speaking to you, the thrill of the chase you’d just endured—it had the hairs at the back of your neck standing as a chill ran up your spine. “Mhm,” you nodded at him.
“You liked kissing me.” It was a statement.
You nodded anyway.
“You kissed me back.”
You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, shame setting in at the truth he made you face.
“What else did you want to do?”
Why were there tears pricking the corner of your eyes?
“None of that, (y/n), I’d like the waterworks later.”
“I wanted to keep kissing you,” you replied reluctantly, knowing he’d sense it if you lied.
“Yeah, I know,” he slumped in place, rolling his eyes. When he straightened, his hands slammed at the sides of your head, startling you. “I don’t always like it when you play hard-to-get,” he warned.
Opening your mouth to ask what he meant by that, you listened to your better judgement. “I wanted you to touch me.”
This pleased him, perking up with interest. “Where?”
Apprehension claimed you, eyebrows knitted together in worry. “I don’t know,” you told him with a hint of incredulousness, afraid of the point he was traveling towards.
“You wanted me to touch your pussy, right?”
His harsh words and lack of romance made you flinch, but hearing him say it at all sent heat pooling in between your legs.
“Say it, (y/n), and I might just give it to you.”
“I don’t want it!”
He grabbed hold of your upper arms, circling you around him, and you arched away. “You’re lying.” You were never good at lying to Anakin.
Shying away, you cried, “Fine! Yes! I wanted you to touch me like that!” You squeezed your eyes shut as your words grew bolder, “I wanted your hands on me, Anakin, I always have. I like it when you touch my waist,” you looked at him, “and I liked it the one time you smacked my ass even though I threatened you afterwards!” The backs of your hands swept his off your arms. “And I liked your tongue in my mouth,” you stepped to him, backing him up, “and I’ve touched myself imagining it was your hands and your mouth and your dick getting me off!”
That was all Anakin needed to hear because with lust-blown eyes he clutched onto you, drawing you back to his lips, reconnecting to finish what you two started earlier. You accepted it, accepted him, fisting his shirt to press him nearer. He backed you against the kitchen table, parting your lips with his to explore your mouth with his tongue again. This kiss was different. It was hard, demanding, and unapologetic. His writhing tongue inside of you was desperate, and you matched his enthusiasm. When you sucked on it, he slowed out of curiosity, and you bobbed your head as if you were giving him oral. The moan that emitted from him shot straight down to your cunt. His hand came to tangle in your hair, tugging you off him with a sting of your scalp.
“It’s hot when you fight back, you know. I wouldn’t mind a little challenge.” A breathless chuckle escaped him as he spoke, and you hit his chest at the suggestion. “Go on,” panting, he stepped back, gesturing to the stairs. “Be a good girl and run along now.” When you stared him down in disbelief, he spun you to face the steps, smacking your ass to get his sincerity across.
You jumped on the opportunity, dashing for the stairs. You were not granted a head start when he came barreling after you, a hair’s width away from you up the steps. Squealing in excitement from the thrill he put in your belly, he laughed at you, chasing you up, “It’s so hot when you run from me.” Inexplicably, it worsened the desire for him, facing him when you reached your bedroom doorway. Anakin didn’t slow, practically running into you and scooping you up. Your back hit the wall, and his hands bunched up in the skirt of your dress, riding it up as he settled it around your waist. When you gasped, he dove in, swallowing your surprised sounds as he lapped at your open mouth.
You cupped the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in the soft hair there and tugging when his tongue slid against yours in a way you liked. He moaned for you, senses heightened from the excitement. Breaking the kiss, he stooped to be eye level, his fingers rifling underneath your skirt, and ignoring your squirm, he asked, “You think I didn’t notice you whoring yourself out to everyone but me?” He bit his plump bottom lip as he wrapped his digits in the strings of your panties. On instinct your mouth fell open, scrambling to grab at his arms. “Huh?” He wanted you to answer, goading you, “You wore these for someone else, right?” he provoked, tugging until you heard the thin strap snap apart. It made him scoff. “Yeah, I know you did. You wanted precious little Jeremy to get in your pants tonight, isn’t that right?” he mocked the name, and he got on his knees in front of you, hiking up your dress around your waist again. “I’ll get you ready for him,” he told you as your hands braced on his shoulders. There was an undertone in his voice that conveyed something more sinister. You didn’t have time to contemplate it when his mouth latched onto the folds of your pussy. Warm spit coated your insides that he greedily pet with his desperate tongue.
In your experience, it wasn’t often that a man just dove in headfirst, but you’d had plenty of anticipation that built a need up within you. Anakin was quick to comment on it after he moaned into you and vibrated you with his voice, “Fuck, baby, fuck. Already so wet for me, huh? I can’t believe what a freak you are.”
You keened in response, desperately grasping onto the windowsill next to you for purchase as he made your legs shake, the tip of his nose poking into your clit as he devoured you. There was no doubt in your mind you were a freak, getting turned on by the chase, and now the predator was on his knees for you. The eye contact he made over your mound drove you crazy, your hand now finding a place at the back of his head, stroking through his hair to grip it which earned you his hum of approval. As if to shut him up, you pressed him further into you. A flash of mischief in his eyes told you he was into your actions.
He flattened his tongue, drawing from the bottom to the top, wiggling it against your clit and you trembled. You’ve never had your pussy eaten out like this before, and it made you wonder where he picked this up… How long had he been waiting to do this to you?
Anakin noted how your gaze grew hazy, his large hand—panties hanging from the webbing—came to grip your chin to warn you, and patted your cheek hard. “Pay attention to me, princess,” he spoke against you, sucking hard on your sensitive bud. The motion had your face stinging slightly, but it was the shock of it that widened your eyes. “Don’t look so surprised,” your gaze trailed from his fingers to the panties that hung from them. “I want everything from you.”
Your face twisted in pleasure as he returned to eating you out like his life depended on it. The way his tongue swirled and jabbed inside of you had your back arching and the coil in your belly wound tight. Both hands came to your thighs, gripping hard to indent the porcelain flesh, sensing your proximity to your release. Your fist in his hair clenched, and he stuck his tongue as far as he could inside, nuzzling your bud with his nose again. “I’m-I’m going to… if you keep—” Your sentences couldn’t form, and you cried out in frustration when he pulled away from you completely, your slick shining on his face.
“Oh, no, you’re not,” he replied so derisively, straightening up, ripping your chances of an orgasm away from you. “First time I’m gonna make you cum, I’m gonna make you cum on my cock. I’ve waited too damn long for this,” His strong hands slid up to squeeze your hips, and he pressed your wet heat against his erection in his jeans, the denim dampening with your secretion. It was easier to grind into you that way. “You were so scared earlier, what happened?”
The reminder had your hands bunching up in his shirt, weakly pushing at him. He pressed on. “C’mon, baby, feel it. Feel what you’ve done to me. Such a tease, making me chase after you like that.” You pivoted your head away, gasping when the ache inside you dulled with a splendid swipe of your clit against his hard cock.
You’d seen Anakin naked before, but you’d never seen him hard. The thought had you wiggling your hips against him, anxious to egg him on.
“That’s my girl,” he praised. “I’m desperate to hear that pretty voice of yours. Tell me what you want. You want my cock?”
You, desperate for anything, nodded your head. Again, he forced you to look at him, another firm pat on your cheek. “Answer me, brat.”
“Yes!”
“Yes, what?”
“What? Am I supposed to say ‘please’?”
His rut slowed, snatching up your wrists to direct your hands to his jeans. “Go on.”
Obediently, despite glaring at him, you undid his button and zipper. You were angry at him for prolonging your release, for causing you such distress, and for refusing to fix it for you until you begged for it. You tugged down his pants and boxers until just his member was free. Seeing it in it’s erected glory had a pain shoot through you from the mere anticipation of it burying inside of you, your eyes widened at the sight, a demand emitting from you, “Just fuck me already!” You’d barely finished speaking before he ripped the front of your dress down, freeing your tits. He spun you to the side, pressing your bare chest against the cold of the window. “What are you—?” The temperature perked your nipples up painfully, and when he slid his cock inside, your head bumped against the glass.
At first he’d rocked about half of himself in, gradually adding more until he bottomed out, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “You’re so big, Ani,” you purred, hot breath fogging up the window.
“I know. A shame you didn’t hop on my dick sooner, yeah?”
The cockiness had you breathlessly scoffing, but when his pace increased, things were suddenly not so funny anymore. Your mind was bursting with things more important than the fact you were against a window where anyone could see you if they simply looked up. You could still hear the music from Anakin’s house, the multicolored lights pouring through and staining the pavement. You were called back to the present by the way your pussy slurped him up. “Fuck, Anakin!”
“Yeah, that’s it, baby. I like my name on your lips,” he purred, snapping his hips against your ass. His shirt got in the way so he picked up the hem to tuck in between his teeth, watching how his member was swallowed up by your greedy cunt.
Cock drunk, you couldn’t stay up, leaning into the window until what was left of your red lipstick stained the glass. A familiar face exited the house from the porch, and you recognized it to be your friend that had made you realize your jealousy earlier. At the risk someone would see you like this, you reached back weakly. “Ani! Ani, wait, someone could see!”
He merely continued, railing into you harder. You cried out, enraptured with how he filled you completely. As if she could hear you, the girl looked up and locked eyes with your lust blown gaze. She was suspended in disbelief, seeing Anakin fucking into you. Anakin, who took notice of this, merely grinned biting his t-shirt, and waved flirtatiously at her. The interaction had your wet heat dripping. He spat out the fabric, and clapped a hand over your throat to bring you away from the window, redirecting you. He pulled out to spin you, pinning your back to your bed and picking up your legs to hover as he re-entered you. The new position made your eyes roll into the back of your head, his hand coming to wrap around your neck again. “Did you like that? Huh? Could feel you clenching down on me like a vice.”
You whined, begging for a release.
“I’m so into you, (y/n), I’ve always been into you. You’re so fucking hot,” His fingers dug into your hip painfully, watching your tits bounce with his thrusts. You lazily reached out to him, running your claws down his abdomen taught with his movements. “I’ve gotta tell you another secret.”
He was taking advantage of how silent you were, unable to form words like a dumb whore speared on his cock. “You were right, they were crimes of passion. All of them.” You furrowed your brows at him quizzically, mouth having fallen open to emit any sinful sounds he dragged from you with the scrape of his dick petting your insides. “Every single one. Passion. Passion for you.”
“What are you talking about, Ani?” Finally you’d sobered up enough to say something.
“I took Jeremy out back, and I bashed his fucking head in.” An evil glint flashed in Anakin’s eyes, thrill shooting through him as you stuttered. “You’ve got shit taste in friends, you know that?” Did he mean in Jeremy or in him?
He killed him. Had he really just admitted that to you?
“If this is,” Anakin adjusted his hips, the new angle causing your voice to crack, “is one of your jokes… Anakin… it’s not funny.”
“No joke, sweet girl, it’s me.” I’m the killer, the unsaid words hung in the air for a moment before you threw your head back, unable to respond appropriately when he increased his pace, fucking you like a little toy after he’d just confessed his darkest secret.
“Anakin!” you cried out, and he kept you pinned down by your throat, squeezing while his other covered your mouth again so he could speak.
“I never did like Jeremy, I’m surprised you didn’t see it coming. How I’ve been protecting you.” Wide eyes met gaze over his hand, your body was not one with your mind because it still reacted to Anakin positively, your orgasm building and nearing. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it. I do it for you, you know.”
Your fingers clutched onto the sheets, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes again from the overwhelming emotions. You shouldn’t like this, but you do.
“I can feel how wet you are for me. So fucking filthy, I can’t believe you’re into this. I was right about you being a little whore.”
Futilely, you moaned against his hand, so his fingers brushed over your lips, dipping into your mouth. Obediently, you sucked on them, swirling your tongue around them to taste something metallic. His hazy gaze on you told you he’d had blood on his hands, and you’d done something to him by cleaning them off for him. “How’s he taste, baby?” he cooed. Once he was satisfied you wouldn’t talk back, he removed them for you, running down your chest to squeeze at your breast, smacking it. It moved downwards until it reached in between you two, rubbing circles into your clit. “Leading me on the way you did. Touching me, letting me touch you. All those late night conversations about kinks and who or what you were into. You had to know I watched you change. Why else would you change in front of your stupid bedroom window?”
At the mention, your hand grew a mind of its own, coming up to slap him across the face for spying—as if that was the worst thing he’s done. “You’re so gross!” He moistened his lips, coming to look back at you with a newfound vigor.
“Feisty…” he groaned, rolling into you to hit that spongy spot inside of you with his tip.
You writhed, jerking your head to the side to squeeze your eyes shut.
“You’re close, huh? I can feel you fluttering. You feel better than I ever imagined,” he breathed, groaning low in his throat after he let himself really cherish you. “These hands have done unspeakable things. Strangled the life out of people, and here you are, letting them wrap around you so trustingly.” His finger came from your neck to your jaw, guiding you to look at him. “You trust me, right? Baby?”
“Just let me come, please, Ani, please just let me cum…”
You felt it in your legs first, how they trembled when your high crashed through you. It traveled throughout your whole body, seeing stars as you thrashed involuntarily, clenching down on him hard without warning. It felt so damn good, Anakin fucked you through it, tipping over the edge himself and spilling inside of you while you were panting underneath him. You threw your arm over your eyes, lip quivering from the overstimulation. He leaned over, chest to chest as he rocked into you lazily, his finish oozing from your entrance.
His face buried into your neck, hands caressing your body, massaging you as the last remnants of your orgasm passed through you. Pleasant tingles calmed you as his kisses pressed against your jawline and temple. “You wanna go again?”
“Go again?” you parroted.
He stayed sheathed inside you, the feeling bringing you both comfort, humming in confirmation to your question.
