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wickedwitchofthegalaxy · 1 month

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The Cost of a Nights Release

Pairing: Anakin(CloneWars)XFemPadawan!reader

Warnings~ NSFW 18+, Minors DNI, DEAD DOVE🕊️, Non-Con, power imbalance, emotional manipulation, degradation, toxic dynamics, praise, choking/rough handling, face slapping, forced restraint, rough/violent sex, dirty talking

Word count: 5.9K

Summary: Anakin seethed with rage; all day he had watched as Padmé flirted with and kissed Senator Clovis’s ass. She had tried to explain the necessity of getting close for the mission, but he had never anticipated her pushing him away. After Anakin’s confrontation with Clovis, Padmé asked for space, fueling his anger further. "Space?" He fumed, burning with anger. "I'll show her space."

This is a tale of twisted desire, where a brief moment of hope for a Padawan in training is quickly extinguished by the raw, jealousy-induced needs of an enraged Anakin Skywalker. It’s a story that explores the fine line between fear and thrill.

Notes: This story contains dark and potentially triggering content, including explicit non-consensual themes. Reader discretion is advised❗️

This is a request from the bestie @killervampyr I hope it meets every expectation 🫶🏻

Banner at the end by @cafekitsune !

Enjoy🖤

“Oh please, they’re just trying to make it seem better than it is," you retort to your two best friends who are seated across from you at your favorite hangout spot. Their dual disbelieving stares convey their thoughts.

“Yeah, loud music, sexy guys, unlimited drinks, spice, and fun are soooo overrated." One remarks while the other nods in agreement.

"It’s underground, Y/N. Do you know what that means? Only a few people know about this place, it’s very V.I.P."

Your eyes roll dramatically as you take a long drink. Sure, you wanted to go out and let yourself relax for one night, but the Academy didn’t allow slip-ups from their Padawan’s in training, or as your friends would put it, they didn’t allow fun.

"I highly doubt that it’s V.I.P since the two of you know about it." You shoot back, a smile playing on your lips as their faces mirror each other in exasperation.

"Listen to me!" One of them interjects, her eyes pleading for your full attention.

"I got told by someone who was personally invited. They said there was a password to get in and everything. What place do you know requires a password just to get through the front door?" Her raised eyebrow demands a response, silently challenging you. She wasn’t wrong—you knew of no other place that required a password. Granted, you hadn’t been to any of the clubs here on Coruscant, but neither had your two friends, as far as you knew.

"No, you listen to me. If we get caught, we’re done—finished. Back to our families as disappointments. Do you really want to stand before the council and explain why you just had to go to this club?" You questioned both of them, your voice edged with certainty and seriousness.

"You want to risk everything we’ve been working for, for what? One night of possible fun?"

Your friends remained unfazed. One of them spoke up with a sly grin,

“Ye of little faith… I have a plan.” Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she continued,

“If we leave after the last training session of the day, we’ll have thirty minutes to get ready. If we skip chow and skip our showers tonight, we’ve got a full two hours to party.”

You frown, eyebrows furrowing as you contemplate her words.

“It only takes fifteen minutes to drive to the underground from our dorms, and I’ve got Ahsoka covering for us at chow. It’s literally foolproof.”

Her hands moved animatedly as she spoke, emphasizing the brilliance of her scheme.

Well, shit,

You cursed to yourself.

This isn't a bad plan.

For the past five weeks, you’d been driving yourself—and everyone else—crazy by being Miss “Goody Two-Shoes.” This might be your best chance to finally catch a break and leave the academics behind for a few hours.

As if your friends could read your thoughts, they exchanged knowing smiles, already anticipating your agreement.

"If we do this—" Your words were cut off by their squeals of excitement as they grasped each other's hands. They looked like two little girls who had convinced each other’s parents that they were both staying the night at the other’s house.

"IF we do this, we have to be back by 10:30. We can't risk getting caught," Reaching for a napkin to wipe the grease from the sandwich you had just finished, you smile. Despite your attempts to quell it, enthusiasm bubbles in your stomach as your friends continue to chatter about what they would wear and the guys that would be there. Your mind wandered, envisioning the possibilities of the night ahead.

You had been wanting- No, craving some adventure.

This could be fun,

You think, allowing yourself to entertain the idea of letting loose again.

Maybe this is what I've been needing after those grueling hours of nonstop training. It’s like a reward.

Your gaze settles on your friends, their animated discussions about the future bringing a small smile to your lips.

~~~~~~~

The darkness of the night cloaks your movements as the three of you venture into the underground, your footsteps echoing in the quiet streets. You had taken your friends pod most of the way before deciding to walk the rest, your friends insisting it would “keep a low profile.” You tried reassuring them that no one would recognize you three this far down,

“Especially if we die down here,” You mumbled playfully as you took your friend’s arm into yours. The neon lights of storefronts flicker in the distance, casting an otherworldly glow that dances across your faces, illuminating the thrill that courses through you.

As you slip through the labyrinthine alleys of Coruscants underground, the anticipation hangs heavy in the air, a palpable tension that binds you three together as you all enter the now busy streets.

"It feels like we're in a holofilm!" One of your friends speaks up from your left, her voice tinges with excitement as she gazes up at the towering structures that loom overhead. Her tan arm snakes into yours, both of your arms protectively intertwined, on either side, by your two friends, as she takes a moment to continue to stare straight up at the large buildings.

"Only better," You chime in, your own excitement dancing in your belly as the three of you strut forward. Amidst a whirlwind of thoughts, your eyes dart around, taking in all the underground city’s night-life.

"Can you believe we're actually doing this?" The same friend on your left murmurs, their voice barely above a whisper now as you draw closer to your destination.

"Believe it." The other on the right replies, her tone filled with determination as she squeezes her arm tightly around yours.

You wished you could be half as confident as she was about this situation. Your outfit was too tight and barely left you room to breathe and the makeup that caked your face left you feeling like you needed to stretch your face out. Your body was tense and unsure, understandably so, as your friend's pace came to a stop, facing a non-descriptive metal business window.

"This is it!" She whispered excitedly, bouncing and shaking her arm in yours.

You let out a forced chuckle, looking at the grey, jagged metal surface.

"This can’t be it," you try to reason,

"What was the address again?"

"Shhh!"

Your friend retorts, leaning forward and tapping on the closed window.

The metallic surface remains unyielding under your friend's tentative taps for several seconds. You exchanged uncertain glances with your companions, the weight of doubt settling in the surrounding air.

Surprisingly, a small cutout on the metal surface slides open with a gross grinding sound, revealing a pair of yellow eyes peering out from the window.

"Password?" A gravelly voice demanded.

Your friend leans in closer and recites the password she had obtained through her “connections” with a hushed tone.

The eyes of the man scrutinize you three for a moment longer before the window slides shut.

With a soft creak, a door hidden beside the large window swings open, revealing a dimly lit corridor beyond. Your pulse quickens as you hear a light beat of bass echoing from inside faintly playing in the foreground. You trade eager glances with your friends, the heat of the unknown pulling you three forward.

The pulsating rhythm of the music reverberates through the crowded club, your senses on high alert as you navigate through the throng of dancers. The dimly lit space is alive with energy, a kaleidoscope of swirling lights and shifting shadows that dance across the walls. The air is hot with the mingling scents of sweat, alcohol, and spice; It’s almost overwhelming.

You and your friends weave through the swirling sea of bodies, the flashing lights of the club casting patterns all across the room. Your friend offers to get drinks and, with a reassuring smile, she disappears into the crowd, leaving you to exchange a glance with your other friend, both of you feeling the weight of the unfamiliar situation. Moments later, she returns with a tray of drinks, her face alight with anticipation as she raises her glass in a toast.

"Tonight will be yet another night we'll never forget,"

she declares, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes.

"And when it does, please do remember, this was all my idea."

Bright smiles and laughter erupt as you each take a drink, the liquid burning your throat with a heady warmth that spreads quickly through you.

~~~~

"I'm getting another drink!" You yelled to your friends over the music, gesturing towards the bar. They nodded, still engrossed in their dancing. A lightness filled your chest, and your head spun with the thrill of the night; it felt freeing.

Why hadn’t I done this sooner?

A sense of euphoria washes over you as you traverse your way through the thrall of dancing people, the colorful rays of lights cast shifting shadows across the dance floor, guiding you like a beacon to the bar. The bartender quickly addresses you and places a drink into your hand. You hadn't allowed yourself to be carefree and young in what felt like forever, but the liquor's effects quickly reminded you of those old habits.

Weaving your way back through the packed club, your heart rate peaks as you collide with someone, your drink splattering in a messy cascade. You're flooded with embarrassment as you look up, only to realize you're locked in the unwavering stare of Anakin Skywalker.

Shit

Your senses rush back to you with a snap as the atmosphere around you shifts into immediate regret. Your mind pushes and pulls, desperately searching for words to salvage the moment, to make being in this club seem even remotely acceptable. Perhaps he won’t recognize you, your interactions with him were confined to brief encounters during sparring sessions and occasional glimpses. You fumble through your apologies, catching a faint twitch at the corner of his lips, a glimmer of amusement in his eye.

"Well, well, well," His voice rings out with a hint of mockery, his scrutinizing feels like a physical weight; a heavy hand pressing down on your shoulders, making you small.

“Tonight just isn’t your night, is it, Y/N?”

Your mind erupts with blaring alarms. Your name echos in your mind, a lurching panic seizing hold of your chest.

He knows your name.

You realize the precariousness of your situation—caught by The Chosen One, a Jedi Knight whose authority can crush your dreams with the faintest whisper.

"I-I didn't mean to." You stuttered, your voice faltering under his presence.

"Please, let me clean that off." Your voice choked with fear as you instinctively reach out, your hands tremble as you attempt to wipe the spilled liquid off his dress shirt.

Your face must have been showing all of your anxious thoughts because Anakin's smirk widens, his eyes narrowing with a dark hunger that sets your nerves on edge.

"How intriguing."

Your stomach churns at his words—did you hear him correctly? You feel your drunken daze rapidly fading. The music was starting to become obnoxiously loud and the flashing lights were suddenly nauseating.

"Listen—" You start, attempting to conjure an excuse but he swiftly cuts you off.

“You’re quite clumsy,” His gaze briefly flicks down to the mess of liquid on his shirt then back up to you,

“And you can't seem to stay out of trouble, can you?" His tone mirrors the smirk that plays on his lips until he leans in closer and his voice becomes stern and calculating,

“Lucky for you, I'm feeling... generous tonight."

Drawing you closer, his fingertips trail along the contours of your arm, goosebumps immediately rise under his touch. He feels cold, the kind of cold that left you shivering for hours after you were somewhere warm, like his touch was corrupting every part of you that remained pure. It clings to you, a spectral presence that defies the warmth of sanctuary. Everything spins too fast for your brain to process as his next words have a shutter leaving your parted lips,

“Perhaps this is fate giving me a chance to indulge." He suggests, his voice dripping with a venomous mixture. Rough fingers trace your arm, a tantalizing rhythm of up and down that your eyes refuse to draw away from.

Up and down.

"And I have a feeling you'll find my generosity quite... satisfying."

Your head, inches forward as if tethered to invisible strings, leaning into his voice. A marionette in the hands of its puppeteer, swept along by some force you can't fight against.

Deny him, and risk the ire of the council, their judgment a literal guillotine blade that hangs over your head.

Accept his proposition, and what then?

Two choices, stark and unforgiving, bear down on you like twin specters of fate.

The vulnerability of your situation leaves your heart racing, intoxicated by the moment's spell. His touch, simultaneously comforting and demanding, anchors you to the present moment even as it threatens to suffocate you.

Of course you found him attractive, this is Anakin Skywalker— a name whispered in awe and reverence by all who know it, a figure whose very aura commands attention.

Every Padawan learns the bittersweet lesson of detachment. They are taught to guard their hearts against the siren call of desire, for ‘attachment leads only to suffering’. Yet, despite the solemn warnings, one name lingers in the minds of every young initiate: Anakin Skywalker. His legend looms large over the Temple; hope and temptation in equal measure. The decision wasn't difficult, yet your lips faltered.

"I can see the gears turning in that head of yours. You're scheming, aren't you little one?”

His voice pierced through the clamor in your mind and the roaring party that surrounded you, he sounded half way annoyed.

“Come on, you can’t seriously be thinking that there’s any other option than to accept my offer. My generous offer, might I add.”

Two deep pools of blue obsidian, hold you captive as his touch trails from your arms to your hands, taking them in his.

He was right; you didn’t have a choice.

Your mind quickly became more grounded as he led you, brushing against dancing people as you passed.

Reaching the edge of the crowd, you lock eyes with your friends. The pair went to walk towards you before seeing who was guiding you and stopped in their tracks, the mutual look of shock telling you everything they were thinking. You give them a small wave with a reassuring smile to tell them to calm down, and that you had this under control-for now. Before you can see their responses, you walk through a doorway that goes to another part of the club. Moving through the doorway, the atmosphere shifted instantly.

In contrast to the lively atmosphere of the club, the corridor exuded a subtle scent, sweet and light, as if not many people had access to this section. The hallways stretched endlessly, bathed in a rich, velvety red. Tinted doors lined the wide corridor where laughter and various noises were muffled as you passed. Your eyes glanced from side to side as you progressed, not able to see through the dark tint and leaving you curious of what lay behind them.

Each breath fills your lungs with a tantalizing fragrance. The delicate scent enveloped you like a seductive haze as you followed the tall Jedi. His back, strong and imposing, triggers a flurry of conflicting thoughts in your mind. You're torn between resentment about the situation he's placed you in and an inexplicable fascination with it.

He continues, leading you till he approaches one of the blacked-out doors, opening it with a quick wave of his hand. Stepping inside, you enter a realm of luxury reserved for the privileged few. The room is adorned with plush furnishings arranged in intimate clusters, each occupied by elegantly attired guests. The room buzzed with activity, the patrons too absorbed in their indulgences to spare a glance. The air was thick with smoke and the murmur of conversation, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses and laughter. His voice rises above the commotion of the room as you two venture forward,

“Get out,” He encircles an arm around your waist as he turns toward you, placing his other on your hip. His words pierced the din the same way they had moments earlier, silencing the surrounding noise as if by magic.

“Find another place to lose yourselves,”

The abrupt silence of voices echoes louder than the thumping bass of the music. His eyes look over your face, trailing down from your eyes to your lips. Every part of this situation was a new level of torrential rush, especially the part where every person got up and left without a word. The action made you realize just the amount of control and power he held. You watched as the crowd hurried toward the door, turning back to see Anakin’s eyes hadn’t left you.

As the last stragglers fled, leaving you unattended with him in the dimly lit room. His gaze remains fixed on you, a predator assessing its prey. He was completely relaxed yet his grip on your hips would tighten like he was trying to control himself. He was growing impatient, he wanted to act out and he had found the perfect solution.

The door closes with a small click as his hands immediately lift you off the ground. Your hands shoot to his shoulders for balance as your back presses against the smooth wall. A tiny shutter leaves your lips from the sudden movement, but you react with your legs wrapping around him. One of his hands cups the curve of your waist, his fingers digging into the arch of your back, while the other keeps your thigh in place on his side.

“Master Skywalker, is this really-“

Smack

His hand had left your waist and rudely cut you off. A white flash of heat makes your cheek burn as he grabs hold, his fingers digging into your soft chin. Black irises tear into yours as hot droplets of brine collect and fall from the sudden sting.

“You’re not going to speak, you’re not going to move-”

His calloused grip around your chin squeezes painfully, twisting your face up to his.

“-Are you listening?”

“Yes,” you force out in a quick whisper, a pit in your stomach starting to form as you agree.

Maybe this wasn’t what you thought it would be. Hell, you didn’t know what you thought this would be. Yet the butterflies that once soared were now being mutilated and shifting into something new, a sensation you hadn’t experienced before but felt a lot like danger. The long hours of trained battle instincts whisper of running as fast as your feet would take you, yet his deep voice overruled them without disputation.

“Did you think I was going to be sweet?”

His tone is chaff and his eyes are darker than the pits of space that surround you. He keeps your face close, the Jedi wants to see the fear take root in you.

“Harder.” You reply with a low hum, your own eyes shooting daggers back into his.

Why am I saying this?

This man could quite literally kill me, but shit… Maybe the anxiety beating around my rib cage is lying and the heat sweltering between my thighs is telling the truth. Maybe this new feeling is a good one.

He raises a curious eyebrow when what he sees is the farthest thing from fear in your features as you throw a squished up smile at him, your chin and lips crinkled in the tight grip of his fingers. Silence looms, letting his gaze be the only form of communication for what seems like a lifetime before he rives it,

"You're brave, I'll give you that," he verbally concedes, yet his eyes drill through your feeble defenses, the two blue jewels searing every inch they linger on.

“But just how long can you hold up this stoic act?” His lip twitches at the edge of his mouth. He was visibly affected by your defiant words and his response seemed to make for more tasteful thoughts to start filling his mind. You take a shaky breath, inhaling to the extent of your lungs.

"I've never been one to back down from a challenge," Your voice finds some steadiness despite the rush coursing within you. The cocky grin that rises to your lips was shaky at best. The feeling of your blood pumping straight into your heart takes over and his fingers hadn’t loosened their grip, making your aroused smirk look more like a mush of lips and teeth. The beat reverberates, drowning out your hearing until his words slice through the heavy thumping.

“It's almost nostalgic, your defiance. The way you’re in way over your head, truly, it’s… amusing to see it from this side.”

Anakin’s voice was quiet yet carried to your ears as if it was a wave in the ocean, rolling then crashing into you. His hand gently releases your chin and lowers, finding the side of your hip while he takes a step back and lets you drop to your feet. His hold tightens as you find your footing, pressing your back against the wall. The cold surface of the velvet colored drywall spreads from where it presses against your palms to your exposed shoulders.

There was talk that The Chosen One wasn’t quite all there, that he used unconventional methods and didn’t listen to authority well.

It seems to all be true.

"Bravery," his voice once again disrupts any musing and cuts through the air like a sharp razor, devoid of all romantic or kind implications as he maneuvers your body to turn. He slams your chest to the wall with a sudden force, one hand leaving your hip and pushing on your back, the other keeping its tight hold on the curve of your hip.

"It's a fleeting delusion, especially when confronted with true power,”

What is happening?

His battle-worn fingers trail up your waist on one side, while his gloved hand takes its time on the other, squeezing as it rises. You dare to peek over your shoulder but are instantly met with his forearm slamming your head against the wall. A jarring flash of pain is followed by a dull thud and a trickle of blood. Your sharp gasp rings out, and before you can retort or protest this absurd situation, his mechanical hand clamps over your mouth. His metal forearm presses relentlessly against your head, while the fabric of his glove digs into your soft lips. Bitterness overloads your taste buds as your tongue clashes with leather and metal while you thrash against him. It’s as if a toddler is fighting their parent—useless.

“Would you like to see true power, Y/N? Of course you do; otherwise, why be alive? Why wake up every day and train if not to stand before genuine authority?” His jaw tightens with each word, spoken through clenched teeth. It’s cynical. Hot tears cascaded down, making their way over his hand as his voice became louder, or maybe he just got closer.

“Please do try and put up a fight. I don’t like my meals served on a platter.”

Fuck

Droplets of sweat trail down your back, his tone shaking every fiber within your body. His demeanor is primal, like a beast that’s been caged and starved. The whole time he’s been talking, his belt has been clanking, now unbuckled and fallen to the ground.

Gods, why did I come out tonight?

The metal belt hitting the floor is swallowed by the plush red carpet that stretched throughout the room. Simultaneously, courage starts to rise in your stomach, the sensation starting low and burning bright up your torso.

He wants a fight? I can fight.

With a quick push off the wall, you propel all your weight backward. Caught off guard by your sudden movement, both of you tumble down, with gravity favoring you as your back slams into his chest.

Did he not expect you to actually fight him?

A ragged exhale escaped his lips, the breath successfully knocked out of him. Shooting up and lunging forward, your gaze fixed on the door through which you entered the scarlet room. It’s so close. Without a second thought, you close the distance, slamming your hand onto the doorknob and flinging it open. For a moment, hope appears, the prickling tingles overshadowing the imminent danger behind you. But as hope comes, it fades—only it’s not slow, but with a bang. The handle slips from your grasp, as if it had never been there, the movement barely registering as the sound of the door crashing shut shocks your body into a frozen state.

BANG

He tsk’s.

The sound is so chilling and degrading, it makes you want to peel off your skin.

“You’re not a very good listener, Y/N. I said fight me, not run away from me.”

His breath brushes against your ear, hot and arid like his words. When did he stand up and when did he get closer? Why didn’t you hear his footsteps?

Summoning every last ounce of courage, you force yourself to turn and confront him. As your eyes lock with his, the tips of your noses brush together, a jarring reminder of just how close he stands.

“What do you want from me?”

There had to be a way to defuse this situation. Maybe if you could keep him talking, it might buy you a chance to escape or at least create an opening to run.

For a brief moment, something shifts in his eyes—a flicker of emotion that you can't quite place. His arms stay at his sides, but his shoulders tense, and his head tilts slightly as he mulls over his next words.

"The path you're on, the choices you make—they have consequences," he replies, his tone softer but still charged.

“The path you’re on”?

Oh, please.

He doesn’t know you; he doesn’t know what path you’re walking or the journey you’ve endured to get here.

There’s a part of you—a large part—that wants to bite back and tell him off. You gave yourself a single night out; it’s not like this was a common occurrence. Or maybe he’s referring to the consequences of spilling a drink on a Jedi? Luckily, the smart part of you that wants to make it out of here alive takes charge. You respond softly, striving to sound as clear and emphatic as possible.

"I understand the risks, Master. But this... this isn't the way to show me." You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, your chest rising shakily as your arms struggle to stay still by your side.

Anakin's expression momentarily softens. He seemed to be having his own quarrel within himself. Good, he should be questioning himself. This is a fucked-up situation he’s put you in; maybe there’s a glimmer of morality within him after all. Yet, just as quickly, the flicker of softness is replaced by an impenetrable darkness that consumes his eyes entirely.

"You don't understand anything, Y/N,"

He snaps, his voice a low, dangerous growl as he advances towards you, closing in on what little space you had left. You instinctively take a step back, only to find yourself trapped once again between Anakin and a solid surface.

“You’re an outlet, a beautiful one, but still… just an outlet.”

Your heart pounds fiercely as his body heat radiates against yours, his frame towering over you with a taunting presence.

"Anakin, please," you whisper, your voice urging and trembling as you try to tug on any heartstrings he might possess.

"Please, what?" he murmurs, lowering his head until his forehead touches yours. Your throat constricts; the contact feels… disturbingly intimate. The energy between you thickens, charged with a passion that contradicts the cold, predatory gleam in his eyes—a look that triggers every alarm within you, your instincts demanding that danger is imminent. If that’s true, if you really are in danger, why is there a voice inside you saying you don’t want to leave now that escape is impossible?

"A-Anakin, this isn't right," you insist, though you're not sure who you're trying to convince anymore—yourself or him—because as the words come out, you feel a sense of guilt, as if you're not telling the whole truth. Your breathing is beyond control; not that you were paying attention to it before, but suddenly you become very aware of his scent and how it infiltrates every one of your senses. The strife in your mind rages on, boiling to a peak as your body begins to feel the pressure. Your abdomen muscles clench, the tension rising with the slow, burning crawl of acid up your throat.

“I’m only going to say this once more Y/N,”

The sweat on both your temples allows his forehead to slide effortlessly against yours as he takes a step closer and grabs your hips. His hot breath glides across your nose and blankets your cheeks like a steaming cup of coffee would on a winter day. The smell of alcohol and spice from his earlier excursions strikes you, not like a punch, but more like a soft finger that tips your chin up. It beckons that same hand outward as it retreats, inviting you to chase after it.

God, I want to chase it.

“Stop fucking talking and don’t move.”

His hands descend, gripping the hem of your dress and pushing it up over the curve of your hips. The tight fabric rolling up your sides makes you tense, your eyes squeezing shut as your fingers clench into fists, straining to keep your arms by your side. His forehead begins to press the back of your head into the wall, pinning your head in place as his hands persist.

“Since you’ve proven you have no idea how to follow simple instructions and have the fighting skills of a youngling, it seems my fun will be at an extent.”

The searing edge in his voice is unmistakable as his fingers grab and yank at your clothes with a desperation that makes it clear time itself has become his enemy. The precious seconds it would take to remove them properly are deemed far too long. His touch is invasive, holding no signs of tenderness or saccharine caresses, each motion a violent punctuation in a narrative of urgency. He doesn’t pause to admire you after your tight dress accompanies your panties on the carpet. Nor does he take a moment to deal with your bra before you’re off the ground again and finding the familiar cool surface biting into your back. You wish the room were dark; then you wouldn’t have to see the feral look in his eyes. Perhaps, then, you could be truly terrified rather than finding this surge of adrenaline thrilling.

“This is insane—” Another blinding flash strikes your cheek, promptly followed by a gasp from your lips. Instinctively, you lift a hand to your stinging cheek, trying to shield the reddened skin, but you’re quickly stopped. The tips of your fingers barely touch the pain before they’re wrenched away and lowered. His gloved hand abandons your hand in favor of your wrist, finding your other and lifting both high above your head.

“You-“ A sinister chuckle slithers from his throat as he shakes his head, the irritation oozing from his laugh as it ends with a sharp inhale.

“-You.”

He doesn’t complete his insult, or perhaps he never intended to. The word “you” has never sounded so threatening on its own, and perhaps he knew that. Engrossed in his brutal actions and festering words, you failed to notice the monstrous bulge pressing against your bare center. As if he sensed your new realization, his hand slips between you two and dives into his pants. He again wastes no time, shoving them down just enough to let his cock spring free.

You dart your eyes to the ceiling, catching a fleeting view of his gloved hand gripping your crossed wrists effortlessly above you. Your eyelids close with the burning promise of tears. Surely, the size of him isn’t as daunting as it feels—it must be your nerves playing tricks against you.

The universe has never been a forgiving place, always unyieldingly honest in showing you just how insignificant and small you are within it. And you’ve never felt more so than when his cock slides inside you. You stretch to accommodate him, the twinges of your walls parting making your eyes shut tight, and your lips tremble with the urge to make a sound. You force the noises down, your chest heaving as you stifle them. He buries himself completely within you, yet he grinds his hips into your pelvic bone, as if digging deeper could somehow be achieved.

You want to push him back, to make him stop driving so deep. You're as full as you can get, fuller than you've ever been, and while the thought is satisfying, the reality of him not taking his time with his entry leaves you struggling against his hold on your wrists. The effort to conceal every noise pushes hot tears from your pinched eyes, your mascara mixing with the liquid and leaving black trails down your rosy cheeks, your hair catching and drying the salty droplets at their ends.

Has this man no shame, not one bit of chivalry in his body?

His pelvic bone greedily chafes against yours, rubbing you raw after continuous seconds of relentless friction. His grinding teeters on the edge of unbearable when a cry finally escapes your trembling lips. The walls seem to shudder as a thunderous groan cuts through the carnal energy, followed by the most unnerving growl from the savage Jedi.

“Yes, yes Y/N, just like that. Again.”

Without needing any more permission, another loud cry flits from your mouth. Your bottom lip quivers like a child as the sound of your imprisoned shrieks fills the room.

“Anakin please, stop! It’s too much-Master!“

Your cries choke off your words as the Jedi's hips jerk up, continuing his relentless quest to reach the deepest parts of you. To say you were sobbing would be an understatement. Hot tears stream down your flushed cheeks, each accompanied by a strangled moan. Your mind flickers to your training, all those grueling hours spent learning to defend yourself against any attacker. Yet, every bruise and scar earned in those lessons crumbles into meaningless work in the mere minutes spent in Anakin Skywalker's presence. That thought brands itself in your soul, carrying a crashing wave of nausea in its wake.

Your eyes flutter open just in time to see a blurred Anakin leaning in, his face drawing closer and closer until, finally, he touches you. You expected a kiss, soft lips meeting yours, but instead, you're met with the slow, deliberate slide of his wet tongue up your face. His tongue curls up in delight as he finishes his stroke, collecting your fallen tears and swallowing them with languid ease. Your eyes follow his movements, involuntarily, of course. You study his Adam’s apple, the knot moving seamlessly under his tanned skin before you’re drawn back up to his lips.

Why does he get to look so good while being so horrible?

Life isn’t fair.

His wickedly arousing tongue slips behind his equally wicked, gleaming white teeth, the sharp points of his perfect canines revealed as he smirks down at you. His voice, now a guttural, menacing rumble, carries a perfect edge of dark satisfaction as fresh bruises become more and more embedded into the soft skin of your crossed wrists.

“Keep making those sounds, little one, and becoming a Jedi will be the least of your accomplishments.”

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