Stay Quiet

say yes to me

summary: anakin skywalker was like a forbidden fruit, the roommate to the guy that had been sleeping with your roommate for most of the school year. the very man who lived just down the hall from you & quite possibly the only man who was capable of silencing you, because he made you that nervous. you thought he had disliked you, despised you even, but it turns out when you lose one pair of red lacy underwear in the laundry room, that isn't quite the case.

pairings: anakin skywalker x reader

word count: 12.9k

warnings/notes: modern au, college!reader, SMUT, minors DNI, like actual filth, p & v, slight degradation, mentions of masturbation, slight enemies to lovers if you squint, dominant!anakin, public nudity (slightly), no protection mentioned (but please do use it), sorry not sorry, it had to be written.

masterlist

song inspo: lose face - daniel di angelo

Anakin Skywalker despised you. He did. He would never admit it. But it was the kind of disdain that had only appeared, almost bubbling over time since the very moment he met you, over your complete obliviousness when it came to him. Or it was more ignorance, perhaps. 

You ignored him. His existence, his looming eyes that seemed to filter over your frame whenever the two of you were in the same room together, which was often. Often since you lived in the same apartment building and your two roommates had been fucking since a few weeks into the new semester. He would have to endure your impending silence, your lack of awareness of him for hours on end, sometimes many days in a row. It was excruciating how much he disliked you. Disliked those who got your attention, even his roommate, because it was something you would never give him. 

At first, he didn’t think much of it. How could he? You were gorgeous and hot, his attraction something evident from the beginning, but you could barely exchange a few words with him, let alone meet his eyes if it ever was just the two of you in a room, this one more rare. You seemed shy. Innocent. Unwilling to be tainted by him. Something he could understand, even get behind. That is until he noticed the way you interacted with others.

You were a Pre-Law major, and Pre-Law majors couldn’t afford to be shy or even mute like you appeared around him. It was a surprise when he found you late on a Friday night in their apartment, where his roommate was hosting a party, surrounded by five guys playing cards. A drink sat in front of you, lipstick stains coating the glass in the most enticing of pinks. A low-cut top that was tight hugged your torso, making it hard for Anakin to hold in any physical sound.

You were ethereal at that moment as you tipped your head back, laughing, eyelashes batting with ease — innocence void from your lustful gaze. You were putting every one of those five guys in their place, practically pulling the cash out of their wallets from simply your tongue, all while you threw progressive law jargon their way. All of which he could understand easily, far smarter than he ever let on but it all went over their ungrateful heads. You were intelligent, so breathtaking, and completely squandering it on meatheads like the ones his roommate often interacted with, and he hated them. Hated them because you would never look at him the way you did them. 

Hated them because you seemed to despise him just as much as he did you, enough that your interactions were left to drown in the thickest silence. The kinds where his pants twitched, and he wished to force you against a wall, just so you would look at him, for once. It was all that he asked, to feel what it was like to have your eyes on his. To either face the itch he got for you head-on or come to terms that it was all in his head. That it all was manifested in the truest form of need; arousal. 

How could he though when your roommate was at his apartment a few nights a week? The last thing he needed was for her to glare at him, and take him to be some asshole with a weird obsession that lacked boundaries. He couldn’t live in that reality, not when he was so much nicer, even without the possibility of your legs wrapped around him. 

It didn’t mean it was easy. Truthfully it never was. 

Especially that afternoon as he found you parading around your apartment building’s halls, laundry basket in hand, headphones pulled over your ears. It was actually almost painful. The way your loose university sweatpants hugged low on your waist, rolled once, dipping enough that he was able to see your naval piercing. Your shirt was small, a tanktop that left little to his imagination, especially your perky nipples that stuck out enough he noticed them right away. Your hair was pulled back by a clip, but a few pieces framed your face, and even that alone frustrated him. Frustrated him that you walked around like that, almost to torture him, almost oblivious to how you looked. 

It seemed you were just as oblivious about his presence, evident in the way you walked into the laundry room on their floor, mouthing the words of the song you were listening to, hips swaying far too much, but blind to the fact that he was in the room too. Or you knew and just didn’t care. That was something he could believe, a hundred times. 

He stood a few machines away from yours, pulling his clean laundry out from the washer to put in the dryer. His eyes flickered over to your form every few seconds. It seemed to be something he couldn’t help, unable to stop the way his blue irises traced the skin along your waist and how there was nothing but a thin shirt that separated your chest from him. He knew he shouldn’t be looking at you that way. If it was anyone else, it could have been creepy, but because it was him.

You hadn’t even looked his way, your eyes never gracing his form as being the one in the room and not just another guy from the floor. Anakin was sure, though, that if it had been anyone else, you would have acknowledged them. He hated how much he thought of it. Hated how much you hated him. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, the word unable to slip as he saw you from the corner of his eye, bending over just enough to grab your dry laundry from the dryer. 

He hated how he wasn’t in front of you or behind you for the view but rather just witnessing from the side of you the way your shirt loosened around your frame enough that he could have been able to see down your shirt. He was able to see the back material of your underwear hugging your hips, though. The thinness of it taunting like it could have snapped under one flick from his fingers. 

You pulled your laundry out, slowly, almost purposefully dropping it in your laundry basket. It only took a minute or two but it felt longer when you finally stood closing the dryer door, with your laundry basket now balancing along your hip. You turned, and yet your eyes never found his, never once acknowledging his form there standing near the washer. 

He hated how his chest tightened, the way his brows furrowed in frustration because you were likely avoiding him. Without a word ever spoken, a second of some sort of acknowledgment, though you could have been sitting in his apartment later that evening, you turned towards the door. You walked out, the door falling shut before you. 

Anakin sighed, his hip leaning against the side of the washer as he stared at the spot you were once standing. His brows were still furrowed, but they relaxed, lifting instead as he noticed the left behind bright red garment on the floor. He smirked almost devishly then as he strode across the laundry floor, bent over and plucked it from the floor. 

He tutted softly then, hating himself for how he clutched the thin piece of lace underwear in his hand like it was a lost treasure. 

The apartment was dark all but for the overhead lights in the kitchen and the candles that decorated the countertop. You sat in your room, almost encompassed by darkness other than the sunset lamp on your windowsill and the lamp on your nightstand. You sat back against your pillows, university sweatpants loose along your waist, revealing most of your stomach as you stared at your phone, unable to stop yourself as you scrolled. 

Harrison had posted a picture, one from the other night when the guys had gone out for drinks. Of course, he had been there. Anakin Skywalker. You almost let out a noise at the sight of him in the picture alone. It was embarrassing. Embarrassing how you stared at it for at least a minute, and even worse when you clicked on his profile name that was tagged. Something that happened more often than it should. 

Your stomach tightened as the familiar page appeared, his profile picture enough to have your legs tightening involuntarily. It was easy to say that he was breathtaking, or perhaps the devil himself, because of just how tempting he truly was. From the way his short curls brushed along the back of his neck, the front swept out of his eyes, or his strong jaw that seemed to always appear clenched unless it was just always that sharp. His eyes. Oh god, those were the worst of all. The blue hues that you swore could burn holes into your very being. The sole reason you couldn’t even meet his gaze; not if you didn’t want him to know. 

Know about your secret attraction that actually had you aching most nights. Nights where you couldn’t help but have your hands dip in between your legs, with him being the only one on your mind, the only voice you conjure up. It was unholy. It was wrong on so many levels, how much you wanted this man, so much so, you became mute when he appeared. 

You were a fumbling idiot around him and you never had been with anyone else. Usually, you were the one who would make them squirm, but with Anakin, you found yourself dripping with a need you had never had before. It didn’t help that he was so fucking quiet, unable to say or initiate anything unless it was his eyes somehow taunting you. It was like he didn’t like you, unable to really say much if he wanted to keep the peace. 

It was torture then as you were left to do nothing but stare and scroll aimlessly on his Instagram. 

It was stupid how he was just as perfect in real life. Not a single fault to be had. Even as he stood in the laundry room that afternoon in nothing but a t-shirt and sweatpants, it had you forcibly clenching your legs shut. The way his shirt hung on his frame was still tight enough to show his muscles underneath. It was casual in a way, something you would only notice if you looked hard enough, which you tended to always do. 

There was nothing to do except act as if he wasn’t there, grab your laundry from the dryer as quickly as you could, and leave before he could say anything before it became too much that you felt like spreading your legs for him right then and there. 

As you scroll down to the previous August and a shirtless picture of him in a boat appears, you couldn’t take it. You shut your phone off, dropped it onto your bed, and fell back against your pillows. Sighing, you stared up at the ceiling hating the bloom of warmth that was appearing in your chest. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” the knock on your bedroom door had you looking over, already expecting the view before you. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

Your roommate stood in your doorway in her shower robe, towel wrapped around her head, concealing her pale blonde hair. Her freshly spray-tanned skin glowed after her shower. As you looked over at her, she raised her brows at you, curiosity appearing.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, stiffening as she glanced at your phone left faced down on your bed. 

She hummed almost in interest but decided not to comment on it, instead taking in your appearance, still dressed in the clothes you had been in for the day as you cleaned the apartment and did your laundry, “Well then, that’s the problem. Girl, we have to be there in an hour.” 

“It’s seriously ten steps down the hall,” you rolled your eyes, “I think we can be late. Why are we going anyway?” 

“Because it’s Saturday night and he invited us.” 

“I know, but we could be going out.” 

“Why so you can go home with someone?” she asked, catching onto the heavy sight that left your parted lips. 

You felt your tongue catch along your teeth and unable to defend yourself, Iris smiled, a laugh emitting with ease as a smirk appeared. 

“That’s so funny,” she noted, so amused by your obvious frustrations, “You know there are going to be guys there.” 

“New guys?” you asked sitting up then with new-found interest, “Not like all of the ones at Harrison’s last party?”

“Well, that I can’t know for sure. You were flirting with at least four of them while you were playing cards. You know, Harrison doesn’t have that many friends, right? So every time one of them is attractive and tries to have sex with you, it’s not like he can go out and find three new ones right away. I’m sure some of them will be there, yes.” 

“Fuck.” 

“But, you know, Anakin will also be there. Apparently, it was his idea for them to throw another one tonight. So, if you want to talk to him,” her voice slowed like she realized what she was saying as it echoed in her ears. 

“Iris…” 

“What?” she laughed, “Maybe if you just talk to him, you’ll realize you don’t have to go and click through his Instagram so much.” 

“Iris!” you gasped, face already beginning to twinge with heat. 

She chuckled, but that quieted at the sight of your embarrassment. If it was any other day, she would say more, but she had had that conversation with you so many times before. It would only sound the same. “What? Right, sorry, anyway, I think Harrison did tell me he invited some guys on his club soccer team. So, I guess you can talk to them.” 

You huffed then, knowing that there was one reason you didn’t want to go the apartment down the hall, even if they did throw the best parties. “It’s just we are always there. Almost every weekend. I miss the bars. We’re legal, which means we should use them.”

“What’s wrong?” she questioned almost immediately, that furrowed look returning. 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“You never don’t want to go to the guys’. In fact, sometimes you’re the one who suggests it, especially if they are throwing a party.” 

You were quiet, struggling to find an excuse, anything, as the thought of Anakin Skywalker flashed across your head, the picture of him shirtless still very much the screen that would appear when you unlocked your phone.

“Y/N. Speak. If this is about Anakin Skywalker, I swear—”

“I just thought something else could be fun, that’s all,” you shrugged. 

Her expression faltered slightly. She and Harrison weren’t even officially dating, and still, the thought of not seeing him that night pulled all the excitement out of her. You knew then you wouldn’t be getting your way. “I mean, we can. I would just have text the girls and tell them that—” 

“No, it’s fine. I’ll get dressed,” your voice cut hers off, a sheepish smile appearing, knowing that you had just doomed yourself for the rest of the night. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” you smiled, it slightly fake, dread appearing in your stomach, “As long as we don’t go early and we have  a round of shots when get there.”

The hallway was dim, the low lights not as bright as usual, the beige walls seeming to be the only thing able to hold your attention as you trailed after Iris, your hands nervously fiddling with one another. Sometimes you were lucky, as Anakin was not always at the parties his roommate liked to host. Other times, he would show up late, allowing you to settle and drink lots of alcohol to prepare for his presence. And rarely he never showed up at all or was there from the beginning. Tonight would be the latter, and you weren’t ready. 

Even with the two drinks heavily poured with vodka, you felt unsteady, anxious, and warm. It was like the further you walked down the hallway, the more the walls seemed to warp within your mind into a funhouse. It was as if you were high on something, distorting your sense of reality, but really, it was just your heart beating so loudly in your ears and the lack of dinner getting to you. 

You couldn’t eat, not as you paced around your room, half of your closet thrown onto the floor, one drink already leaving rings of water on your coaster upon your desk. It was humiliating. Actually, the worst thing to ever happen to you, as no man had ever done this to you. They couldn’t. It seemed impossible, and yet there you were, acting like a blithering idiot who would surely remain throughout the night until you were too drunk to notice. 

“Y/N, you’re walking slower than my grandma here,” Iris called behind you, stopping near the guys’ door, a chuckle echoing off the walls mixing with the sound of the loud music inside. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled back, trying to speed up but almost feeling as if you would fall with how much your legs were shaking. 

“Are you even going to talk to the guy?” she suddenly asked, turning to face you fully, her hands on her hips and a single brow raised. 

“W-What?” 

“Anakin. Are you going to talk to him tonight, finally? Or is this just how you’re going to act about seeing him.” 

You sighed, her words registering, making you question truly what you were so nervous about, “Iris, I…” 

“Look, if you want to talk to him, that’s fine, but if you’re just like this because he is going to be there, you need to take a second and breathe. Y/N, he’s just a guy. That’s it. A guy you don’t even talk to, trust me when I say he is not that special. You’ve spent enough time in the same room as him to know that.” 

“Right,” you whispered, suddenly finding your shoes more interesting to stare at as you felt your roommate speak. The heat in your face was only worsening, “He’s just a guy.” 

He was, and yet he drove you crazy. 

It was disappointing to find that Iris had to be the one to remind you of that when you had spent the past two years of college seeming to be the one always reminding her of that. You were the one who seemed to understand men, especially idiotic man-child twenty-something-year-olds, and yet here you stood in the hallway of your apartment complex, her finally being the one to give you the reminder. 

Sure, Anakin Skywalker was just a man. 

A twenty-one-year-old man who was quite possibly carved from the most expensive and luxurious marble and gold. He dressed in baggy jeans and warm sweaters, some of which seemed to be designer. He was quiet, unfunny at times, and was so frustrated all of the time. He wasn’t perfect, yet he seemed better than any of the guys you had liked in the past. The loose term was not used often. 

“Just a guy,” she smiled, keeping her sarcasm on lockdown as she reached for your forearm and began to drag you towards the door, “I have never seen you like this.” 

“Like what?” you asked, lowering your voice further as you stood outside of the door, confusion-filled gaze meeting her curious one. 

“You this obsessed.” 

“I am not obsessed,” you glared, finding your chest to tighten in discomfort at the thought. 

“Fine. I just mean, usually you don’t care. You never have, and somehow he has you sweating and unable to speak coherently.” 

“It’s not like that.” 

“Okay, well, whatever it’s like, it’s cute,” she laughed, it only getting louder as you bumped her side with your own, almost begging for her to stop. “You’ve never acted like this over a guy.”

“Are we going to fucking stand out here all night, or are we going to go inside?” you asked rather flatly, not caring how it sounded as long as it meant she would stop staring at you the way that she was. 

She only smirked, nothing else left to say as your face said at all. The gentle blush on your cheeks, the way you were trying to avoid eye contact, most of your confidence waning as you stood there, outside of that apartment door. 

Shrugging, she finally reached for the doorknob and opened the door with ease. The second the door was cracked, the music became increasingly louder, enough to make you cringe at the way the bass echoed in your ears. Usually, you welcomed it; the sound, the smell of cigarettes and marijuana, the stickiness on the floors by the end of the night, the way you always stumbled your way back to your apartment only a few feet away. It was a life you had gotten used to, and yet you dreaded it all that night. 

Iris stepped in with ease, and you followed, inhaling as you did with the smell of cigarettes hitting you straight in the face. Even with the windows open, allowing the winter air to bask in the room, it wasn’t enough to completely drown out the smell. I

t was dark in the apartment, all but the LED lights that hung up around the ceiling, paired with a spinning disco ball on the coffee table, which Harrison swore by every single time. 

There was maybe a total of ten people in the room so far, but you knew it wouldn’t be this easy to walk through by the end of the night. As soon as the door was shut behind you, concealing you both inside, it was like he had known she was there. All of a sudden, you heard Harrison’s loud voice from across the room, him standing from where he was leaning against his sound system. 

“Ah, you guys made it!” Harrison strode over in a pair of baggy jeans and a graphic t-shirt, his arms immediately finding Iris’ hips, giving away that he had already been drinking for a bit. “You’re later than I thought you were going to be.” 

“I texted you,” she mumbled, chuckling lightly. 

“I know, but…” his voice trailed off slightly, and his bluish-green eyes found your frame still almost pressed against the front door, and it was like he had connected the dots. “Y/N.” 

“Harrison, hi,” you smiled sheepishly while also trying to peer around him to the rest of the people that filled the living room, hoping but equally dreading catching sight of a head of short curls. 

“What, you didn’t want to come tonight?” 

He was joking, he always was, as he spun Iris around so her back was pressed to his front. You laughed, it so fake as you tried to hide it all but your roommate could see through you easily. “What? No. You're a funny guy, you know that? We always come to your parties.” 

“Yeah, but you’re usually one of the first ones here.” 

“Relax,” you rolled your eyes, “Clearly, we’re still here early enough. Great turnout.” 

“There are more people coming, asshole,” he laughed, pulling his hat by the brim down further across his forehead, concealing his blonde short, cropped hair.

“Oh yeah? Anyone worth talking to?” 

“You told her about the guys from my soccer team, didn’t you?” that question was directed down towards Iris, who suddenly peered up at her non-boyfriend boyfriend with both guilt and humor. 

“What?” she shrugged. 

His eyes found yours again, that playful look now filling yours, “They’ll be here in about an hour or so. Just can you try not to screw them over?” 

“Me?” you feigned a laugh, “I could never. How do I look, though? Something they would be interested in?” 

Doing almost a little curtsy with your Converse squeaking against their hardwood floor, you turned after a moment. Noting the baggy jeans and the black sheer tube top, Harrison laughed almost in disbelief but could only look over his shoulder towards his own roommate, who sat in the middle of their couch, legs sprawled out, head dipped back as he snubbed out the cigarette that was in between his fingers. “Hm, you know you could go ask Anakin? He has expensive taste.” 

You felt yourself freeze, hating the way they both laughed, equally looking back into the room. Following their gaze, you stiffened further as you found him, sure to be the only thing that you would focus on for the rest of the night. Especially if he were to be sitting that way for most of it. You felt like a deer in headlights as you peered over Harrison’s shoulder, eyes trailing over the way his legs were spread wide, his back leaned into the couch, and his head tilted back as he blew out rings of smoke. 

He wore dark jeans and a black knit-long sleeve; underneath the collar, his white t-shirt poked out. His hair was pushed back out of his face, and the curls along his neck and around his ears seemed perfect even in the dark. 

He would be the death of you.

Your mouth was dry, and suddenly, your fresh sarcasm was gone as he sat up against the couch, his stare almost splitting through the room to find the three of you. His expression was unreadable, almost cold, and you hated the way they found yours immediately.  

You looked away, aware of the way the other two were intently making notes about the interaction. Side-stepping into the kitchen out of eye-sight from the roommate, you glared back at Harrison, “I hate you.” 

“Nah, you don’t.” 

“I thought you said you were going to make me a shot when I got here.” 

“What do you want?” Harrison asked, his arms dropping around Iris, instead allowing his hand to find a place along her back, guiding her to follow him into the kitchen. 

“The strongest thing you got,” you suggested peering up at the masses of liquor upon the cabinets, a devilish look appearing in your eyes as you smiled innocently back at the man. 

He sighed that familiar Harrison sigh, the one where he knew there would be no stopping you that night, not as you came over with a box full of seltzers and a large handle of tequila. You were looking for trouble or perhaps something to ease the noise into nothing but silence within your mind. Either way, he couldn’t tell, and though Iris was looking at him, almost afraid to let him give you the shot that would start a very long night, she just shrugged anyway. 

A long night it would become. 

By the time it was eleven-thirty, the apartment was full of many familiar faces, the typicals you saw at almost every party, and then masses of the very unfamiliar. Some of them including Harrison’s very cute and very athletically-built soccer teammates. It had become your mission to catch at least one of their eyes quickly as if to avoid the looming stare from across the room that you were sure would have you dripping humiliatingly if you focused on him too long. 

When he moved, you did too. Further away, it seemed, anything to keep your distance, almost afraid of what you could say if given the chance to. The alcohol wasn’t enough because just knowing he was in the same apartment had you unable to think about anything or anyone else. Even when you were four seltzers deep and a quarter of the way through with the concoction that had become of your water bottle, Anakin Skywalker was all you could think about. 

It had been hours, hours of dancing awkwardly, avoiding the cards table, and yet you felt unaccomplished with the night. The ache between your legs was enough proof as it was, but you knew that couldn’t be taken care of by anyone unless it was Anakin. Even as the lanky soccer player with fluffy brown hair and bright eyes practically had you concealed against the wall in the living room, your mind was completely inept at what he was saying. 

He was hot, relatively, nothing like Anakin, but enough that you would have slept with him. His hands were ghosting over your waist, one tickling the bare skin above your jeans, the other leaning against the wall, caging you in against his warm frame. His eyes were hooded, a look in them you knew all too well, but one you were sure you wouldn’t act on. 

“You know, Harrison warned me about you,” he joked, it sounding so deep that his name somehow slipped from your mind, unable to be retrieved. 

Your lips were wrapped around the straw of your drink, eyes peering up at his through your lashes, and you couldn’t help but smile, almost like a tantalizing forbidden fruit. “Really? Is that so? And do you think you should have listened to him?” 

“No, not at all. That’s the funny part, I guess. Told me you would probably have your pick of us for the night.” 

Your smile lessened slightly as a discomfort appeared front and center within your chest. You flirted. That wasn’t something you would deny, but the way he was putting it made you feel like you were other girls that they talked to. Ready to offer themselves like a consolation prize by spreading their legs just to never be spoken to again. You flirted, but you never really gave them what they wanted, and that’s why Harrison was cautious about bringing new guys around. They would chase after something they’d never get, and you would string them along as a form of entertainment. Or that’s what he thought. 

It never had been like that, not even as guys started to notice you freshman year of college. It was never supposed to be a game but rather something else entirely. 

You shifted back towards the wall, eyes dropping to your cup, the way it was nearly empty, the last few drops clinging to the bottom of the glass. The guy spoke again, and you found your brows furrowing in discomfort. “I’m just glad it was me if I’m being honest.”

They always thought that way. That it was them. That they were something special, as if worthy of your attention, but it never was about them. 

You sighed, head falling back against the wall as his hand rose along your bare skin, almost inching to move up and under your shirt. A second of dissociation left you looking over his shoulder at the crowd of people around you, filling the living room to be full and packed. You scanned their faces trying to find anything that you knew could ground you. 

Instead, there was only one thing, one person, and it made it all so much worse. 

Peering through the room within the darkness of flashing vibrant lights and smoke, you somehow found him, only a few feet away or so. At the sight, it was almost like your legs were going to give out from beneath you. He would never not have an effect on you. It didn’t matter how stupid you felt, how humiliating it was. Inevitably, Anakin Skywalker would always have you wrapped around his finger. 

He was leaning against the wall near the sound system, surrounded by Harrison and a few of their other guy friends. His arms were crossed over his chest, arms bulging slightly under the material of his shirt. Smoke billowed around the group from cigarettes, vapes, and joints alike, yet his hands were empty. He wasn’t listening to anything they were saying. He couldn’t have been because, just as quickly as you found him, he was already peering over at you. 

His blue eyes, almost as sharp as steel as they traced your frame, pressed up against the wall under the soccer player, your drink cradled close to your chest. You almost physically shuddered, having not expected it, not in the slightest. His lips were pulled into a fine line, brows slightly furrowed in a way that made you want to ease the small wrinkle, pulling every frustration clean from his body. 

Yet you felt intimidated because, after all, it was a look that was directed at you. One that often wasn’t. 

His expression barely flickered or faltered, even as your eyes so clearly locked with his. Instead, he could only lift a single brow in your direction in interest. It was like a challenge, almost as if he was daring you to do something you would regret, something he wouldn’t like. 

“Hey,” the guy’s voice broke through your facade, a gentle mumble as his hand squeezed your hip. The feeling brought your eyes to flicker back to him but only for a second before you were glancing back at Anakin. “Are you listening?” 

You weren’t. Instead too distracted by the man across the room, whose jaw had suddenly tightened. 

“I… uh, need to get another drink,” you forced a smile, voice gentle as you gestured to the empty cup. 

“Do you want me to get it?” he asked then, yelling over the music, and you hated the way it made you feel. 

“No, that’s okay. I’ll be right back,” you replied, almost like a false promise, as you slipped under his arm, separating his frame from yours completely, and with it, a weight seemed to dissipate. The ability to breathe suddenly a grace you didn’t know you were missing. 

It was like you could feel his eyes following your frame. The coldness that was his blue orbs as you swerved your way through the crowd of people, bumping into them as you went, recognizing very few. Iris had been gone from your side for almost an hour, somehow slipping away with Harrison’s cousin to talk about probably Harrison. You had been left to fend for yourself, which was nothing new. Something you had done the whole semester prior, and yet it was the first time, you couldn’t stand the thought. 

Even as the alcohol had left you swaying, vision slightly blurred, and mind a slurring mess, there wasn’t much comfort in the feeling. You managed to squeeze you were way to the kitchen, the music enough to have your ears echoing. Sighing, you found only a few people littered throughout, mixing new drinks or leaning against the countertops to speak too closely. It would be too good to be true to find it empty.

Slipping into the kitchen, which seemed nearly as dark as the rest of the apartment, you found the corner of the countertop where you had been taking alcohol from all night. Harrison had been kind enough to offer you something better than what you had mixed, and it had become the thing you began to drink as soon as your seltzers were long since chugged. Reaching for the liquor bottle, you uncapped it and began to pour, heavier than you had been before. Mixing the remainder of the lemonade in, you picked it up, already reading for the strong sip. 

“How many of those have you had?” 

The voice was low but loud as it spoke over the music. Scaring you, you turned around on your heels quickly, the drink nearly spilling all over you if it wasn’t for his hand that came to grasp the cup, part of his palm covering your own. It was warm. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, the only vocal response to how close he was and all of a sudden. 

“Careful,” Anakin chuckled, taking the drink from your hand, to which you pouted in dismay, hating how he pulled it closer to himself. 

You stared, expression wary as he towered over you, closer than he ever had before, his eyes tracing the startled look as if he were the predator cornering his prey. His stare flickered following the way your chest rose and fell, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you stared up at him, eyes slightly glassed over from the amount of alcohol you had. 

God, you hated him. You really did as he stared down at you, smirking the way he was, only a few inches away. If you leaned closer, your chest would press against his, and at the thought, you had to squeeze your legs shut, trying to keep as much space between the two of you as you pressed yourself back against the countertop. 

A glint appeared as he noticed the way you shifted with discomfort, something he knew wasn’t a common occurrence with you. Tilting his head innocently, he glanced down at your drink, which now was in his grasp, a teasing tone emitting, “You never answered my question. How many of these have you had?” 

You shrugged, trying to wipe off the look on your face as if you could picture it was anyone else in front of you. “I don’t know. A few.” 

“How many is a few?” he demanded, eyes tracing the way you swayed on your feet, almost like he could know your head was spinning, nearly seeing two of him. 

“You want a number?” you laughed, thinking he was joking. 

His expression never faltered, “Yes.” 

“Three, maybe four, I don’t know.” 

He hummed, almost like he was dissatisfied with the answer. Instead of offering the drink back to you, he brought it closer to himself, that serious look never disappearing. “You should be done for the night.” 

“Really?” you mused, a single brow raising at his tone. 

“Yeah, in fact, I’ll finish this one off for you. Maybe try a water there, Y/L/N,” he said, bringing the cup to his lips, covering where your lipstick stains had been.

He took a sip, and you felt your blood boil out of both annoyance and something else. He wasn’t even touching you, and yet there was more of a reaction out of you than earlier when the soccer player had his hands inching up your shirt. It seemed he knew that too, and it was infuriating. 

“Anakin!” 

“By the way, your flavor of the night is looking for you. I think I saw him over by the bathroom where Iris was waiting. I’m sure he was asking about you.” 

“You know what,” you said then, raising your hands up in the air, an almost look of acceptance on your face as you slipped out from under his frame you hadn’t realized had gotten so close, “Fine.” 

With that, you walked away out of the kitchen, palm empty of your drink and heart heavy by the man who had taken it so easily from you. It was like taking candy from a baby, you almost offered it willingly if it meant getting a few more seconds being pressed close to him, his blue eyes tracing your drunken frame. 

He had gotten you then. He was under your skin, had practically dug himself a hole, and you knew you couldn’t; not willingly go find Harrison’s teammate just to think about someone else all night. How much further could you even go than flirting? You usually wouldn’t, and you definitely couldn’t, not that night, not in that state, not when Anakin Skywalker flashed through your mind on repeat, feeding the worst desires. 

The apartment was hot, still messy, lingering with stenches of alcohol, weed, and cigarettes. It was like all of the sweaty bodies were still gathered within their living room when really it was nearly three a.m., most of the lights were turned off, and the only thing that could be seen was Harrison and Iris slightly tangled on the couch. Anakin was slumped over on their second couch, now in a pair of sweatpants that hung loosely off his frame and dark long sleeve. His head lulled to the side as he stared at the TV in front of him, unable to really get comfortable on the couch with the warmth of the room. 

Unable to open the window due to them being almost frozen shut, he sat up, his feet meeting the floor. He wanted to sleep. It was the only thing he could think about; hoping it would be enough to quiet the thoughts along with the twitch of his dick. But he couldn’t, not as he felt the sweat along his eyebrow and the smell that seemed to not dissipate even long after he thought he had gotten used to it. 

“Fuck, it still smells.” 

“Well, I don’t know, maybe open the door, see if it airs out in the hallway,” Harrison said, his words slurring slightly, his eyes narrowing in tiredness. 

Anakin became deadpan then, “The door? You have got to be fucking kidding me.” 

“Or not. Whatever.” 

“Well, do we have a fan or something?” Anakin offered, standing from the couch in the darkness, stretching his arms up and over his head, “I had one, but I can’t remember the last time I saw mine or even used it.”

Harrison peered up at his roommate, a shy smile on his face seeming oblivious or rather uncaring of the problem at hand, too focused on the feeling of Iris’ head resting along his collarbone. It was then the girl perked up, her eyes shifting away from the TV and the creepy murder documentary she had recommended. 

Her blonde hair peeked up from the couch, and she chuckled lightly at the realization, “That’s because we have it.” 

“What do you mean we?” Anakin replied, brows raising slightly in interest. 

“Y/N and I…” she said carefully, “Harrison let us borrow it at the beginning of the semester when our AC system gave out. I’m pretty sure we forgot to give it back. It’s in our linen closet.” 

He stared down at her, somehow at a loss of what to say or if that meant she was willing to get up and give it to him then or expected him to wait. Before he could decide, she reached the coffee table and picked up her keys before tossing them to Anakin. 

“Here. Take my keys, you can go grab it.” 

Catching them, he stared down at it on the brass key ring, the very key that led to your apartment. An apartment you very much could have been in fucking around with one of the new guys’ Harrison had introduced you to. Anakin’s hand tightened around the keyset at the thought, a certain discomfort appearing at even the picture he could conjure up. The guy had been practically all over you all night, and you hadn’t done anything to reject his advances. Instead, you let them happen all while a set of eyes were staring at you from across the room. 

“I… uh.” 

“Relax,” she laughed, “Y/N said she was going to shower and go to bed. You’re not going to run into any naked soccer players fleeing from her bedroom.” 

“Funny,” Anakin glared, a fake smile appearing as he noticed the familiar glint that had appeared on his roommate’s face. Not ready for the constant teasing, he stepped out of the living room towards the front door. 

Walking out, he barely processed the sound of the door closing behind him, too focused on the key in his hand. It took less than a minute when he came face to face with the dark door. Tall with gold brass located in the middle displaying just how it differed from all the rest — what it meant. The numbers he thought about more often than he should. 

802. 

Fuck. He thought about it too much, so much so it felt easy to let the key slide into the hole and unlock the door with a mere turn of his wrist. Stepping through the threshold, the first thing he noticed was how refreshing it felt compared to the smell of his apartment. It was cooler in there, with a smell of almost clean laundry and vanilla. He couldn’t help but wonder if the whole apartment smelled that way or if somehow your room was different. 

The floors matched the ones in his dark paneling that showed all of the dirt that fell on them. There were a few entrance rugs he couldn’t see much in the dark, as well as the entrance to the kitchen. He wanted to look around, turn on a light to take it all in, but he couldn’t, not with you only a few doors away, possibly naked and in the shower. He felt so gross about it, that he cared so much. 

Especially as your underwear sat in the top drawer of his dresser. He had been contemplating about it all night, just how he could bring it up or return it to you. But he wasn’t sure the best approach without it coming off as disgusting. If he told Iris, she would never look at him the same, probably confused why he had them at all. Harrison would only make jokes, almost applauding Anakin, just to take Iris’ side when he tried to pass them off to her. And you, he couldn’t even think about what your reaction might look like upon finding out that he had your underwear, had them all day. 

Moving further into the apartment, he entered the vast hallway just as Iris had explained, eyes locating in the dark the few doorways that appeared. With his flashlight on, he was able to find it halfway down the hall on the left. Just as he opened the door, though, he took notice of the dim light a door down, a purple hue peeking out from it that was left cracked open. With the familiar sound of The Weekend, Anakin smirked as he picked his way through the linen closet. 

There on the top shelf was his fan. 

Grabbing it, he shut the linen closet, but halted in front of the door, a new sound grabbing his attention. A breathy sigh, almost like a huff of frustration. His shoulders stiffened slightly, stomach tightening at the sound alone. As another noise slipped, but much louder paired with the gentle lull of a vibration, Anakin knew for sure. Knew that you were getting yourself off, and he couldn’t ignore just how pretty it sounded. 

It was too much, so he stepped away from your door towards the other end of the hallway, but he had only made it two steps before he felt himself stop. 

“Ani…” The whimper was not quiet, and he felt his jaw tighten at the way the syllables formed on your lips. 

The sounds were louder, your moan breathtaking. 

Anakin’s hand cupped his dick, your voice going straight to it. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, but they snapped back open as another one echoed out from your room, this one a little more desperate. 

“Oh, Anakin.” 

He didn’t know how he didn’t drop that fucking fan. Wasn’t sure if it would slip through his fingers or if he would throw it on purpose, anything to make his presence known. Anything to make the sounds continue but due to his fingers rather than your own. He had never felt such pain then at that moment as he forced himself to walk away, the sounds of you undoing yourself deliberately with his name breaking apart across your tongue. 

There wasn’t a doubt then anymore. Not a single ounce of question. 

It seemed that was enough to know. Enough to have figured out just exactly what to do with the red lacy underwear that sat tucked into the top drawer of his dresser.

“No, fuck, where is it?”

The sound of your voice grumbling from your room droned out into the hallway. Your hands were shoved into the bottom of your dresser drawer, rummaging through the clean laundry you had folded the day before. The sole piece of clothing you were looking for was nowhere in sight. As soon as you hadn’t found it near the top when you had started getting ready for your date, you felt your chest tighten. You groaned loudly, arms balancing along your knees as you moved to find it not hidden somewhere in your laundry basket either. 

“Y/N/N, I’m going to head to work,” Iris poked her head inside, but her voice trailed off at the sight of you crouched in the middle of the room, tearing apart your dresser drawers. “What are you doing?” 

“I can’t find them,” you mumbled out. 

“Find what?” 

You sighed, almost hesitant to even say it out loud, “My panties. The red ones.” 

“The ones with lace?” she asked, for clarification, her brows raising in interest. 

“Yes, I washed them yesterday, I swear.”

“Don’t you have your date tonight?” she asked, eyes looking around the room, spotting the few outfits you had laid out across your bed and the mounds of makeup and hair products spread out at your vanity. “The one with Harrison’s teammate?” 

“Yeah, Cole.” 

At the name, a flash of recognition formed across Iris’ face. It was the same guy you had been with most of the night before at the party, practically pressed up against a wall as he eye fucked you for most of the night. By the end of it, you were so drunk he hadn’t even gotten a kiss out of you, only your number. He texted you that morning about going out for drinks and dinner. You were hesitant at first, almost inclined to say no, but then something else made you change your mind. Perhaps the sight from the night before of the smirk that laced over Anakin’s face as he teased you about Cole. No inclination at all that it bothered him, the sight of you pressed up against someone else. It was annoying, so annoying, that you couldn’t help but say yes to Cole for a date. 

What else were you going to do? 

Anakin Skywalker barely spoke to you and noticed your presence. It was a joke. All of it. 

Iris smiled smugly, then down at you as you continued to search through the dresser drawer. “And you need your red lacy panties for a first date?” 

“I mean, I don’t need them, just want them, you know, in case.” 

“Who are you right now?” she laughed, the sound bringing your attention away from your underwear drawer. Her arms were crossed over her chest, that smile still evident as a hint of amusement flashed across her eyes. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You don’t usually think about sleeping with a guy until at least the fourth or fifth date. The last time you were talking to someone, you made him hold out for the sixth date just to ask him to leave after twenty minutes of making out. And you want to wear your sex underwear on the first date?”

“I’m not a prude, you know,” you laughed too, your anxiety easing slightly even though your favorite underwear was still missing. 

“I never said you were. I’m just saying, you’re different. That’s all.” 

“Is that such a bad thing?” 

She shook her head, almost a sense of pride appearing, “No. Not at all. Anyway, I should go.” 

“Okay, I’ll see you later,” you replied over your shoulder, your attention going back to the clothes scattered around you. 

“Yeah, have fun on your date. I can’t wait to hear how it goes. Oh, and maybe try looking in the laundry room.” 

You cringed almost at the thought that they had somehow been left in there overnight, all while other people were coming in and out to do their laundry, “Right.”

Standing from your bedroom floor, you looked around the room one more time before inevitably giving up. Instead, you slid on a pair of shoes, and left the apartment, the door closing and echoing behind you. Making your way down the hall, you passed the guys’ door and the memories from the night before flashed again in your head. Anakin taking your drink, cutting you off from anything for the rest of the night. You wish you wouldn’t have listened and continued to sneak some. You didn’t have to listen to him at all. That was the funniest part, and you did it anyway. 

Entering the laundry room, the automatic lights clicked on upon your entrance illuminating the room in cascades of bright LEDs. It was warm, just like it usually was when someone was doing their laundry. The familiar rumble of the dryer and washers caught your attention. The sound of it clouded your thoughts as you approached the washer and dryer you had been using the day before. 

With one simple open of the stainless steel washer, you found it empty of any sort of clothing. You sighed, the annoyance deepening at the thought of having lost them. Expensive underwear you had bought on your trip to France over the summer. A pair Iris had to convince you to buy because you typically weren’t one for buying sexy underwear. It was the pair that opened the vault for you, leading you to not only buy so many more since then but a string of memories confined to that pair of lace, all from the few pairs of hands that had slid them down your legs with ease late into the night. 

It was your favorite pair of underwear. 

The only pair you felt like wearing on nights when you knew inevitably they would end up on someone’s floor. 

“Fuck,” you cursed again lowly as you stepped over to the dryer you had used. 

Sure enough, as you opened and closed it, you found it just as empty as the other machine you had checked. Your stomach dropped at the thought, and it had come to desperate measures as you crouched down near the machines and began looking around them on the floor. 

It was not your proudest moment, and that only became clear as it only lasted around thirty seconds when you heard the door open, paired with a voice you were dreading to have to face anytime soon. 

“What are you doing?” 

Your eyes closed, your breath falling short in your throat. Sighing, you stood from where you were crouched along the floor, surely giving him a show in the shorts you had been wearing since your shower that afternoon. You wouldn’t turn to face him, not if it meant seeing some sort of teasing look appear. It was embarrassing enough. Instead, you pressed yourself closer to the dryer, peering over the back of it, hoping just maybe the red lace would appear behind it. 

“I am looking for something.” 

Anakin chuckled, subtly tracing the curve of your ass through your pajama shorts, his fingers curling around the silky material in his pocket. “What?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

“Well, maybe if you told me, I could help,” he offered, and at that, you froze. 

Turning around slowly, you faced him, heart picking up at the sight of him alone. He looked just as fine as he had the night before, maybe even a little bit more. He wore jeans, ones that were loose around his frame, paired with a hoodie, hiding away the definition of his torso you craved to see after so long. His hair was slightly damp, leaving a ringlet curl along his forehead. It was slightly shorter, too, the back especially, meaning he had gotten a haircut. You had thought you would be sad when he had finally done it, cut the small curls that lay along the back of his neck, but now that he had, you couldn’t help but stare, knees practically giving out at how good he truly looked. 

Sure enough, that smirk was plastered along his face, paired with a glint you knew all too well. 

“Help? You want to help me?” 

He shrugged, “It could maybe make it go faster. You look like you need to be somewhere.” 

It was the most he had ever said to you. The last two days had crossed every line that had been between the two of you over the past four months of knowing one another. This was it. The past two days of his intimidating stares and forceful words.

Placing your hands on your hips, you raised a brow over at him interest, “And why would you think that?” 

He stepped closer, and that alone had your chest rattling and hands practically shaking. He was so tall, so breathtaking, and you had wanted him for so long, so badly, it had consumed you. Just the sight of him as he stood before you, looming over your frame, had your core twitching, aching already, and he hadn’t even touched you. There was the reality that he probably wouldn’t. 

His tongue clicked along the roof of his mouth, his blue orbs falling to trace over your bare legs, freshly tanned, smooth, up to the short baby tee that hugged your frame; no bra. You looked as if you were ready to settle in for the night, but he knew better. 

“You did your makeup,” he said, observingly, “And you look as if you put something in your hair. Maybe, styled it for someone. You got a hot date or something?” 

Your mouth was dry, and you had to look away, guilt appearing that you would be with another man that night, all while you would probably be thinking about him. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” 

“So, that’s a yes,” he chuckled, the deep sound making your legs clench slightly. “Harrison’s teammate from last night? I could see him asking you out just to get in your pants.” 

“Stop,” you fumed, brows furrowing in annoyance, arms crossing over your chest, “Why does it matter?” 

“It doesn’t. So, what are we looking for Y/L/N? What’s going to make you late for this dick appointment?” 

“You know what. Forget it. I can find it myself.” 

“No, no, come on, now. I’m just trying to be helpful,” he smiled, that smirk widening, almost getting off at the sight of your pout and knitted brows. “Seems like you might need it? So, what a top? A bra, maybe, something he’ll want to pull off of you later.” 

“Anakin,” you warned as he took a step closer, his head tilting antagonizingly, taking in how your chest rose and fell nervously. There was still a foot or so between you and yet you couldn’t help but step back until you were up against the dryer, the warmth of it felt through your shorts. 

“Or is it not either of those things? No. Can’t be,” he paused, voice trailing off as his stare flickered down to your lips, “Underwear?” 

Your lips parted in shock, stomach turning at the way it sounded like he was trying to torture you with his presence. 

“So that’s it? Panties, huh? Must be some nice fucking ones if they have you bent over in the laundry room looking for them. What do they look like? I’m sure I can find them.” 

You couldn’t form words, not as he taunted you, even from so far away. Not as his hands were shoved in the pockets of his pants, the most casual look about him. He alluded to sex just from how he looked, and that was hard enough, but him standing in front of you, lips glistening from his saliva, spouting these things at you, they might as well have been the dirtiest things a guy has ever said. They had you wet. You knew they did, and it had you shrinking in humiliation. Humiliation that he could say your name alone, and it would have you so pent up to the point of reaching for that familiar blue vibrator on your bedside table, desperately trying to relieve the tension he built up inside of you. 

Inhaling, you tried to relax. “They’re lace.” 

“Okay. See-through?” he asked, unable to say it with a straight face. 

“Yes.” The word was so quiet coming from your lips, almost like a whisper. 

The tip of his tongue traced over the top set of his teeth, highlighting his cuspids you wanted more than anything to bite into your neck. All while his hand dug between your legs. The thought fell away though at his next words, them enough to have your heart stop altogether. 

“They wouldn’t be red by chance, are they?” 

Your mouth fell open in shock, and for a second, you thought he was going to take hold of your lower lip to close it, anything to touch you, but he didn’t. Why would he? With widened eyes and that knitted expression forming once again across your face, you were silent as you watched his hand appear from his pocket, that all too familiar red color appearing before your eyes. 

“Or something like these, right?” he held them out on his index finger, the expensive material from France staring back at you, “Fuck, I didn’t expect it, Y/L/N. That you could own a pair like this.” 

Your face felt warm, annoyed, and embarrassed by his taunt. Enough that you reached forward to pluck them from his hand, but he pulled his hand back further to keep you from taking hold of them. 

“Anakin,” you warned, hand out stretched. 

“You know, you should pay closer attention when you do your laundry. Some creep in the building could have picked them up instead of me. Who knows what would have happened to them then.” 

It was like he could see the steam coming out of your ears, the heat on your face that he somehow could see even past your makeup. He was frustrating you, and he could do it all day, every day, he decided. 

“Give them to me.” 

“Or what?” he quipped, “Tell me why I should? Just so some guy can take them off of you later. Some guy you don’t even want to fuck you.” 

“Stop this,” you whispered, it almost sounding like a plea as you tried to reach for the underwear again, but as you did, he pulled his hand away. This time, going as far as to stuff them into the back pocket of his jeans. You groaned in annoyance at the sight. “You’re being an asshole.” 

“And you’re a fucking liar,” he taunted, stepping closer again. This time until he was no more than a few inches away. Your body was fully pressed against the dryer then, it hot along the skin on the back of your thighs. “So admit it.” 

“Admit what?” 

He leaned closer, his lips nearly tracing the shell of your ear, all while his hands moved up, fingers brushing across your bare ribs so softly it hadn’t felt real. They slipped away, instead pressing along the dryer behind you that was still running. He had you caged in, his chest warm against yours. 

“That you want this. That you want me.” 

A breathy sigh fell away, your lips practically trembling as all of the hair on your body seemed to stand straight up. 

He continued, “You say I’m the asshole but you’re the one who walks around doing your laundry in nothing but a skimpy shirt. You fucking want me to see you like that, don’t you? Like this? You want to tempt me. But that’s the thing isn’t it? You only act like a whore if it means getting my attention. Isn’t that right?” 

“Anakin…” his name almost sounding like a moan as it slipped, body leaning further into his involuntarily. 

“Say it, Y/N. Fucking say it, and I’m yours.” 

You sighed, the most hopeless sound because he had you. He always did. How was it happening? You weren’t sure, but it was all that mattered. “Fine, I want you.” 

He smiled a grin that was so full of himself as he reached forward, his hand gripping your jaw so firmly in his hand. It happened so quick, then, the feeling of him pulling you forward. It was almost like you could have gotten whiplash as his lips consumed you, enveloping you in what could only be described as pure sin. Without a moment to even feel them on yours, his tongue was parting your lips, slipping in without you giving much of a fight. A moan was ripped free from your throat as he branded you over and over, his taste coated along your tongue, faintly tasting of mint gum and cigarettes. 

Somehow it wasn’t anything you thought it would be like. It was better, intangible, unable to fully grasp until it was happening, leaving you to spin, to drip with need, and in a way, begging for penance. His body collided with yours, his other hand roughly grabbing your hip, slamming you further into the dryer, the vibration of it catching your attention as he did so. As his knee parted your legs, you twitched, the feeling of his clothed knee too much as he pressed it up against your core. 

Gasping, your hands shot forward, pushing at his chest. It was enough for his lips to part from yours, with a string of his saliva pooling around the corners of your lips. “Wait, not here.” 

You looked around the empty laundry room, suddenly awfully aware of the possibility for anyone to walk in. Especially those who had their laundry going in the machines. 

He chuckled, the sound making your legs clench again, but this time around, his knee stood in the way. He smirked at the sight, his voice lowering, “Yes, here.” 

You couldn’t deny how it had made you feel, the dominance doing something to you. So much so that you relaxed under his hooded eyes, giving in once again. It was enough of an answer for him as he immediately went to your cotton shorts, yanking them down from your hips. The material loosened and pooled around your feet, leaving you in nothing but the black pair of soft panties you had slipped on after your shower. 

“Not red,” he chuckled, hands ghosting along your ribs, thumbs tempting to brush along your nipples through the material of your shirt, “But fuck are they still pretty.” 

His knee pressed up further against the material, the thin material that was soaked to the point that he was risking having a stain left when he pulled it away. You whimpered at the feeling, desperate for any relief you hadn’t been able to get since you laid eyes on him for the first time. You couldn’t help but sink down on him, the feeling sending a shock through your core and another sound to fall from your blissfully kissed lips. 

He took in the sight, not caring who saw. Not if it meant he had his claim on you, that everyone knew. That they all were aware of how fucking obsessed you were, with him, his cock, that you would be willing to get caught. With lidded eyes just as desperate for you as you were for him, he let his fingers trace down your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he found the waistband of your underwear. Your chest tightened again in anticipation, as his fingers slid down further until they were pressed along the front of it, able to feel the wetness that had soaked all the way through. 

His ego was huge at that point, almost feeling accomplished by his handy work. His thumb found the bundle of nerves with ease as if this hadn’t been his first time with you, but rather had memorized your body, knew just how exactly to get you to come undone. Pressing down, he bit down on his bottom lip, watching as your head lulled back, a desperate sound-emitting. 

He couldn’t take it then, and neither could you. When he pulled away, you gasped in protest, ready to glare at him, but that inclination disappeared as he reached for the button of his jeans. You were practically drooling as it popped, followed by the sound of the zipper being yanked down. Your chest was rising and falling, so much anticipation forming along your skin in the form of sweat, the spot between your legs throbbing to the point of it almost being painful. 

You were ready to beg. If he wasted any more time, you would. You didn’t care how desperate and defiling it felt then because if it were any other man, you wouldn’t, but for him, you would. You would over and over if it meant it would lead to this. Your breath hitched as he reached for the waistline of his boxers, sliding them down just enough to release his dick from the confines of the material. 

Fuck, even his dick was perfect. 

The sight of it had you nearly collapsing, completely acting like an idiot just at the sight. Who knew all it took was one cock to have you completely silent, lost for words. It had never happened, never thought it could, until him. It was the way it erected out, almost touching the material of his hoodie, red, already slick with precum. A world where he wanted you back seemed so implausible, and yet the sight of that alone could have had you cumming on the spot. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, wrapping one of his hands around the base of it, he hissed slightly at the contact. 

“Anakin, fuck just, please,” you whimpered further, and you hated how it sounded across your tongue, but that thought disappeared quickly as he moved closer. 

With one hand pushing your underwear to the side, the other aided his dick in sliding in between your folds. It was only the tip, and yet at the feeling, you were a mess. A mess of chewing on your lower lip, just desperately wishing for this feeling to never end. If you could have this for the rest of your life every day, you would. The feeling of him over and over again would be a mantra you would strive for if it always felt like this. 

Your walls were tight around him, and both being so impatient, he thrust forward, bottoming out quickly. A small noise fell from your lips at the feeling of his tip colliding deeply inside, your walls tightening, sucking him in perfectly. 

“Ah, fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice enough to make you clench again, stomach fluttering as his forehead softly met yours. 

There was a second, a brief moment where neither of you moved. It was only heavy breathing accompanied by the sounds of the dryers, and you knew it was equally the nastiest but most perfect moment of your life. Then with his lips collapsing on yours once again, he began to move. Pulling out, he trusted back in, rocking his hips against yours. He swore under his breath, dick twitching though he had barely even started. With his lips claiming yours over and over, his hand trailed up along the side of your leg, taking hold of your knee to hike it up along his waist. At the new feeling, the stretch, paired with his dick still prodding, you moaned, the sound loud, louder than you anticipated it to be. 

He laughed, the sound vibrating against your chest. It only got worse as his other hand slipped down in between your bodies locating your clit with ease through your underwear. Pulling out all the way, he shoved himself all the way back in, eliciting sounds you didn’t know you could even derive. Your body arched into his, legs already like jelly as his thumb circled the bundle of nerves slowly, almost too slowly. The feeling of the soft fabric of the underwear only added more friction and you were spiraling at how quickly your pussy tightened around his length. 

He grunted, a string of curse words slipping as he harshly pinned your body back against the dryer, the vibration of the machine only heightening it all further. You wouldn’t last long, you knew that, practically able to hear your heart in your ears, stomach clenching with that familiar knot. Your hands reached out to grip his shoulders, the material of his hoodie curling under your fingers as you held onto him so tightly as if you were trying to mold the two of your bodies into one. 

Moving so quickly at that point, he was reaching that very spot inside you couldn’t do yourself, and it had your head spinning, chest rising and falling, as you desperately craved the high more than even drugs or alcohol. 

“Say my name, baby,” he pleaded then, sounding so whiny as his blue eyes met yours. “Come on. Say it. Say it like you do when you’re laying in bed, hand going to fucking work in between your legs.” 

Sweat gathered along his brow, while the tops of his cheeks were staining red. The sound of the pet name had you almost crying, leg tightening around his waist, as every part of your body seemed lit on fire. 

“Anakin,” you moaned softly. 

“No,” he demanded glaring down at you, “Not like that.” 

He began to speed up his assault on your clit, and you could barely stand at that point, body almost leaning completely back on the dryer. That was enough to get what he wanted as his name began to spill from your mouth louder than it ever had before. 

He swore again, his grunts filling your ears as his palm tightened around your hip. He was moving so quickly, sliding in and out, you could feel your wetness dripping down your inner thighs, the sounds so loud in your ears. His thumb never faltered or stopped as he pulled all the way out and then back in, wanting you to take him in inch by inch. Before you had even realized it, your walls were tightening around him, your stomach clenched, eyes squeezed shut like you were chasing stars. 

That feeling snapped, a lull, and you were a moaning mess as you held onto him, knowing you couldn’t stand on your own. Fingers digging deeply into his shoulders, body relaxing slightly while the orgasm washed over you, he didn’t dare stop. Anakin only pulled out to slam back into you, the flutter of your walls pulling him in over and over again. Chasing his high so desperately, it didn’t take long, until he was stilling completely, cumming inside of you. 

You hadn’t let anyone else do that, but for him, it was a privilege. It was almost like your pussy was promised for him and him alone. His forehead fell down against yours, body relaxing into yours for a moment, only a few seconds, not long enough as your walls pulsed around him, now soft inside of you. He pulled out with ease, the loss of him and the cool air startling you to clamp your legs shut. 

He stuffed himself back into his pants and looked down at you almost proudly, your fucked out gaze enough to have him wanting to take you back to his apartment and keep it going all night long, but you had places to be instead. Smirking, his eyes fell down to your lower half, and he couldn’t resist then. Fingers finding the sides of your underwear, they hooked around them before pulling them down your frame and to your ankles. Though confused, you followed, stepping out of them. 

At the loss of them, you could feel the mixed wetness pooling out of you and down the inside of your legs, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Proud of his handiwork, Anakin reached behind him in his back pocket and took out the red lacy underwear. He held them out in his hands, stretching them as he demanded softly, “Step in.” 

Listening, you stepped into the underwear, the clean red lacy underwear that had started all of this. Then tantalizing as if he wanted to torture you further, he pulled them up your legs slowly, agonizingly slow, and then up and over your butt until they sat comfortably along your hips, surely soaking in what the two of you had done.

Leaning forward, he left a lingering peck on your hip bone, and you sighed at the feeling. He slid your shorts back on next before standing and as he did, you could still feel the flush in your cheeks, reality catching up to you. 

Having exchanged the red underwear for the black ones you wore, he shoved the dirty ones into his back pocket. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think straight, as your heart seemed to be beating out of your chest. With that smirk, that glint on his goddamn face, he reached forward, thumb pulling your bottom lip free before letting it snap back into place. 

“I expect those panties of yours to remain where they are your whole date, got it? And tell Cole ‘hi’ for me, will you?” 

There was one thing for sure, Anakin Skywalker despised you, or not anymore, at least because, after all, he got the one thing he had been dying of thirst for. He would make sure you never ignored him again, even if it was when you were doing your damn laundry. 

I met Hayden Christensen yesterday!! My experience under the cut!

I’m gatekeeping my photo cause yeah it’s for me but he was the sweetest!! But his head was like resting on mine and we were so close ughhhh..the hand placement yall…im dead. He has INTENSE EYE CONTACT JESUS CHRIST. I got my Vader tattoo signed (and got his signature tattooed as of this morning!!) he stopped the line so he could get his phone to take a picture of my tattoo. He was like ‘oh hey wait I need to take a picture of this. Where’s my phone?’ And then when he got his phone he was about to take a photo and he stopped and he was like ‘is it fine if I take a picture?’ consent king. He took a pic of it and then he pulled his phone back and he was like ‘can I get a smile?’ I ABOUT EXPLODED!! I’m on his phone now guys..guys..I..I’m not okay. He also stayed super late after the con closed to finish signing everything for everyone. Ugh I’m gonna go crawl back into my hole for another 6 months now.

Happy 20th Bday to Maxgraculus ! 🥀

Jeez why is he sooo cute 😭

That goddamn smile 🥹

his smile🫶🏻💗🤭🤠🤪❤️🥰🥹😘😛🙌🏻🧎‍♀️🌸🌙⚡️

❝ final girl. ❞

── sk!anakin skywalker x reader

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 | @6september was kind enough to make a pinterest board for the vibe!! also she proofread/edited this post for me!! <33 im a huge mel fan. 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.

“We need to talk.”

Quick EuroDead

:(

cropped out of something bigger that would be too gory to post here

So, I've got this 'horror'/angst fic kinda lame idea going on that's basically.. Øystein plans to leave for Oslo after Pelle shot himself dead and strange things begin to happen. He's never sure if they're 4REAL or it's all in his head but it slowly drives him to madness and the epilogue is pretty self explanatory.

Now, I've already got a moderately big fic that I'm working on rn but if anyone is particularly interested, lemme know <3

Ko-fi l  DeviantArt

where’s it’s friday like it fucking matters

Late night doodle

Colored sketch ✍️

Got to see Slipknot three days ago in Paris, annnd I wanted to draw a lil Joey 🥁