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fuckmyskywalker · 1 year

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Babysitting — Anakin Skywalker.

— Pairing: SingleDad!Anakin x Babysitter!Reader.

— Summary: You stay at his house while he's at a boring fundraising event of the company he works for, so, you do what you love to do when he's not home... Lock yourself in his room, inside your fantasies, pretending he's yours. You lay down on his bed, imagining his touch, his voice, it feels so... real. But, it's just an illusion... right?

— CW: 18+, smut! minors DNI. ModernAU!Setting, Anakin and Reader are clearly delusional and obsessed with each other <3. Light stalking (maybe?), masturbation (f n' m), a bit of voyeurism (?), Fingering, PiV sex, unhealthy shit. | word count: 2.5k | not proofread!

— a/n: My first post here, yay! I'm so excited and so nervous. Hope you like it! Happy May 4th! 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

“Sorry for calling you on such short notice” Anakin apologizes, frowning. Leia is on his hip, fighting the sleep without any hints of success. Her chocolate eyes blink slowly, looking at you, her favorite playtime partner. “Luke is already sleeping upstairs, but this one is giving me trouble”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Skywalker” You replied with a smile, fetching the little girl from his arms and placing her on your chest. Leia places her chin on your shoulder, quickly falling asleep. “Have fun at your fundraiser!”

“If you need anything, call me,” He says, oddly serious. You don’t mind, though there’s something about his permanent anxious blue eyes that makes your heart race. “And don’t call me that, I’m not that old” He sighs and walks closer to kiss Leia’s forehead.

You wished he kissed your forehead too.

Being the babysitter of a 26-year-old, single, and widowed Dad wasn’t exactly everyone’s dream job… It wasn’t yours either, at the beginning that is; When you first read the job offer online you thought it was a joke, it seemed too good to be true, but still, you had nothing to lose— And to your amazement, a tired voice answered your call and the instant you heard the thunderous cry of a child, you knew it was very, very real.

It wasn’t just babysitting Leia and Luke, but you ended up babysitting Anakin as well. Helping him fix his tie, packing him any leftovers (He didn’t care it was the dino nuggets Luke begged and cried for), and even helping him with some house cleaning on those days when he had to stay extra hours at the office. You instantly clicked with his kids, Luke was definitely a bit more hesitant to come out of his shell, shyly hiding behind his sister’s white pajamas, but Leia liked you from your very first day, her feisty and energetic attitude quite surprising for a four-year-old.

Tonight, it was no different. You were in your bed, reading some random book from the local library when your phone rang, and Anakin hurriedly explained to you how he forgot he had a fundraising event that evening and if you could watch the kids. You agreed without hesitation, and even a bit more excited than you would’ve wanted to, but he was too busy chasing Luke to dress him up to notice your odd enthusiasm.

You walk upstairs, listening to his car engine driving away. Carefully placing Leia on his little bed, you gave Luke a quick look, making sure he was asleep. Turning on their nightlight, you leave the door open, in case one of them wakes up.

It was the second time you spend the night at Anakin’s home, the first time being last month, when he was out of town for a weekend, and just like you did the last time, you walk to his bedroom, slowly, feeling yourself, imagining that this was your house.

And that he was your husband.

Inside his closet, the scent of his body wash, his expensive cologne, and just him drowns you. You grab one of his sweaters, your favorite one, that black turtleneck that’s tight in the right places. Bringing it up to your face you smell it, he must have worn it this morning because the perfume was intense and it made your head twirl with excitement.

You take off your shirt, putting his sweater on. The material it’s so soft, and the warm sensation brings you to another level of ecstasy, wondering if this is how it feels to have his muscular, tanned arms around you.

Laying down on his bed, you bury your face in his pillow, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull with utter obsession. Everything about him allures you to a point that it is maddening. You know everything you need to know about him; His wife died three years ago and he hasn’t been on a single date since, between the kids, his work, and the mourning it has been impossible. You know he has a major sweet tooth, and you love to see his little smirk every time you bake cookies, especially for him. You know he hates his mechanical arm but somehow it fascinates you. You know he is a workaholic, always trying to keep his mind busy and to keep himself in line. You know about his… issues, you had seen his bottles of Celexa, Sertraline, and Lorazepam. You know his favorite food, his favorite movie, who he tolerates at work and those he hates the most.

But you wish to know everything about him. Every single little detail.

Still with his sweater drowning your body, you walk downstairs, microwaving the pizza he bought that night probably under Leia’s command. Eating the couch, you turn on the TV, watching a random show without really paying attention to it, your mind still drifting away to the thought of owning this place. Of owning him.

Waiting for him like a little, pretty housewife. Dinner ready, wearing a cute pink apron, the kids running around the living room, greeting him with a kiss…

Oh, such wonderful fantasies.

Cleaning the kitchen, you return to the living room to pick up the twins’ toys, making sure everything looks good and homely. You can already picture it, sitting next to him on the weekends, laying on his chest while ranting about work just like he always does to you… but this time he cups your cheeks to kiss you, to enjoy his days off by your side.

Time flies, and you know it because the clock is almost one-hour past midnight. You start to wonder where he is, did he really go to that boring event?

He looked too worried about it, plus, why would Anakin lie to you? It’s not like he had something else to do, right?

Your mind races without noticing it, what if he’s out with someone else, and he just wanted to keep it a secret? The sting of jealousy settles in your stomach almost comfortably. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. He is yours as much as you are his. Even if Anakin doesn’t fully know it yet. You’ve seen the way he smiles at you, how he thanks you for helping him so, so, so much, you see how happy he looks when the twins squeal with excitement at your presence, how quickly he raised your pay, even if you refused.

“I insist,” He said, with those ocean eyes. And who were you to deny him anything?

Anakin was the man of your dreams. At some point, you start to wonder if destiny is what brought you two together, maybe an unknown force that bonds souls into a beautiful embrace.

Back in his room, the smell of his dark duvet dissolved any trace of doubt and jealousy. He was yours, he truly was. Your hands slid under your sweater, touching your body. You feel on fire. Your skin is melting, imagining it’s his touch. Would his prosthetic hand feel cold against your nipples just like it feels every time he places a hand on your shoulder to thank you? Would his breath feel warm against your abdomen just like it feels when he leans closer to whisper about how funny Luke looks wearing his shoes?

The moan that escapes your lips isn’t loud, you are partially conscious of not waking the kids, though you can’t help it. Sliding down your jeans you slid a hand inside your panties, rubbing your clit in slow circles imagining his calloused, strong hands fingering you. Just using you. Using two fingers you curl them towards that spongey spot that makes you yelp and bite your lip in pleasure. The soft, wet sounds of your pussy fill the room as you pant, one hand yanking the pillow towards your face and inhaling it so deeply you groan against it.

The delicious fantasy of his cock sliding in and out of you spirals you to heaven or hell. You want— need him to kiss you, bite you, even spit on you, anything.

Not even the faint sound of footsteps on the stairs rug brings you back to reality.

Anakin sighs, dragging his coat over the wooden floor, he feels so tired and all he wants is to take a hot shower and sleep. Not even the three drinks he had at the event were enough to dull his headache. He checks the kids’ room, smirking when he sees Luke hugging his favorite dinosaur plushie and Leia sprawled all over her unicorn blanket.

He assumes you are sleeping in the guest room, that is until a tiny, barely discernible sound confuses him. Slowly approaching his bedroom, the tiny door gap makes him gasp silently.

There you are, beautifully spread out in his bed, wearing his sweater, and from what he hears, moaning his name.

How long has it been since someone moaned his name with such desire and passion?

Hesitant, he palms himself over his black trousers, his cock rapidly pumping and pulsing. He sees how your fingers curl, glistening with your arousal, and he wants to lick them clean. It is not the first time he has found himself thinking about you in a way he shouldn’t.

He has been in the same position as you, but without the public, of course. Anakin feels ashamed of himself, for spying on you like this. A wave of embarrassment coats him every time he cums by his own hand, fantasizing about your pretty lips around his dick, how soft your skin must feel, how much he needs your weight on top of him, under him. He can’t help but let his eyes wander every time you bend over to clean the kids’ toys, your skirts leaving little to the imagination. How you place a hand on his arm and thank him for such a wonderful job. How he sees you packing up his lunch and helping Luke with his uniform, braiding Leia’s hair.

Anakin knows you would be a wonderful housewife, always attentive, always gentle. It doesn’t help that the twins absolutely adore you, constantly begging for your attention and talking wonders about you. Wonders he already knows.

Unbuckling his belt, Anakin sighs relieved when he wraps a hand around his hard, thick cock. He fists his hand at the same pace you ride your fingers, your pretty face contorted with pleasure.

Anakin wonders what you are imagining, that makes you so deliciously wet. Are you thinking about him? He hopes you do. He begs heavens you are. No one else had permission to roam around your head. Anakin felt possessive over you, not even understanding why. He was scared of his own emotions from time to time, always so intense, so fierce, so unexpected, and uncontrollable. No one could ever match that energy, when his wife was alive, he had to take prescribed meds in order to keep his emotions in line, and even then it was difficult.

People told him it was an obsession, but they were wrong. It was love, in its purest form.

You moan his name again, this time a little bit louder. Anakin twitches at the angelical sound of it. You are absolutely breathtaking. He can’t control himself any longer. The urge to know how tight and wet you feel around him is eating him up alive.

The door swings open and you choke back in surprise and shock. Your hand flees away from between your legs and your adorable eyes widen in sudden fear. Anakin thrills on it. Your eyes glance at his exposed member, rock-hard and leaking. You gulp, nervous.

“I—I’m sorry Mr. Skywalker I—” You stutter, mortified. You want to cry. Everything is about to crumble, right?

“You have no idea what you do to me” He breathes, almost pained. Speechless, you see how he walks closer, wasting no time to lay on top of you. “Fuck, you are so pretty with my sweater” He whines against your neck, inhaling your scent and his combined.

“Mr. Skywalker…” You whisper, wrapping your arms around him, quickly losing every concert and quickly falling back into the abyss of lust.

“Anakin, call me Anakin” He pants against your skin as he licks your neck, rubbing his cock on your stomach. He whines at the friction, already sensitive.

“Anakin” His name rolls off your tongue so sweetly it makes him twitch and you feel it. “Oh, please— please”

“Tell me what y—you want,” He asks, one hand sliding even further up his sweater, palming your breast. His rough fingertips pinch your nipple, making your back arch. “Because all I want right now is to fuck your pretty pussy raw”

The vulgar words he utters make you moan. Could this be a dream? In that case, you would never want to wake up.

“Fuck me, please, make me yours Anakin” You beg, tangling your hand on his dirty blond hair and yanking it. He moans at the pain, but quickly kisses you, forcing his tongue inside your mouth.

The second he slides inside of you, dragging his long cock and spreading you just like he dreamed of, Anakin realizes he’s doomed. He is now attached to you, captivated, enamored, haunted, by you. Your essence drowns him in the deep ocean of lust and obsession. The thin line between love and mania joins in a big, powerful ocean. His world now spins around you.

He fucks you as if his life depends on it. The skin-on-skin contact is too much. You look so gorgeous, tears falling down your cheeks from the euphoria. This is happening, this is happening, this is finally happening.

Anakin kisses you, all teeth and tongue. The kiss is so sloppy you can feel his saliva running down the corners of your lip, not that you care, of course— He sneaks a hand down, this time abusing your clit with his fingers just like he is abusing your pussy with his cock. You clench around him and he’s a goner, blue eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fills you up seconds after you spam around him, touching heaven with the most mind-shattering orgasm you had ever experienced.

The way he cums it’s almost criminal. He fills you up and it drips out of you, staining his sheets. Anakin forgot the last time he came that much since all he did for the past years was fuck his hand until he cried from overstimulation.

“Stay the night,” Anakin says against your hair, wrapping his arms around you. The dense smell of sex fills the room, forcing you into a dizzy state.

“Yes, yes” You nod, eyelids heavy, and you place a hand on his bicep, puffing. “Anything you want” The smile on your lips it’s bright enough to light up the darkest room, and even though he can’t see it, he feels it.

Maybe he did find someone who could love him as much as he does.

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