❝ A Lesson In Huttese. ❞

❝ a lesson in huttese. ❞

── anakin skywalker x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 3k SUMMARY: after a market mishap, anakin gives you a more personal lesson in how to speak his native language. NOTES: semi-inspired by my past work “talk huttese to me” but it is not required reading to understand this piece | prompt supplied by @xstarkillerx WARNINGS: size difference | anakin lowkey babying you and then degrading the fuck out of you | you know a little huttese | anakin gets a little degraded too | vag fingering | some choking (f receiving) | anakin being a mean sadist | overstimulation | squirting | anakin’s exhibits his piss kink interest | dacryphilia | edging | dumbification | no use of y/n i think

“Keep up.” ANAKIN SKYWALKER chastises you, and you obey, increasing your pace to meet his monstrous strides, struggling to maintain his speed. “I want to make this quick.” 

“I don’t know if I know enough—“ you protest, glancing at your feet to avoid tripping over the rippled sand. 

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’ve been doing well.” he insists, his hand instinctively guiding you by the small of your back. “I’ll be right behind you.” The day breeze is warm, but it’s Anakin’s touch that burns you. Timidly responding with a complacent confirmation despite your doubts. 

Open-aired bodegas line the street, merchants with goods to sell wait for willing customers. Anakin had warned you about the demographic of Tatooine, but you’d expected far meaner appearances. Bashful still, your gaze turns to Anakin uneasily, who greets you with his kind eyes, and uncharacteristic patience. 

“Yes?” he says softly, and you feel like retreating into his arms. 

“What are we looking for again?” your tone, feathery light, causes your lover to lend his ear to you so as to hear you over the rustle of passersby. You repeat yourself, shyer than before in response to his abrupt proximity. 

He maintains that closeness, retracting only to look into your eyes. “An aeromagnifier.” A pause, so he adds, “Do you remember how to say it?” 

In this moment, you feel ashamed to admit how much you like when he babies you like this. “Yes, yes, I remember.” 

“Alright, this way.” His metal hand hooks around your waist, and you approach a man at his seat. Out of the options, he seemed the sleaziest by far, which did not assuage your nerves. “Go on,” he encourages in a whisper so only you can hear it, allowing you to step forward without him. 

The vendor notices you, and immediately turns on the artificial charm. A wide, toothy and yellowed grin, peering at you with his enlarged red eyes through bifocals attached to his head in meticulous machinery. “Hello, welcome, welcome,” he says in a rasp, and you can smell the cigarette he smoked prior to this engagement. 

“Hi,” The only formal greeting you know in Huttese, and you pray it suffices for proper engagement. 

“Ah, the little lady speaks my language. Should’ve known. Little lady, what can I do for you? What are you looking for?” 

You glance back at Anakin, who goads you with a chastening expression. As if to say that you can’t back out now. You pivot your attention back to the merchant clasping his gold-ringed fingers in anticipation. 

“Perhaps, the lady does not know what she searches for…?” he trails off, awaiting you to finish the sentence for him.

“No, no. I know what to do.” you reply, but is it to convince you or him? Your knowledge in Huttese is limited to predictable small talk and basic commands. You’re trying to keep it as simple as possible, and luckily he talks slow enough for you to understand him, repeating lots of words that help your context clues. “I need an aeromagnifier. The one there-'' You point to its location. “There.” 

“Yes, yes, this one, this one. I see.” The vendor recedes to the back of his shop, shaded by his canopy hanging overhead, and retrieves it, bringing it to the light to present it to you. He gestures to it with a tantalizing flutter of his fingers down its figure. “Good taste, good taste. This one, little lady, is two-fifty. Two-fifty nothing less.” 

“Two-fifty?” 

“Two-fifty, two-fifty. Nothing more, nothing less. Two-fifty.” 

“That… um, I don’t understand.”

The merchant lets his act slip marginally, enough for you to note it, but only to decide he must’ve enacted his contempt because of your unreasonable phrasing. You’re floundering, you must be. “What’s there to not understand? How do you not understand?” 

“No two-fifty. Too much?” Suddenly, your knowledge of Huttese is dissipating out of fear. Unable to properly convey your disagreement when the price isn’t what you thought it’d be. 

“‘Too much’—? How ‘too much’—?” 

The conversation makes your hands sweat, wondering if you did something wrong. No sooner do you turn to search for Anakin’s help when he meets the vendor at the table, at the ready for your rescue. When he interjects, you barely keep up to how quickly they talk. 

“Choy tay saka ‘ton-sin’? Mi wat do suzun nawee eet raun, kung. Ton-sin’d do karkin’ moocha. Soong wanga—“ You get every other word, something about being a thief, “to steal” specifically. You furrow your brows, attempting your best to follow the discussion. 

“Wanga-threnten!” The merchant declares, holding his finger up to Anakin’s face, who promptly pushes it out of his way. 

“Tagwa, deetso eff chuba noah moocha. Wanga mo noah, sleemo.” Decisive as always, Anakin silences his opponent with his confidence. From what you gathered, Anakin gave him an ultimatum. The price as one, instead of two-fifty. 

The vendor, reluctantly, concedes with a flapping of his hand to signal to Anakin to calm down. Dramatizing the situation because Anakin had been atypically placid the entire exchange. The way he took control of the situation and forced someone to yield so determinately, had you rubbing your legs together. You’re addicted to this personification he takes on when he speaks his native language. 

Anakin turns his attention to you, and you jump in place when he addresses you, having been too entranced to realize your own presence. “Go ahead and pay him, baby.” He eyes you through his brows, softening his voice, “Did you get all that?” 

“Just one, right?” you confirm, collecting five wupiupi pieces to give to the grumbling merchant. 

As Anakin guides you away with the aeromagnifier in possession, you hear a phrase you could never mistake. “E chu ta!” the vendor calls after the two of you. ‘Fuck you!’ he’d said. 

Anakin hollers over his shoulder, “Chuba ta, maya punchee.” You too, weak-minded friend.

You chuckle to yourself. 

“Should’ve known they’d try to take advantage of me. I mean, the guy talked to me like I was stupid- and I was actually grateful for it.” you relay to Anakin, wryly grinning about the ordeal as you wash your hair. Suds pouring down the column of your neck to trail around your naked body. Wiping soap from your eyes, you open them to gauge your lover’s reaction. There’s a smile on his face you cannot place, whether it’s endearment, or meant to be demeaning, you didn’t know. 

“I would’ve been surprised if he hadn’t. Pretty little thing like you?” he teased, moistening his lips and advancing on you playfully. You absorbed his subtle bump, curbing your instinct to scold him since you like when he talks down to you. “I would’ve tried to take advantage of you too.” 

A comfortable silence follows while you stare up at him with stars in your dilated pupils, hot water rinsing your hair. He holds your gaze faithfully, and you break it before you lose yourself in him. “I thought I did pretty good.” you praise yourself to change the subject from the idea of Anakin having his way with you, from the fantasy that he’d overcharge you for a product and when you can’t pay your way out you sell your body to him instead. Showering together makes you go crazy sometimes. “Speaking it, I mean.”

“You did.” he concurred verbally, but his tone conveyed another layer. His large hands cup your hips, guiding you to the side so he can have his turn under the faucet. You raise a brow at him. “You could do better though.” His challenge jellies your legs. You watch, like a lovesick fool, as he tips his head back into the water, and comes to, shaking his curls out. Droplets draw down his herculean form. Ever since he saved you from the market— as silly as it was— you could not stop thinking about fucking him. 

“Oh, yeah?” You fall into his trap. 

“Your pronunciation is too polished. If you don’t sound like a local, people won’t treat you like one. They’ll treat you like a sucker.” 

Much like that vendor today. As soon as Anakin stepped in, he backed off. Remembering how assertive Anakin was is all too much. You’re about ready to get on your knees and start blowing him like a real sucker would. 

Anakin sensed your frenzied need for him as soon as the two of you had left the market. Your desire is no secret. Certainly not one you can keep from him. 

“Alright, so what do I change?” 

“I’ll show you. Hear what I say,” he tells you and you swallow hard, mouth drying up. “At eeptuk schutta hagwa non che chee’toosa.” he says, and you practically melt. “Now, say it back to me.” 

Obediently, you parrot it back to him. There was one distinct word you're sure you’ve heard before.

No sooner had you finished your sentence than his palm cupped your chin, tucking it into the web of his thumb. The tips of his fingers press into your cheeks, pursing your lips for you. “Say it again,” He emphasizes his command by pinching further, a sting in your buccal. “At-“ You listen intently, the phonetic arrangement teaching you to put your tongue behind your teeth when pronouncing the “T” at the end. 

“At-“

“Eep-tuk-“

“Ee—“ you stifle a giggle at your positioning, worried you’ll earn yourself a reprimand from your stoic teacher. “E- eept—“ You dissolve into your laughter, and a loving grin breaks out onto Anakin’s face, contrasting his demanding nature from before. He draws you in by his clutch of your cheeks, kissing on your puckered lips over and over again until his hold loosens enough for you to escape it. “No, don’t distract me!” you plead, “I can do it! Ee… Eep-tuuk—“ Your weak dissent of your hands against his chest does nothing to dissuade him. He chases you, and envelopes you in his arms, sliding your wet naked bodies together as he captures your mouth. He wastes no time in prying your lips open, inviting his tongue in to explore all it can. 

It’s a wonder you didn’t notice how heavy his cock lay against your leg until he humps you with it clumsily, searching for some comforting friction after witnessing your attempt at immersing yourself in his culture. 

Habitually, you withdraw to make room for yourself, enclosing your lips around his tongue to suck on it and bob your head as if you’re giving him oral. Usually, such a thing coaxes a whimper out of him, a desperate beg to put that gifted mouth to use on his cock. Instead, it only heightens his desire for you, to have you as quickly as possible. He slams you against the cold tiling, stealing the breath from your lungs, freeing his mouth to plant sloppy, open kisses onto your cheek and down your neck. Anywhere within his reach is mouthed passionately, tongued as if it’s not a mundane part of you but your very core itself. Your eyes roll into the back of your head once he meets with your pulse point, propped up by his body against yours. “Ani…“ He hums in response to the call of his name, admitting his approval for it with a bite into your flesh. “What did you say earlier?” you exhale, palms outlined the dips in his muscle. 

“In Huttese?” he speaks against your skin and it tickles you, pinching your head into your shoulder, his damp curls brushing your jawline. “‘This little whore can’t do a thing for herself.’” 

“Fuck you, would you really have me say that?” 

“Tell that to your puppy eyes. Begging me to save you as soon as shit got tough. My poor baby, so pitiful,” 

As if to discipline him, you shove him, but he remains undeterred. There’s no need to make fun of you for needing help, besides he’d volunteered before you even asked. There’s plenty you can do on your own, without him. You can be independent. 

You don’t get a chance to defend yourself as he maneuvers you to arch your back, his mouth traveling to consume your collarbones and upper chest as he bends over you, thick arms behind you to secure you. “Gimme those tits, baby, wanna swallow them.” he demands from you in Huttese, but this time you’re able to understand the gist of what he’s saying. 

“Maker, Anakin, you’re so gross.” you tell him, but as you suspect, he grins in response. His teeth scrape against you, and he does as he promised. Lapping at your nipple as if seeking it out to latch, to suckle. Your hands slide into his hair, sighing out as he imbibes as much of the fat he can. “Ani—“ you whine, wiggling your hips to chase any friction you can afford. 

Swiftly, he answers you, with his large hand cupping your mound, soothing it with slow circles. You press yourself into his grasp, rolling your hips. It earns you a sharp bite to your sensitive bud and you yelp. To exhibit patience, you let him explore your pussy as he sees fit. Fingers dipping into its wells, circling your folds and flicking up against your clit every so lightly. “Such a pretty thing. My hole, you know that? My hole.” The key words are lost on you. “Gonna fuck this little hole til it’s red and swollen. Til you cry.” 

You whimper, regardless if you can’t understand him, and he sticks a single finger in, only to pull out to stretch you with two. 

“How fucking tight can you get? Almost wanna turn you off so I can make it tighter. You’d let me do it too.” He licks water off of you, up the valley of your breasts, and takes your lips in a passionate kiss, scissoring you open so he can swallow the noises you make. Experimentally, he massages your insides, his thumb brushing your clit every so often as he pistons deeper inside. Your curiosity is killing you enough to break the kiss. 

“What the hell are you saying to me right now, Anakin?” you breathe, slumping against the wall while he fingers you. Why the hell did it work so well on you? Immediately soaking when you know he’s talking dirty in a language you can’t translate quick enough. 

“If you keep up with your lessons, you’ll know one day,” he promises. Instinctively, you shy away, pivoting your head as you squeeze your eyes shut, nearing your release. To counter that behavior, Anakin heightens and uses his free hand to clutch your neck, redirecting your attention to where it belongs. On him. “Don’t be stupid.” This insult you know. 

You frown at him, but as soon as your gaze lands on him, he speeds up, curling his fingers in a way that has you reeling. Your favorite spot, erasing all of your offense in a motion. Worsening when he sneaks in another finger.

“Oh? What are you gonna do about it?” 

You can barely keep your eyes open, staring at him through thick lashes because it’s what he wants. His grip squeezes, and it enhances your pleasure, tingles spreading throughout your entire body. 

“Can’t pretend you hate it. Can’t lie to me, can’t hide from me.” His admonishing tone only adds to how the coil in your belly winds, the heat in between your legs desperate to go somewhere, anywhere. He leans into you, burying his nose in your cheek as he talks shit in your ear. ”You’re gonna say it for me one more time,” he demands, and you stifle your wail of despair. How he teeters you, so close to where you need to be, and takes it from you at the last second. “At eeptuk schutta hagwa non che chee’toosa. Do you understand?” 

“Ani, I can’t—“ There’s not a possibility, how could you think let alone speak? 

“You can.” He leaves no room for argument, his teeth biting down onto your earlobe to tug on it. “Don’t tell me you’re this fucking dumb and all I’m using is my fucking hand.” 

“Fuck,” you curse in the language, which earns you a snicker from him, his breath against you sending shivers down your spine. “Okay— ah! Okay… Uh,” 

Your walls clench around him, signaling your impending release. Reading them like a book, he keeps you right where he wants you. A damn near painful experience, and he knows it. 

He recoils so he can see your pretty face, jutting his chin. Bragging about his competence when he’s the one unaffected. “At-“ 

Idling for too long earns you a hard press of your clit and you mewl. Hastily, you manage, “At-“

“Eeptuk-“ 

“Eeptook—“ 

“Baby.” he lowers his voice, fit to scold you. “Do you want to cum or not?”

“I do, I fucking do, please.”

“Then do as I say.” He commands it of you as if it is so simple! His thumb traces your jawline soothingly, but his grip stays firm. 

“Eeptuk,” you flinch, worried that if you’d pronounced wrong like before you’d receive some sort of punishment. “schutta-“ The word you most recognize. Slut. His favorite pet-name for you whenever he was persuaded to speak his native tongue. Keen on tripping you up, he increased his pace, and out of the corner of your eye you witness how swollen his arm has become from this workout. Veins popping out. It fucked you up. “Hagwa non che-“

“Chee’toosa. Right, baby? Almost done.”

Your eyes burn, red in the face out of frustration. “Chee’toosa.” 

“That’s right. Like I said, ‘this little whore can’t do a thing for herself.’” If you had the energy, you’d fight him on it. Unfortunately you’re spent, the only reason you’re upright is his body weight. He’s right, all you wanted from him is what he can give you. 

Unintelligible noises spill from you, rocking into his hand movements, but this time he lets you. His intense eyes hold your gaze unapologetically, waiting to feast on your orgasm. 

“Does a brat like you really deserve to cum? Should leave you like this.” Weakly, you shake your head, on the verge of crying from his cruelty if he really put you through all that just to steal it from you. You’re at your edge. There isn’t anything in the world you crave more than finishing right now. His thumb works into your clit, getting you to reach that breaking point, attaining it. You cry out, your orgasm crashing through you beginning from the tips of your toes, crawling up your spine. The fact he can bring you to this using only a hand awes you. You brace yourself on him, clawing into his bicep. 

He doesn’t stop there. An overstimulation already setting in from how heartlessly his rough fingers glide in and out of you, unbothered to let you recuperate. How he takes your pleasure for himself. You’re fucking his hand, but he’s feeding off of you, playing with your parts for his own fascination. 

Your throat is released, causing your vision to haze, and he hooks his hand under your knee, hiking your leg up. Your cum drips from his palm, but he’s still going, regardless of your protests. “You wanted this, c’mon,” Your pussy feels raw, yet he probes it, and when he pinches the sensitive flesh between his fingers, tears prick the corners of your eyes. “Are you about to piss? Fuck, you really are a little slut. You’re about to squirt all over me, huh?” 

“Anakin!” 

“Do it, go on. Can’t believe how disgusting you are. Don’t worry, I’ll make you clean it up with your tongue afterwards.” 

It stings how he fucks with your bladder, readying that most sacred attribute. Not everyone can squirt, but you can, and Anakin fucking loves it. Enough to pull it from you whenever he wants. You don’t need to know Huttese to get what he’s trying to do to you right now. 

“Yeah, you like that, whore? You wanna lap up your piss from my legs? Suck it off my dick? Here it comes, get ready.” 

You keen, the floodgates finally opening to spray your dirty fluids all over your lover. Hot and wet, running down your thighs. The act itself, the intensity, causes you to choke back sobs. Anakin lets your leg drop, and gingerly he tugs his digits from their wedge inside you. Flattening his hand against your sex, soothing it with a light massage. He bites his lip, holding back his smile as you try to hide your tears from him. “Too much, baby?” 

“You are such an asshole.” you speak Huttese, with perfect pronunciation. It gets him to laugh, drawing you to him so he can lick your salty tears away, and help you clean up in the shower.