Daydreaming about Clone Commanders being secret tattoo artists and piercer…. All of them covered in tattoos and piercings as well….
Drooling, while imaging Bacara tattooing like your inner thigh, lower back or ribcage. Roughly stretching and pulling your skin, while chewing a gum with a concentrated face. His stern face as blank and stern as always. Scoffing at you to hold still and firmly repositioning your body and moving your clothes out of the way. Him shouting at the others from time to time, while you listen silently. He rolls away with his stool, refilling his gun with ink, then rolling back to you, pressing down on you again. Sometimes you can feel his hot breath on your skin, his steady rhythm. Multiple hours with him literally working your body before he shows you some mercy and takes a break, even grabbing you a glass of water. Silently of course. Shortly orders you back between his legs and onto the chair…
Heart pounding, while thinking about Neyo tattooing a small tattoo in your auricle after he just pierced some beautiful piercings through it. Working the needle surprisingly smooth through the flesh and handling it fast but confident, causing few pain. Shooing others away daring to take a look at your design. More or less carefully pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. Surprisingly patient with you wanting to reposition the stencil multiple times. You don’t dare open your eyes as Neyos face hovers directly above yours to reach your ear. Again, surprisingly soft while redirecting your head and placing it the way he wants it…
Smiling about Cody shaving a small part of your body and working in the products bevor the first line is forever drawn on your body. Listening to some quiet music coming from a Radio somewhere in the studio, while Cody hums silently and focused. The way he asked if the stencil is placed the right way or if he should re-do it, is kind and experienced. Reading your worries or approval in your eyes. Bickering with others while his own eyes never leave your skin. He could have a whole conversation with one of his brothers from across the room, both of them fully concentrating on their work, and never take his eyes off of you, smirking while you moan out of pain. Forcing you to take multiple breaks and to drink enough. Definitely wants you to sent him a picture of your tattoo after it’s healed.
Drunk on his voice, while listening to Wolffe explaining his idea of your tattoo. Him speaking of what he’d imagined and how he included your wishes and needs. Leaning close, showing you his datapad with scribbles and sketches. Multiple versions, multiple shades or colors. He still has a faint scent of his last cigarette clinging onto him, but also desinfectant gel as well as his cologne. Him touching that body part of yours to measure and plan. Helping you to imagine what it’ll look like. Including some brothers, perhaps Fox, to get a third opinion if you two are unsure. Both of them staring at your exposed skin.
Squeaking silently, while Fox prepares the needles meant to pierce through your nipples. His neutral face revealing nothing but pure concentration. He explains some routine for the needed care afterwards and what you can do and can’t do within the first few hours. Him leaning you back so that you’re fully on your back, towering over you, needle in hand. Him almost grabbing your first breast bevor abruptly turning away to take a sip of his drink. Coffee or some energy drink probably. Totally unscathed, he turns back, while your heart starts beating again. He’s talking you through the pain. Even praising you slightly. Bevor you recover from the first needle, he’s got the second in hand already, ready to pounce on you again at any moment. Eventually looks at them again, makes you stand, covers them with a bandage each, his fingers again brushing slightly over your soft flesh…..
wolffe x fem reader
summary: slightly jealous/possessive wolffe gives you a lower back wolfpack tattoo + vicious backshots, in that order
warnings: sexual content
a/n: i didn't know how else to summarize this.
it was an impulsive decision on your part, but once wolffe found out about it, there was absolutely no way he was going to let someone else mark up your skin like this. his jaw clenches at the mere thought of you laying on your stomach for another person, your perky ass arched up into the air as you breathe softly through the sparse pinches of pain. that wasn’t gonna happen, not on his watch, and now he’s pissed as he hovers over you at home, tattoo gun in hand.
you turn your head to the side and look up at him, very pleased with the sight. his eyebrows are furrowed in agitation, but also concentration—deliciously shirtless with a thick, heavy cigar settled between his lips. his arms are big and bare and veiny, his shoulders broad in the domineering way he carries himself. and he’s glaring.
“you come to me if you want something done. understood?” he says sternly. puffs of smoke exhale with his words.
“aww, you still mad about that?” you give him a cute little pout. “i just wanted to surprise you…”
wolffe grunts under his breath and palms your head. his fingers sink into your scalp like he’s about to tug—a feeling you’re all too familiar with, but he just turns your face back down like he’s shutting you up. in other words, yes. he’s still mad about that.
you feel him work the needle into your skin right above your ass. his hand in your hair slides down to grip the base of your neck, rubbing gently in reassurance. but you’re not quite through with teasing him.
“mm, can’t wait for you to fuck me when it’s done,” you murmur. “i want you to cum all over it…”
wolffe squeezes his fingertips into your neck before taking his cigar out of his mouth. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he murmurs, blowing the smoke away from you as he brings the fat tip to your lips, not even needing to bark out an order. you lean into his hand and take a drag, tugging him down to exhale the smoke in his mouth. he kisses you slowly and sucks on your tongue, releasing your bottom lip with a teasing nibble.
of course, you’d like that. but you know he’d like it even more. he can’t leave you alone once the tattoo is fully healed. the small, dark wolf he wears on his armor is now etched into your skin, in a place where nobody can think of touching let alone seeing. only him.
“fuck, baby, that’s it…” wolffe grabs your hips, moving them back on his cock. he meets your plush ass and slams into you loudly, rhythmically slapping your skin together. your throat is raw and sore as you moan into the pillow, just getting pounded over and over again until he gets enough—and he can’t get enough. you soak his cock that pushes inside of you so easily, leaving you empty when it slides back out, your pussy clenching desperately for the thick, heavy pressure to stay inside of you. the feeling taunts you through his rough thrusts, and you spread your legs out wider for him, whimpering and crying when he stretches you out, drilling you with a hunger that doesn’t hold back.
“mm, that’s a good girl,” he praises. “oh, fuck, that’s good…” he throws his head back and lets out a deep, guttural groan, digging his fingers into your hips with a bruising possessiveness. his breath comes in fast and broken as he fucks into you deep and slow, finishing himself off with a controlled pace that allows him to pull out and cum all over your lower back. warm liquid white coats your skin, dripping down your wolfpack tattoo. it’s a filthy sight he stares at through heavy-lidded eyes, his chest rising and falling slowly. a sight that brings one word to his mind and one word only.
Summary: Wolffe has an important conversation with Plo Koon.
Word Count: 849
Pairing: Commander Wolffe, Plo Koon
Auhtor´s Note: Finally, Part 4
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
-----
The corridor outside the medbay felt too bright.
Commander Wolffe stepped out into it anyway.
His boots struck the durasteel floor in slow, steady beats as he moved down the hallway. His body still felt heavier than it should have. The medics had cleared him, but Wolffe had never trusted a medical report more than his own instincts.
And right now, his instincts said something was off.
His new cybernetic eye adjusted automatically to the dimmer lighting of the corridor.
Too well.
Too sharp.
Too precise.
Wolffe scowled faintly.
He hated it.
The implant worked perfectly. The doctors had said so three separate times as if repeating it would make the thing feel less like a machine buried in his skull.
Functionality didn’t change the fact that it wasn’t his.
A dull pressure lingered behind his temple.
Not pain.
Just… something.
He rubbed the scar once, briefly, before dropping his hand again.
Sleep had been worse.
Every time he closed his eyes, he expected to see the golden light again.
Expected to hear her voice.
But the dreams had stopped.
Completely.
Which should have been a relief.
Instead, it left a strange irritation sitting in the back of his mind.
Wolffe turned a corner toward the barracks.
“Commander Wolffe.”
The voice stopped him mid-step.
Wolffe turned.
Instinct straightened his posture immediately.
“General.”
Standing in the corridor behind him was Plo Koon.
Even without the Force, the Jedi Master had a presence that was impossible to ignore. Calm. Patient. Watching.
Wolffe already knew that look.
He didn’t like it.
“The Medics finally let you out,” Plo said.
“Apparently,” Wolffe replied dryly.
“Your vision is stable?”
“It works.”
Not good.
Not great.
Just works.
Plo seemed to accept the answer, though his gaze lingered on Wolffe longer than the question required.
That was the problem with Jedi.
They watched too much.
Wolffe crossed his arms slightly.
“Something else, sir?”
Plo’s head tilted almost imperceptibly.
“You seem troubled.”
Wolffe snorted quietly.
“Lost an eye a few days ago, General. That tends to happen.”
The Jedi didn’t react to the sarcasm.
Instead, he stepped a little closer.
Not confrontational.
Just observant.
“The wound is not what concerns me.”
Wolffe’s expression hardened.
“I’m cleared for duty.”
“That was not my question.”
A silence stretched between them.
Wolffe held the Jedi’s gaze for a moment before looking away with mild annoyance.
He knew where this was going.
He really didn’t want to have this conversation.
“I’m fine,” he muttered.
Plo didn’t move.
Which meant the conversation wasn’t over.
Of course it wasn’t.
Wolffe exhaled slowly through his nose.
“…I’ve been having dreams.”
The words sounded ridiculous even to him.
Plo didn’t laugh.
Didn’t react at all, actually.
“Dreams,” the Jedi repeated calmly.
“Yes.”
Another pause.
Wolffe rubbed the back of his neck.
“I figured it was the concussion. Or the pain meds.”
“And what happens in these dreams?”
Wolffe hesitated.
He already regretted mentioning it.
“A place,” he said finally.
“Quiet.”
Plo waited.
Wolffe frowned.
“And there’s… someone there.”
The Jedi’s posture shifted slightly.
“A person?”
“Yes.”
“Someone you know?”
“No.”
Wolffe’s tone sharpened.
“That’s the problem.”
Plo studied him quietly.
“And yet the person feels familiar.”
Wolffe shot him an annoyed look.
“You Jedi do that on purpose?”
“Do what?”
“Guess things you shouldn’t know.”
Plo’s voice remained calm.
“It is not guessing.”
Wolffe grunted under his breath, “Great.”
Another silence followed.
Finally, Plo spoke again.
“The Force sometimes connects people in unexpected ways.”
Wolffe’s expression turned immediately sceptical.
“With respect, General—”
“You do not believe that.”
“Not particularly.”
Plo considered that.
“And yet the dreams continue.”
Wolffe folded his arms tighter.
“They stopped.”
That was the part that bothered him.
More than he wanted to admit.
For the first time, Plo seemed mildly surprised.
“Stopped?”
“Since I woke up.”
Another thoughtful pause.
“The Force can become quiet,” Plo said slowly, “but that does not mean it has disappeared.”
Wolffe looked away down the corridor.
Great, now the Jedi thought the Force was involved.
Just what he needed.
“What if it’s just stress?” Wolffe muttered.
“That is also possible.”
Wolffe blinked.
That wasn’t the answer he expected.
“But,” Plo added gently,
“if the dreams return… I would advise you to pay attention to them.”
Wolffe rubbed the scar near his temple again.
“I’d rather not.”
Plo’s voice softened slightly.
“Some things find us whether we want them or not, Commander.”
Wolffe didn’t answer.
Because part of him knew that was already happening.
When he closed his eyes.. He could still remember the warmth of her hand against the metal of his implant.
The way she had said:
It still belongs to you.
He exhaled quietly.
Then looked back at the Jedi.
“…If this turns out to be some Force vision thing,” Wolffe muttered, “I’m blaming you.”
Plo almost sounded amused.
“I will accept that responsibility.”
Wolffe grunted.
And continued down the corridor.
But for the first time since leaving the medbay, one thought refused to leave him alone.
If the dreams had stopped…
Why did it feel like something was about to start instead?
Fun fact about me: I work in an animal shelter. And I just realised that we have two dogs called Cody and Rex. The thought came to me at work today and I can't stop thinking about it without thinking about The Clone Wars. I was aware of the individual names and that they were called Rex and Cody but I never related that we have Rex AND Cody. I love my job.
We used to have a worker at ours with the last name Vader. We also had a cat named Leia at one point. She would randomly go “Meowwwwwwwwwwwww….” Whenever she wanted attention.
Fun fact about me: I work in an animal shelter. And I just realised that we have two dogs called Cody and Rex. The thought came to me at work today and I can't stop thinking about it without thinking about The Clone Wars. I was aware of the individual names and that they were called Rex and Cody but I never related that we have Rex AND Cody. I love my job.
