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@darkenedgalaxies
This is purely an 18+ blog
Do not follow, do not read, do not interact if you are not 18 years of age or older.
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Chapter 1 - Field of Roses
The Hunt: a Wolffe love story
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Read it on AO3! Or here below the cut
Summary: Rose's arrival to her new battalion results in friendships with most of the troopers and, as a welcome, she and the Wolf Pack go to the 79's to celebrate before things get intense.
Tags/Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, brief fighting, some bleeding and descriptions of injury, references to sex.
Word count: 8.5k
Playlist: Light at the end of the tunnel by Jom Bee
Droid Army March - Star Wars Lofi
(taglist at the end)
Rose held her tiny mirror perfectly in place despite the movements of the shuttle being about to land, her eyes trailed on the reflection of her lips as the red, demi-matte lipstick glided over their full figure. Pouting a couple of times just to make sure they were on point and to die for, Rose put away the mirror and gave the people around her a final scan before the shuttle landed.
Medics. All of them, including her, who had either come from another planet, another battalion, or a medical space station where they’d been secluded for far too long. The shuttle’s main deck was comprised of clone medics as well as those who, like her, had not come originally from Kamino. Of those who weren’t clones, most were women, already being eyed and winked at by many of the clone medics nearby, and Rose was aware of the many looks she’d received on the way to Coruscant. Smirking, she imagined how many pairs of eyes she’d attract on the surface of Coruscant, surprising herself as she found she rather looked forward to it.
Of course, Rose was a professional. Spending one year in the medical station orbiting Rishi, not touching a planet’s firm surface in all that time and barely having room to venture if she needed it, had hardened her up in away. She never quite put it eloquently into words, it was simply something she understood. She had come out of that medical station more resilient, more appreciative of getting to go from planet to planet rather than staying in one place for what seemed like forever, but at the same time, Rose was ready for any sort of action life as a medic with an actual clone battalion had to offer.
The shuttle finally landed and everyone stood from their chairs, filing down the corridor of the shuttle to get out from it, all of them eager to finally set foot on Coruscant. No one was being messy or disorganized, but Rose could notice that file wasn’t as rigorously executed as other formations she saw back on the medical station above Rishi, where the lack of space eventually made everyone stick to protocol like glue. A gesture so simple as that pushed Rose farther into a more lively mode that would convince her things were different now, and she too had the right to loosen up a bit.
It was around noon on Coruscant and the sun shone brightly; Rose had to put a hand over her eyes until they got adjusted as she realized that was the first time she was truly outdoors since the medical station. Long had it been since she’d felt sunlight on her skin and were she not part of the Grand Army of the Republic, she would have taken off her uniform shirt to just be left in the black tank top she wore underneath it. Unfortunately, there was no time for that. Rose was supposed to report to her new squadron upon arrival.
It wasn’t her first time on Coruscant, Rose had been there at the central GAR quarters several times before the medical station. She knew it all very well: the floors, the corridors, the colors, even the sounds. The memories she had of that place were still so vivid in her mind despite how long it had been since she was last there, almost as if it had only been a day rather than roughly a year and a half. The thought made her smile, as if somehow it were a sort of home.
She made a stop at the edge of one of the long corridors of the headquarters, one that had large glass windows that overlooked the city. Among her luggage, Rose fumbled to find the datapad where she had all the details of her new battalion, all waiting to be seen. She finally got the datapad in her hands and turned it on to see the form that made her assignment formal, the letters at the top in bold so as to be seen quickly:
104th Division, Commanding Officer Jedi General Plo Koon
Aside from a few encounters with Master Shaak Ti that occasionally happened on the medical station, Rose had rarely ever interacted with any Jedi before, still, she knew not many medics were assigned to Jedi Generals, at least not those who weren’t clones. She regarded it as a challenge, the very idea only making her even more excited for what the experience could bring. Rose scanned the rest of the document for any more information on where she was supposed to go and, without hesitating, she headed to where she was supposed to be.
*
It gave her a weird sense of nostalgia to be walking down headquarters again, as if her mind were lingering on how much had happened since the last time she’d been there, how much she’d grown and changed. The old Rose would have been giddy and nervous about meeting a new squad and probably would have spent her time getting distracted on purpose with anything the headquarters had to offer. That Rose, however, acknowledged her surroundings with grace, melancholy even, and walked straight to her destination, one of the main landing bays in the east wing.
About five gunships were scattered around the bay, and around the area were several small groups of armored clones, some of them clearly shinies, but most of them with gray paint on their armor with elaborate designs. The way the clones set themselves apart from each other was always something Rose loved watching, and she couldn’t see much of it back at the medical station since most of the clones she interacted with were always in medical wear. That fact only made this battalion’s designs more exciting for her, with their sharp strokes and wolf-like patterns.
Despite all their attempts to be unique from each other, there was always one gesture every clone did the same, and that was the way they’d lock their sights on Rose whenever she entered a room, or the landing bay, in this case. She’d learned to like it, and the thing she struggled with most now was hiding her little smirk whenever she knew that many men were all curious about her. She was no stranger to troopers getting a minor injury to give them an excuse to go and kiss up to her, and though some years back Rose would have been against it, she now looked forward to the attention.
Still, Rose kept walking without acknowledging any of the troopers yet. Duty did still come first, and she didn’t have any trouble recognizing Jedi General Plo Koon. With her eyes set on him so as to not deviate, she made her way straight to the general, too focused to notice when one of the clone troopers separated from his squad of about three or four troopers and ran up behind her, eyeing her from behind with a smirk as he removed his helmet and hugged it next to him.
“Is that the girl with the red lipstick I see?”
Rose grinned as she turned around to face the trooper, not having to see him to recognize his voice. He had unique gray hair and eyebrows and that same confident smile he always seemed to have due to his undying sense of humor.
“Why, the last time I saw you, you were wearing shiny phase one armor,” Rose smirked back.
“Woah, woah,” he feigned indignation. “I wasn’t a shiny by the time we met.”
“Well, to be fair, I barely saw it,” Rose beamed. “You were already half naked by the time I had to give you that shot.”
“Yeah, that hurt, by the way,” he approached her and opened his arms, to which Rose pressed herself onto him.
“Sinker!” Rose exclaimed. “I didn’t think I’d see you here!”
“You’re telling me? When they said we’d be getting a new medic, I thought the galaxy was too big for you to be the lucky one,” Sinker said as he slightly lifted Rose off the ground and set her back down, unwrapping his arms from her and getting a good look at her. “Yup, still rocking the lipstick.”
“Always do, baby,” Rose winked and smooched. “Anyways, I was on my way to meet the General.”
“Figured you were,” said Sinker. “Here, I’ll take you to him. He’s actually a really cool guy.”
“I’m assuming he’s cool in the way any Jedi is cool,” Rose said. “You know, lightsabers, hand magic, things like that?”
“Well yeah,” Sinker agreed. “But more than that too. Wait ‘til you meet him, I’m sure you’ll like him.”
Rose took his word for it and continued walking alongside him until they reached the Jedi master, who was standing with his back turned on them and facing one of the gunships. A small group of troopers that was talking to him began to make its way away just as Rose and Sinker were merely paces away from the general, and he straightened his back a bit just before he turned around to finally meet Rose’s gaze as though he’d somehow sensed her presence.
He was a tall Kel Dor whose eyes and mouth were covered so as to allow him to breathe. Intimidating at first, the muscles on his face seemed to relax at the sight of Rose as well as one of his most trusted troopers. His initially crossed arms lowered down to his sides and he gave a light bow at Rose.
“You must be our new medic,” he spoke in a deep yet smooth voice. “I’m glad you have arrived at last.”
“Thank you very much, it’s an honor to meet you,” Rose answered, reciprocating the bow even though it wasn’t a gesture she normally made. “I’m Rose Goldstone, at your service.”
“Plo Koon at yours, and the honor is all mine,” he crossed his fist over his heart. “I hope you’ll have no trouble adjusting to the battalion.”
“Well, Sinker and I have already met,” Rose side eyed him with a smile. “As for the rest of the battalion, I’m really looking forward to meeting them all. I’m just glad to finally be here.”
“You’ve arrived quite on time,” said Master Plo. “As a matter of fact, we happen to be just on arrival as well from a long mission.”
“Yeah, long is one way to put it,” Sinker sighed.
Rose chuckled. She’d only been with Sinker for a few rotations and yet she felt like she knew him well, but it only got her wondering what the mission could have been. Her eyes must have given her question away when Sinker turned to her and laughed too, lightly rolling his eyes.
“Our battalion was selected to escort Representative Binks on a planetary tour of Corellia,” Sinker said.
Rose cringed. “Representative Binks? On Corellia?” From what she’d seen on the holonet of everything Binks did, she immediately assumed that mission indeed must have been awful for the entire battalion, given Binks’… peculiar nature, as well as the overall dark aura Corellia had.
“You should have seen our commander,” Sinker laughed. “We had bets going on he’d actually shoot Binks. On one occasion we actually thought he’d go through with it.”
“No way, I don’t believe that,” Rose shook her head. “Not from a GAR commander.”
Sinker only managed a snicker. “Then you don’t know what’s in store for you regarding this battalion. Lucky for you, I’ll be right there when you have to meet them.”
“Well, like I said, I’m anxious to do just that,” Rose smiled sweetly, though her tone hid a note of intrigue.
“I’m sure you are,” Plo Koon stepped forward to be next to Rose, and she and Sinker turned around to now face the rest of the landing bay, gazing at the soldiers walking back and forth, some in formation while others loitered, and only few of them not donning their helmets.
“I like the gray color of their armor,” Rose commented. “I didn’t see many different designs on the Rishi station, but your battalion’s has always been my favorite.”
“I’ve always felt it truly represents them,” said Plo Koon. “All of these men are stoic, brave, great examples of good soldiers and even better men.”
Rose couldn’t help but look up at the general with a smile, loving something about the way he expressed himself about his troops. At that moment, Plo Koon looked down at her, and she could have sworn he was smiling at her.
“I am proud of every single one of them,” Master Plo concluded.
“I’m sure they admire you greatly, general,” Rose’s smile widened.
“Surely a nice thought, although the Jedi way is not to seek admiration for personal pride,” Plo Koon said. “But what you say is true, there is certainly admiration and respect on both parts.” Plo Koon then stepped in front of her and Sinker. “You must excuse me now, I have to report to the Jedi Council now. Sinker, I will let you and Wolffe know what proceeds. Regardless, it will not be until tomorrow halfway through the day. You may all take this night off.”
“Yes, sir,” Sinker replied. “Thank you, general.”
With one more nod, Plo Koon acknowledged them both and left to perform his duties. Sinker and Rose watched him go until he disappeared into the corridor, after which they exchanged a long sigh.
“Shall I escort you to meet the rest of the troops?” Sinker smiled with cunning.
“You don’t strike me as someone that formal, Sinker,” Rose giggled. “I prefer it so much when you speak normally.”
“Oh, but Rose, I’m only preparing you,” Sinker laughed as he began pacing towards his squadron with her following. “You’re the only woman in this battalion.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Rose chuckled. “I’m more than prepared, Sinker. You shouldn’t underestimate me.”
“Well, since you’ve, a, seen me naked, and b, saved my life before, I’ll take your word for it.”
“Yeah…” Rose said. “Maybe don’t bring that up immediately in front of the others.”
“Are you kidding me? It’ll be my best play when they throw themselves at you.”
Rose playfully rolled her eyes and the two remained quiet for the remaining steps they had to take before reaching one of the small groups scattered around the landing bay. As most of the soldiers made their way inside, four troopers stayed back and turned at Rose and Sinker as they approached, and Rose already saw some of the troopers eyeing her up and down.
“Fellas, feel free to be stupid again because as of now, we have a medic,” Sinker winked.
“That’s really not a good idea,” Rose said, unable to avoid the laughter that eventually escaped her.
Those troopers were all so used to hearing their own voice repeatedly, and in rare cases, it was another general, a senator, or someone completely random. They rarely ever head such musical laughter fill their surroundings, and the sound of Rose laughing nearly threw everyone off guard. As her laughter died down, she examined the few clones she had before her, all of them helmetless except for the one on the far right.
“Anyways, Rose,” Sinker said. “These are Boost, Comet, Corvis, and Wolffe. Fellas, this is Rose. You better be nice to her.”
Upon being named, each of the troopers made a small gesture to her, with Wolffe’s being the most unreadable of them all, though she assumed it was because he still wore his helmet. Rose acknowledged and smiled at each trooper as well, earning a few grins and “nice to meet you” whispers from them. She definitely got the feeling she’d be popular with them.
After greeting the first three, her attention was caught by Wolffe as he began to remove his helmet with both hands, and while he did that, Rose scanned his armor and noticed how it looked subtly more elaborate than the others, beside the fact that his helmet was also a bit different. Just when she began to suspect this was the commander, Wolffe fully removed his helmet and looked at her with hard eyes, his expression far less friendly and welcoming than those of the troopers beside him.
She noticed, but tried not to linger her gaze on his right eye which had been replaced for a mechanical one, and he also had quite the scar over it. If she’d ever seen a war-hardened soldier, Wolffe was the example of one. In turn, Wolffe kept his gaze firmly on her, noticing how tidy her uniform was, how wide and expressive her dark eyes were, how her thick black hair fell down her shoulder in subtle waves. The final detail he noticed was the way her full, red lips tilted up as she smiled and gave him a nod.
“Welcome aboard,” Wolffe spoke with a voice considerably huskier than that of other troopers. “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
Rose’s kind smile turned into a smirk. “I believe I do. I’m happy to be here.”
“I’m Wolffe, your commander,” he said with the same gruff tone. “I’ve read your files. You seem to know what you’re doing.”
“Well, one doesn’t spend over a year and a half secluded in a medical space station without learning anything,” Rose said. “I’m pretty confident I’ll serve well under this battalion.”
Wolffe merely nodded at her, proving to not be one for much words while his eyes remained hard. Rose was generally very tough, but she feared even Wolffe’s strong gaze would make her squirm eventually. Luckily, Sinker came to the rescue with his sense of humor, playfully nudging the commander’s shoulder.
“Hey, come on, why the scowl?” Sinker said. “We want her to feel welcome, don’t we? Besides, the general gave us the night off.”
“Yeah, I heard,” Wolffe said.
“So…?” Sinker raised a brow in expectation at Wolffe.
Wolffe lightly rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know it’s your turn to choose.”
Sinker let out a hearty laugh. “79’s it is,” he turned to look at Rose. “Ever been there, Rose?”
Rose shook her head. “I’ve heard the legends and the myths, but I’ve never been there. Will I even be allowed in? It’s a bar for clones.”
“Well yeah, but you’re with us now,” Sinker answered.
“And you might also want to know that no way in hell a bar’s ever going to close its doors to a hot girl,” Boost said.
“A hot girl willing to drink,” Comet followed, winking over at Rose.
Smiling knowingly, Rose shook her head slowly at the two clones.
“It’s settled then,” Sinker said. “Tonight will be your official debut as a medic of the 104th.”
“Sinker, I think my debut should have to do with patching one of you guys up,” she answered. “Not that I’m looking forward to any of you being hurt, but it’ll be more official that way.”
“You never know, not at that hole,” Wolffe said darkly before donning his helmet once more and beginning to lead the squad back down the corridors.
“Yeah…” Sinker turned to Rose. “He’s not that fond of the place.”
“He’s also not the nicest guy when he’s drunk,” Comet said.
“Well,” Rose said with sarcasm, “consider me excited.”
“That’s the spirit,” Boost said. “Hey commander, why aren’t you more like her?”
Wolffe didn’t answer anything, they all merely saw him shake his head and continue walking, though Rose was certain he was rolling his eyes at all of them. Flanked by Boost and Sinker, Rose let herself feel the excitement of what she’d been waiting for during all that time at the station.
*
After having been taken to the temporary barracks before shipping out and having changed into something more casual to spend a night at the bar, Rose met up with her new battalion outside the GAR headquarters so that they’d finally be on their way. She was never one to leave anything half-done, and she’d made sure to choose one of the best outfits she had in her luggage: a slightly flowy black silk top with straps made out of lace with a thin black jacket to go over it, which only went down to her belly button, a red and black plaid skirt with black tights and high-heeled boots. Her red lipstick, of course, was the main attraction.
As she approached the rest of the troopers, only the five troopers she’d already interacted with, she began to smile confidently at the way they all looked at her. They were dressed pretty nicely, sure, with dark shirts and trousers, all of them keeping some sort of gray token that symbolized their squadron, and Rose did admit they all looked hot as hell. Still, they were focused on her, Corvis and Boost particularly looking like they were struggling.
“What’s the matter, boys?” Rose raised an eyebrow at them.
“W-we just don’t want to be disrespectful,” Boost said.
“Aww, that’s sweet of you guys,” she said. “But if we’re going to be working in the same battalion together, I think we should turn up the trust among us, don’t you think?”
“You mean… it’s okay if we do it?” Comet asked.
“I mean you all have my full consent to do it,” Rose smirked. “But just you guys.”
That being the case, Comet and Boost were the first ones to whistle loudly and compliment on Rose’s outfit, followed by Sinker as she grinned and even did a little twirl for them.
“Thank you, thank you,” she said. “I chose my best outfit. This baby’s gotten me places,” she gestured to her skirt.
“Plenty of times, I suppose?” Sinker said.
“Back in the day it did, but then the medical station happened,” Rose said. “There are only so many places you can hide.”
More whistles came as the clones continued to be more mesmerized by her each second, all except Wolffe, who kept his eyes away from her as he became more annoyed every passing moment.
“Gonna look for some tonight then?” Boost said to her, following with a tiny growl.
“Not really,” she said. “Tonight I kind of just want to drink.”
Boost looked over at Sinker and Wolffe. “I like her.”
While Sinker chuckled, Wolffe subtly rolled his eyes at them. Meanwhile, Comet stepped forth and got everyone’s attention as he began making his way to the transports.
“We should probably leave now if we’re going to make it to happy hour,” Sinker said. “We don’t want the bar to run out of the good drinks before we get there.”
“Good point,” Sinker said, and they all began making their way following Comet as he called a couple of cabs for them. Rose and Wolffe were the ones all the way at the back, and Rose had already managed to read the mysterious commander a bit, noticing he’d been awfully quiet while the rest of his brothers were having the start of a fun night.
“Cat got your tongue?” Rose said. “Or are wolves simply that quiet?”
Wolffe picked up on her teasing and tried his best, nearly failing, not to roll his eyes at her again. “What’s it to you?”
“You’re simply really quiet… for a pack animal.”
“Very funny,” Wolffe said bluntly, and Rose could pick up on the very faint way he bared his teeth. He didn’t say anything else, he simply continued walking toward his squad, all while Rose quietly smirked at him. When they reached the transports, it seemed as if all the clones (except Wolffe) were tripping over themselves to decide who would ride with Rose. Eventually, Rose got into the first cab with Sinker and Comet while Wolffe, Boost, and Corvis rode in the second one. The ride to the bar was full of the clones teasing each other, pretending to compete for Rose’s attention, and there was no way she could hide that she loved the attention. Besides that, they all seemed to be really friendly, even Wolffe despite his all too hard exterior. Rose snickered. She’d tame him one day.
The night was so far proving to be what Rose had expected—and longed for. They could all hear the loud music from the bar as soon as they got down from the cabs, filling Rose with excitement as well as the need to get on the dance floor with a drink in her hand. The cab with the other three troopers pulled up not long after they got out from theirs, and finally the six of them made their way to the 79’s.
It was more or less what Rose had expected. It had good enough lighting for a bar, was almost entirely filled with clones with the exception of a few men of different species, and like Rose, there were some women there too. The music was loud and there were occasional bursts of laughter as well as the sounds of people having a good time.
“That table, there!” Boost pointed out a large booth near the center of the bar, close enough to the dance floor and the bar equally. He was the quickest one on his feet and hurried over to the table so as to make sure no one else would take it from them. When all of them were there, Rose sat between Boost and Comet while Wolffe sat across from her, flanked by Corvis and Sinker. Wolffe was the only one not to engage in small chatter with Rose as opposed to the other five troopers with him, and he barely lasted half a minute there before he began to feel suffocated.
“I’m going to the bar,” Wolffe said and Sinker got out of the booth to let him through.
“I’ll go with you, actually,” Sinker followed. “What’s everyone having?”
“The usual,” Boost said, while Comet and Corvis nodded. Then, he looked over at Rose to inquire the same thing.
She shrugged and smiled kindly. “I’ll just have a beer to start with.”
“So the usual,” Boost nodded.
“Guess so,” Rose chuckled. “I just feel like beer’s the best drink to set the mood for the start of a long night.”
The clones hummed in agreement to her statement, shooting her a few smirks while they were at it.
“Bring me two to start with,” Comet said.
“Woah, hold up,” Sinker stopped him. “It’s your turn to be sober and look after us.”
“And you forget I’m more resistant to alcohol than you,” Comet countered. “Or should I remind you of the two glasses of whiskey that had you barfing up your rations?”
Sinker flipped the bird at Comet before he and Wolffe walked away from the booth, laughter erupting from it as Rose felt more comfortable with them with every conversation.
“So,” Boost began. “You and Sinker know each other?”
“A little, yeah,” she said with a devious smirk. “What’s he told you?”
“That he got wounded on that extraordinary mission he was sent to with the 212th division and got taken into your station.”
“What else?”
“That he was unconscious, but then he woke up to the, I quote, most beautiful nurse he’d ever seen.”
“He thought he was dead,” Corvis snickered. “He swears he thought you were a goddess.”
“Okay, I don’t believe you guys, you’re all just flattering me,” Rose laughed.
“That’s what Sinker said,” Boost shrugged.
“No, but for real,” Comet intervened, “he said you were pretty cool and that you guys got on well while he was there.”
“That part’s true,” Rose said. “He was pretty badly wounded when he came in, so I had to be more on the lookout for him. Besides, his gray hair called my attention and I was lowkey curious about him. But then he turned out to be a really nice guy; we talked, laughed, gossiped even,” Rose turned to Boost. “I think he even brought you up at some point.”
“Really?” Boost said.
“Don’t ask me what he said about you, I don’t remember every part of our conversations,” Rose answered. “But yeah, Sinker and I got on really well the few rotations he was there.” She began to fiddle with the coaster in front of her. “It was a nice breather, you know. To be talking so much with someone in a medical station like that when you’re only ever surrounded by medics, injured patients, and Kaminoans.”
The booth fell silent for a bit as the sounds from the 79’s engulfed their background, until eventually Rose looked back up at them and smiled.
“Did you and Sinker ever… you know,” Corvis asked.
“No!” Rose burst out laughing. “No, absolutely not. It actually didn’t cross my mind. It must have been because of how hurt he was at the start, and how nice he turned out to be.”
“Well, maybe it didn’t have to be a one-night stand,” Corvis continued.
“True, but when you’re part of the army, there’s only so much time you have for relationships,” Rose said. “It’s just difficult. I suppose I’d go through with it with the right guy, but that hasn’t turned up yet.”
“He could be right around the corner,” Comet said.
“And he could have the exact same face as us,” Boost continued, bringing the teasing mood back.
“Oh, I won’t lie to you guys,” Rose said. “Clones are the finest men in the galaxy. All you boys do is raise everyone’s standards hoping we can ever land a guy like you.”
“Where the hell are those drinks, I need to toast to that,” Comet indiscreetly looked toward the bar trying to find Sinker and Wolffe. “Aye, Wolffe! Bring me an extra beer!”
From the bar, Wolffe heavily rolled his eyes at Comet and dismissed him with the wave of a hand, leaving Rose and the clones at the booth laughing at his gesture.
“Okay, what is with him?” Rose asked brightly. “He’s so grumpy!”
“Eh, he’s like that,” Boost said nonchalantly.
“Yeah, he’s this big, tough commander who has no time or room for bullshit,” Corvis followed.
“He’s a good man,” Comet said. “Very talented soldier, excellent commander. We’ve got nothing but respect for Wolffe. He’s just, you know, a no-shit kind of guy.”
“Goodness,” Rose said. If all of them expressed that much admiration for Wolffe, she knew better than to disregard it.
“Yeah, that’s actually why our squad has its name,” Boost said. “We’re the Wolf Pack. We live up to that name, we take no shit, we get things done.”
Rose raised her eyebrow. “I think I landed on a good squadron then.”
“We’ll make you feel like you did,” Boost said, raising a finger as though to put her on hold, “but first, I need to straighten something out. Comet,” Boost looked at him directly in the eyes. “Three beers? Really?”
“Hey, I’ll be fine. I’m the most alcohol-resistant of all of us.”
“Oh, yeah!” Rose said. “Comet, what exactly happened with Sinker and those two glasses of whiskey?”
“Oh, Rose, dear Rose,” Comet said. “You’re in for a hell of a story.”
Comet began telling his rendition of the whiskey story to Rose, a story he’d memorized and recited several times already. He enunciated it so well that every minor detail and punchline had Rose chuckling and feeling (only some) second-hand embarrassment for Sinker. From the bar, Wolffe kept his eyes set on the booth, as though he were still on duty, as though he was scanning for any sort of prey.
Being at loud bars wasn’t usually his thing. He liked bars as a whole, but he’d often prefer something quieter, more obscure, where he could sit and have some whiskey, maybe a cigar. 79’s was just too loud, and it was loud and lively enough already before his brothers went in and brought Rose to it, her laughter adding what felt like lightning to an already turbulent storm.
“We should have brought her to get the drinks,” Sinker said, complaining that the bartender had taken long with their beers. “We would have been back at the booth ages ago.”
Wolffe remained silent, he only hoped to get enough alcohol in his system soon so that he wouldn’t have to grouch for the rest of the night. Sinker looked at Wolffe expecting a response, but he wasn’t exactly surprised when he didn’t get one. Still, Wolffe had been the only one who hadn’t explicitly commented anything on their new medic. Sinker understood it when they were on duty, but there in a bar, surrounded by tipsy people, Wolffe had to say something. The commander picked up on Sinker’s intents fairly quickly and merely sighed.
“What?”
“Tell me what you think of her,” Sinker said.
“Why?”
“Because she’s our medic,” Sinker said. “Relationships aside, she’s a very important part in our squad now.”
Wolffe hated that Sinker had a point.
“She has a good history regarding her job,” Wolffe said. “That’s all I care about.”
“It wouldn’t kill you to socialize, commander,” Sinker smirked as their beers finally made their way in front of them.
“So long as she doesn’t make any trouble, I’ll have no problem with her,” Wolffe said bluntly as he used both hands to tackle a few of the beers.
“You say that about every new trooper we get.”
“Your point being?”
“She’s not any trooper,” Sinker finished. “Give her a chance, alright?”
“Let’s just get back to the booth.”
They could hear Comet’s cheering from a few paces away from the booths, the trooper happy their drinks had finally arrived. The beers were distributed among all of them and Wolffe and Sinker took their seats again, with Sinker shooting a smirk at Rose.
“You’re getting the next round,” Sinker told her. “It’s barbaric how long we had to wait for them.” He was just about to take a sip from his beer bottle when Boost stopped him.
“Wait a sec, we have to toast something,” he said.
“Oh, right, to Rose’s new arrival!” Sinker raised his beer.
“That and the fact that she believes we clones are the hottest guys in the galaxy and we’re responsible for raising her standards in men,” Comet raised his beer too.
Boost and Corvis began to cheer loudly, Rose blushed a bit as she laughed at their toast, and soon they all bumped their beer bottles together in the center of the table. To Rose’s surprise, even Wolffe seemed keen on participating in that gesture, and with a smile, she took a long drink from her bottle while the rest of the troopers began filling her in on embarrassing stories from their squad, as well as one or two really heroic ones. When the first round was done, Rose and Sinker went to the bar to get the second one, and the bartender shamelessly gave her priority as Rose pranced over the bar and attracted looks from men and women alike.
The night wore on; the more alcohol in their bodies, the more cheerful they became. Comet and Corvis took Rose out onto the dance floor while Sinker and Boost stayed in the booth with Wolffe just talking and overall having a good time. Rose was starting to feel a little tipsy by the time she’d already spent a while on the dance floor, and Comet was the first one to keep her dancing with him so as to not have her crash into anyone else.
“Maybe you need a break!” Comet raised his voice over the music. “Let me get you back to the booth!”
“You might be right!” Rose giggled, and she happily held onto Comet’s forearm as he led her back to the table, helping her sit down in front of Wolffe.
“Rose, be honest,” Comet said. “How drunk do you want to be tonight?”
“Maybe not too drunk,” she chuckled. “Like, I don’t want to be trashy drunk, you know what I mean?”
“Uh-huh,” Comet answered, “so how drunk are you right now?”
Rose took a deep breath in. “I might need to sober up a bit.”
Sinker chuckled. “Alright, wait here. I’ll be right back.”
At that moment, Corvis sat down next to Rose, flanking her and scanning the crowd protectively seeming like her bodyguard as Rose began to feel hot and she took her black jacket off, revealing the lace straps of her top. Inevitably, a few pairs of eyes lingered on her blouse, but only for a bit before they retrieved their gazes. Even Wolffe found himself looking at her for a bit, not just at her blouse, but at her movements, her mannerisms, her overall behavior. There was something about her indeed, but Wolffe didn’t pay much mind to it. His eyes instead drifted behind her, intently watching other people around the bar.
“You guys are so kind,” Rose said, touched by how well they were taking care of her.
“It’s just what we do, Rose,” Boost said. “We take care of each other.”
“Also, I’d just like to bring the subject up again,” Comet began. “Rose, how many beers have you had now?”
“Beers? Three. And I had a few of those shiny purple shots too—don’t ask me how many,” she chuckled a bit.
“I had five of those shots and I’m on my sixth beer,” Comet said matter-of-factly scanning the other troopers. “Moral of the story: Comet is the most resistant of all of us.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Boost said, slurring a little bit over that last r.
“I’ll remind you of this when we’re all sober,” Comet finished.
Meanwhile, Rose couldn’t help but look intently at Wolffe, noticing his scowl growing a bit fiercer from time to time. If she had been at a better state of mind, she probably would have asked him what the problem was, but the wooziness in her head made her focus even more on Wolffe’s expression, finding him feral, dangerous, sexy. He truly seemed like a man to be feared at that moment.
“Wolffe?” Comet caught onto the scolding too. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Wolffe shook his head.
But that answer was bullshit to Comet and he looked in the direction Wolffe was frowning only to find some of their Coruscant guard rivals, one of the lower-rank squads among the Corrie guard who always loved picking fights. They’d caused trouble for them a few times before.
“Let it go, we’re not here for that tonight,” Comet said.
“They don’t see it that way,” Wolffe said. “I’ll be ready if they try something.”
“Not when we have Rose,” Comet countered. “Maybe it’s best if we just don’t do anything for now.”
Wolffe sighed. “Look, I’m the one riling them up. Let me step out, that’ll help.”
The whole conversation was a bit strange for Rose and she didn’t quite grasp all of it. There was something about her, something about fighting… it was all still fuzzy for her, but she did notice when Wolffe stood up from the booth and left, curiously watching him as he stepped outside.
In little time, Sinker arrived with a weird looking drink. “Where’d Wolffe go?”
“Outside for a bit,” Comet answered. “Corries are here.”
Sinker grimaced. “That’s never good.”
At that moment, Corvis and Boost stepped out of the booth too, both mumbling a few things that no one else really caught up on, leaving Rose with Comet and Sinker. Their attention was now on her, hoping she’d drink the elixir Sinker brought for her.
“You’re back!” Rose yelled happily.
“I have been for a while, toots,” Sinker replied. “Here, drink this. You need it.”
“That’s a funny looking drink—holy shit, that looks weird!” Rose said. “What is that?”
“It doesn’t taste as bad as it looks,” Sinker told her. “It’ll help you.”
Slightly doubtful, Rose took a drink of the dense orange liquid. Sinker was right, it didn’t taste as awful as she expected it to, but it wasn’t the best thing either. She let a couple of seconds pass between sips, and by the time she was halfway down the drink, her wooziness began fading and she felt herself forming coherent thoughts again.
“Wow, what is that thing?” Rose asked. “I feel sober!”
“They call it a Zillo Tonic,” Sinker explained. “It’s a patented drink from the 79’s designed to restore sobriety. Since this is a bar for clones, it’s not rare for a random partying trooper to suddenly be called up by his superiors, in which case he’d need a quick relief from being drunk. And so this drink was born.”
“The owners of this bar are geniuses,” Rose said. “We might want to get some for Boost and Corvis, they seemed pretty drunk too.”
“Yeah, I’ll find them in a bit.”
As Rose started to make some memory of what Wolffe and Comet had been talking about, more of the details began to pop out to her. She then looked up at Sinker, the fact now obvious to her that he was the one she felt closest to besides Comet.
“Hey, Sinker?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you happen to know of anyone Wolffe might pick a fight with?”
“Wolffe doesn’t pick fights, but he’s got no problem fighting back if someone picks one with him,” Sinker answered. “Why?”
“He and Comet were talking about something of the sort earlier,” Rose said, this time sounding concerned.
Sinker looked at Comet.
“Nothing you don’t know,” Comet told him. “It’s why he left.”
“Right,” Sinker answered, and all seemed well for a bit until the three of them heard the loud thud of a punch being thrown followed by gasps and expressions of horror, mixed with a few snarky cheers coming from some troopers.
Rose, Comet, and Sinker instantly looked in the direction of the punch fearful of what they would find. Their hearts sank when they realized it had been Boost to receive the punch by the hand of one of the members of the Coruscant guard they were talking about earlier—at that moment, it dawned on Rose she should have tried to stop them from leaving the booth knowing how drunk they both were.
“Sinker, quick!” Comet said.
Sinker got a head start while Comet left the booth just after Rose opened up room for him to do so.
“Stay here, Rose,” he told her. “These guys can be animals.”
Being a bit shocked, Rose first stared at the scene in horror and not quite knowing what to do. She heard the distinctive sounds of a heated argument and noticed a couple of the bartenders making their way to where the fight was, and just then, a second punch was thrown, this one sloppy as it was coming from Corvis in an attempt to avenge Boost. Sadly, the Corrie was sober enough to dodge it, and afterwards kneed Corvis in the stomach just as Sinker and Comet were arriving to get the Corrie off Corvis.
That was when Rose reacted. Snapping out of her trance, she rushed to the scene and resolved to try and hold Boost and Corvis to keep them from engaging further in the fight; Comet and Sinker were in good enough state to try and reason with the Corries. The first thing Rose did was check on Boost for bruising, and he indeed have a pretty rough bruise on his right cheekbone. She sat Boost down on one of the nearby chairs to then check on Corvis, helping him up from the ground to also get him on a chair hoping she could perform a bit of a check up on him. Discreetly, she lifted up his shirt and was relieved to see he didn’t have any bruising on his abdomen, so at least that hadn’t gone terribly.
She thought back to what Sinker had told her back at the booth when things didn’t seem to be going better. Sinker and Comet were trying their best to get the Corries to stand down, but to no avail. Insults were still thrown and soon everything heated up more, and Rose could only think of Wolffe. She had to warn Wolffe.
Just as she had secured Corvis and Boost on their chairs, Rose was ready to head outside to get Wolffe when she saw a large figure passing by her, quickly and menacingly making his way to the fight scene. Just as one of the Corries shoved Sinker towards the side where Comet had recently been pushed to as well, Wolffe took their leader from the shoulders and shoved him away, sending him tumbling back a few paces.
“There you are, wet dog,” the guard said to Wolffe with a sly grin.
“Get out of here,” Wolffe said lowly. “I’ll let you off the hook if you back off right now.”
“See, your whole ‘leader of the pack’ act is boring the hell out of me. You take your men and get out of the bar.”
What could possibly have happened between these squads eluded Rose, but she was having enough of hearing the insults thrown at her boys. She was about to intervene when Wolffe, admittedly still under some alcoholic influence, threw a clean punch across the Corrie’s face, lending him a bruise very similar to the one Boost had and sending him crashing down to the ground. In return, another one of the guards slammed his beer against the table, breaking off the bottom half of the bottle, after which he swung it towards Wolffe and one of the shards slashed a cut over Wolffe’s left cheek.
Rose gasped and covered her mouth with both hands, gazing in fear as Wolffe tumbled to the ground as well. She instantly went to crouch down in front of him, examining the cut and finding it was bleeding more than she deemed healthy. Luckily, at the sight of her, the Corrie that had struck Wolffe stopped, still more drunk than the others but capable of reasoning enough to not strike at Rose. At that moment, police droids stormed in through the door of the bar and made their way to the scene, apprehending the Corries who were clearly the ones responsible for the fight as the others were still on the ground.
“Rose!” Sinker called out upon seeing Wolffe.
Rose was grabbing napkins to have something to press up against Wolffe’s cheek.
“Sinker, look after Corvis and Boost, put ice wherever they need it” Rose said, her tone suddenly dark and serious. “Comet, help me get Wolffe to the back, I’ll get my bag.”
Neither of them said anything and they both did as Rose commanded while the Corries were being taken out of the bar. Rose directed a hateful glare at them as she picked her bag up from where she’d left it in the booth and went over to where Comet was taking Wolffe. Comet sat Wolffe on the ground leaning against the wall; Rose crouched down and took out a small kit from her bag and opened it to reveal first aid supplies.
“Quite the medic,” Comet said proudly.
“I always keep it with me,” Rose said as she kept eye contact with Wolffe and made sure he was still in good state. “This is going to sting.”
Wolffe groaned when Rose applied a few drops of disinfectant over his wound, after which she pressed sterilized fabric onto it to absorb any more of the bleeding.
“It’s a deep cut,” she said. “I’ll need to stitch it up back at HQ.” She took out a vile from her bag after it seemed she had fumbled with many, and she finally opened the tiny jar to reveal a powder of what seemed like flowers.
Wolffe raised a brow at her. “What’s that?”
“Yarrow,” she said. “It’ll help stop the bleeding. I’ll need to patch this up more afterwards but this will do for now.”
“You’re treating my wound with a flower?”
“Why, does that bother you, Wolffe? Would you rather I let you bleed?”
Wolffe rolled his eyes at her.
“Don’t tell me how to do my job, I know what I’m doing. Now hold still, this won’t take long,” Rose said.
Her fingers carefully worked the yarrow onto his wound, delicately as if she were elaborating a work of art. She was really close to him; Wolffe could feel her breath on his skin. When it seemed she was done, Rose sighed and began putting away her things, and just then, Sinker arrived with Boost and Corvis, both of them pressing ice to where they’d taken hits and seemingly much sober after having drank some of that Zillo Tonic themselves.
“I think we have to call it a night,” Sinker said. “How is he?”
“Fine for now, but I’ll need to do some stitching when we return,” Rose said. “What was the deal with those guys anyway?”
“It doesn’t concern you,” Wolffe cut in as he began to stand up. “You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”
“Excuse me?” Rose raised a brow at him. “What was I supposed to do, nothing? I’m your medic and I’m going to be doing this often, get used to it.”
“Listen, bunny,” Wolffe said to her in a condescending tone. “You could have gotten hurt too and it would have been for nothing.”
Rose scoffed. “I cannot believe it. After I patch up your wound, this is how you talk to me? Why don’t you try saying thank you at least?”
“You call rubbing a flower on me patching up my wound?” Wolffe sneered. “I’ll thank you when you act like a regular medic.”
“Is that so?” Rose glared. “Let me remind you that flower stopped your bleeding, but by all means, you can take it off and press your cut shut until I stitch it up, I don’t give a damn. And maybe while I’m off training to do my job like a regular medic—like I’ve already done for years—you might want to learn how to stop a fight without getting injured.”
The clones were left astonished as Rose made her way past them, stopping next to Sinker.
“I’m going to pay the bill and kiss up to the bartender so we’re not banned,” she said. “I’ll meet you back outside, okay?”
“Yeah,” Sinker told her quietly, and with that Rose went back into the bar.
As Rose walked off, Sinker looked at Wolffe and raised an eyebrow at him, showcasing the obvious you fucked up look. Wolffe knew. He knew what came over him, he knew he was a jerk to her. She’d done something nice for him and he’d dismissed her like scum, and worse, questioned her knowledge on something she’d obviously spent years preparing. Still, whether it was the post-fight anger or the alcohol, or both, Wolffe wasn’t willing to care that much. He simply sighed, shook his head, and led his men back into the bar as well.
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LOVE how you wrote Sinker in this! And Wolffe is of course suitably grumpy, it's awesome! I'm excited to read the rest of the chapters!
Heeyyy I just found your blog and I'm already in love with your writing ❤️
Can i request prompt 5 from nswf list (don't me make repeat myself) with Tech and f!reader??
Thank youuuuu🥰
Oh my goodness, this one was fun!!! Thank you so much for your follow, support, and submission! I hope you enjoy this as I do!
Special thanks to @ashotofspotchka for being my beta!!!
Trivia Night
Pairing: Tech x F!Reader
Main Masterlist
Rating: Explicit - 18+ ONLY
MY ENTIRE BLOG IS 18+ ONLY !! MINORS BE GONE OR I WILL BLOCK YOU!!
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: SubTech/DomF!Reader under the cut. This is a well established couple (prior conversations, preparation, limits, and safe words are in use!). These activities are previously discussed agreed upon and are consensual. Light BDSM and use of sex toys: cockring and restraints. Praise kink, cockwarming, nipple play (I head canon Tech with pierced nipples), unprotected p in v (don't be dumb IRL. No glove, no love!), cream pie, suggestion of oral (f receiving at end).
"Are you going to stay still or not?" your tone was firm, the tip of your fingers pressed into the soft underside of his chin.
He whimpered, face lifted at your touch, but reluctantly stayed his writhing hips beneath you, "Yes, mistress. I'll stay still."
You hmm'd with satisfaction after you felt the tensed muscles under the plush cheeks of your ass relax. His cock was still rigid and held in your tight pussy, right where you wanted it, but you weren't ready to give him the satisfaction of your grinding hips yet. Or rather, he hadn't earned it yet. Adjusting his goggles on your face you absorbed his debauched state.
It had all been his idea, after all. There were numerous late conversations and hours of research performed to ensure you both had all the proper knowledge and equipment. You weren't sure what had him more excited, the play or the preparation. Though you had to admit when Tech first talked about his fantasy of surrendering to your control, a flash of white heat surged through your body. Together you developed the personas, picked out the toys and garments, and practiced the safeguards in dry runs to make sure that, if a full stop was called, everything reversed without hesitation or fumble. Every step brought you closer together as a couple and deepened the bond of trust between you.
At first you felt a bit awkward and self-conscious, but seeing him respond and begin to utterly fall apart motivated you to stay in character, to find that fine balance of pushing boundaries while maintaining the connection and respect. You had even worked out a subtle method of communication when he was in the mood to submit, so you find the right head space and mentally prepare for the role. In the morning he'd state he needed assistance calibrating the guidance system, if you were available to help. The task was long and tedious, during which the others vacated the ship, knowing Tech's demand for quiet during the delicate process, lest he have to start over.
That night was far from the first time he expressed his desire to have you cuff his wrists and ankles to the bunk, and cockring placed, but his bratty mood was new, a sign of the pent up stress and frustration he needed to relieve. He tugged at the padded synthleather restraints and seemed incapable of following even the simplest of instructions, like sitting still. There was always a degree of playful disobedience, but that night he was down right petulant.
"Tech, what color are you right now?" you asked sternly.
"I'm green, cyare," he replied confused.
"Are you? Because you seem like you don't really want to be here. Maybe you need some time alone to think about your behavior," you shifted and began to slide up his length.
"No, please!" His hips jolted upward to stay inside you. "Don't go!"
Keeping your hips aloft, you leaned forward, capturing his jaw in your hand to ensure you had his undivided attention, "Then, don't make me repeat myself again, understood?"
"Yes," he strained. "Understood mistress."
"One more and you can watch as I get myself off."
The visceral groan that ripped from his chest as you spoke and slowly sank back onto his length caused a flood of arousal in your pussy. As your hips came to rest in his, an obscene squelch made him pull against the restraints once more though with your cautioning gaze through his yellowed lenses, he took a wavering breath and submitted to you.
"Now, where were we?" you spoke aloud, pulling the holopad backup to your face and continuing to talk.
Tech lost focus as the glowing light reflected off the lenses and highlighted the contours if your neck. His eyes raked over your body. Your naked breasts bobbed and swayed with every motion. He could feel the pebbled peaks of your stiff nipples against his fingers if he thought hard enough, maker he wanted one in his mouth. Maybe push your tits together so he can greedily lavish both at once with his tongue until you gushed on his cock. It was cruel that his exceptional mind could manifest the sensation so acutely he'd swear the illusion was real. But then again, that was part of what got him off so intensely during the session.
As his gaze traveled down your body, to your hips, taking in the scalloped lace of the panties you wore he groaned. They were a surprise for him as you knew how fond he was of lingerie. You purchased them specifically for those occasions. The lace barely obscured your swollen lips through the deliberate slit in the fabric from stem to stern as he watched your cunt gently rock against the friction of the cockring he wore. It took all his will power not to thrust his hips, just to get a glimpse of his length disappearing into you.
Your clearing throat, a final warning, snapped his gaze back to your face. You weren't amused with his lack of focus. Raising your brows, you expected an answer to the question you had just asked while he was staring at your tits and salivating for your pussy. As he thought quickly, your free hand slid up his abdomen to his chest, as your thumb caressed and flicked at the piercing through his nipple. His vision suddenly went white and his head filled with static. Just as you began tssking his silence, the answer broke through.
"The delay tolerance between activation of the hyperdrive and engine engagement is plus or minus 0.0227 seconds."
"Mmm, well done my dear," you praised, releasing his nipple. "You've earned a reward. But you know the rules. Get another one wrong and we have to start over again. Are you still green?"
"Yes," he groaned in anticipation. "Still green."
Shifting your hips, your hand slid between your joined bodies and pressed a button on his cockring. The gentle, steady, vibrating waves made his head push back into the pillow as a strangled breath caught in his throat. You likewise couldn't resist a moan of ecstasy as your swollen, neglected clit finally received some much needed stimulation. Your hips began to slowly cant against his twitching erection as you continued the game.
"Next question," maintaining your composure was getting difficult. "What is the rate at which the hyperdrive of a Havoc model ship recycles coolant?"
As he tried to find the answer in the cataloge of knowledge within his mine, you set the holopad aside and leaned over his chest. Your breasts dangled above him, just grazing his skin. He whimpered as you began nibbling from his neck up to his earlobe.
"Mistress," he whined, "please...I can't..."
"Yes you can, my love. You've done well so far, despite your attitude. Answer the question and I'll give you what you want," you purred, hanging by a thread yourself.
His eyes screwed shut, muttering to himself in thought for a long moment. Your hips began moving more deliberately, trying to break his train of thought. Humming the simple tune from the trivia game show he loved to correct, you watched the visible signs of his racing mind. Between the sweat glistening between his pinched brows to the rapid trembling of his lips while he talked to himself, you began to wonder if you had him stumped. Just as you came to the final notes of the song, his eyes shot open.
"Coolant recycles at a rate of 1.5743 cycles per minute!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, your hips ground hard into his, which left him panting. Setting a blistering pace, you pumped in his length as he rutted up into your dripping aching cunt. The buzzing of the ring against your clit brought you to the precipice almost immediately. Leaning forward, you draped your breasts across his face. His mouth gaped, desperate to catch one. Your fevered, heady cries of pleasure filled the confines of the ship until at long last you came, your release leaking down his thighs.
"Maker, you're so good to me!" he strained, throwing his head back.
He fucked up into your weeping pussy. Your hands gripped your bouncing tits, rubbing and massaging as you knew he was aching to. Whimpering at the sight of you, he strained against the cuffs, desperate to break free. Reaching down, you palmed his chest, tweaking the piercings to bring him to the brink.
"Come first," you gasped. "Those are the rules, your rules. Come for me and I'm all yours, however you want me."
With a final heady groan and jerking thrust, his cock exploded inside your core. After several more languid thusts, his hips stilled and a trembling sigh escaped his lips, though his chest was heaving from exertion. As he softened, you slid off him, removing the cockring as well. Although your body quivered from your own intense climax, you reached back and opened the restraints on his ankles, as well as his wrists.
His arms immediately encircled you, pulling you into a deep kiss before nuzzling into your neck with a contented sigh, "That was incredible."
"I was worried you were losing your touch for a minute there," you chided lovingly as you raked your fingers through the damp nape of his neck.
"Just a bit...distracted," he corrected, gripping a breast firmly. "You are the best kind of distraction."
"You want another lesson tonight?"
He slid the goggles off your face and put them back on his own, "I think I'm more prepared for an oral exam."
Taglist:
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I've never been completely into Tech or sub/dom for that matter but this is hot and I am reconsidering some things haha
Very well written as always! I know this is odd but I love the use of the word visceral!
Awww, thank you so much!!! I really appreciate that you gave this a shot, even though it isn't your usual cup of tea. This is the first sub/dom fic I've written, so I was pretty nervous about it.
You did a really good job of it, even more so considering it's your first sub/dom piece, you should be proud! And I am always open to reading new things so thank you for sharing it!
No Strings Attached: Chapter 11
Hammered
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✨ part of no strings attached ✨masterlist✨taglist✨
Pairing: Wolffe x Fem!Reader (she/her pronouns used) Word Count: 7.7k Series Rating: Explicit (18+ only) Chapter Summary: After the conversation with the comlink, Wolffe starts to send some mixed signals. Chapter Warnings: alcohol, some very drunk characters, accidental minor injury, allusion to past tragedy, explicit sexual content (angry sex/hatefucking, edging, some brat dynamics, mutual masturbation, fingering, unprotected PIV sex) -- no sex acts happen while the character is under the influence of alcohol. let me know if there’s something i should tag! A/N: i started out not liking this chapter. i ended up liking it enough to throw it into the void with my fingers crossed and a glass of wine waiting for me. i always love to hear what you think!! and with this one... i think you might have things to say.
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You might have just discovered the most amazing feeling in the galaxy.
There are many contenders for the title: a hot shower after a cold day, sun on your face after a long winter, hugging a friend you haven’t seen in a while — but they don’t quite make the cut. It’s not collapsing into bed when your feet are sore, or getting left a huge tip, or when you get your makeup just perfect. It’s not even an orgasm, believe it or not.
It’s having a day off.
You haven’t had one since 79’s opened. Thanks to a mixture of having only a few staff, a tight budget, and an overwhelming fear of something going wrong if you aren’t there, you’ve worked every single night since opening — until last night.
It’s not like you really did much — glued to your comlink in case something happened and Raia needed your help — but being able to just spend a free night alone in your apartment was nothing short of a miracle. For once, you didn’t have to scrub the smell and stains of beer off of you, didn’t have to be on your feet until they ached, didn’t have to put on a facade until the last drunken clone filed out of the bar. Instead, you sat with your feet up on the couch, ordered from your favourite takeout place, and spent the night just relaxing.
Having someone else who can close the bar opens up a lot more freedom for you. Soon you’ll be able to see your friends for more than an hour on their lunch breaks — which is usually the equivalent of six in the morning to you, due to your wonky sleep schedule — and even go out at night!
For now, though, you’re just happy to go through your opening routine feeling well-rested and a little reenergized.
According to a note left from Raia, everything had been fine. No major issues, and more importantly, no calls to the Coruscant Guard. Once you’d explained to her that she should always use the private comlink instead of calling the regular cops, she understood completely. While it would surely be just your luck to have a massive brawl break out on your first night off, the comlink remained untouched.
When Raia comes in for her regular serving shift in the evening, you’ve already locked your office up for the evening. Sitting on a stool at your own bar, legs swinging absent-mindedly, you greet her as she walks by. A few minutes later, with her belongings locked in the closet and her serving “uniform” on, she slides behind the bar and flashes you a smile.
“How was last night?” you ask.
“Good,” she says, tying her apron around her waist. None of the servers have actual uniforms, but most of them wear similar things anyway: laced shoes with enough support to prevent their feet from getting sore, stretchy leggings to move around in, and a top cut just low enough to draw some attention — enough to encourage some extra tips. Even if you don’t like it, it’s the reality of the job. Besides, part of the reason you didn’t assign a uniform was so that the servers could wear what they felt comfortable in. You’ve worked in places that made you wear short skirts or tops that were way too tight. At 79’s, the apron is all they need to set themselves apart.
“Any issues at all?” you ask. “You did a great job closing up — it doesn’t look like you missed anything.”
Raia shakes her head, her lekku swinging slightly. “Nope! The night started off busy, but things cleared out pretty quickly. I had a lot of time to make sure I got everything.”
“I’m glad,” you say. “If you want we could start up a set schedule — you could close the same two nights every week and I’d get the rest. And of course, if you needed a day off, we could switch.”
She smiles again, wide enough to show her pointed canine teeth. “That’d be great!”
“Perfect. Think about what days you might want and I’ll get it sorted for the next schedule.”
As Raia takes over the nearly-empty droid-free section, you finish up some work on your datapad. By the time you’ve finished up and tucked it back in the shelf, Raia’s pouring a couple beers beside you.
“Your boyfriend was looking for you last night,” she says without looking up.
You frown. If you were dating someone, it’s news to you. “Boyfriend?”
“Yeah.” Raia gives you a sideways smirk. “The grumpy one. Scar over his eye.”
“Wolffe?” you scoff. It’s too ludicrous for you to even get the words out without stuttering. “I — Wolffe and I are not dating.”
“You should tell him that,” she grins. “He was sitting right there, looking like a lost tooka. Only left when I told him that you weren’t coming in.”
You raise an eyebrow at her. “And how long did you wait to tell him that?”
“Long enough to piss him off a little. Not like it was hard — he was already in a bad mood when he got here.”
Yeah, you could believe that. The last time you saw Wolffe, he was… different. He’s always a bit closed off, but it actually seemed like something was bothering him.
———
That night, he’d hardly said a word to you by the time you closed up, ready to head back into the office. It didn’t really surprise you, but your gut still sank every time you thought about how you left things with the comlink. It had been such a strange interaction — he’d gone from quiet and needy to stern and stoic at the drop of a question. And knowing that he thought you might have intentionally set clones up for reconditioning? Well, you just wanted to know what you were getting into for the night.
“What’s got you so sour today?”
Wolffe didn’t respond, and when you looked over your shoulder at him, his expression was nothing less than glaring irritation.
“What?” you ask. “I just want to know if I should take it easy on you tonight.”
Most nights, banter relaxes him. It’s familiar enough to cut some of the tension, and flirty enough to ramp up the rest of it. That night, though…
“The only thing you should be thinking about is whether I’m going to take it easy on you.”
Okay, so maybe you should have stopped there… but you pushed a little further. Maybe you’d said something about the great Commander Wolffe getting flustered or shy. Maybe you ran your mouth a little too much.
Maybe? Definitely.
“You can cut the talking,” he snapped.
The air in the office immediately shifted. While before it had felt playful, teasing, and a little like walking Wolffe’s thin line of patience, now you’d completely fallen off. You didn’t like it one bit — not when it seemed like his anger was fully directed at you.
“Wow, you’re really in a bad mood, aren’t you?” you scoffed. Your voice was colder than before, matching the wall building inside your chest. This wasn’t just banter. This was him being an asshole, and you could throw that right back at him.
“Watch it,” he warned.
You crossed your arms over your chest and glared at him. “Thought you liked this part.”
“Maybe I just want to get on with it tonight.”
“Oh, is that all?”
He looked you dead in the eyes, no hint of softness behind the stone. “Yeah.”
Bastard.
“Well,” you said, “let me make it easier for you then.”
In a few quick movements, you stripped yourself of your outer clothes and sat down on the couch. Wolffe stared, wide-eyed, as your hands cupped your breasts over the fabric, caressing yourself and lighting a fire in your belly. One hand trailed down your stomach and over your cunt, panties and all, gently enough that you were teasing yourself.
But it wasn’t yourself that you wanted to tease.
As soon as you let a finger push your panties to the side and trace a line through your folds, Wolffe was stepping closer. You could see the hunger in his eyes as he took you in, one nipple stiff and uncovered as you traced circles around it, and your arousal shining off your other fingers. He exhaled deeply as he reached for you, gloved hands ready to feel you, ready to have you—
“I didn’t say you could touch me.”
Wolffe froze. His eyes flit to yours, silently questioning you, but you didn’t relent. He started this.
“Are you— are you serious?” he asked.
“You said you wanted to just get on with it,” you told him, one hand leaving your breast to shove him away from you. He wasn’t expecting it — stumbling back a bit before standing again. You hadn’t stopped touching yourself — in fact, you were getting wetter by the second.
“You wanted to get it over with. Well, I can do that much faster than you can.”
With your words, you dipped two fingertips into your entrance, a quiet but slick noise filling the air.
“That’s not what I said,” he grumbled. You shivered, but not at his voice — it was at your own touch.
“Pretty sure it is.”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Or what?” you asked breathily. Working two fingers inside you, your other hand left your breast and nudged at your clit, finding slow circles that made your hips twitch in pleasure.
Wolffe clenched his fists, the leather creaking under the strain. “Or I’ll make sure you don’t get to come for hours.”
You tried to let out a laugh, but it came out more as a gasp. You weren’t wrong — you knew you could get yourself there. Especially if Wolffe kept staring at you like that.
“Maybe I just won’t let you touch me at all.”
Wolffe groaned, and for a second you thought he might leave. But no, he just took a step back to strip himself of his armour faster than you’d ever seen him. He didn’t even bother taking his blacks off — top or bottom — before pulling out his cock, already hard and pearling with precum.
You thought you heard him mutter, “fucking brat,” as he reached for his belt and pulled out a tiny bottle of lube. You didn’t know he carried that around — you’d never had the need for it before.
In mere seconds, he pumped lube into his hand and spread it all over his cock, quietly sighing at the satisfaction of some sort of relief.
Neither of you said anything — the lewd noises from your wet cunt and his own hand doing all the talking instead.
“This could be you,” he finally grunted, gripping himself tighter. “If you weren’t such a brat, this could be your pussy getting me this wet, making all this noise.”
And fuck if that didn’t do anything to you. You clenched at his words, knowing that they were true, knowing that you could soak him with how aroused you are. But you couldn’t give in — not yet.
“And this could be you,” you said, holding up the two fingers coated in your slick, “if you weren’t being such a dick.”
“No, it couldn’t, cyar’ika,” he said, the nickname sounding cruel in his tone. “You know I stretch you much more than that.”
You couldn’t deny it — whether it was his fingers or his cock, he filled you up so much better than you could yourself. Even as you curled your fingers inside you, you knew it would never come close to how Wolffe made you feel.
“Whatever,” you muttered.
Wolffe stepped forward, just barely fitting between your already spread legs. One hand reached out and gripped the couch right beside your head. He was basically propped up over you, still fucking himself with his hand.
“The fuck are you—?”
“I’m not touching you,” he said, his eyes boring holes into yours. It was true, but only barely — there were only inches of space between you.
“Bastard.”
Usually he’d smirk at that — that stupid smirk that’s somehow infuriating and alluring all at once — but he didn’t. His face stayed unreadable.
You almost wanted to tell him that if all he wanted was a quick fuck, he could’ve found someone random at the bar and pulled them into the freshers. Gods know he’s done it plenty of times before. But… you agreed that this was just sex. This is what he wanted. This is what you wanted — pleasure and release and no strings attached.
So what does it mean if you’re annoyed at this? What does it mean if you want him to want you for more than just a few minutes of hasty sex?
“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen,” Wolffe’s rough voice interrupted your thoughts. He looked more wrecked than you felt — sweat beading, muscles tensing, breath faltering. In that moment, there was nothing else to think about — only Wolffe’s voice, low and raspy, bordering on desperate as he looked at you.
“I’m going to come on you, on this pretty pussy. Then I’ll touch you as much as you want, fuck you with my fingers, edge you until you can’t fucking think anymore. Then, when I think you’ve had enough, I’ll let you come on my cock.”
You whimper at his words, furious at yourself, furious at him, but so wrapped up in his words that it doesn’t matter. Yes, he’s a bastard — but he’s the bastard that can get you off like nobody else.
“Why do you get to come now?” you asked with your very last thread of patience.
“Because,” Wolffe grunted, “I’m so fucking close.”
And he was — slowing his pace with his hand, trying to hold it back, trying to wait until you said it was alright. Because even then — even when he said that “I’ll tell you what’s going to happen” — he’d never do anything unless you agreed to it.
Gods, you wanted him.
“Fine,” you said, moving your hands to your knees so you could open yourself wider for him. The second you said it, he picked up his pace — control waning and replaced by impatient desire. Then, under your breath, you added: “Maybe an orgasm will put you in a better mood.”
And it did sort of. He fulfilled all of his promises, coating your pussy in thick stripes of cum, and only taking a few seconds before dipping his fingers in it and sliding them inside you. He brought you to the edge so hard you don’t know how you didn’t tumble over — and then he did it again. And again. And again. Over and over until tears welled in your eyes and you thought you just might burst from desperation.
When he finally decided that you’d been thoroughly edged to the brink of incoherency, you were ready for him to cage you in and pound you into the couch, or bend you over the desk so hard until your hips bruised against the wooden ledge. Instead, he tugged you onto him, your legs instinctively straddling his thighs.
“Thought you wanted to fuck me,” you panted.
Wolffe didn’t answer for a moment. His thick hands just massaged your hips, one of them still wet with the lingering arousal on his fingers.
“I’ve been doing all the work here,” he said finally. “It’s your turn.”
You weren’t sure how long you could go before your legs gave out, but you sank down on him anyway — his cock slipping between your puffy, swollen lips and straight into the deepest part of you. The two of you moaned together — yours from relief, his from pure ecstasy.
You swallowed a choke when he adjusted his hips under you. “You could’ve had this earlier if you hadn’t been such a dick,” you breathed.
He didn’t answer — just rolled his hips into you until you cried out, clutching his shoulders for balance and starting to ride him.
Despite everything, you fell into perfect synchrony. His hips thrusted up just as you slid down, his cock easily filling you to the brim and finding the spot that makes your eyes roll back. And you didn’t stop — not when it felt that good. Not when his length stretched you in the best way possible and your clit brushed against the coarse hair of his lower belly every time your bodies met. It was a blur — one and then two orgasms from you, with Wolffe filling you up at some point.
When it was over and you’d pulled your sweaty body from his, he looked better. Even if he was no less angry, he was much more relaxed. His movements were softer, smoother as he got ready to leave. Even the way he pulled on his gloves looked almost gentle in comparison to before.
“Feel better?” you asked, fully dressed and recovering on the couch.
He glanced at you before shaking his head. “What do you think?”
Maybe it was post-sex haze. Maybe it was fatigue kicking in. Maybe it was — well, it doesn’t matter what it was.
You laughed.
It wasn’t breathy or quiet, nothing that could be mistaken for a cough or you clearing your throat. It was honest, joyful, and just as amused as you felt.
“What?” Wolffe asked, one step away from leaving the office for another night. He hadn’t yet put his helmet on, letting you see his face. It was a question in itself: quirked eyebrow, head tilted to the side.
You blinked at him, a smile still on your lips as you shrugged. “What do you think?”
He shook his head again, but as he walked out the door, you caught a glimpse of a smile on his face.
———
“You okay?”
Raia’s question rouses you from your memory and brings you back to the present.
“Yeah,” you assure her. “Just zoned out for a sec.”
“Good,” she smiles. “Gotta be ready for when your boyfriend gets here.”
You roll your eyes at her smug expression. “You know, Raia, if you want more hours, I can always cancel the cleaning droids and have you clean up the freshers every morning.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“You want to test that theory?”
It’s Raia’s turn to roll her eyes this time, knowing it’s an empty threat but still letting the issue drop. You fight the urge to remind her that Wolffe is not your boyfriend, knowing that bringing it up now would make you look guilty. Also… if she asks what Wolffe actually is to you, you wouldn’t know how to answer.
At the start, it was easy. Wolffe was a hookup. The two of you were friends with benefits — except without the “friends” part. But now…
The truth is, you don’t know what you and Wolffe are anymore. After how he reacted when you were hurt… after how irritated you were last time… it’s complicated. It’s still just hooking up, obviously, but it’s like the couch cushions have slightly shifted beneath you. When he was concerned about you, you didn’t want him to be. When he was angry, you didn’t want it to be about you. You’re not friends, that’s for sure, but maybe…
Maybe you don’t hate him anymore.
You immediately want to deny that thought, but honestly? It makes enough sense. You’ve spent enough time together that he feels familiar. You know now that the man he was the night you met — the grade-A asshole — isn’t who Wolffe really is. Not on the inside. Not all the time, anyway.
He still knows exactly which buttons to push to infuriate you, and doesn’t hesitate to use them. You tease and taunt each other until your lips are too occupied with breathy moans and stifled cries to speak. Your entire… your entire whatever you have with Wolffe is based on tension and banter. You’d thought it all stemmed from an ardent dislike of each other; a deep-seeded, mutual hostility that burned the flame between you.
But if you don’t hate him… then what’s fueling this fire?
Raia interrupts your thoughts again, and you find yourself relieved for the intrusion. This time, it isn’t with words though. All she has to do is nudge your shoulder and gesture toward the door with her head.
There, walking briskly up to the bar, is a helmeted Commander Wolffe.
“Told you,” Raia teases, and you swat her arm as she walks over to greet a new table.
He must be in a bad mood again — practically stomping up to the bar, roughly tugging his helmet off, and with an expression so sour it’s like he swallowed a lemon. Even his eyes… wait. In contrast to everything else, his eyes are apologetic — wide and soft, going against the rest of his body language.
You don’t have a chance to ask him what’s going on before he grumbles a quick warning.
“I take no responsibility for what’s about to happen.”
“What are you—?”
The double doors at the front of the bar burst open, laughter filling the bar as the Wolfpack enters 79’s. They look around the room at their usual places before noticing their target.
“Commander!” one of them shouts, his helmet already clipped to his belt and a wide grin plastered on his face.
You and Wolffe have just enough time to exchange a questioning glance before he’s flanked by his men, two on each side, as they join him at the bar.
“How’s it going, boys?” you ask, unable to keep a straight face.
Four faces beam at you from across the counter. They don’t look drunk, or even tipsy for that matter — just excited.
“Goin’ great!” the one to Wolffe’s immediate right chirps. He’s leaning forward on his elbows, clearly sitting a little too close for Wolffe’s liking. His hair is… interesting. It’s completely buzzed except for two brown stripes running from his forehead to the nape of his neck. You recognize him instantly as the one who’d gotten in a fight all those months ago, the one where Wolffe stepped in and — well, you don’t need to go over the rest. But the clone in front of you looks far from ever starting a fight. You’re more worried about Wolffe hitting him.
“What’s the occasion?” you ask. “You all seem — well, most of you seem pretty happy.”
“No occasion,” the silver-haired clone on Wolffe’s other side says. “Just trying to cheer up our dear old Commander, here.”
He claps Wolffe’s shoulder bell only to have his hand swatted away.
“Is that so?” You look at Wolffe, the apology in his eyes completely replaced with his typical grumpiness. “And what’s got your dear old Commander down?”
“Nothing,” Wolffe grunts.
The striped-hair clone cuts in. “We don’t know for sure, he’s just been grumpy. Personally, I think it’s ‘cause he’s having a bit of a dry spell. Haven’t seen him so much as lock lips with someone in—”
“Boost, shut your fucking—”
“Am I wrong?” the clone apparently called Boost asks his friends, ignoring the seething man beside him.
“We’re just trying to keep you company, sir,” the one beside Boost says.
On the exact opposite side, you hear a mumbled, “Bros before hoes, right?” and some hushed snickering.
Wolffe shakes his head like he’s questioning every single life decision he’s made up to this point. When he looks up at you, his warning echoes in your head: “I take no responsibility for what’s about to happen.”
“I need a beer,” is all he says.
You grin. “Seems like you’ll need more than that.”
“Are you offering?” he shoots back.
“We are!” Boost says, and the four others each pull out a handful of credits. They pile them in front of Wolffe, the collection pretty impressive for just a few clones.
“What’ll it be?” you ask Wolffe, watching as he looks from the credits to you.
“Something strong.”
His voice is still gruff, still wary, but he’s at least resigned to his fate.
“And for the rest of you?”
“Just Kork, please,” the white-haired clone says. “The credits are all for him.”
“Coming right up,” you nod, sweeping the credits into a separate pocket in your apron. “I can keep track of your tab.”
The guys settle in as you scan the liquor shelves, considering what Wolffe might like. You don’t really know how much he liked the drink you made him last time, and he’d asked for something strong… but you could also have a little fun with him.
You pour the beers first, setting them down in front of the Wolfpack, then pull down an armful of liquor bottles from the shelf. It comes naturally — thumb over the small hole in the cap, lifting it to let just the right amount pour into the glass as you lift your hand high above the glass for a flourish just in case anyone’s watching you.
You fill the rest of the glass with a bubbly, sickly-sweet mix that smells like a vacation on some far-away beach. Admittedly, there’s not a lot of room left in the glass, but it turns the drink a bright yellow as you stir it all together. To finish it off, you add a cherry syrup float, a lime wedge, a mini pink umbrella with flowers on it, and a brightly coloured twisty-straw.
Gorgeous.
As professional as you try to remain, you can’t help but laugh when you turn back to the Wolfpack. Their eyes are wide, most of them biting back their own laughter — except for Wolffe, who’s throwing you a look that you easily decipher as: “are you fucking serious?”
“Here you go,” you grin, sliding the flamboyant drink in front of the surliest man you’ve ever met.
Wolffe looks you dead in the eyes even as his brothers start goading him on — “take a sip, commander!” — “looks perfect for you!” — and you stare right back. He begrudgingly brings the straw to his lips, the bright drink doing a loop-de-loop through the twisty straw as he takes his first taste. His eyes go wide as soon as he swallows, utter confusion replacing his grumpy expression from before.
“Are you sure there’s alcohol in here?”
“Yep,” you say, popping your lips on the last letter. “Quite a lot, actually. I suggest you drink it slowly.”
…And the grumpy expression is back.
“Anyway,” you say over their laughter, “it seems like you fellas are gonna be here for a while. Can I grab your names?”
Boost, though he doesn’t need to, introduces himself. “That’s Comet,” he says, jerking a thumb at the quieter clone beside him, dark hair knotted at the base of his neck.
“Warthog,” the bald one on the end says.
“Sinker,” the white-haired clone on Wolffe’s left says, holding out a hand for you to shake. “And that’s Wolffe.”
“Oh, I know who he is.” You lean back against the counter behind you, folding your arms over your chest. “I seem to recall an incident with a reprogrammed server droid a while back…”
Sinker nearly chokes on his beer and the others look positively terrified that you remember them — and how they’d scammed you.
“It’s his fault!” Boost points at Wolffe.
You wave him off, laughing at his guilt-wracked expression. “Don’t worry, we worked it out. He can be very compliant if you know how to deal with him.”
It’s Wolffe’s turn to cough on his drink, sputtering and clutching at his chest as the words sink in.
“You alright there?” you ask as innocently as you can.
Wolffe’s responding glare is nothing short of poisonous, and you can tell you’ll be paying for that comment later.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
———
You decide immediately that you like the Wolfpack.
Boost and Sinker are a dangerous pair, joking and teasing each other with a practiced knowledge of exactly how much they can toe the line. At first it seems like Wolffe is irritated to be sandwiched between the two of them, but you soon realize that his isn’t an expression of annoyance — it’s one of fond exasperation. Occasionally he’ll jump in with something to take them down a peg — a reminder of something stupid they’ve done, like Boost getting his helmet stuck on backwards or Sinker dying his hair a shimmery pink instead of white. But it’s clear that they know Wolffe. Even though he’s their commanding officer, they’re comfortable next to him, and it’s almost like their presence comforts Wolffe too. Slowly, he begins to let go of his semi-permanent scowl, smirking and chuckling whenever he gets to embarrass his little brothers.
Comet is the little brother of the group. It’s not just his quietness — although he certainly talks less than the others — but it’s how he’s genuinely content for it to be that way. He laughs along and pipes in whenever he’s got something relevant to add, but otherwise, he’s resting his head on his hand and his elbow on the counter, grinning as he listens to the others bicker.
Warthog is relaxed too, but in a different way. Where Comet is quiet, Warthog’s additions are loud, paired with hearty laughter that makes other customers swivel their heads around. He interrupts sometimes, not meaning to cut someone off but just so intent on sharing his ideas. Even when they call him on it, he just laughs, leans back, and takes another drink of beer.
Most of all, you like how they tell stories about Wolffe, because they’re never good. They tell you how Wolffe smacked his head off a low-hanging tree branch, how he once called their general “dad” over comms, and how he froze up when a senator on some far-off planet asked him if he was single. The stories themselves are funny enough on their own, but the way Wolffe scrunches his face together and insists that it’s never his fault? That puts it over the top.
“You guys seem to put up with a lot,” you say as you bring the next round of drinks. You ignore how Wolffe’s eyes darken — how heat builds between your legs as you think about how he might test just how much you can put up with.
“All the way down to the nickname,” you add instead.
Boost cocks his head at you. “What nickname?”
“The Wolfpack — c’mon, guys, you haven’t had that much to drink yet.”
“He didn’t give us that nickname,” Sinker says. “We gave it to ourselves.”
Your face flushes with heat as you try to read their faces. You were so sure that it was all Wolffe’s idea to name the squad after him. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Boost says as he gives Wolffe a nudge. “Tell ‘er.”
Wolffe takes a sip of his drink — something less sweet this time, and much less extravagant — and pauses for a moment before he relents. He looks up at you, and even though you know that he’s telling you the story so of course he’s looking at you, his gaze suddenly feels heavy.
“They all showed up one day,” he starts, “their armour painted like mine. Thought they were just playing a prank or somethin’. But then the general showed up with the wolf symbol — the one I have on my armour, I mean — painted on his gauntlet.” Wolffe gestures to his shoulder bell, the symbol of his team painted on meticulously. “Said they wanted to call themselves the Wolfpack. And that was that.”
The way he talks about it so reverently makes it feel like something sacred. You know that clones value their armour — how they paint it, how they modify it — but even then, you don’t think you can quite understand the importance of this gesture.
“All four of you?” you ask quietly.
The fond smiles fade from their faces. Wolffe looks down at the liquid in his glass, swirling it around with a gentle motion of his wrist.
“There were a lot more of us back then,” Sinker finally says. “But yes, all of us.”
Wolffe still isn’t looking at you, but you know that he can see you in his peripheral vision. Regardless if he can see it or not, you look right at him. “You must be a good Commander.”
Comet nods. “He is.”
“Even if we had to drag him out tonight,” Warthog agrees.
“Even if he can’t get laid.”
“Even if he can’t…”
They’re caught up enough in their own jokes again that you slip away easily to check on your other customers. Most people cycle through sitting at the bar fairly quickly, so it’s all new people to serve.
If you’d known where the conversation was going, you wouldn’t have asked. It was just fun to tease Wolffe — and almost equally fun to hear things that he’d never tell you about himself. Really, you didn’t know that much about Commander Wolffe, not when you thought about it. All you know are things that you’ve noticed about him. He’s never really talked about himself.
Does that mean you know him better than most? Or not at all?
By the time you’ve finished up with the other half of the bar, the Wolfpack has split up. Sinker, Boost, and Comet are gone — in the freshers, probably — and Warthog has struck up a conversation with the Nautolan beside him. All of which leaves Wolffe sitting alone, sipping his drink, and looking at you quizzically when you rest your forearms on the counter and lean in. It’s for discretion more than anything, but this close to him, you can see all his little details up close: the shiny skin of his scar, his dark eye looking at you through thick lashes, the remnant of the drink on his lips.
You settle on his eyes.
“Can’t get laid, huh?”
You see his eyes fill with amusement in the split-second before he laughs, looking down at his hands for a brief moment. The alcohol must be starting to get to him. He’d asked for a strong drink every time, and you recognize the easy, uninhibited way he’s smiling at you — a certain looseness in his movements.
“If only they knew,” he says.
You reach forward to take his empty glass, but when you start to stand up again, you feel the leather of Wolffe’s glove encircle your wrist. You could easily pull away, and you almost do so by accident, but you’re… intrigued. He’s never touched you in public like this. Not in front of other people.
“What’re you doing after this?” he murmurs.
“Really?” you laugh. “Like you don’t already know.” Although you have a strong, strong suspicion he’s had enough to hurtle him towards the other side of being too far gone — he just doesn’t know it yet.
The tip of his tongue darts out to wet his upper lip. “I just—”
“C’mon, commander!”
A hand yanks Wolffe back by the shoulder as the rest of the Wolfpack comes back to the counter.
“Let the lady do her job!” Sinker says, sliding onto his stool again.
“Bet she gets enough of us clones coming onto her,” Boost adds. Then, to you: “Don’t you?”
You’re fully standing now, Wolffe’s empty glass in hand, as you answer.
“Something like that.”
“See, sir? No way she’d pick you outta millions of us.”
That spurs laughter from the whole group, even Wolffe himself, but you suspect he’s laughing for a different reason than the others.
You take the moment to slip away, stacking Wolffe’s glass in the dishwasher for its next round and taking a gulp of water for yourself.
“How’s your boyfriend?”
Raia leans against the counter beside you, dusty rose skin almost glowing under the bar lights. She’s smirking at you again, hands tucked in her apron pockets.
“Raia…” you warn.
“Sorry, sorry. How’s the guy who walks you home?”
“He certainly won’t be walking me home tonight,” you chuckle. “Actually, at this rate, who knows if he’s going to be able to walk home at all?”
Raia shrugs. “At least he’s got his brothers. They’ll take care of him.”
You glance over at them. Sinker’s talking animatedly about something, his hands almost hitting Wolffe in the face once or twice. Boost has a hand resting on Wolffe’s shoulder, which you assume is partly for support, but mostly just a brotherly gesture.
You’ve never seen Wolffe smile this much. Not smirk, but actually smile.
“Yeah,” you say. “They will.”
The thing is, while you’re sure his brothers will take care of him, you’ve been noticing the opposite. They’re small gestures, and if the bar was any busier there’s no way you would notice. It was Wolffe moving Boost’s glass further away from the edge so he wouldn’t knock it over. It was him intentionally pulling Comet into the conversation, especially when he looked like he wanted to add something. It’s him resting a hand on Sinker’s shoulder when he and Boost start to get carried away, calming him down in an instant. It’s how he saw Warthog staring intently at one of the drinks you’d made him, then claiming he didn’t like it — despite it being half-finished — and sliding it down towards his brother.
Even as you recognize the slightly-glassy look of drunkenness in Wolffe’s eyes, he switches seats with Boost and starts up a conversation with Comet, whose eyes light up at the chance to talk to his commander one-on-one.
———
You learn something new about Wolffe tonight.
He’s very good at hiding how drunk he is.
Even though you’d fooled him with a switch to fizzy water a while ago, he’d concealed it so well that the damage was already done. In comparison to his brothers — who look like they’re about to fall asleep right there on the counter — he didn’t look bad at all. By the time he starts stumbling over his words and swaying a little on his stool, there’s no amount of water you can serve him that will sober him up. Still, you don’t think he’s that drunk — until he knocks two glasses off the counter.
And then starts trying to clean it up with his bare hands.
“Wolffe!” you shout, running around the bar. The sight before you would be funny — Wolffe on his knees, trying to scrape the shattered shards into a neat pile with his hands — if he hadn’t taken his gloves off.
“You’re going to cut yourself!” you say, trying to gently guide him away from the broken glass.
“I’m fine,” he slurs, “‘m the one who dropped it—”
“Wolffe,” you say firmly. It’s only because you say his name that it gets through to him — looking away from the glass and finding your eyes. His cybernetic eye is as blank as ever, but you can tell his brown eye is having trouble focusing. Maybe that’s why you had a hard time realizing how drunk he was getting.
“It’s alright,” you say, voice softer now as you reach for his wrists. Sure enough, his palms and fingers are covered in cuts, most fairly shallow, but a few that look a little more concerning.
“It’s alright,” you repeat. “One of the server droids will get it.”
He nods, looking down at his hands and cursing under his breath.
With Sinker’s help, you get him off the ground, onto his feet, and over to an empty booth. You lean him back against the cushioned seat with his hands palm-up on the table.
“I can take care of this,” you tell Sinker. “Looks like Boost and Warthog might need some help of their own.”
Sinker glances over his shoulder to where his brothers have both elected to sit on the ground, their backs and heads resting heavily against the bar.
“I think you might be right.”
The bar was emptying out quickly before the broken glass, but it seems that the rest of the customers have taken it as their sign to head out too. With the server droids busy cleaning up the broken glass and starting their closing duties for the night, you’re given a few minutes to clean up Wolffe’s hands.
When you come back with a first aid kit, Wolffe hasn’t moved a muscle. As you check his hands for any glass that might have gotten stuck, he clears his throat and speaks quietly, slowly enough to get all the words out right.
“You weren’t here last night.”
“I know,” you say. “I finally had a night off.”
He quiets again as you open a bacta wipe, exhaling sharply as you clean the cuts. His warm breath brushes over your fingers as you work, trying to soothe the sting by being as gentle as possible.
Wolffe clears his throat. “Dunno… how I got this drunk.”
You chuckle under your breath. “I think that’s what your brothers wanted.”
“Those fuckers. Uh, sorry, I di—”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” you assure him.
Once the cuts are clean, you pull out a little spray bottle. You’re sure he’s seen it before, but talking is better than just doing this wordlessly.
“It’ll coat the cuts,” you say. “Kind of like a second skin. It’s not as bad as I thought, so they should be all good by morning.”
Wolffe nods, wincing as the spray hits his hands. In a few seconds, it’s done, and you start to pack everything back into the first aid kit.
As you start to look over your handiwork, Wolffe mumbles a few tired words.
“I don’t — don’t think I can stay t’night.”
You bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing at how earnest and apologetic he sounds. You’d known pretty much the moment the Wolfpack walked in that tonight was never going to end with you two on the couch together.
“That’s alright,” you say. “I’m just checking to see if your hands are dry. You should be good to go — and I think your brothers are ready to head out.”
When you run a finger over one of the bigger cuts, his hand twitches. You start to pull away, thinking he’s in pain, but his hand curls around yours instead.
“Y’know,” he mumbles, “if you were anyone else, I could just — I could just pull you into that corner.” He doesn’t look at you — just at where his fingers fit clumsily around your hand. “I could kiss you so hard you wouldn’t be able to think.”
You’re saved from speechlessness by Sinker yelling from across the room.
“Commander!” he shouts. He’s got an arm under both Boost and Warthog, trying to find a way to support both of them as they stumble towards the door. “Stop trying to flirt with the owner! She could do much better than you anyway!”
You laugh, both at Sinker’s teasing and at Wolffe’s scowl. He may have taken some offense to it, but you know Sinker doesn’t really mean it. None of them do — not with how much they care about their commander. It’s all just teasing, just banter — all of it just to show him how much they care in a language he understands.
Comet walks up and helps pull Wolffe to his feet, ignoring his protests as he slides an arm under Wolffe’s shoulders.
“Sorry about that,” Comet says. “”He doesn’t usually — c’mon, sir — doesn’t usually get like this. He’d never try anything — never try to, uh…”
You put a hand on Comet’s shoulder. “It’s alright,” you say. “I know.”
And you do. You think about how he’s stepped in twice to stop other men — who were far more sober — from trying something with you. How even before you had sex for the first time, he wouldn’t go further without deciding on a safe word. How he checks in with you if he ever suspects something might be off. How he refused to call you “sweetheart” the moment you asked.
Even his extremely drunken words — “If you were anyone else… I could kiss you so hard you wouldn’t be able to think” — strike something within you. Because you’re not anyone else. He can’t just make out with you in the back corner — and he wouldn’t. You drew that line and he respected it, even though you know he doesn’t fully understand it.
“If you were anyone else…”
You’re different to him. That’s always been a good thing — it’s been a boundary. It’s been safety. It’s been a clear demarcation between you and the string of one-night stands he’s had in the darkness of 79’s. Now… you can’t tell if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. Not that you’d want to be one of his one-night stands. It’s just…
Wolffe grunts as Comet adjusts his hold on him. Comet’s not small by any means, but Wolffe — well, you know Wolffe is big. Even though they’re the same height, it’s almost like Wolffe is dwarfing Comet as he tries to drag his big brother out the door.
“Have a good night, boys,” you say, giving a little wave as the Wolfpack ambles out the door.
Despite a groan from Comet, Wolffe turns halfway back to look at you.
“See you next time,” he calls, sparking laughter from all four of his brothers — and from you.
“Can’t wait,” you call back, watching as Comet and Sinker somehow manage to get all five of them out the door and into the Coruscanti night.
It’s not until the door clicks shut that you realize… you meant that. You look forward to seeing him the next time he’s on Coruscant. Not fucking him — seeing him.
It all muddles together in your brain.
The thrill you get when he walks in the door. The easy banter that draws you to him despite all of his prickles and thorns. How you never minded him being mad, but couldn’t handle the thought of him being mad at you. The confusing, quiet way he’s protective of you, of his brothers, and how it makes you smile just to think about it. The pain and panic you’d felt when you thought he’d died in the field, only to be replaced by intense concern when he came in injured. How you’ve never felt the same need and desire and pleasure as you have with him.
You… you really don’t hate him anymore.
Oh.
…oh.
Fuck.
------
tagging: @kaianakenobi2941 @4rosydreams @hobiiwan @shit-spiced-chai-says @zinzinina @corrabell @saradika @jennrosefx @lackofhonor @kimageddon @kaitou2417 @ulchabhangorm @whore4rex @sugarpuffsstuff @imalovernotahater @thefact0rygirl @a-c-lee @darthmama1618 @masteracewindu @salaminus @megafrost4 @foxincoruscant @baba-fett @djarrex @mrs-ghuleh @frietiemeloen @lunabell02 @itsagrimm @deewithani @captainrexsfuturewife @crosshairxstars @shiny-mando @generic-geek-girl @nyravioppri @discofern @perpetual-fangirl900 @zazzysseoul @o-livvy @my-tin-can-mans @bearcina @darthadeline @rintheemolion @iwanttounalivemyself69 @pitterpatkittycat @commanderskirata @galacticgraffiti @fivesarctrooper @chewychewyque
This is the first chapter of the series that I've read, and needless to say I will be going back and reading all of them now ahha
Drunk characters are my secret guilty pleasure to read about and write (don't tell anyone, I promise I'm not weird) and I love the relationship between Wolffe and the Wolfpack, it's so heart-warming to read and very well written!
Can't wait to read all the other chapters!
Heeyyy I just found your blog and I'm already in love with your writing ❤️
Can i request prompt 5 from nswf list (don't me make repeat myself) with Tech and f!reader??
Thank youuuuu🥰
Oh my goodness, this one was fun!!! Thank you so much for your follow, support, and submission! I hope you enjoy this as I do!
Special thanks to @ashotofspotchka for being my beta!!!
Trivia Night
Pairing: Tech x F!Reader
Main Masterlist
Rating: Explicit - 18+ ONLY
MY ENTIRE BLOG IS 18+ ONLY !! MINORS BE GONE OR I WILL BLOCK YOU!!
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: SubTech/DomF!Reader under the cut. This is a well established couple (prior conversations, preparation, limits, and safe words are in use!). These activities are previously discussed agreed upon and are consensual. Light BDSM and use of sex toys: cockring and restraints. Praise kink, cockwarming, nipple play (I head canon Tech with pierced nipples), unprotected p in v (don't be dumb IRL. No glove, no love!), cream pie, suggestion of oral (f receiving at end).
"Are you going to stay still or not?" your tone was firm, the tip of your fingers pressed into the soft underside of his chin.
He whimpered, face lifted at your touch, but reluctantly stayed his writhing hips beneath you, "Yes, mistress. I'll stay still."
You hmm'd with satisfaction after you felt the tensed muscles under the plush cheeks of your ass relax. His cock was still rigid and held in your tight pussy, right where you wanted it, but you weren't ready to give him the satisfaction of your grinding hips yet. Or rather, he hadn't earned it yet. Adjusting his goggles on your face you absorbed his debauched state.
It had all been his idea, after all. There were numerous late conversations and hours of research performed to ensure you both had all the proper knowledge and equipment. You weren't sure what had him more excited, the play or the preparation. Though you had to admit when Tech first talked about his fantasy of surrendering to your control, a flash of white heat surged through your body. Together you developed the personas, picked out the toys and garments, and practiced the safeguards in dry runs to make sure that, if a full stop was called, everything reversed without hesitation or fumble. Every step brought you closer together as a couple and deepened the bond of trust between you.
At first you felt a bit awkward and self-conscious, but seeing him respond and begin to utterly fall apart motivated you to stay in character, to find that fine balance of pushing boundaries while maintaining the connection and respect. You had even worked out a subtle method of communication when he was in the mood to submit, so you find the right head space and mentally prepare for the role. In the morning he'd state he needed assistance calibrating the guidance system, if you were available to help. The task was long and tedious, during which the others vacated the ship, knowing Tech's demand for quiet during the delicate process, lest he have to start over.
That night was far from the first time he expressed his desire to have you cuff his wrists and ankles to the bunk, and cockring placed, but his bratty mood was new, a sign of the pent up stress and frustration he needed to relieve. He tugged at the padded synthleather restraints and seemed incapable of following even the simplest of instructions, like sitting still. There was always a degree of playful disobedience, but that night he was down right petulant.
"Tech, what color are you right now?" you asked sternly.
"I'm green, cyare," he replied confused.
"Are you? Because you seem like you don't really want to be here. Maybe you need some time alone to think about your behavior," you shifted and began to slide up his length.
"No, please!" His hips jolted upward to stay inside you. "Don't go!"
Keeping your hips aloft, you leaned forward, capturing his jaw in your hand to ensure you had his undivided attention, "Then, don't make me repeat myself again, understood?"
"Yes," he strained. "Understood mistress."
"One more and you can watch as I get myself off."
The visceral groan that ripped from his chest as you spoke and slowly sank back onto his length caused a flood of arousal in your pussy. As your hips came to rest in his, an obscene squelch made him pull against the restraints once more though with your cautioning gaze through his yellowed lenses, he took a wavering breath and submitted to you.
"Now, where were we?" you spoke aloud, pulling the holopad backup to your face and continuing to talk.
Tech lost focus as the glowing light reflected off the lenses and highlighted the contours if your neck. His eyes raked over your body. Your naked breasts bobbed and swayed with every motion. He could feel the pebbled peaks of your stiff nipples against his fingers if he thought hard enough, maker he wanted one in his mouth. Maybe push your tits together so he can greedily lavish both at once with his tongue until you gushed on his cock. It was cruel that his exceptional mind could manifest the sensation so acutely he'd swear the illusion was real. But then again, that was part of what got him off so intensely during the session.
As his gaze traveled down your body, to your hips, taking in the scalloped lace of the panties you wore he groaned. They were a surprise for him as you knew how fond he was of lingerie. You purchased them specifically for those occasions. The lace barely obscured your swollen lips through the deliberate slit in the fabric from stem to stern as he watched your cunt gently rock against the friction of the cockring he wore. It took all his will power not to thrust his hips, just to get a glimpse of his length disappearing into you.
Your clearing throat, a final warning, snapped his gaze back to your face. You weren't amused with his lack of focus. Raising your brows, you expected an answer to the question you had just asked while he was staring at your tits and salivating for your pussy. As he thought quickly, your free hand slid up his abdomen to his chest, as your thumb caressed and flicked at the piercing through his nipple. His vision suddenly went white and his head filled with static. Just as you began tssking his silence, the answer broke through.
"The delay tolerance between activation of the hyperdrive and engine engagement is plus or minus 0.0227 seconds."
"Mmm, well done my dear," you praised, releasing his nipple. "You've earned a reward. But you know the rules. Get another one wrong and we have to start over again. Are you still green?"
"Yes," he groaned in anticipation. "Still green."
Shifting your hips, your hand slid between your joined bodies and pressed a button on his cockring. The gentle, steady, vibrating waves made his head push back into the pillow as a strangled breath caught in his throat. You likewise couldn't resist a moan of ecstasy as your swollen, neglected clit finally received some much needed stimulation. Your hips began to slowly cant against his twitching erection as you continued the game.
"Next question," maintaining your composure was getting difficult. "What is the rate at which the hyperdrive of a Havoc model ship recycles coolant?"
As he tried to find the answer in the cataloge of knowledge within his mine, you set the holopad aside and leaned over his chest. Your breasts dangled above him, just grazing his skin. He whimpered as you began nibbling from his neck up to his earlobe.
"Mistress," he whined, "please...I can't..."
"Yes you can, my love. You've done well so far, despite your attitude. Answer the question and I'll give you what you want," you purred, hanging by a thread yourself.
His eyes screwed shut, muttering to himself in thought for a long moment. Your hips began moving more deliberately, trying to break his train of thought. Humming the simple tune from the trivia game show he loved to correct, you watched the visible signs of his racing mind. Between the sweat glistening between his pinched brows to the rapid trembling of his lips while he talked to himself, you began to wonder if you had him stumped. Just as you came to the final notes of the song, his eyes shot open.
"Coolant recycles at a rate of 1.5743 cycles per minute!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, your hips ground hard into his, which left him panting. Setting a blistering pace, you pumped in his length as he rutted up into your dripping aching cunt. The buzzing of the ring against your clit brought you to the precipice almost immediately. Leaning forward, you draped your breasts across his face. His mouth gaped, desperate to catch one. Your fevered, heady cries of pleasure filled the confines of the ship until at long last you came, your release leaking down his thighs.
"Maker, you're so good to me!" he strained, throwing his head back.
He fucked up into your weeping pussy. Your hands gripped your bouncing tits, rubbing and massaging as you knew he was aching to. Whimpering at the sight of you, he strained against the cuffs, desperate to break free. Reaching down, you palmed his chest, tweaking the piercings to bring him to the brink.
"Come first," you gasped. "Those are the rules, your rules. Come for me and I'm all yours, however you want me."
With a final heady groan and jerking thrust, his cock exploded inside your core. After several more languid thusts, his hips stilled and a trembling sigh escaped his lips, though his chest was heaving from exertion. As he softened, you slid off him, removing the cockring as well. Although your body quivered from your own intense climax, you reached back and opened the restraints on his ankles, as well as his wrists.
His arms immediately encircled you, pulling you into a deep kiss before nuzzling into your neck with a contented sigh, "That was incredible."
"I was worried you were losing your touch for a minute there," you chided lovingly as you raked your fingers through the damp nape of his neck.
"Just a bit...distracted," he corrected, gripping a breast firmly. "You are the best kind of distraction."
"You want another lesson tonight?"
He slid the goggles off your face and put them back on his own, "I think I'm more prepared for an oral exam."
Taglist:
@nahoney22 @mohsicsu @grogusbff @titanic-oreao-cookie @equalityforcats @itsagrimm @captainrexsc @inagalaxywickedfahaway @youngcheesecaketale @crazyworldofsiani @ladykatakuri @edlix @rosequartzwriting @rain-on-kamino @diagonallie5400 @andyoufollowyourheart @sliceuhglyfe @eyecandyeoz @skylerrae-solo @pinkiemme @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @frietiemeloen @aerynwrites @baba-fett @thesithformerlyknownaskenobi @thefact0rygirl @fivesarctrooper @moonstrider9904 @darkworldsaway @ashotofspotchka @littlefeatherr @damerondala @galacticgraffiti @the-devil-hunter63 @dazedcowboi @whore4rex @queenjiru @ran-away-to-be-a-ninja
I've never been completely into Tech or sub/dom for that matter but this is hot and I am reconsidering some things haha
Very well written as always! I know this is odd but I love the use of the word visceral!
Fives x F!Reader - You are my stars and my heart
Fives ships out with the rest of the 501st in a few hours so you skip out on your Senate meeting to sneak into the GAR barracks. You may or may not have spent a great deal of time together in a supply closet.
Pairing: Fives x Fem!Reader
Rating: 18+ Explicit (DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18)
Warnings: PiV sex, semi-public sex in a supply closet, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, very tiny bit of angst.
Author's note: I've never written explicit content before so this was an experience. I definitely be doing more.
Tag list: @ashotofspotchka @thefact0rygirl @fivesarctrooper @galacticgraffiti @aerynwrites @milf-obi-wan-kenobi @twistedstitcher27 @thesithformerlyknownaskenobi @baba-fett @moonstrider9904
18+ under the cut
You are my stars and my heart
Am I even supposed to be here? you think as you wander the corridors of the GAR barracks, casting fervent glances down the grey halls. The rhythmic sound of marching boots echoed in the distance, but the quiet around you was only permeated by your own staggered breathing as your steps quickened to the pounding of your heart.
You’d abandoned a Senate meeting for this, sending your fellow senators a fumbled façade of a holotext, claiming yourself indisposed. Hopefully they bought it. It wasn't in your nature to skip out on important meetings to go sneaking around the army digs, but the 501st were shipping out in mere hours and you just had to see him.
“You shouldn’t be back here, m’lady.” A voice interrupted your thoughts and you whirl around, mind racing for some excuse or explanation. But as your eyes snapped to the warm, tawny face framed by a neat goatee and cropped, curly hair, you let go of the breath you’d been holding. Only for it to catch in your throat half a second later at the sultry grin the clone gives you.
“Fives,” you breathe, closing the gap between you both with a few hurried strides before pausing, unsure.
“Not here,” he rasps, gripping your arms gently and steering you towards a door. It hisses open, revealing a tiny closet swathed in shadows and then closes you both inside. For a moment it’s only the sound of your enraptured breathing that breaks the silence, your eyes meeting the warm brown of his as you’re pressed against his chest in the small space.
“Hey,” you utter, a little lost for words as you stare, your lips mere inches from his.
“Hey,” he laughs back, his breath warm on your face.
And then your mouth crashes on his, your hands reaching for his head, entwining your fingers in the tight curls of his hair. He returns the kiss, tongue brushing against your lips, begging for entrance that you gladly allow. His hands fall from your arms, one gripping the back of your neck, pulling you flush against his chest and one slipping down your back. The kiss is deep, burning away all thoughts as you feel warmth pool in your core with each flick of his tongue in your mouth. You want it elsewhere, masterfully eating you out in the way he knows you like it most. You crave it. But his hand on your neck doesn’t let you pull away, instead it digs further into your hair, tangled in the fronds.
“Nuh-uh,” he utters against your lips, teasing you as his tongue sweeps inside your mouth, “not yet.”
You sigh, feeling your pussy tighten and your nipples rise against the satin of your dress. Dropping one hand from his head you reach for his codpiece, pressing against is as much as the plastoid allows. Fives presses into your hand, clearly trying to relieve pressure as his hips thrust into you.
“Naughty girl,” he hums, his voice vibrating through you, “coming all the way out here to find me. Don’t know you know you’re not allowed? Did you want someone to catch you?” You feel a shiver quake through you at the last question, a purr on his tongue as he pulls back from you. A whine curls from your throat as his lips depart yours, leaving them wet and slightly swollen. His finger slips under your chin, tipping your head up to meet his eyes. “You needed me that much, hmm?” You nod once, eyes wide and lips parted, still pressing your palm against the codpiece caging Fives’ member. “We don’t have long,” he growls, the pace changing as he unclasps his armour in a hurried but practiced manner and dumps it without care. You’d help but your fingers are shaking with need, fumbling unsuccessfully against the pieces as you desperately try to tear them off, anything to feel his skin on yours.
Armoured confines gone, you can see the defined triangle in his pants and a smirk plays across your lips as you palm at it, making eye contact with Fives as you do so. His lips break, breath hitching in his throat as he thrusts against your hand once more. But he pauses, groaning, and pulls the straps of your dress down, letting the colourful material fall to your waist. You’re exposed, vulnerable but you feel safe in Fives’ presence, keening as he grasps a glove in his teeth and pulls it off his hand. His fingers are warm as he grips the small of your back, tracing your spine with surprisingly nimble movements. You shiver again, pressing into him with need but he takes his time, gently pushing you back to admire your breasts and peaked nipples. Heat lingers in his lustful gaze, raking across your body in a way that makes your heartbeat quicken and your breath rattle in your chest.
“No bra, huh? Did you know this was going to happen, Mesh’la?” You grin unabashedly at his accusation as he appraises your form.
Tired of waiting, you unfasten his pants, the only thing left keeping you from the pleasure you so desperately desire. Slipping a hand down the opening you grasp the base of his cock, running your fingers teasingly along the considerable length. Fives groans again, rubbing a thumb over one of your nipples and leaning in to trail kisses down your neck to your breast. His tongue replaces his thumb, flicking playfully over the tip in a way that sends electricity crackling down your back. You wrap your free arm around his neck and Fives hoists you onto his waist, pressing your back against the cold metal wall. Your hand slips from his pants and you pause your movements at the freezing contact, jolting but then arching your spine as he continues to flick his tongue over your nipple. The other hand strays south, further down your leg until his fingers find their opening and stroke your already soaking cunt.
“Already wet and waiting?” He smirked, slowly brushing his fingers against your clit. You whine and shuffle your position around his waist, desperate for him to go quicker, deeper. Fives thrusts a finger in making you wiggle a little with pleasure. In that instant you were bemoaning the lack of space in the closet, wishing it was his tongue in place of his finger. But that thought was chased from your mind as he slid the finger in and out, gently playing with your clit each time.
“Fives,” you moan, his name a prayer upon your lips. With the arm still wrapped around his neck you hug him closer, pulling his head to yours and kissing him deeply. Your tongue strays into his mouth, seeking the taste of him as he quickens the thrust of his finger, sliding in a second one too. You almost grind yourself against his hand, jolting with each movement until you feel the orgasm rise like a tidal wave.
Your head tips back as release shatters through you, ravishing and all-consuming, stealing away any and every coherent thought. A moan escapes your lips, uninhibited and undeniably loud. Fives’ hand clamps over your mouth, humour dancing in the pleasure-addled depths but you are still too caught in the fracture of your climax to care, your breath rushing from your nose.
You slip from his waist and grab his cock again, brushing the tip playfully with slow, taunting movements. His quakes within your touch, his member pulsing in time to the beat of his heart, rutting his hips against your hand as release pulls ever closer. You can feel it, that he is close, so very close and you speed up. Your other hand slips to your chest, grasping your breast and squeezing, pushing it against the other. His eyes are on you, on your hand and your breasts, pupils blown wide with pleasure. He always loves it when you play with yourself and it’s just the push needed to send him over the edge. He clamps down on the cry that leaves his throat, his body jerking with release as his cum explodes into your hand, staining his blacks. For a moment you are both basking in the bliss of your indulgence, pressed against each other and breathing deeply.
Your eyes meet, an unspoken request for more and Fives pulls you up around his waist once more, sliding his back down the closet wall until he is sat on the floor with you nestled on his lap. You feel him slide his cock into your wet pussy, the pleasure still rolling over you in waves. You rock your hips atop him, hands on his defined chest and eyes meeting his. He thrusts in tandem, hands grasping your hips and pulling you tighter. There was no desperation this time, though the need still burned like wildfire, instead your bodies were in sync, moving as one. He was leaving again and in the back of both your minds was the knowledge that this might never happen again. So you took your time, savoured his closeness, his body.
Fives whispers your name, umber gaze intense as he utters it again and again in time to his thrusts. He grips you tighter, pulls you closer, the need for you to be one with him exploding as your pleasure begins to reach a peak. He was near too but he always waited for you, always made sure you came first. And come you did, the feeling rising from your core, spreading and burning all sense in its wake until at last your climax crashed through you, pure and ecstatic as you bit your lip against the cry that begged to leap from your throat. Fives’ release shattered only half a second later, filling you with him, with his essence. He cradles you close, making no move to pull out and you lean into him, breathing in his scent.
The intrusive beep of Fives’ commlink interrupts the peace and he curses, extracting himself from you with a mournful sigh. Fortunately the closest had towels and he wipes you both down with gentle care, applying his armour with ease.
“You are my ka’ra and my ka’rta, Cyar’ika,” he whispers into your hair as he holds you tight. “But I have to go.”
And with that he departs leaving you alone in the dark with the pleasure still coiled in your core and your heart still hammering wildly against the bars of your ribcage.
“You are my ka’ra and my ka’rta, Cyar’ika,” he whispers into your hair as he holds you tight. “But I have to go.”
That was definitely my favourite sentence to write!! I am glad you liked it!! <3
This is 100% not Mae, 100% not requesting dom!Fenn and sub!reader while both on spice…. with some amazing aftercare…
hello my beloved 100% not Mae, I'm 100% not inspired in any way by you asking this. Also this turned out so much softer than I intended, it's more of a Dom/sub undercurrent
Huge thanks for beta-ing to @book-of-baba-fett and @ashotofspotchka, you have no idea how much your support means to me
Warnings: recreational drug use (spice aka weed-ish), light fingering, dirty talk, praise, Fennec refers to the strap as her cock, slightest touch of verbal degradation (reader is called slut [affectionate]), allusions to assplay, strap in v sex, oral sex (f with a strap receiving), neck-touching (not real choking but just to be safe), some body worship
•⋅∙•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅••⋅∙
"Fuck," you exhale deeply and Fennec breathes in the smoke that you blow in her direction. "Fuck, that's really good. Where'd you get that?"
"Hmm, I have my connections," she chuckles and pulls you closer to her. Her legs rest on either side of yours, with your back pressed against her chest and you swear it is the comfiest place in the galaxy. Her hand reaches around you to take the spice joint from your fingers and you let her, smiling lightly.
"You bring this pure stuff in here, get me hooked, and then you don't even tell me where you got it?" you tease her. You can feel her smirk into your hair before she pulls back to take a hit and exhales while speaking.
"A lady never tells."
You giggle. Fennec is many things, but you are not sure you would call her a lady.
"What are you laughing about, baby girl?" she asks, just a hint of danger in her voice. Your insides tingle at the sound of it, and when one of her hands slides up to cup your breast, you arch your back, already chasing after the sensation her touch leaves you with. Fennec lightly pinches your nipple, electricity shooting straight to your core.
"I asked you a question," she says sternly.
"Sorry, I- I just think… Well, you and all the things you've done to me... neither you nor I are really ‘ladies’, are we?"
Fennec's fingertips trace your hardened nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt as she leans forward, her breath hot against your ear.
"You mean with the way I fuck you? The way I get you desperate for me, begging for my fingers and my tongue inside you? The way you always get so wet for me that you soak the sheets and how you like for me to fill all your pretty little holes when I fuck you?"
Her filthy words make your cunt clench, arousal sweeping through you like a wildfire. She always knows exactly what you need to hear to get you riled up. You shudder in her embrace, your sensitive nipples pressing against the fabric of your shirt as she continues to tease you.
"Gods, fuck, Fen," you moan and let your head drop back against her shoulder. "How do you always say the right thing?"
"It's because I know you." Fennec grins into you. "I know what you like, pretty girl. Tell me why I know that."
"Because I belong to you," you sigh, the words long since ingrained into your very being.
"That's right," she praises and takes another drag before handing the joint back to you. "Good girl."
A shiver runs through you at her words. You did not plan to let things escalate like this. You meant to give Fennec a relaxing evening, but she seems to have other things in mind. Still-
"Let me make you feel good," you whisper, turning around and kneeling between her thighs, taking a hit before passing her the spice. "Let me take care of you, Fen. You deserve to relax."
She looks at you, one corner of her lip quirked up in a half-grin, her pupils dilated with lust and the spice taking effect. Her hand shoots out to wrap around your throat – not squeezing, just holding you there, a light pressure of fingers that makes your cunt flutter.
"And you deserve a few swats on that perfect ass of yours for talking to me like that," she grumbles. "Did you forget your place, little one? You don't decide what I deserve. I know what I deserve. I deserve you with your face buried in my pussy, licking me until your jaw aches. I deserve you on your knees, trying to suck my strap because you know I'll fuck you later if you do well. I deserve you, desperately begging me to give you what you need while I lean back and enjoy this good fucking spice. Don’t you agree?"
"Yes Ma'am," you say with a grin. She lets go of your neck to gently tilt up your chin, and presses a kiss to your lips. She tastes of smoke and spice, of the thin dry paper of the joint, and something sweet, something that's entirely her and that surprises you every time.
"Good girl. But since I’m in a generous mood tonight, let me ask you something else.” She takes a drag and blows the smoke in your face for you to inhale. “What do you dream about? What do you want to do?"
"What do you mean?" You blink up at her, the look in her eyes softening as she smokes, her hand stroking up and down your sides, caressing your curves while you speak. "I like doing this. I like doing what you want, I like pleasing you. That is what I dream about, that is what I want."
"Kriffing... you're too good," Fennec breathes and pulls you up from between her thighs. "Too good, too fucking perfect. And you really mean it, don't you?"
"Of course I do, Fen. I want to be good for you, so good that you can relax and lean back and just... enjoy yourself. Maybe let go for a while. It's not about control, I don't want that – you are in control, always. You know that."
"Yes. I know that," Fennec breathes and puts the joint out in the ashtray to pull you into her. Your breaths mingle as she looks at you, one thumb stroking along your cheek before she leans in to capture your lips with hers. It's sweet and gentle and unhurried, a feeling like coming home. The pleasure mixes with your spice high until the world melts away and you can only feel her, moving against you, slow hands slipping around you, pulling at your clothes just as you are pulling at hers. Fennec does not hurry, she does not get impatient - she takes her time worshipping your body with her hands and mouth as she slowly reveals you to her. You sigh and moan into her kisses, your hands caressing whatever parts of her you can reach.
Eventually, her hand slips between your thighs and you feel the O her lips form when she discovers how wet you are. You smile into her kiss.
"All for you, as always. You feel so good, Fen, so fucking good. I don't have the words to express how you- it's insane that one person can make me feel so much."
Her hands rest on your hips, a soft weight on your body, a steady reminder of her presence. You let your tongue dart out to lick across her bottom lip and she flashes you a warning look.
"Don't get cocky, princess."
"I don't know what you mean." You blink up at her with big, innocent eyes, and when she smiles, there is something predatory in her look. Her gaze flicks to the side, to the stub of the joint that sits in the ashtray on the bedside table.
"Come on," Fennec says, sitting up straighter. You are about to protest, but a look from her makes you shut your mouth. Punishments may be fun, but you get the feeling she is not in the mood for that tonight. You lean back to let Fennec extract herself from you, staring after her, letting your eyes wander over her body that looks so perfect to you. Gods, you will never get enough of her.
She disappears into the walk-in closet and you think you know where this is headed. If your guess is as accurate as you are hoping… there might just be something you can do to please her without her even having to ask for it. Fennec’s words from earlier drift through your brain. I deserve you on your knees, trying to suck my strap because you know I'll fuck you later if you do well. I deserve you, desperately begging me to give you what you need while I lean back and enjoy this good fucking spice.
You can hear her rummage through the drawers and you know exactly what she's looking for – that one strap that you like so much, the one that fits perfectly in your mouth, stretching your lips just wide enough that it borders on obscene without making your jaw ache too quickly. Fennec knows how much you love it, and since she seems to be in a soft mood, you are guessing she might indulge you.
While she is occupied, you busy yourself rolling another joint - a small one, since she will be smoking alone as you will probably be... otherwise occupied. You carefully flatten the paper, grind the spice along with some other herbs you like to smoke. Your motions are fluid, long practiced and familiar, as you roll it up into a tight joint and lick the edge to seal it. Looking at your work with a deep satisfaction, you walk over to the sofa and sink to your knees on the plush carpet, chuckling when you remember that Fennec bought it specifically for occasions like this. Your back straight, you let your hands rest on your thighs, palms facing upward, with the joint lodged between your middle and pointer finger. And you wait.
When Fennec walks out, you can barely contain yourself. You were right about everything, and now she is looking at you like she won the Galactic Lottery. You can only imagine the picture you make, but your mind is stuck on her. Because she looks stunning, that combination of curves and lithe muscle that makes your brain short-circuit. Her hair is tied back, her hand wrapped loosely around the strap, the harness sitting tightly on her hips. You can feel your mouth drop open but you don't have it in you to close it, you want to feel the weight of her on your tongue - because in your mind right now, that is her, that is part of her. And you know she feels the same way. You talked about it, one languid morning, Fennec’s hands tracing lazy patterns across your bare back, you describing why you like sucking her strap so much. And her explaining the high of that power trip that comes from watching you sucking her off.
"Fucking hells, just look at you," Fennec mumbles and stops right in front of you, reaching down to caress your face with her hand as you look up at her. "My perfect girl, already kneeling and waiting for me. Did you know what I wanted before I even said it?"
"Yes, Fen," you whisper. She leans down to kiss you, rougher this time than she was before. When she moves to sit on the couch, her legs spread wide and her arms resting on the back of the sofa, you turn to her so you are kneeling between her thighs.
"You're makin' my dreams come true right now, baby girl," she grins.
"Hmm, that's what I'm here for." You smile and hand her the joint, igniting it for her when she raises her eyebrow and taps her foot – a joke more than anything else since she knows how much you like to complain about it driving you up the wall when people do that. You giggle and Fennec brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.
"Fuckin' perfect," she sighs. You bask in the glow of her praise, heart fluttering as you lean forward to take the strap into your mouth. Feeling her eyes on you, you make a show of swirling your tongue around the tip before you let her slide deeper, lips stretched wide around the girth of her. Fennec takes a deep drag of the spice, her other hand coming to rest on your hair. She does not pull or yank, simply letting the weight of her hand remind you of her presence. It's a rush you will never get over, letting yourself be used like this, knowing she enjoys this just as much as you do simply because of the power it gives her. It's a strange sort of high, especially mixed with the spice that heightens your senses, and you swear you can almost feel her twitch in your mouth even though you know that's impossible.
"Maker, you look s-so good like that," Fennec sighs, gently guiding your head until you take her deeper into your mouth. "Your lips stretched around my cock, pussy dripping onto the floor... I'm gonna take my time taking you apart later, baby girl, make sure you're so fucking cockdumb and pussydrunk you can't even think anymore. I want you to feel and remember every little thing I do to you, my handprints on your ass, my fingers inside that sweet little cunt, how you choke when I do this-"
She thrusts forward and you gag when the strap hits the back of your throat, tears gathering in your eyes. Fennec chuckles and pulls back, letting you set the pace again.
"Hmm, I'll never get enough of watching you try to take me, my sweet little girl stuffed so full with my cock she can barely think."
You pull off of her with a lewd sound that makes you blush.
“See, I don’t want to think, Fen. I just want to make you feel good.”
She smiles and buries her hand in your hair, gently pulling you forward until you open your mouth and let yourself be filled by her once again.
“You do, baby girl, you always make me feel good,” she groans. “So perfect for me, you know how much I like you like this, my perfect, obedient little slut sucking my cock while I get high. Best feeling in the galaxy.”
Her praise runs through you like warm honey and you have to suppress the urge to press your thighs together, your clit throbbing with need. Fennec smirks – she noticed, of course she did.
“Maybe someday,” she says, her voice dripping with promise, “some day, I’ll put a plug in that pretty ass of yours and stuff your sweet cunt full with me before I make you kneel and suck me off just like this. Fill you up so entirely that you become mine.”
Your pussy clenches at her words and you moan around her, leaning back until the strap slips from your lips.
“I’m already yours, Fen.”
She takes another drag of spice, her other hand stroking your cheek before she pushes her thumb into your waiting mouth. You can feel every ridge, every crook in her finger, the spice seeping into your senses and intensifying every sensation.
“Hmm,” Fennec mumbles, “You love to be filled by me, don’t you, princess?”
You nod, gently sucking on her finger, enjoying the taste of her in your mouth as you swirl your tongue around her. Fennec sighs and pulls away from you until you release her thumb with a wet pop.
“Always so eager,” she grins when you shuffle forward to wrap your lips around her strap again. “So desperate for my attention.”
She inhales deeply and lets her head drop back, eyes closing.
“Keep yourself busy for a while, princess, can you do that for me? That spice is… whew, that’s something else. I swear I can almost fuckin’ feel your mouth on me, pretty girl.” Fennec takes another drag and you think she has never looked as sexy as she does now.
Her tits are heaving, nipples hard and pebbled in the cool evening air. The light hits her just right, illuminating her face, catching on the bow of her lips, the bridge of her nose – and those collarbones, those fucking collarbones that you want to worship with your mouth. She is so pretty you can’t think, her beauty making your head spin. You lean forward to take her deeper, changing the angle slightly so you can relax your throat.
Without thinking about it, you slip your hand between your legs, sighing when you press your thumb against your throbbing clit and feel the tension in your belly grow stronger. You gently rock your hips into your hand, searching for friction as you continue to lick and suck her, basking in the wonderful weight of her on your tongue. You only wish it tasted more like Fennec, because every time you get to bury your face in her pussy, you swear you never want to taste anything else ever again.
Gazing up at her, you try to commit every detail to memory: The shadow of her lashes on her cheeks, the slight crook in her nose, the way her mouth moves when she closes her lips around the joint and takes a drag, and how her chest expands with her deep breaths and sighs, and then relaxes when she exhales. The smoke diffuses the last of the sunlight, bathing her in a diffuse golden glow.
“What you lookin’ at, baby girl?” Fennec mumbles without opening her eyes, amusement audible in her voice. “I can feel you staring at me, shouldn’t you be focusing on something else?”
You pull off of her and Fennec’s eyes slip open. Hastily you extract your hand from between your thighs, hoping she didn’t notice.
“I’m focused on you,” you say softly, and it’s not even a lie. “And isn’t that how it should be? You’re so pretty, Fen. I could stare at you for hours.”
“Oh, stop it,” she grins. “You flatter me.”
“It’s easy because it’s true,” you shrug, and you swear you see just the slightest bit of red tinting Fennec’s cheeks. She places her hand on yours where it is resting on her thigh, flicking the stub of the joint over her shoulder.
“Come up here.”
You clamber into her lap and wrap your arms around her, burying your face in the crook of her neck.
“Oh baby,” she breathes when your lips graze her pulse point. “Did you feel lonely on the floor all by yourself? Did you touch yourself while sucking me off? Don’t lie to me, I can feel how wet you are.”
“Hm-hm,” you hum into her. Fennec’s chest shakes beneath you when she chuckles.
“Needy little girl. I should punish you, but you’ve been so good for me… and I never said you couldn’t touch yourself. You want my cock, princess?”
“Yes, please,” you whisper, pulling back so you can look at her properly. Her eyes are soft and warm and full of affection when she leans forward and presses her lips to yours.
“Go on then, take what you need, baby girl,” she mumbles into your mouth. You sigh in relief at her permission, holding on to her shoulder to steady yourself as you rise up before sinking down onto her. The strap is the perfect size for you – it doesn’t require much prep, especially not when you are already as soaked as you are. You take her with ease, moaning when the feeling of fullness sets in.
“There we go,” Fennec encourages you. “There we go, good girl… go ahead, fuck yourself on my cock, I know how much you need it, don’t you?”
“Hm-hm,” you whimper, grinding your hips down against hers. “You feel so good, Fen, so fucking good- I’m already so close-“
“Already so close, just from sucking my cock?” she teases. “Well, go ahead, princess, touch yourself. I want you to come around me before you clean me up with that talented tongue of yours.”
“Fuck,” you gasp, one of your hands slipping back to circle your fingers around your clit. You bump into the hardness of the strap, feeling how it stretches you open – how she stretches you open. “Fuck, you feel- perfect, I wanna stay right here forever, your arms wrapped around me and your lips tasting of spice…”
She kisses you then, and it’s the best mix of sweet softness and rough desperation. You move your hips faster, circling your fingers until you can feel the pleasure swell in your belly, that delicious tension that is begging to let yourself be pushed over the edge. You bury your face in her shoulder, barely coherent – your brain just a scramble of more deeper yes like that just like that fuck faster hmm so good feels so good and then you are coming, soaking her in your release as you grip her shoulders and curse into her neck. It’s sweet and deep and thorough, a wave of pleasure that rolls through you and makes you shake, your cunt clenching and your heartbeat stumbling.
“Good girl,” Fennec groans, her own hands sliding down from your hips to dip between your legs, gathering some of your slick so she can taste you. “Good girl, fuck- you look so beautiful like this, all fucked out and cockdumb for me. I want to look at you forever, princess, listen to those sweet sounds you make when you come for me.”
You stay like this, with her buried deep inside you as the aftershocks subside. You gently trace her collarbones with the tip of your finger, then lean down to kiss them, lap at them, trace them with your tongue. Fennec deserves to be worshipped, all parts of her, and you think you will never tire of letting her know that.
“I’m so in love with you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. When you look up at her, her eyes are soft, and a small smile tugs on her lips.
“Yeah,” she whispers back before she kisses you again. “Me too.”
•⋅∙•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅••⋅∙
More Fennec content and this particular request had me feeling some type of way.
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ok so after seeing @thefactswerebees's corrie guard set...i couldn't help but ponder just how fox would react to seeing you in something like that
NSFW below the cut
cw for: fingering, unprotected sex (don't be stupid, stupid)
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You would definitely get it as a surprise for Fox, maybe organising it during a stressful week at work, or after a particularly stressful event has finished
The time before he comes home, you're nervous, what if he doesn't like it? What if he thinks it's a joke? What if?
Your thoughts are cut off by the click of your apartment door, quickly followed by the hiss of a helmet being taken off
"Hey mesh'la-" His voice trails off when he sees you, a choking sound coming from the man
You lean back against the kitchen counter, giving him time to take it all in
"Something wrong Commander?"
A choked of whine makes it out of his mouth, before he steps forward, running his hands along the soft red material, eyes transfixed
"Is this for me?"
"All for you."
His resolve snaps, turning you around and bending you over the counter, trapping your hips with his
"Such a perfect little thing for me, so good to me." He traces his fingers down your back, catching on the top of your shorts.
Fox presses a kiss to the back of your neck, the cold plastoid of his armour pressed against your skin
He continues focusing his attention on the skin there, kissing and biting, while his hand moves to the front of the shorts, fingers slipping below the waistband
"No underwear? Such a perfect welcome home."
His fingers slip into your cunt as he speaks, your head falling forward as you try to keep yourself in check
His fingers twist and pump inside you, making your nails dig into the counter below you, teeth digging into your lip, desperately trying to keep quiet
Then his fingers move to your clit and your resolve crumbles, a long drawn out moan pouring from your lips
"There it is, missed those noises mesh'la." He whispers into your ear as he wreaks havoc on your body
Its not long before you come apart on his fingers, body tensing up, your cum spreading down your legs
With quick hands, Fox strips you of the shorts and pulls out his cock, too focused on you to even think of removing the rest of his armour
Hand at the base of your neck, he slowly pushes into you
The inching pace made you want to scream at him, but it wouldn't make a difference, Fox was the type of man who liked to take his time, he loved to relish in the feeling of your body and bury himself in it
Finally he was in you, fully and completely
You could feel him stretching you, filling you up and pushing you to your limit beautifully
In all honestly, you could bask in this feeling forever
Then he began to move and the air was knocked from your lungs
He kept a steady pace, making sure the impact of him fucking into you was high, only just letting you adjust to the feeling of emptiness before his cock was in you once more
One hand remained on your neck, while the second moved to your cunt, fingers teasing your clit
You could feel sweat sliding down between your tits, hair sticking to your face and neck
Soon you were buckling under him and it felt like the world was crashing down around you, legs shaking underneath you
As you tried refocused on your breath, Fox groaned, cumming inside you
Your combined releases were dripping down your thighs as Fox collapsed on top of you, and for a moment, you basked in the afterglow
"So I'm guessing you liked the new set?"
Fox jolted inside you as he laughed, causing the both of you to groan.
"I don't know, maybe we should try it out again."
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Congrats on the 1.5 K milestone! I’ve really enjoyed making my way through your fics. Everyone seems to HC Wolffe as a degraded, but I think he really likes being degraded and manhandled. Can I request from smut prompt List 2 #27 and #74 with Wolffe?
Persephone's 1.5K Follower Celebration
“You call that begging? Sorry, baby, but you’re gonna have to do a little better than that if you want me to fuck you.” and “Look at you, such a little slut. Bet you can’t even get off until my hand’s wrapped around your throat.” with Commander Wolffe x fem!reader
This is 18+ and a grapefruit
Warnings: NSFT (PiV, D/s dynamics, fem dom, degradation, dumbification undertones). Choking Wolffe. Checking in with the color system
He liked to press your buttons.
That was the biggest problem when it came to domming Wolffe. He wanted you to do so, but he made it so difficult to earn his submission. He purposefully fought you on it. At first, you had assumed it was because he had difficulty giving up control. That would be a reasonable assumption. Now that you’ve been doing this for a bit, though, you’ve figured out.
It’s not just about him having trouble letting someone else take the reigns.
He likes to make it hard on you in the hopes you’ll take it out on him.
Every pass of your nails down his chest makes him arch slightly into your touch. With each drag, he moves more towards it. When you first settled yourself in his lap, his wrists lightly bound with a piece of ribbon to the headboard, Wolffe didn’t budge at all. Now his shoulders lift a bit off the sheets as he chases the sensation. His chest almost looks as if he’s been clawed by something. You make a mental note to apply plenty of bacta later.
“Look at you.” You coo. You rock your hips against his. Wolffe nearly jerks at the feeling. Both of you are completely naked. He must feel how wet you are against him, but you’ve made no moves to slip him inside of you. Instead, you’ve been teasing the both of you. Each roll of your hips causes his dick to slide through your folds and rub against your clit. It’s clear you’re getting more friction from this than him. “You’re so desperate, aren’t you? So needy.”
It’s a testament to how far he’s gone, how much your teasing has gotten to him. Wolffe’s lips part. You brace yourself for a comeback of some kind, maybe about how you’re the desperate one. Instead, his voice is low, soft. You nearly miss what he says.
“Please.”
It’s a small crack in his armor. It’s tiny, but it’s there. You grin and lean over him.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you. What did you say?”
Irritation flashes through his good eye, but you’re quick. You bring one hand up to his throat and press lightly. It’s not enough to truly choke him, just enough to remind him that you could. The effect is nearly instantaneous. His eye widens. His thighs tense underneath you. The rest of his body goes pliant.
“Look at you, such a little slut. Bet you can’t even get off until my hand’s wrapped around your throat.” You murmur. Each word oozes loving condescension. For a second, his pulse races underneath your fingertips. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. When he swallows, you can feel his Adam’s apple underneath your palm. It’s a strange sensation but powerful. You grin down at him.
“Sweetheart...” He begins. Wolffe tries to go for some sort of imperious tone, but it falls flat. His tone could seem commanding to those that don’t know him, but you do. You can hear the edges of desperation creeping into it. You let out a noncommittal noise before shifting your lower body.
“You call that begging? Sorry, baby, but you’re gonna have to do a little better than that if you want me to fuck you.” This time, when you roll your hips, the tip of his dick nearly slips inside of you.
You groan in unison at the feeling. Wolffe’s thighs flex. His hips jerk upward, trying to slide home. You tighten the pressure around his throat in response. He hisses but lets his hips drop back down to the mattress.
“Color?”
“Green.” He sounds nearly offended that you’d check in with him. You turn your head to the side so he can’t see your smile.
“We’re doing things my way.” You tell him. He has the audacity to roll his eyes at you. None of the usual heat or derision is behind the gesture, though. “Pretty little sluts like you don’t get a say in how we do this.” You run your thumb along one of the veins in his neck. “It’ll be so much better if you just shut off your brain and let someone who knows what they’re doing take care of things.”
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Massive shout out to all the people who liked and commented and reblogged "You are my stars and my heart". It's the first time I've written smut and posted fanfiction anywhere so your support means a lot to me!!
Thank you to all my new followers as well!! I will definitely be producing more in the future!
Fives x F!Reader - You are my stars and my heart
Fives ships out with the rest of the 501st in a few hours so you skip out on your Senate meeting to sneak into the GAR barracks. You may or may not have spent a great deal of time together in a supply closet.
Pairing: Fives x Fem!Reader
Rating: 18+ Explicit (DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18)
Warnings: PiV sex, semi-public sex in a supply closet, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, very tiny bit of angst.
Author's note: I've never written explicit content before so this was an experience. I definitely be doing more.
Tag list: @ashotofspotchka @thefact0rygirl @fivesarctrooper @galacticgraffiti @aerynwrites @milf-obi-wan-kenobi @twistedstitcher27 @thesithformerlyknownaskenobi @baba-fett @moonstrider9904
18+ under the cut
You are my stars and my heart
Am I even supposed to be here? you think as you wander the corridors of the GAR barracks, casting fervent glances down the grey halls. The rhythmic sound of marching boots echoed in the distance, but the quiet around you was only permeated by your own staggered breathing as your steps quickened to the pounding of your heart.
You’d abandoned a Senate meeting for this, sending your fellow senators a fumbled façade of a holotext, claiming yourself indisposed. Hopefully they bought it. It wasn't in your nature to skip out on important meetings to go sneaking around the army digs, but the 501st were shipping out in mere hours and you just had to see him.
“You shouldn’t be back here, m’lady.” A voice interrupted your thoughts and you whirl around, mind racing for some excuse or explanation. But as your eyes snapped to the warm, tawny face framed by a neat goatee and cropped, curly hair, you let go of the breath you’d been holding. Only for it to catch in your throat half a second later at the sultry grin the clone gives you.
“Fives,” you breathe, closing the gap between you both with a few hurried strides before pausing, unsure.
“Not here,” he rasps, gripping your arms gently and steering you towards a door. It hisses open, revealing a tiny closet swathed in shadows and then closes you both inside. For a moment it’s only the sound of your enraptured breathing that breaks the silence, your eyes meeting the warm brown of his as you’re pressed against his chest in the small space.
“Hey,” you utter, a little lost for words as you stare, your lips mere inches from his.
“Hey,” he laughs back, his breath warm on your face.
And then your mouth crashes on his, your hands reaching for his head, entwining your fingers in the tight curls of his hair. He returns the kiss, tongue brushing against your lips, begging for entrance that you gladly allow. His hands fall from your arms, one gripping the back of your neck, pulling you flush against his chest and one slipping down your back. The kiss is deep, burning away all thoughts as you feel warmth pool in your core with each flick of his tongue in your mouth. You want it elsewhere, masterfully eating you out in the way he knows you like it most. You crave it. But his hand on your neck doesn’t let you pull away, instead it digs further into your hair, tangled in the fronds.
“Nuh-uh,” he utters against your lips, teasing you as his tongue sweeps inside your mouth, “not yet.”
You sigh, feeling your pussy tighten and your nipples rise against the satin of your dress. Dropping one hand from his head you reach for his codpiece, pressing against is as much as the plastoid allows. Fives presses into your hand, clearly trying to relieve pressure as his hips thrust into you.
“Naughty girl,” he hums, his voice vibrating through you, “coming all the way out here to find me. Don’t know you know you’re not allowed? Did you want someone to catch you?” You feel a shiver quake through you at the last question, a purr on his tongue as he pulls back from you. A whine curls from your throat as his lips depart yours, leaving them wet and slightly swollen. His finger slips under your chin, tipping your head up to meet his eyes. “You needed me that much, hmm?” You nod once, eyes wide and lips parted, still pressing your palm against the codpiece caging Fives’ member. “We don’t have long,” he growls, the pace changing as he unclasps his armour in a hurried but practiced manner and dumps it without care. You’d help but your fingers are shaking with need, fumbling unsuccessfully against the pieces as you desperately try to tear them off, anything to feel his skin on yours.
Armoured confines gone, you can see the defined triangle in his pants and a smirk plays across your lips as you palm at it, making eye contact with Fives as you do so. His lips break, breath hitching in his throat as he thrusts against your hand once more. But he pauses, groaning, and pulls the straps of your dress down, letting the colourful material fall to your waist. You’re exposed, vulnerable but you feel safe in Fives’ presence, keening as he grasps a glove in his teeth and pulls it off his hand. His fingers are warm as he grips the small of your back, tracing your spine with surprisingly nimble movements. You shiver again, pressing into him with need but he takes his time, gently pushing you back to admire your breasts and peaked nipples. Heat lingers in his lustful gaze, raking across your body in a way that makes your heartbeat quicken and your breath rattle in your chest.
“No bra, huh? Did you know this was going to happen, Mesh’la?” You grin unabashedly at his accusation as he appraises your form.
Tired of waiting, you unfasten his pants, the only thing left keeping you from the pleasure you so desperately desire. Slipping a hand down the opening you grasp the base of his cock, running your fingers teasingly along the considerable length. Fives groans again, rubbing a thumb over one of your nipples and leaning in to trail kisses down your neck to your breast. His tongue replaces his thumb, flicking playfully over the tip in a way that sends electricity crackling down your back. You wrap your free arm around his neck and Fives hoists you onto his waist, pressing your back against the cold metal wall. Your hand slips from his pants and you pause your movements at the freezing contact, jolting but then arching your spine as he continues to flick his tongue over your nipple. The other hand strays south, further down your leg until his fingers find their opening and stroke your already soaking cunt.
“Already wet and waiting?” He smirked, slowly brushing his fingers against your clit. You whine and shuffle your position around his waist, desperate for him to go quicker, deeper. Fives thrusts a finger in making you wiggle a little with pleasure. In that instant you were bemoaning the lack of space in the closet, wishing it was his tongue in place of his finger. But that thought was chased from your mind as he slid the finger in and out, gently playing with your clit each time.
“Fives,” you moan, his name a prayer upon your lips. With the arm still wrapped around his neck you hug him closer, pulling his head to yours and kissing him deeply. Your tongue strays into his mouth, seeking the taste of him as he quickens the thrust of his finger, sliding in a second one too. You almost grind yourself against his hand, jolting with each movement until you feel the orgasm rise like a tidal wave.
Your head tips back as release shatters through you, ravishing and all-consuming, stealing away any and every coherent thought. A moan escapes your lips, uninhibited and undeniably loud. Fives’ hand clamps over your mouth, humour dancing in the pleasure-addled depths but you are still too caught in the fracture of your climax to care, your breath rushing from your nose.
You slip from his waist and grab his cock again, brushing the tip playfully with slow, taunting movements. His quakes within your touch, his member pulsing in time to the beat of his heart, rutting his hips against your hand as release pulls ever closer. You can feel it, that he is close, so very close and you speed up. Your other hand slips to your chest, grasping your breast and squeezing, pushing it against the other. His eyes are on you, on your hand and your breasts, pupils blown wide with pleasure. He always loves it when you play with yourself and it’s just the push needed to send him over the edge. He clamps down on the cry that leaves his throat, his body jerking with release as his cum explodes into your hand, staining his blacks. For a moment you are both basking in the bliss of your indulgence, pressed against each other and breathing deeply.
Your eyes meet, an unspoken request for more and Fives pulls you up around his waist once more, sliding his back down the closet wall until he is sat on the floor with you nestled on his lap. You feel him slide his cock into your wet pussy, the pleasure still rolling over you in waves. You rock your hips atop him, hands on his defined chest and eyes meeting his. He thrusts in tandem, hands grasping your hips and pulling you tighter. There was no desperation this time, though the need still burned like wildfire, instead your bodies were in sync, moving as one. He was leaving again and in the back of both your minds was the knowledge that this might never happen again. So you took your time, savoured his closeness, his body.
Fives whispers your name, umber gaze intense as he utters it again and again in time to his thrusts. He grips you tighter, pulls you closer, the need for you to be one with him exploding as your pleasure begins to reach a peak. He was near too but he always waited for you, always made sure you came first. And come you did, the feeling rising from your core, spreading and burning all sense in its wake until at last your climax crashed through you, pure and ecstatic as you bit your lip against the cry that begged to leap from your throat. Fives’ release shattered only half a second later, filling you with him, with his essence. He cradles you close, making no move to pull out and you lean into him, breathing in his scent.
The intrusive beep of Fives’ commlink interrupts the peace and he curses, extracting himself from you with a mournful sigh. Fortunately the closest had towels and he wipes you both down with gentle care, applying his armour with ease.
“You are my ka’ra and my ka’rta, Cyar’ika,” he whispers into your hair as he holds you tight. “But I have to go.”
And with that he departs leaving you alone in the dark with the pleasure still coiled in your core and your heart still hammering wildly against the bars of your ribcage.
I love this so much - the secret relationship, the emotions 🥺 all so well done!!
😩😩😩
skdjfks I'm sorry lol
Fives x F!Reader - You are my stars and my heart
Fives ships out with the rest of the 501st in a few hours so you skip out on your Senate meeting to sneak into the GAR barracks. You may or may not have spent a great deal of time together in a supply closet.
Pairing: Fives x Fem!Reader
Rating: 18+ Explicit (DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18)
Warnings: PiV sex, semi-public sex in a supply closet, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, very tiny bit of angst.
Author's note: I've never written explicit content before so this was an experience. I definitely be doing more.
Tag list: @ashotofspotchka @thefact0rygirl @fivesarctrooper @galacticgraffiti @aerynwrites @milf-obi-wan-kenobi @twistedstitcher27 @thesithformerlyknownaskenobi @baba-fett @moonstrider9904
18+ under the cut
You are my stars and my heart
Am I even supposed to be here? you think as you wander the corridors of the GAR barracks, casting fervent glances down the grey halls. The rhythmic sound of marching boots echoed in the distance, but the quiet around you was only permeated by your own staggered breathing as your steps quickened to the pounding of your heart.
You’d abandoned a Senate meeting for this, sending your fellow senators a fumbled façade of a holotext, claiming yourself indisposed. Hopefully they bought it. It wasn't in your nature to skip out on important meetings to go sneaking around the army digs, but the 501st were shipping out in mere hours and you just had to see him.
“You shouldn’t be back here, m’lady.” A voice interrupted your thoughts and you whirl around, mind racing for some excuse or explanation. But as your eyes snapped to the warm, tawny face framed by a neat goatee and cropped, curly hair, you let go of the breath you’d been holding. Only for it to catch in your throat half a second later at the sultry grin the clone gives you.
“Fives,” you breathe, closing the gap between you both with a few hurried strides before pausing, unsure.
“Not here,” he rasps, gripping your arms gently and steering you towards a door. It hisses open, revealing a tiny closet swathed in shadows and then closes you both inside. For a moment it’s only the sound of your enraptured breathing that breaks the silence, your eyes meeting the warm brown of his as you’re pressed against his chest in the small space.
“Hey,” you utter, a little lost for words as you stare, your lips mere inches from his.
“Hey,” he laughs back, his breath warm on your face.
And then your mouth crashes on his, your hands reaching for his head, entwining your fingers in the tight curls of his hair. He returns the kiss, tongue brushing against your lips, begging for entrance that you gladly allow. His hands fall from your arms, one gripping the back of your neck, pulling you flush against his chest and one slipping down your back. The kiss is deep, burning away all thoughts as you feel warmth pool in your core with each flick of his tongue in your mouth. You want it elsewhere, masterfully eating you out in the way he knows you like it most. You crave it. But his hand on your neck doesn’t let you pull away, instead it digs further into your hair, tangled in the fronds.
“Nuh-uh,” he utters against your lips, teasing you as his tongue sweeps inside your mouth, “not yet.”
You sigh, feeling your pussy tighten and your nipples rise against the satin of your dress. Dropping one hand from his head you reach for his codpiece, pressing against is as much as the plastoid allows. Fives presses into your hand, clearly trying to relieve pressure as his hips thrust into you.
“Naughty girl,” he hums, his voice vibrating through you, “coming all the way out here to find me. Don’t know you know you’re not allowed? Did you want someone to catch you?” You feel a shiver quake through you at the last question, a purr on his tongue as he pulls back from you. A whine curls from your throat as his lips depart yours, leaving them wet and slightly swollen. His finger slips under your chin, tipping your head up to meet his eyes. “You needed me that much, hmm?” You nod once, eyes wide and lips parted, still pressing your palm against the codpiece caging Fives’ member. “We don’t have long,” he growls, the pace changing as he unclasps his armour in a hurried but practiced manner and dumps it without care. You’d help but your fingers are shaking with need, fumbling unsuccessfully against the pieces as you desperately try to tear them off, anything to feel his skin on yours.
Armoured confines gone, you can see the defined triangle in his pants and a smirk plays across your lips as you palm at it, making eye contact with Fives as you do so. His lips break, breath hitching in his throat as he thrusts against your hand once more. But he pauses, groaning, and pulls the straps of your dress down, letting the colourful material fall to your waist. You’re exposed, vulnerable but you feel safe in Fives’ presence, keening as he grasps a glove in his teeth and pulls it off his hand. His fingers are warm as he grips the small of your back, tracing your spine with surprisingly nimble movements. You shiver again, pressing into him with need but he takes his time, gently pushing you back to admire your breasts and peaked nipples. Heat lingers in his lustful gaze, raking across your body in a way that makes your heartbeat quicken and your breath rattle in your chest.
“No bra, huh? Did you know this was going to happen, Mesh’la?” You grin unabashedly at his accusation as he appraises your form.
Tired of waiting, you unfasten his pants, the only thing left keeping you from the pleasure you so desperately desire. Slipping a hand down the opening you grasp the base of his cock, running your fingers teasingly along the considerable length. Fives groans again, rubbing a thumb over one of your nipples and leaning in to trail kisses down your neck to your breast. His tongue replaces his thumb, flicking playfully over the tip in a way that sends electricity crackling down your back. You wrap your free arm around his neck and Fives hoists you onto his waist, pressing your back against the cold metal wall. Your hand slips from his pants and you pause your movements at the freezing contact, jolting but then arching your spine as he continues to flick his tongue over your nipple. The other hand strays south, further down your leg until his fingers find their opening and stroke your already soaking cunt.
“Already wet and waiting?” He smirked, slowly brushing his fingers against your clit. You whine and shuffle your position around his waist, desperate for him to go quicker, deeper. Fives thrusts a finger in making you wiggle a little with pleasure. In that instant you were bemoaning the lack of space in the closet, wishing it was his tongue in place of his finger. But that thought was chased from your mind as he slid the finger in and out, gently playing with your clit each time.
“Fives,” you moan, his name a prayer upon your lips. With the arm still wrapped around his neck you hug him closer, pulling his head to yours and kissing him deeply. Your tongue strays into his mouth, seeking the taste of him as he quickens the thrust of his finger, sliding in a second one too. You almost grind yourself against his hand, jolting with each movement until you feel the orgasm rise like a tidal wave.
Your head tips back as release shatters through you, ravishing and all-consuming, stealing away any and every coherent thought. A moan escapes your lips, uninhibited and undeniably loud. Fives’ hand clamps over your mouth, humour dancing in the pleasure-addled depths but you are still too caught in the fracture of your climax to care, your breath rushing from your nose.
You slip from his waist and grab his cock again, brushing the tip playfully with slow, taunting movements. His quakes within your touch, his member pulsing in time to the beat of his heart, rutting his hips against your hand as release pulls ever closer. You can feel it, that he is close, so very close and you speed up. Your other hand slips to your chest, grasping your breast and squeezing, pushing it against the other. His eyes are on you, on your hand and your breasts, pupils blown wide with pleasure. He always loves it when you play with yourself and it’s just the push needed to send him over the edge. He clamps down on the cry that leaves his throat, his body jerking with release as his cum explodes into your hand, staining his blacks. For a moment you are both basking in the bliss of your indulgence, pressed against each other and breathing deeply.
Your eyes meet, an unspoken request for more and Fives pulls you up around his waist once more, sliding his back down the closet wall until he is sat on the floor with you nestled on his lap. You feel him slide his cock into your wet pussy, the pleasure still rolling over you in waves. You rock your hips atop him, hands on his defined chest and eyes meeting his. He thrusts in tandem, hands grasping your hips and pulling you tighter. There was no desperation this time, though the need still burned like wildfire, instead your bodies were in sync, moving as one. He was leaving again and in the back of both your minds was the knowledge that this might never happen again. So you took your time, savoured his closeness, his body.
Fives whispers your name, umber gaze intense as he utters it again and again in time to his thrusts. He grips you tighter, pulls you closer, the need for you to be one with him exploding as your pleasure begins to reach a peak. He was near too but he always waited for you, always made sure you came first. And come you did, the feeling rising from your core, spreading and burning all sense in its wake until at last your climax crashed through you, pure and ecstatic as you bit your lip against the cry that begged to leap from your throat. Fives’ release shattered only half a second later, filling you with him, with his essence. He cradles you close, making no move to pull out and you lean into him, breathing in his scent.
The intrusive beep of Fives’ commlink interrupts the peace and he curses, extracting himself from you with a mournful sigh. Fortunately the closest had towels and he wipes you both down with gentle care, applying his armour with ease.
“You are my ka’ra and my ka’rta, Cyar’ika,” he whispers into your hair as he holds you tight. “But I have to go.”
And with that he departs leaving you alone in the dark with the pleasure still coiled in your core and your heart still hammering wildly against the bars of your ribcage.
I love this so much - the secret relationship, the emotions 🥺 all so well done!!
Ah I'm so flattered, thank you so much Nat!!
Fives x F!Reader - You are my stars and my heart
Fives ships out with the rest of the 501st in a few hours so you skip out on your Senate meeting to sneak into the GAR barracks. You may or may not have spent a great deal of time together in a supply closet.
Pairing: Fives x Fem!Reader
Rating: 18+ Explicit (DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18)
Warnings: PiV sex, semi-public sex in a supply closet, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, very tiny bit of angst.
Author's note: I've never written explicit content before so this was an experience. I definitely be doing more.
Tag list: @ashotofspotchka @thefact0rygirl @fivesarctrooper @galacticgraffiti @aerynwrites @milf-obi-wan-kenobi @twistedstitcher27 @thesithformerlyknownaskenobi @baba-fett @moonstrider9904
18+ under the cut
You are my stars and my heart
Am I even supposed to be here? you think as you wander the corridors of the GAR barracks, casting fervent glances down the grey halls. The rhythmic sound of marching boots echoed in the distance, but the quiet around you was only permeated by your own staggered breathing as your steps quickened to the pounding of your heart.
You’d abandoned a Senate meeting for this, sending your fellow senators a fumbled façade of a holotext, claiming yourself indisposed. Hopefully they bought it. It wasn't in your nature to skip out on important meetings to go sneaking around the army digs, but the 501st were shipping out in mere hours and you just had to see him.
“You shouldn’t be back here, m’lady.” A voice interrupted your thoughts and you whirl around, mind racing for some excuse or explanation. But as your eyes snapped to the warm, tawny face framed by a neat goatee and cropped, curly hair, you let go of the breath you’d been holding. Only for it to catch in your throat half a second later at the sultry grin the clone gives you.
“Fives,” you breathe, closing the gap between you both with a few hurried strides before pausing, unsure.
“Not here,” he rasps, gripping your arms gently and steering you towards a door. It hisses open, revealing a tiny closet swathed in shadows and then closes you both inside. For a moment it’s only the sound of your enraptured breathing that breaks the silence, your eyes meeting the warm brown of his as you’re pressed against his chest in the small space.
“Hey,” you utter, a little lost for words as you stare, your lips mere inches from his.
“Hey,” he laughs back, his breath warm on your face.
And then your mouth crashes on his, your hands reaching for his head, entwining your fingers in the tight curls of his hair. He returns the kiss, tongue brushing against your lips, begging for entrance that you gladly allow. His hands fall from your arms, one gripping the back of your neck, pulling you flush against his chest and one slipping down your back. The kiss is deep, burning away all thoughts as you feel warmth pool in your core with each flick of his tongue in your mouth. You want it elsewhere, masterfully eating you out in the way he knows you like it most. You crave it. But his hand on your neck doesn’t let you pull away, instead it digs further into your hair, tangled in the fronds.
“Nuh-uh,” he utters against your lips, teasing you as his tongue sweeps inside your mouth, “not yet.”
You sigh, feeling your pussy tighten and your nipples rise against the satin of your dress. Dropping one hand from his head you reach for his codpiece, pressing against is as much as the plastoid allows. Fives presses into your hand, clearly trying to relieve pressure as his hips thrust into you.
“Naughty girl,” he hums, his voice vibrating through you, “coming all the way out here to find me. Don’t know you know you’re not allowed? Did you want someone to catch you?” You feel a shiver quake through you at the last question, a purr on his tongue as he pulls back from you. A whine curls from your throat as his lips depart yours, leaving them wet and slightly swollen. His finger slips under your chin, tipping your head up to meet his eyes. “You needed me that much, hmm?” You nod once, eyes wide and lips parted, still pressing your palm against the codpiece caging Fives’ member. “We don’t have long,” he growls, the pace changing as he unclasps his armour in a hurried but practiced manner and dumps it without care. You’d help but your fingers are shaking with need, fumbling unsuccessfully against the pieces as you desperately try to tear them off, anything to feel his skin on yours.
Armoured confines gone, you can see the defined triangle in his pants and a smirk plays across your lips as you palm at it, making eye contact with Fives as you do so. His lips break, breath hitching in his throat as he thrusts against your hand once more. But he pauses, groaning, and pulls the straps of your dress down, letting the colourful material fall to your waist. You’re exposed, vulnerable but you feel safe in Fives’ presence, keening as he grasps a glove in his teeth and pulls it off his hand. His fingers are warm as he grips the small of your back, tracing your spine with surprisingly nimble movements. You shiver again, pressing into him with need but he takes his time, gently pushing you back to admire your breasts and peaked nipples. Heat lingers in his lustful gaze, raking across your body in a way that makes your heartbeat quicken and your breath rattle in your chest.
“No bra, huh? Did you know this was going to happen, Mesh’la?” You grin unabashedly at his accusation as he appraises your form.
Tired of waiting, you unfasten his pants, the only thing left keeping you from the pleasure you so desperately desire. Slipping a hand down the opening you grasp the base of his cock, running your fingers teasingly along the considerable length. Fives groans again, rubbing a thumb over one of your nipples and leaning in to trail kisses down your neck to your breast. His tongue replaces his thumb, flicking playfully over the tip in a way that sends electricity crackling down your back. You wrap your free arm around his neck and Fives hoists you onto his waist, pressing your back against the cold metal wall. Your hand slips from his pants and you pause your movements at the freezing contact, jolting but then arching your spine as he continues to flick his tongue over your nipple. The other hand strays south, further down your leg until his fingers find their opening and stroke your already soaking cunt.
“Already wet and waiting?” He smirked, slowly brushing his fingers against your clit. You whine and shuffle your position around his waist, desperate for him to go quicker, deeper. Fives thrusts a finger in making you wiggle a little with pleasure. In that instant you were bemoaning the lack of space in the closet, wishing it was his tongue in place of his finger. But that thought was chased from your mind as he slid the finger in and out, gently playing with your clit each time.
“Fives,” you moan, his name a prayer upon your lips. With the arm still wrapped around his neck you hug him closer, pulling his head to yours and kissing him deeply. Your tongue strays into his mouth, seeking the taste of him as he quickens the thrust of his finger, sliding in a second one too. You almost grind yourself against his hand, jolting with each movement until you feel the orgasm rise like a tidal wave.
Your head tips back as release shatters through you, ravishing and all-consuming, stealing away any and every coherent thought. A moan escapes your lips, uninhibited and undeniably loud. Fives’ hand clamps over your mouth, humour dancing in the pleasure-addled depths but you are still too caught in the fracture of your climax to care, your breath rushing from your nose.
You slip from his waist and grab his cock again, brushing the tip playfully with slow, taunting movements. His quakes within your touch, his member pulsing in time to the beat of his heart, rutting his hips against your hand as release pulls ever closer. You can feel it, that he is close, so very close and you speed up. Your other hand slips to your chest, grasping your breast and squeezing, pushing it against the other. His eyes are on you, on your hand and your breasts, pupils blown wide with pleasure. He always loves it when you play with yourself and it’s just the push needed to send him over the edge. He clamps down on the cry that leaves his throat, his body jerking with release as his cum explodes into your hand, staining his blacks. For a moment you are both basking in the bliss of your indulgence, pressed against each other and breathing deeply.
Your eyes meet, an unspoken request for more and Fives pulls you up around his waist once more, sliding his back down the closet wall until he is sat on the floor with you nestled on his lap. You feel him slide his cock into your wet pussy, the pleasure still rolling over you in waves. You rock your hips atop him, hands on his defined chest and eyes meeting his. He thrusts in tandem, hands grasping your hips and pulling you tighter. There was no desperation this time, though the need still burned like wildfire, instead your bodies were in sync, moving as one. He was leaving again and in the back of both your minds was the knowledge that this might never happen again. So you took your time, savoured his closeness, his body.
Fives whispers your name, umber gaze intense as he utters it again and again in time to his thrusts. He grips you tighter, pulls you closer, the need for you to be one with him exploding as your pleasure begins to reach a peak. He was near too but he always waited for you, always made sure you came first. And come you did, the feeling rising from your core, spreading and burning all sense in its wake until at last your climax crashed through you, pure and ecstatic as you bit your lip against the cry that begged to leap from your throat. Fives’ release shattered only half a second later, filling you with him, with his essence. He cradles you close, making no move to pull out and you lean into him, breathing in his scent.
The intrusive beep of Fives’ commlink interrupts the peace and he curses, extracting himself from you with a mournful sigh. Fortunately the closest had towels and he wipes you both down with gentle care, applying his armour with ease.
“You are my ka’ra and my ka’rta, Cyar’ika,” he whispers into your hair as he holds you tight. “But I have to go.”
And with that he departs leaving you alone in the dark with the pleasure still coiled in your core and your heart still hammering wildly against the bars of your ribcage.
This is so gooooood!!!!
Fives is just that wonderful mix of cocky and genuine.
Ahh thank you so much Steph! That was definitely what I was going for!
Fives x F!Reader - You are my stars and my heart
Fives ships out with the rest of the 501st in a few hours so you skip out on your Senate meeting to sneak into the GAR barracks. You may or may not have spent a great deal of time together in a supply closet.
Pairing: Fives x Fem!Reader
Rating: 18+ Explicit (DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18)
Warnings: PiV sex, semi-public sex in a supply closet, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, very tiny bit of angst.
Author's note: I've never written explicit content before so this was an experience. I definitely be doing more.
Tag list: @ashotofspotchka @thefact0rygirl @fivesarctrooper @galacticgraffiti @aerynwrites @milf-obi-wan-kenobi @twistedstitcher27 @thesithformerlyknownaskenobi @baba-fett @moonstrider9904
18+ under the cut
You are my stars and my heart
Am I even supposed to be here? you think as you wander the corridors of the GAR barracks, casting fervent glances down the grey halls. The rhythmic sound of marching boots echoed in the distance, but the quiet around you was only permeated by your own staggered breathing as your steps quickened to the pounding of your heart.
You’d abandoned a Senate meeting for this, sending your fellow senators a fumbled façade of a holotext, claiming yourself indisposed. Hopefully they bought it. It wasn't in your nature to skip out on important meetings to go sneaking around the army digs, but the 501st were shipping out in mere hours and you just had to see him.
“You shouldn’t be back here, m’lady.” A voice interrupted your thoughts and you whirl around, mind racing for some excuse or explanation. But as your eyes snapped to the warm, tawny face framed by a neat goatee and cropped, curly hair, you let go of the breath you’d been holding. Only for it to catch in your throat half a second later at the sultry grin the clone gives you.
“Fives,” you breathe, closing the gap between you both with a few hurried strides before pausing, unsure.
“Not here,” he rasps, gripping your arms gently and steering you towards a door. It hisses open, revealing a tiny closet swathed in shadows and then closes you both inside. For a moment it’s only the sound of your enraptured breathing that breaks the silence, your eyes meeting the warm brown of his as you’re pressed against his chest in the small space.
“Hey,” you utter, a little lost for words as you stare, your lips mere inches from his.
“Hey,” he laughs back, his breath warm on your face.
And then your mouth crashes on his, your hands reaching for his head, entwining your fingers in the tight curls of his hair. He returns the kiss, tongue brushing against your lips, begging for entrance that you gladly allow. His hands fall from your arms, one gripping the back of your neck, pulling you flush against his chest and one slipping down your back. The kiss is deep, burning away all thoughts as you feel warmth pool in your core with each flick of his tongue in your mouth. You want it elsewhere, masterfully eating you out in the way he knows you like it most. You crave it. But his hand on your neck doesn’t let you pull away, instead it digs further into your hair, tangled in the fronds.
“Nuh-uh,” he utters against your lips, teasing you as his tongue sweeps inside your mouth, “not yet.”
You sigh, feeling your pussy tighten and your nipples rise against the satin of your dress. Dropping one hand from his head you reach for his codpiece, pressing against is as much as the plastoid allows. Fives presses into your hand, clearly trying to relieve pressure as his hips thrust into you.
“Naughty girl,” he hums, his voice vibrating through you, “coming all the way out here to find me. Don’t know you know you’re not allowed? Did you want someone to catch you?” You feel a shiver quake through you at the last question, a purr on his tongue as he pulls back from you. A whine curls from your throat as his lips depart yours, leaving them wet and slightly swollen. His finger slips under your chin, tipping your head up to meet his eyes. “You needed me that much, hmm?” You nod once, eyes wide and lips parted, still pressing your palm against the codpiece caging Fives’ member. “We don’t have long,” he growls, the pace changing as he unclasps his armour in a hurried but practiced manner and dumps it without care. You’d help but your fingers are shaking with need, fumbling unsuccessfully against the pieces as you desperately try to tear them off, anything to feel his skin on yours.
Armoured confines gone, you can see the defined triangle in his pants and a smirk plays across your lips as you palm at it, making eye contact with Fives as you do so. His lips break, breath hitching in his throat as he thrusts against your hand once more. But he pauses, groaning, and pulls the straps of your dress down, letting the colourful material fall to your waist. You’re exposed, vulnerable but you feel safe in Fives’ presence, keening as he grasps a glove in his teeth and pulls it off his hand. His fingers are warm as he grips the small of your back, tracing your spine with surprisingly nimble movements. You shiver again, pressing into him with need but he takes his time, gently pushing you back to admire your breasts and peaked nipples. Heat lingers in his lustful gaze, raking across your body in a way that makes your heartbeat quicken and your breath rattle in your chest.
“No bra, huh? Did you know this was going to happen, Mesh’la?” You grin unabashedly at his accusation as he appraises your form.
Tired of waiting, you unfasten his pants, the only thing left keeping you from the pleasure you so desperately desire. Slipping a hand down the opening you grasp the base of his cock, running your fingers teasingly along the considerable length. Fives groans again, rubbing a thumb over one of your nipples and leaning in to trail kisses down your neck to your breast. His tongue replaces his thumb, flicking playfully over the tip in a way that sends electricity crackling down your back. You wrap your free arm around his neck and Fives hoists you onto his waist, pressing your back against the cold metal wall. Your hand slips from his pants and you pause your movements at the freezing contact, jolting but then arching your spine as he continues to flick his tongue over your nipple. The other hand strays south, further down your leg until his fingers find their opening and stroke your already soaking cunt.
“Already wet and waiting?” He smirked, slowly brushing his fingers against your clit. You whine and shuffle your position around his waist, desperate for him to go quicker, deeper. Fives thrusts a finger in making you wiggle a little with pleasure. In that instant you were bemoaning the lack of space in the closet, wishing it was his tongue in place of his finger. But that thought was chased from your mind as he slid the finger in and out, gently playing with your clit each time.
“Fives,” you moan, his name a prayer upon your lips. With the arm still wrapped around his neck you hug him closer, pulling his head to yours and kissing him deeply. Your tongue strays into his mouth, seeking the taste of him as he quickens the thrust of his finger, sliding in a second one too. You almost grind yourself against his hand, jolting with each movement until you feel the orgasm rise like a tidal wave.
Your head tips back as release shatters through you, ravishing and all-consuming, stealing away any and every coherent thought. A moan escapes your lips, uninhibited and undeniably loud. Fives’ hand clamps over your mouth, humour dancing in the pleasure-addled depths but you are still too caught in the fracture of your climax to care, your breath rushing from your nose.
You slip from his waist and grab his cock again, brushing the tip playfully with slow, taunting movements. His quakes within your touch, his member pulsing in time to the beat of his heart, rutting his hips against your hand as release pulls ever closer. You can feel it, that he is close, so very close and you speed up. Your other hand slips to your chest, grasping your breast and squeezing, pushing it against the other. His eyes are on you, on your hand and your breasts, pupils blown wide with pleasure. He always loves it when you play with yourself and it’s just the push needed to send him over the edge. He clamps down on the cry that leaves his throat, his body jerking with release as his cum explodes into your hand, staining his blacks. For a moment you are both basking in the bliss of your indulgence, pressed against each other and breathing deeply.
Your eyes meet, an unspoken request for more and Fives pulls you up around his waist once more, sliding his back down the closet wall until he is sat on the floor with you nestled on his lap. You feel him slide his cock into your wet pussy, the pleasure still rolling over you in waves. You rock your hips atop him, hands on his defined chest and eyes meeting his. He thrusts in tandem, hands grasping your hips and pulling you tighter. There was no desperation this time, though the need still burned like wildfire, instead your bodies were in sync, moving as one. He was leaving again and in the back of both your minds was the knowledge that this might never happen again. So you took your time, savoured his closeness, his body.
Fives whispers your name, umber gaze intense as he utters it again and again in time to his thrusts. He grips you tighter, pulls you closer, the need for you to be one with him exploding as your pleasure begins to reach a peak. He was near too but he always waited for you, always made sure you came first. And come you did, the feeling rising from your core, spreading and burning all sense in its wake until at last your climax crashed through you, pure and ecstatic as you bit your lip against the cry that begged to leap from your throat. Fives’ release shattered only half a second later, filling you with him, with his essence. He cradles you close, making no move to pull out and you lean into him, breathing in his scent.
The intrusive beep of Fives’ commlink interrupts the peace and he curses, extracting himself from you with a mournful sigh. Fortunately the closest had towels and he wipes you both down with gentle care, applying his armour with ease.
“You are my ka’ra and my ka’rta, Cyar’ika,” he whispers into your hair as he holds you tight. “But I have to go.”
And with that he departs leaving you alone in the dark with the pleasure still coiled in your core and your heart still hammering wildly against the bars of your ribcage.
God what is up with all this beautifully written, super sad clone smut 😩
I'm sorry lol I'm incapable of writing anything without angst
but also thank you so much!!
Legacies of War -- Chapter I
Summary: After the war, a warrior heads out across the stars on a revenge quest. The objective seems simple: kill the men who slaughtered her family. However, she makes a powerful enemy upon her success. With a target on her back, she desperately searches for allies around the galaxy. As she prepares for war against a mysterious and deadly enemy, he offers her an ultimatum: Hand over his son, and he will give her something invaluable.
Fandom: Star Wars
WC: 5,000+
Warnings: see tags for series warnings
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |
The sky had been threatening rain for hours, and it seemed that it may finally make good on that threat as the trees bent to reveal the underside of their leaves. Wind whipped through the meadow, roughly tossing the grasses and grains about. The crash of waves against cliffs echoed in the distance, complimenting the howl of the wind. A lone figure stood resolute in the middle of the field, looking out at the dark clouds rolling in over the sea. Dressed in dark armor, they were hardly distinguishable against the backdrop of the somber sky. From a distance, a town’s boy fast approached the individual, his face pink from the exertion and eyes watering from the bite of the wind.
“I-I was told to find you. Mister Zeru says he will negotiate over call, tonight.”
The individual turned to address the boy, “Let your master know that I will be meeting with him now, not tonight.”
The boy stood mystified by the figure in black armor as he looked up at the impassive helmet with the infamous t-shaped visor. He had likely never seen a Mandalorian before. Since the end of the war, they were a rare sight. Anymore, to come across a Mandalorian was an omen of ill fate.
“Erm—Mister Zeru also wants me to tell you that you owe him… f-for the mess yesterday. He says it’s not easy to get blood out of carpet.”
The Mandalorian kneeled to look the boy in the eye, “I have a favor to ask of you. Could you run ahead and tell Zeru that he either answers to me, or to the Imp hunters.” Zeru was not at liberty to call the shots, not anymore.
The boy simply blinked at the mercenary as he stood there, immobile and eyes as large as small planets. A dead silence filled the air between them as the hunter waited for a response. The Mandalorian could not place whether the boy was more afraid of them or of returning to Zeru. He gave the hunter a shaky nod and took off toward the town.
The town was not much to write home about. Located on a small planet called Rhonu in the Outer Rim, the town’s main source of income was traffic coming off the Perlemian Trade Route. Most of the people stopping over needed a place to stay and let off steam as they headed toward the core. They tended to not stick around very long. There has always been a constant rotation of motel guests, bar patrons, and clientele at the Twi’lek bath house. No one would notice another lone traveller, especially a hunter. The planet has long been a retreat for bounty hunters, even before the Separatists controlled it some twenty-five years ago. Normally, a heavy Guild presence would be reason enough to avoid the planet, but the promise of finishing old business superseded any past grievances with the Guild.
Imperial troops once frequented the place in droves whenever they had time off, squandering away whatever money they made; their skill at Sabacc as famous as their aim. With the dissolution of the Empire and the New Republic’s crackdown on smuggling and spice running, the place has become a virtual ghost town. But there were still a couple of Imps hiding out in the dark recesses of the town. They scattered to the wind and Outter Rim when word of Jakku reached the ears of leadership. Now they’re the ones hiding like rats. With new galactic leadership, remnant Imps like Zeru tended to be bad for the bounty hunting business unless they were the bounty themselves. On this planet, the only thing a hunter needed to worry about was someone else coming in and snatching the target.
The Mandalorian stepped toward the bath house, blaster at the ready. Next door, the scent of burned Sansanna spice wafted from a back-room window of the cantina. It mixed wonderfully with the sharp scent of piss in the alley. The door to the bath house was obscured, hidden away down a thin backstreet. There was already something disgraceful about those who take advantage of Zeru’s business, but the walk there made it all that more profane. It was like someone was supposed to enter feeling soiled and violated. Yet, someone went through the absurd trouble of trying to scrub graffiti off the wall. Inside, billowing steam obscured the mercenary’s view, distorting the figures in the room. The air was humid and smelled faintly of body odor and incense. For certain visitors, the Twi’lek bath house was the most noteworthy destination in town. Frequent fliers from the guild and a couple syndicates visited the place often enough to be on a first name basis with the owner of the bath house, Caran Zeru, and his business associate, Lian Qu.
“Hey handsome, what can I do you for,” a blue Twi’lek asked as she emerged from the steam. She strolled toward the hunter, drawing intimately close. The mercenary took a step back, only to run into a chair, nearly toppling.
“Where is Zeru,” the hunter demanded.
“C’mon, we don’t have’ta talk business right now,” she dragged her hand along the mercenary’s armor.
“No,” the Mandalorian stayed her hand, “Where is Zeru?”
“I—I can’t tell you that,” she whispered. The hunter shifted past the Twi’lek and she grabbed the mercenary’s arm, tight, “I can’t let you in either.” She paused and looked over at the masked guest, “He’ll kill me if I do.”
“Well, you can’t tell me, but Qu can.”
Her eyes went wide. “Please, no.”
“He’s in here, right,” the mercenary pointed to the room numbered ‘one.’ The hunter threw the door open and strode inside. One of the occupants shrieked. In the dim light, the Mandalorian watched them scramble in a panic.
Lian Qu was a surprisingly portly Zygerrian. Rumor said he has a strange fondness for knives, collecting them from planets he helped the Empire enslave. The man had always had an unhealthy obsession for Twi’lek women and he supposedly owns a disproportionate number of knives from Ryloth. Fifteen years ago, he entered into business with Zeru. It did not take long for Zeru to realize that Qu is an incredibly vulgar man with little regard for sanitation, which contrasted with Zeru’s “high-end” vision for the business. Zeru relegated his new business partner to the back-of-house operations until Qu started ‘damaging the product.’ Silently, Zeru pushed his old business partner out of the business. To appease the old Zygerrian, Zeru promised him plenty of time with his favorite girl, Tani, a teal Twi’lek they bought before the Alliance even had a name. Every afternoon, room number one was alway reserved for the two.
Qu stood three rifle lengths away with Tani struggling against his grip on her arm. He had grabbed a chair and held it out like he was trying to stop a wild animal from attacking. The hunter watched Qu realize that a chair was not going to be effective against a Mandalorian.
“If you move, I kill her, y’hear?”
“I’m not here to hurt you.”
“Well—your dramatic entrance says otherwise. Y’kicked down my door like you own the place.”
“I’m here to talk.” The Mandalorian spun around and used a grappling line to hook the chair in the hallway and drag it into the room. With the flourish of a cape, the hunter then sat down across from Qu. “Please, sit,” the mercenary offered, gesturing to Qu’s chair.
Lian threw Tani to the side and forcefully yanked his chair to the center of the room. The two stare at each other in silence for a minute. “Alright—I’m sitting. What do you want?”
“Truthfully? To speak with Zeru. But he’s been hiding behind women and children.”
“Looking for the bounty on his head?”
“It is a large bounty.”
“Even larger if you keep him alive.”
“I know. I’m surprised you haven’t turned on him yet.”
“I’m not telling you where he is, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“You’re loyalty is admirable, but I know he’s somewhere in this maze of a bathhouse. I will find him and I have no problem tearing this place to the ground in the process. I’d just prefer this not get messy.”
Qu sat back and appeared to contemplate this for a second. “So I either let you haul my partner away or you tear my business down?” The hunter did not respond and instead let Qu marinate in the silence. The man began to squirm under the mercenary’s gaze as he failed to come to a decision, but the Mandalorian did not budge. Silence was a powerful motivator. “I don’t think so,” the Zygerrian decided. His eyes went dark. There was a bloodthirsty excitement in his cruel smile. Qu leapt up and grabbed Tani by her left lek. He yanked her in front of him, prompting her to scream out in pain. “You won’t take them from me. If I can’t have them, then no one can.” He dragged the spine of one of his knives along Tani’s exposed neck.
The twi’lek in the hall screeched in horror and lurched toward her friend. The hunter held out a hand to keep her away. “Please, go collect your sisters.” Men like Qu and Zeru were the reactionary sort, driven by emotion. The mercenary expected them to be irrational and difficult, but not this willing to escalate things so quickly.
“Let’s take a breath; see reason.”
“Back out of the room or I kill everyone here.”
“Lian, this doesn’t need to get messy, just tell me—”
“Back. Away.”
The hunter stood slowly, keeping Qu in eyesight. With a nod and a placating gesture, the mercenary began to back out of the room. Tani met the Mandalorian with a blank stare. Any spirit left her as she reserved herself to a dire fate.
“Yah,” Lian sighed as he looked down at Tani with ominous affection. “I don’t want my best girl to get hurt.” Qu lessened his grip on her lek and the knife dropped from her neck as he relaxed to kiss her cheek. Tani closed her eyes as she tried to turn her cheek away, distracting Qu and providing the mercenary with an opportunity. The Mandalorian decided to take advantage of the opening and in the thick steam of the hall, took aim. When the poison dart hit the Zygerrian, Qu went rigid and slumped to the floor with a thud. He was dead on the spot.
Tani sprung back. She scrambled to a far corner and shielded herself from the Mandalorian, holding her lek close. “My quarrel isn’t with you,” the Mandalorian remarked. Kneeling over Qu’s dead body, the hunter pulled the dart from Qu’s neck. “This is a… deeply personal matter.”
“If this was personal, then what happens when you’re indifferent?”
“I’m not nearly as sloppy,” the hunter stated dryly.
“Why have you come, really?”
“Zeru has something I need and I can’t leave without it.”
“The bounty?”
“No. Information.”
Tani looked up to find the Mandalorian offering her a hand. She took the outstretched hand and the mercenary pulled her up. “What do my sisters and I do? Zeru will kill us all.”
“I took these off Qu’s body,” the mercenary showed Tani a small data card and an extracting rod. Tani grabbed the card and waved it across the shock collar on her neck, causing it to open and fall off.
“If you could,” she pointed at her neck near the base of her skull. The Mandalorian held the rod to her neck, not much further from where Qu had held his knife. With the click of a button, a needle penetrated Tani’s skin and slowly dragged out a small, blinking chip.
“I’d hurry. You have many sisters.” There was a gentle note to the mercenary’s voice as Tani grabbed the extracting rod.
“Zeru hides in a room named ‘maintenance.’ You’ll find it in the second wing. Take a right, then two lefts.”
The hunter gave her an encouraging nod, turned and strode down the hall, disappearing within the steam. Bath house workers kept to the edges of the hall, consciously clear of the mercenary. Occasional clients scurried into rooms to hide away like snitmice. At the end of the long hallway in the second wing sat a room with the word “maintenance” etched into the wooden door in Outer Rim Basic. The door was slightly ajar, so the mercenary proceeded with caution. The room appeared empty at first glance, but the heat signature said otherwise. Zeru cowered under a desk in the corner. The Mandalorian swept to the other end of the room and drug Zeru out.
“I’m a reasonable man. Surely we can come to some sort of agreement?”
Zeru was a spindly man of little talent and a lot of fear. He joined the empire for the prestige. A small man of few principles, Zeru rose in the ranks through shallow ambition and selfish motive alone. As an officer, he was introduced to the intergalactic slave trade. It took little to convince him to begin trafficking war captives across the galaxy. He helped the Empire commit a number of atrocities throughout the galaxy, including the Mid Rim planet of Jiroch. After the blaster fire ceased, Zeru and his men would kidnap natives for the slave industry with the help of locals or crime syndicates. Over thirty years, they trafficked tens of thousands of young women and children. When the Empire’s power wavered, Zeru began to dedicate himself to the slave trade full time. It made him more money; gave him more power.
The mandalorian sat Zeru in the desk chair and wrapped him up with a whipcord. “Caran Zeru,” the hunter greeted, then sat on the desk and loomed over the slaver.
“You want something other than the bounty, don’t you? Otherwise you’d be hauling me off by now.”
“If I’m being honest, I want to paint the wall with your entrails.”
Zeru made a face. “Your kind may be heathens, but you wouldn’t really kill a bounty. Too greedy for that.”
“The bounty is dead or alive.”
“Yet you haven’t killed me.”
“Fifteen years ago, the empire invaded the planet Jiroch. Your men picked up two children.”
“Wait, you cornered me to ask about a couple slaves I sold over a decade ago?”
“Don’t interrupt me, you won’t like the consequences,” the Mandalorian paused, “and trust me, you’ll remember this.”
Zeru shrugged and looked away.
“The ship you put them on crash landed. You lost your best friend and best slaver in that crash.”
Zeru gave the hunter a knowing side eye, “Ah—you’re asking about those Mando kids. Only the girl was on the ship when it crashed. If you’re looking for her, you’re wasting your time. She died in that crash.”
“I’m well aware what happened to her. I’m looking for information on the boy.”
“What if I refuse to tell you?”
“I’ll kill you.”
“And what assurances do I have that you won’t kill me if I do tell you?”
A resounding silence filled the room as the hunter did not respond. Zeru squirmed.
“Fine,” he spat, “we had a deal with the Pykes, so my men were headed to Oba Diah, but they touched down to refuel on a planet with a heavy Imperial presence. The Guild had a long history there too.”
“Sysniam?”
“Maybe.”
The Mandalorian unholstered a short, curved dagger and held it under Zeru’s chin. It caught the dim light coming through one of the only windows in the bathhouse. “Don’t make this difficult,” the hunter grit out, pressing the blade dangerously close to Zeru's carotid.
Zeru swallowed. “Yah, Sysniam. My men reported in that the boy was giving them difficulties. He ran, then someone killed two of my men and absconded with him. Pretty sure it was some Imperial bounty hunters, if not Imperial troops themselves. I know they were fixing to purge the galaxy of Mandalorians around that time. But I don’t know any more than that.”
“This was a dead end,” the Mandalorian carefully holstered the dagger, stood up and started toward the door. The hunter turned back around to face Zeru, “Did they report what the bounty hunter looked like?”
Zeru looked away.
“I can make this very painful for you.”
“The only people who got a good look are dead.”
“Well, if you’re no use—”
“No, wait. Wait,” Zeru continued to squirm under his restraints. “My men called for back up. They were, erm—outnumbered, and frantic. Their calls reported at least ten hostiles surrounding them. I—two of my men tried escaping with the boy when their comms cut out. The hostiles cleared the area and when my men called in, they reported two dead. We assumed the hostiles made off with the kid.”
“What makes you think they killed the kid?”
“They put him in the line of fire. What about that says they had his safety in mind?”
“You assumed they were Imperial, why?”
“Their precision and skill. They weren’t ordinary bounty hunters, they were too organized. Although, one of my men thought they were Hutt bounty hunters. The Hutts did tend to recruit the best.”
“What would give him that impression? Sysniam is too close to Pyke territory for the Hutt’s hunters.”
“Well, he said they called them, ‘Hutt-in.’ It’s not Huttese, so I assumed that Imperials mistook my men for Hutts.”
“Hut’uun?”
“Something like that, yah.”
The mercenary stopped and considered this for a moment, “That’s all I need,” then headed for the door.
“You can’t leave me here like this.”
“Yes I can,” the hunter turned to face Zeru.
“If you don’t let me go, I will detonate this place before you can get through the door.” The Mandalorian unholstered a blaster and pointed it at Zeru. “You can’t shoot me. I have powerful friends. The Pykes—”
“I know.”
There was a manic quality to Zeru’s nervous laugh, but his face fell as the Mandalorian stood resolute, “Y-you promised.”
“I don’t make promises.” The room filled with the bright red light of blaster fire and Zeru slumped over, a hole burnt straight through his forehead. “That’s for my parents, you bastard.” The hunter swept from the room. The halls were now silent as clients disappeared and the women collected themselves. Steam had cleared from the area, leaving the halls cold and dark. The brutality of the concrete walls left the place with the feeling of an Imperial prison, but the grime left the place with a similar obscene atmosphere as the alley. Around the corner, the hunter happened upon the main bath. The stark, clean tone provided an almost jarring contrast from the rest of the facility. A lewd mural of happy Twi’leki women on the back wall displayed the sort of cognitive dissonance only an Imperial sympathizer was capable of. Several Twi’lek and Togruta women congregated to the far side. Tani rushed into the room with a handful of more girls.
“What now? Where do we go?”
“That… is a fantastic question.” An uneasy silence filled the air as the women stared expectantly at the hunter.
“Do you have a ship that can get off this rock,” Tani asked.
“I have a ship sitting in the south fields.”
Tani stood there, anticipation in her eyes. “Okay, so… we leave on the ship with you, right?”
“Erm—it will be snug. But, I suppose, if I move a few things, everyone might fit inside.”
“Wonderful. You can take us to Coruscant,” she suggested.
“Oh—I don’t have the money for more than one jump. Inflation’s a bitch and fuel prices are through the roof since the end of the war,” the hunter stopped and took inventory of the room. From behind the women, the boy from the field stole small glances of the stranger. None of these people had anywhere to go and they would never be free stuck on Rhonu. “But—I need to stop on Chandrila. There are programs there for refugees, you can always catch transport to Coruscant from there. It’s not a promise, but it is an offer.”
Tani looked back at the women with an encouraging half-smile. “Does that work for everyone,” she asked like the women had much of a choice on where they got dropped off. The women stared back like Gallaze in the hyperdrive of a sublight engine. “Well, we’ll collect ourselves and anything we need and meet you out there.”
The hunter gave her an encouraging nod and turned toward the exit. The alley was still assaulting and degrading, but now disappointment filled the mercenary’s mind. There was an expectation that maybe something would change with Zeru’s death. It was asinine to muse that this trip would be transformational. The hunter chose a dangerous mission for the sake of petty revenge.
A couple of Trandoshan hunters in heavy armor stood guard at the cantina and lazily watched the Mandalorian stride down the street. Wide-eyed, anxious vendors tried concealing themselves as they stared the mercenary down. The sooner they get off this planet, the better. There was nothing worse than judgmental yet complacent locals.
The ship stood on the horizon among the tall grasses of the plains. There was a stirring sound in the grasses as the Mandalorian approached the ship. A presence was hiding nearby, waiting.
“Whoever you are, I know you’re behind me.” The hunter reached toward a thigh holster for a pistol. For a charged moment, there was only silence. The Mandalorian held still and listened, scanning the area. The crunch of dead grass gave the stalker’s position away. Thank Kad it had not yet rained. The hunter turned on the stalker, blaster at the ready.
The wide-eyed, flustered boy from earlier screamed. He threw his hands in the air. “Oh, don’t shoot,” he urged.
Holstering the gun, the Mandalorian sighed. “Never sneak up on someone. It’s a sure way to end up dead.”
“I didn’t end up dead.”
“Don’t push your luck, kid.”
“Is it true you killed Qu and Zeru?”
“Who says?”
“Tani.”
“Well, Tani’s right, so you should leave me alone.”
"Your knife is cool."
"Erm--thanks," the hunter replied lamely. They both glanced over at the dagger strapped to the utility belt.
“Are you a real Mandalorian?”
The hunter hesitated, “Yes. Look, kid, just… scram. Don’t invite me any trouble, ‘kay?”
The boy nodded vigorously, but instead took a seat among the grasses while the Mandalorian swept into the ship and returned with a case of armaments for the cargo hold.
“Do you get lonely on that ship,” the boy asked, suddenly right beside the mercenary.
“No.”
“Oh, okay. Mister Zeru told me that all men get lonely, and that’s why he liked me to stay close to him.”
The Mandalorian dropped the case of armaments, spilling its contents. “I’m not— hold up… what?”
The kid shrugged and started ripping up grass. “D’you think I could make a grass hat?”
“I-I suppose,” the Mandalorian replied, righting the case and dropping the guns back into it.
“What happened to your leg?”
The mercenary looked down at the one leg that looked a little thinner than the other and knew the kid was referring to the rather obvious cybernetic leg. “A—erm— ship crash. When I was not much older than yourself.” The boy gasped.
“I’ego,” a voice called out. The both of them looked up to see Tani. “What’re you doing here?”
“I wanted to see the Mandalorian. My mom told me to stay away, says they’re omens of death.”
“Well, you should head back. She’s going to start wondering where you ran off to.”
“Is it true you guys never remove your helmets?”
“Home, now,” Tani scolded.
I’ego lurched off the ground with a dramatic sigh and began lumbering back toward town.
“You’re gonna want to be quick about it if you don’t want to get caught in the rain,” Tani called out, and the kid broke out into a run.
The Mandalorian emerged from the ship with another box. “Who’s the kid,” the mercenary prompted.
“His mother tends the cantina. They live in town.”
“We don’t have to worry about him, do we?”
“No, he’s safe now that Zeru’s dead.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“He’s just a kid.”
“And one of the few people who knows where we’re going.”
“I won’t let you touch a hair on his head.” There was a resolve in Tani’s voice, but a gleam of panic in her face, like she feared she would have to fight a loosing battle.
The Mandalorian stopped sliding the crate into the cargo hold and glared at Tani. “I may be a murderer, but I’m not deranged. I’m not about to kill a kid, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
Tani crossed her arms and looked away to watch as a slow stream of women began to make their way to the field.
“Look,” the mercenary prompted, “Zeru has friends. If they come looking for him, all they’ll find is the boy.”
“He’s still just a kid.”
“And when they found you, you were too.”
“Well now the Empire’s gone.”
“Yah—sure seems like it.” The hunter sighed, “I’m not gonna argue this, Tani. If his family isn’t coming, that’s it. I’m not gonna to force them.”
The sky finally decided to open up, starting with large plops of water that prompted the women to hurry inside. Once Tani confirmed that all the women were aboard, the hunter decided to do one last sweep of the ship, making sure everything was in order. Heavy rain obscured the view of the surrounding field and even the range of the mercenary’s thermal imaging. Something felt off as the mercenary scanned the field. It was not until the hunter rounded the ship that the thermal imaging picked up a strange heat signature next to the boarding ramp.
“Can I help you,” the Mandalorian called out above the crash of the rain.
A cloaked man turned to look at the hunter. “Can I join y’all.” His speech was slurred and the mercenary wondered if he was drunk.
“I’m not a taxi service. Catch the next spice freight out.”
“Y’know, I asked ‘em men at the cantina, ‘why does the Mando get to ‘ave all the fun, what gives ‘im the right,’ y’know? But I thought to m’self, well, that ain’t fair. Those girls make this town good money. But they told me I best leave you alone, ‘cause you killed two men today.”
“They were right. Now, get out of my way.”
“I won’ stand for this. And neither will Xyrus.”
“I don’t care.” When the Mandalorian made to push past the man, he grabbed hold of the hunter’s right shoulder and pushed. The mercenary stared at the hand resting on the spaulder before meeting the man’s eyes. Even in the pouring rain, the mercenary could see the fear in his eye. Maybe it finally dawned on him that he was staring down an omen. The man shrieked when the Mandalorian grabbed hold of his arm and twisted it backwards until it snapped. Pain contorted the man’s face as the hunter moved in close. The man took in a jagged gasp. “I said: ‘Get out of my way,’” the mercenary repeated lowly before flipping him over the side of the ship and stunning him with a blaster.
The hunter strode up the platform and closed the door, insulating them from the rain. A room of women turned and blinked at the Mandalorian. “Okay… Getting off this rock is gonna be quick and rough. Strap in or hold on.” Turning on foot, the hunter disappeared into the cockpit. Tani shoved her way past the door before the Mandalorian had the chance to close it. Wind and rain aggressively beat against the ship, causing Tani to lose her balance and fall into a passenger seat.
“Maybe we should wait for the storm to pass?”
“I’ve taken off in worse,” the hunter replied, priming the ship for takeoff.
Buckling herself into one of the passenger seats, Tani leaned forward to address the mercenary. “What can be worse than this?”
“Anti-aircraft cannons and TIE fighters.”
Tani grabbed hold of the seat as tightly as she could to steady herself. Rain lashed against the window as she clenched her eyes and looked away.
“If I knew you better, I might say you aren’t fond of flying,” the hunter commented.
“Don’t mock me.” When the ship swerved in the sky, Tani cursed.
The wind made it difficult to keep the ship steady as they ascended, and the Mandalorian was glad that this planet did not have much space traffic as the rain obscured the view. When the ship leveled off above the clouds and out of the storm, the hunter looked over at Tani. “Feel free to join the others. Should be smooth sailing from here.”
“Did you get the information you came for,” she prompted instead.
“That depends.”
“Are you always this cryptic?”
The hunter simply shrugged.
“Look, the women just want to know—”
“Who is Xyrus?”
Tani froze before looking down at her hands. “I never met him, but he’s a very bad man. Hopefully, where we’re going, he won’t find us.”
“Was he involved with Zeru and Qu?”
Tani opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Can we talk to you,” a young Togruta woman whispered from the doorway. Tani stood and stumbled toward the door. When she reached the other woman, she stopped.
She turned to look at the Mandalorian from the other side of the doorway. “Y’know, we never caught your name.”
“You’re right.” The hunter then closed the door behind them, filling the room with a final silence.
The navicomputer blinked, ready for data input. Getting to Hana City would not be a problem. The route to the new capital was already too familiar following the war. The war seemed so long ago when surrounded by the quiet of outer rim planets and hyperspace, but in toward the core, people waited on bated breath for the Empire to launch their next offensive. Everything was both too quiet and humming with destructive energy at the same time. With how vast the galaxy was, there was always a war looming somewhere. After having spent the last seven years at war, the Mandalorian learned the Empire and knew how its leaders thought. They were planning something, they had to be. This new peace was precarious. Everything felt like it was on the precipice of falling apart and the Mandalorian did not trust the new government to hold it together. It seemed like they were hurdling toward a swift and inevitable end while the Mandalorian felt both stuck between two places and on the brink of something else. The transition to civilian was almost as numbing as it was surreal and it made the mercenary’s skin crawl. The restlessness was, by far, the worst part following the war.
Pushing the pressing state of galactic affairs out of mind, the hunter’s thoughts returned to the passengers in the hold. Qu and Zeru were dead, there was no reason to worry, but the thought of those men still brought a chill to the room. However, the hope that it was all finally over left the mercenary feeling tired for the first time in months. It was going to be a long ride.
Pictured above: The Cliffs of Rhonu
Notes:
Writing has long been a hobby of mine. I have been writing since I was very young, but have run into a nasty case of writers block for many of the stories I had been working on. This is kinda a writing exercise to help me practice character development and keep my writing skills sharp. I chose an existing “universe” so I won’t need to get caught up in world building (which is what I think is causing my writers block). The characters of this story are original as are some of the details of their cultural backgrounds and some of the places they visit. The universe this takes place in IS NOT ORIGINAL.
This writing exercise is also a reaction against the lack of diversity in the SW universe—something that has been frustrating me lately. Many of the people, religions, cultures, and places of this universe seem… sterile. There is also a distinct lack of black and brown people, LGBTQIA+ people, disabled people, and fleshed-out women. Black and brown characters within the universe also have a history of being literally whitened or written out. I wanted, in part, to explore how cultural complexities affect characters and their decisions—something which I have been struggling with in my original works given that my world building still needs to be built upon.
Thank you to all who support! If you have any comments on world-building or character development, feel free to leave them. Let me know what you think (and who you think the MC is)!
I have 3 chapters written out and a 4th in the making. I plan to post weekly; Sundays at around 6:30 DST/CST.
Fanfic Ask Meme
A: How did you come up with the title to [insert fic]?
B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?
C: What character do you identify with most?
D: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with [insert fic]?
E: If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it be about?
F: Care to share a favorite hurt/comfort fic?
G: Care to share a favorite crack fic?
H: How would you describe your style?
I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?
J: Write or describe an alternative ending to [insert fic].
K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?
L: What’s the weirdest AU you’ve ever come up with?
M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?
N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?
O: How do you begin a story–with the plot, or the characters?
P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an “architect” or a “gardener”? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)
Q: Do you have any discarded scenes/storylines/projects?
R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?
S: Any fandom tropes you can’t resist?
T: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?
U: A pairing you might like to write for, but haven’t tried yet.
V: A secondary (or underrated) character you want to see more of in fic?
W: Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones?
X: A character you enjoy making suffer.
Y: A character you want to protect.
Z: Major character death–do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can’t tolerate?
Let’s have another Friday ask game, shall we?
Fives x F!Reader - You are my stars and my heart
Fives ships out with the rest of the 501st in a few hours so you skip out on your Senate meeting to sneak into the GAR barracks. You may or may not have spent a great deal of time together in a supply closet.
Pairing: Fives x Fem!Reader
Rating: 18+ Explicit (DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18)
Warnings: PiV sex, semi-public sex in a supply closet, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, very tiny bit of angst.
Author's note: I've never written explicit content before so this was an experience. I definitely be doing more.
Tag list: @ashotofspotchka @thefact0rygirl @fivesarctrooper @galacticgraffiti @aerynwrites @milf-obi-wan-kenobi @twistedstitcher27 @thesithformerlyknownaskenobi @baba-fett @moonstrider9904
18+ under the cut
You are my stars and my heart
Am I even supposed to be here? you think as you wander the corridors of the GAR barracks, casting fervent glances down the grey halls. The rhythmic sound of marching boots echoed in the distance, but the quiet around you was only permeated by your own staggered breathing as your steps quickened to the pounding of your heart.
You’d abandoned a Senate meeting for this, sending your fellow senators a fumbled façade of a holotext, claiming yourself indisposed. Hopefully they bought it. It wasn't in your nature to skip out on important meetings to go sneaking around the army digs, but the 501st were shipping out in mere hours and you just had to see him.
“You shouldn’t be back here, m’lady.” A voice interrupted your thoughts and you whirl around, mind racing for some excuse or explanation. But as your eyes snapped to the warm, tawny face framed by a neat goatee and cropped, curly hair, you let go of the breath you’d been holding. Only for it to catch in your throat half a second later at the sultry grin the clone gives you.
“Fives,” you breathe, closing the gap between you both with a few hurried strides before pausing, unsure.
“Not here,” he rasps, gripping your arms gently and steering you towards a door. It hisses open, revealing a tiny closet swathed in shadows and then closes you both inside. For a moment it’s only the sound of your enraptured breathing that breaks the silence, your eyes meeting the warm brown of his as you’re pressed against his chest in the small space.
“Hey,” you utter, a little lost for words as you stare, your lips mere inches from his.
“Hey,” he laughs back, his breath warm on your face.
And then your mouth crashes on his, your hands reaching for his head, entwining your fingers in the tight curls of his hair. He returns the kiss, tongue brushing against your lips, begging for entrance that you gladly allow. His hands fall from your arms, one gripping the back of your neck, pulling you flush against his chest and one slipping down your back. The kiss is deep, burning away all thoughts as you feel warmth pool in your core with each flick of his tongue in your mouth. You want it elsewhere, masterfully eating you out in the way he knows you like it most. You crave it. But his hand on your neck doesn’t let you pull away, instead it digs further into your hair, tangled in the fronds.
“Nuh-uh,” he utters against your lips, teasing you as his tongue sweeps inside your mouth, “not yet.”
You sigh, feeling your pussy tighten and your nipples rise against the satin of your dress. Dropping one hand from his head you reach for his codpiece, pressing against is as much as the plastoid allows. Fives presses into your hand, clearly trying to relieve pressure as his hips thrust into you.
“Naughty girl,” he hums, his voice vibrating through you, “coming all the way out here to find me. Don’t know you know you’re not allowed? Did you want someone to catch you?” You feel a shiver quake through you at the last question, a purr on his tongue as he pulls back from you. A whine curls from your throat as his lips depart yours, leaving them wet and slightly swollen. His finger slips under your chin, tipping your head up to meet his eyes. “You needed me that much, hmm?” You nod once, eyes wide and lips parted, still pressing your palm against the codpiece caging Fives’ member. “We don’t have long,” he growls, the pace changing as he unclasps his armour in a hurried but practiced manner and dumps it without care. You’d help but your fingers are shaking with need, fumbling unsuccessfully against the pieces as you desperately try to tear them off, anything to feel his skin on yours.
Armoured confines gone, you can see the defined triangle in his pants and a smirk plays across your lips as you palm at it, making eye contact with Fives as you do so. His lips break, breath hitching in his throat as he thrusts against your hand once more. But he pauses, groaning, and pulls the straps of your dress down, letting the colourful material fall to your waist. You’re exposed, vulnerable but you feel safe in Fives’ presence, keening as he grasps a glove in his teeth and pulls it off his hand. His fingers are warm as he grips the small of your back, tracing your spine with surprisingly nimble movements. You shiver again, pressing into him with need but he takes his time, gently pushing you back to admire your breasts and peaked nipples. Heat lingers in his lustful gaze, raking across your body in a way that makes your heartbeat quicken and your breath rattle in your chest.
“No bra, huh? Did you know this was going to happen, Mesh’la?” You grin unabashedly at his accusation as he appraises your form.
Tired of waiting, you unfasten his pants, the only thing left keeping you from the pleasure you so desperately desire. Slipping a hand down the opening you grasp the base of his cock, running your fingers teasingly along the considerable length. Fives groans again, rubbing a thumb over one of your nipples and leaning in to trail kisses down your neck to your breast. His tongue replaces his thumb, flicking playfully over the tip in a way that sends electricity crackling down your back. You wrap your free arm around his neck and Fives hoists you onto his waist, pressing your back against the cold metal wall. Your hand slips from his pants and you pause your movements at the freezing contact, jolting but then arching your spine as he continues to flick his tongue over your nipple. The other hand strays south, further down your leg until his fingers find their opening and stroke your already soaking cunt.
“Already wet and waiting?” He smirked, slowly brushing his fingers against your clit. You whine and shuffle your position around his waist, desperate for him to go quicker, deeper. Fives thrusts a finger in making you wiggle a little with pleasure. In that instant you were bemoaning the lack of space in the closet, wishing it was his tongue in place of his finger. But that thought was chased from your mind as he slid the finger in and out, gently playing with your clit each time.
“Fives,” you moan, his name a prayer upon your lips. With the arm still wrapped around his neck you hug him closer, pulling his head to yours and kissing him deeply. Your tongue strays into his mouth, seeking the taste of him as he quickens the thrust of his finger, sliding in a second one too. You almost grind yourself against his hand, jolting with each movement until you feel the orgasm rise like a tidal wave.
Your head tips back as release shatters through you, ravishing and all-consuming, stealing away any and every coherent thought. A moan escapes your lips, uninhibited and undeniably loud. Fives’ hand clamps over your mouth, humour dancing in the pleasure-addled depths but you are still too caught in the fracture of your climax to care, your breath rushing from your nose.
You slip from his waist and grab his cock again, brushing the tip playfully with slow, taunting movements. His quakes within your touch, his member pulsing in time to the beat of his heart, rutting his hips against your hand as release pulls ever closer. You can feel it, that he is close, so very close and you speed up. Your other hand slips to your chest, grasping your breast and squeezing, pushing it against the other. His eyes are on you, on your hand and your breasts, pupils blown wide with pleasure. He always loves it when you play with yourself and it’s just the push needed to send him over the edge. He clamps down on the cry that leaves his throat, his body jerking with release as his cum explodes into your hand, staining his blacks. For a moment you are both basking in the bliss of your indulgence, pressed against each other and breathing deeply.
Your eyes meet, an unspoken request for more and Fives pulls you up around his waist once more, sliding his back down the closet wall until he is sat on the floor with you nestled on his lap. You feel him slide his cock into your wet pussy, the pleasure still rolling over you in waves. You rock your hips atop him, hands on his defined chest and eyes meeting his. He thrusts in tandem, hands grasping your hips and pulling you tighter. There was no desperation this time, though the need still burned like wildfire, instead your bodies were in sync, moving as one. He was leaving again and in the back of both your minds was the knowledge that this might never happen again. So you took your time, savoured his closeness, his body.
Fives whispers your name, umber gaze intense as he utters it again and again in time to his thrusts. He grips you tighter, pulls you closer, the need for you to be one with him exploding as your pleasure begins to reach a peak. He was near too but he always waited for you, always made sure you came first. And come you did, the feeling rising from your core, spreading and burning all sense in its wake until at last your climax crashed through you, pure and ecstatic as you bit your lip against the cry that begged to leap from your throat. Fives’ release shattered only half a second later, filling you with him, with his essence. He cradles you close, making no move to pull out and you lean into him, breathing in his scent.
The intrusive beep of Fives’ commlink interrupts the peace and he curses, extracting himself from you with a mournful sigh. Fortunately the closest had towels and he wipes you both down with gentle care, applying his armour with ease.
“You are my ka’ra and my ka’rta, Cyar’ika,” he whispers into your hair as he holds you tight. “But I have to go.”
And with that he departs leaving you alone in the dark with the pleasure still coiled in your core and your heart still hammering wildly against the bars of your ribcage.
