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honeykitcat · 22 days ago

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To the General

Pairing: Howzer x fem!Reader / Howzer x Jedi!Reader

Words: 14,310

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, themes of grief/death/mourning, some blood/gore, depression, hallucinations, unrequited feelings, mutual pining, smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), some light dom/sub dynamics, a little cockwarming

Summary: It's been over a year since Howzer has lost his General, and yet, the ghost of your memory still haunts him. His guilt and grief threaten to swallow him whole, until Rex returns to the base with a surprise visitor.

A/N: Reposting because I forgot my taglist. 🤦‍♀️ No excuse for the word count I fear. I just love Jedi/Clone forbidden love with all my heart, and I love writing dramatic reunions even more.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

Howzer doesn’t remember how it happened.

Their arrival on Ryloth had come on the heels of an overdrawn battle on Bothawui. The entire battalion was teetering on the edge of exhaustion by the time they had boarded The Eclipse. Their hopes of an extended shore leave were quickly dashed as it was announced by order of the Jedi Council and the Chancellor himself that they would be sent to occupy Ryloth indefinitely.

The General had tried to make the most of it. She’d arranged for the mess to cook the finest meal they could get their hands on, which admittedly wasn’t more than some fresh meats and root vegetables, but the crew didn't complain. And if Howzer caught the smell of alcohol floating about when they walked to their stations, he didn't say anything about it.

Still, no amount of finery or good cheer could hide the truth: the crew was worn ragged and the battalion was ready to snap. The men resolved to keep pushing on for the sake of their General, who had taken their heavy losses the hardest. That night, she’d broken into tears over the new helmets lining their memorial wall, a wall that was nearly full.

Howzer had been with her, had stood with her and her tears. He had seen the General in every state of grief, of anger and pain. He'd also seen her at her very best. He'd seen her bright smile and heard her warm laugh. He'd been there for the moments of victory and the moments of defeat.

She was his General and his closest friend, his guiding star, and he would do anything for her.

Howzer doesn’t remember how it happened, but he does remember her. He remembers everything about her.

His first memory is her as a young commander, and the first time he saw her. It was on Kamino, and the first time she had visited. She'd been there with her Master, who had come to assess the cadets' progress. They had all lined up in neat rows for the inspection. Howzer remembers how tall she had looked in her uniform and cape despite how all the men towered over her.

Howzer can't remember what she said or did. But he can recall her eyes and the warmth in them as she walked past them. He had wanted her to look at him.

His second memory is the first time they met, months later. It was shortly after the start of the war, and the 318th was still in its infancy. The General had just arrived to pick her new battalion up, and as her new Captain, Howzer was part of the honor guard.

Howzer doesn’t remember the words they spoke, only that she was kind and her voice was warm, and when she smiled, the whole world seemed to brighten.

In the years that followed, he got to know her and became her aide. They were together almost every day. They spent time with their men and led them through the horrors of war. She was a natural leader, charismatic and inspiring, and it wasn't long before Howzer was completely devoted to her.

But the war continued, and so did the death. They had lost men and friends, and Howzer had to watch the General suffer each time. Her pain was his. How could it not be?

She was the best thing in his life, his bright light in the darkness, and he was in love with her.

Howzer doesn’t remember when he began thinking of her that way. He thinks he might’ve always loved her, always wanted her. Maybe from the moment he saw her in that corridor.

All he knew is that he'd loved her in every possible way a man could love a woman, just as he knew that his love would never be reciprocated.

But it didn't matter.

As long as he was with her, Howzer would pretend, and he was okay with that. He could live with loving her from afar and keeping his feelings in check. As her Captain, his job was to support her, and he would be the best damn Captain she'd ever had.

He could dream of a different reality where she returned his feelings, one where they were not at war, and maybe one where he was not her clone trooper. He would dream of a life where he could hold her and touch her, where he could kiss her and whisper how much he loved her.

But those were dreams, and nothing more.

And reality was very different now.

Now, the General is nothing more than a memory.

It’s been long enough that pieces of her are starting to fade from his mind, and he hates it. He wants to hang on to her as long as possible, but he knows that his memories are all he has left. He doesn’t have a holo or picture of her. He only has the images in his mind and the broken piece of nova crystal he kept tucked away in his pocket.

Howzer doesn't remember how it happened.

But he knows it’s his fault.

Howzer is the one who let her down. He's the reason she died. He must be, even if he can't remember it, because he can't accept any other reality. He was her Captain and her right-hand man, her closest friend and her most devoted soldier. If she died, it was because he had failed her, and he will never forgive himself for it.

Maybe he deserves to forget.

That thought is worse than the one of her death.

There was a time when he had wondered if his love was a sickness, something to be ashamed of and hidden away. He didn't want his brothers to know and judge him, and he didn't want her to know, either. He'd never acted on his desires. He'd never told her, and maybe that's why this is so much worse.

Maybe this is a punishment, and one he deserves.

He knows he must have done something wrong, something terrible, because no man would be this cursed unless they deserved it. The nightmares, the guilt, the emptiness, it had to be some kind of retribution for his transgressions.

He's tried to forget. He's tried to move on. He's tried to be a better man, a better clone. He's tried to do everything that a good soldier should, but no matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries, his mind always drifts back to her. His thoughts always wander to his memories. He can't shake her. He doesn't know how to. He's never known how.

Every time he closes his eyes to sleep, he sees her. She's the same as the last time he saw her, with her armor and her hair up in its braid, and she is beautiful. Howzer is so happy to see her again, so relieved that she's not gone.

But she is, and he has to tell her.

He tries, but the words don't come out right. Or maybe it's just that he can't say them, that he still doesn't want to accept what had happened after all this time. But the words are stuck in his throat, and his eyes burn, and Howzer knows she's waiting for him to answer her.

And he can't.

She's waiting for him, and he can't.

She deserves to know the truth. She needs to know that she died, that he failed her, and that her death is on his hands.

Howzer can't look at her. He can't face her.

He closes his eyes and waits for her to turn away. He waits for her to leave him, because he doesn't deserve her.

She doesn’t.

Instead, she steps forward and takes his hands into hers. He flinches at her touch, because she shouldn’t be here. She isn't real. She's just another figment of his imagination, his punishment, and he wants her to stop. He can't do this anymore.

"Howzer," she says. "Howzer, look at me."

And he does. He can't help himself. Her face is starting to blur in his memory, he can't remember the exact shade of her eyes, and he doesn't want to forget. Not yet. He opens his eyes and looks at her, but he knows what he'll find.

Blood.

Her blood.

On his hands, on his face, on his chestplate.

There's so much of it, and he can't stop staring at it, at the way it coats her armor and drips onto the floor. He can't look away. He can't do anything.

"Look at me, Howzer," she says again.

But he can't. He can't do it.

He can't look at her, not like this. He can't stand the thought of seeing her face covered in blood, her lifeless eyes staring at him, her body cold and broken and gone.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispers. "It's all my fault."

"No," she says.

She doesn't say anything else, and Howzer wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants her to yell at him and berate him, to curse him and hate him. But when he finally gains the courage to look her in the eye, there's nothing there. She's gone.

It's the worst thing he could've imagined.

He's alone.

Last night’s nightmare plays over and over again in his mind as he stands at the holotable, looking over the map and trying not to think of the General.

It's hard. It's always been hard, but it's gotten worse over the last few months. The dreams are more frequent, and the pain is more intense. He doesn't know how to stop them, or if they will ever stop.

He thought it would get better when he joined Rex's group, that he would find some semblance of peace with the other clones fighting the good fight, but he was wrong.

There is no peace for him, not after what he did.

The others are talking around him, but Howzer is only half listening. It's the usual stuff: what their next move will be, how many supplies they have, and the list goes on. Rex is expected to return from a meeting with Senator Chuchi any minute, and this meeting is more about making sure the captain is updated on what he missed.

But the details escape Howzer. He's distracted by his thoughts, and his guilt is eating at him. It's all he can think about, and he can't shake the feeling that he doesn't deserve to be here.

"Howzer."

The sound of his name brings him back to reality, and he realizes everyone is looking at him.

"Uh, sorry," he says. "What was the question?"

Echo studies him. His gaze is intense, and Howzer has the distinct impression that he's being read. It's a disconcerting feeling, one that he's felt more than a few times in the last couple months since his rescue, and it makes him feel transparent. Like his armor is gone and his emotions are on display.

But that can't be the case, because Howzer hasn't told him what happened.

No one knows the truth, not even the men. Howzer hasn't told anyone about his part in his General's death, and he's not planning to either. There's no point in dredging up the past. He knows he’s not the only clone with guilt about what happened to the Jedi, what they had done.

He’s just the only one who can’t seem to let it go.

"I asked if you were alright," Echo says. "You've seemed a little off the last few days.”

Howzer nods.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he says. "Just a little tired."

The lie slips off his tongue easily, and it's one he's told more than a few times before. He's not fine, and he hasn't been since that day, but there's no need to burden his brothers with his problems.

Echo doesn't look convinced, and he's about to open his mouth to ask another question when Rex finally arrives. The captain's entrance is followed by a chorus of greetings and welcomes, and the tension in the room dissipates. The men are happy to see him, and Howzer is thankful for the distraction.

The Captain greets the men, and then he turns to Howzer.

"Howzer," Rex says. "Do you mind if I speak to you privately?"

"Of course not, Captain," Howzer answers.

Rex leads Howzer out of the command center and down the corridor. The walk is silent, and Howzer can feel the tension building between them. Rex hasn't said a word, and he has no idea why he wants to talk to him. Maybe it's about his recent performance, or lack thereof. He hasn't been the most reliable or helpful lately.

Howzer is starting to worry in earnest when they turn, moving away from the section of the compound that holds Rex's makeshift office and toward the doors leading out to the landing zone. Walking slightly in front of him, Rex is tense, his shoulders stiff and his jaw set. Whatever he has to say, it must be serious.

Rex finally stops in front of the closed blast doors and turns to Howzer. His expression is neutral, and it's impossible to tell what's going on in his head.

"Rex," Howzer begins, unable to bear the silence any longer, "if this is about my work, I understand. I haven't been on top of things the last few days, and if you need to put someone else on comms, I—"

Rex puts his hand up.

"That's not why I asked you out here, Howzer," Rex says. "There's someone here you need to see."

Howzer raises an eyebrow, confused.

"I don't understand," he says. "Who's here?"

"Just follow me."

Rex punches in a code, and the doors slide open. The light from outside fills the hallway, and Howzer blinks at the sudden brightness. He steps out into the landing zone, following Rex into the sunlight. The air is warm and dry, and he can already feel the heat radiating from the cracked duracrete beneath his boots.

"What are we doing out here, Rex?" he asks.

Rex doesn't answer, just keeps walking across the landing zone toward the ship. The Remora stands alone on the platform, ramp already drawn. Howzer squints in an effort to see inside the darkness of the vessel, looking for a spot of white plastoid among the shadows.

But what steps forward isn’t a clone at all.

Howzer recognizes you instantly, and he suddenly feels like he’s about to faint.

His vision tunnels, and the world tilts on its axis. He can hear his heart pounding in his ears, and his breath is coming too fast, too hard. There's a roaring sound, like the sound of a rushing river, and it drowns out everything else. He feels sick, and his legs are shaking.

It can't be real. It can't be.

But it is.

There’s a loud clang, and he dimly realizes his helmet has fallen from his hands. It's lying on the ground now, at his feet, but he can't seem to find the strength to pick it up. All he can do is stare.

You descend the ramp slowly and place a hesitant foot onto the ground. The corners of your lips curl into an uncertain smile, while Howzer remains frozen, trapped in disbelief.

You take a step forward, and he still doesn't move. He's rooted to the spot, his heart racing, and he's afraid.

Howzer knows he's hallucinating. He's been here before. This isn't the first time you've appeared to him, not the first time you've looked at him with those warm eyes and called his name. But every time he reaches out, the mirage vanishes. He's tried. He's tried so hard to reach you.

He knows he's going to wake up, and you will be gone again.

It doesn't stop him from wanting to believe that it's real. That you're here.

Your smile falters when you notice his helmet on the ground, and Howzer watches your eyes search his. They're the same as they've always been, bright and kind, and full of concern. It's too much. It's always been too much.

"Howzer," you say. "Are you okay?"

"No," he says.

You step closer, and Howzer instinctively backs away. You stop. Your brows furrow, and your eyes fill with hurt, and it makes his stomach twist. He wants to go to you, to pull you close and hold you, but he doesn't. He can't.

This isn't real. None of it is real.

He has to tell you.

"What do you mean? What's wrong?" you ask.

You're still walking toward him, and Howzer has to force himself not to run. He has to stop this before it goes any further. He can't let himself fall prey to his delusions, not again.

"No, it's not real," he says.

You frown. "What's not real?"

"You," he whispers. "You're not real. None of this is."

You stop, your eyes wide and worried. "Howzer, what are you talking about?"

He ignores you. He has to make you understand.

"You're dead," he says. His voice breaks on the last word, and it comes out as a choked sob.

The words hang between the two of you, and Howzer braces himself for the inevitable. He knows what will happen. You'll disappear. He's seen it happen enough times, and he can't bear to go through it again.

He closes his eyes and tries to focus, to steady his breathing and keep the tears at bay.

But when he opens his eyes, you're still there.

And then the impossible happens.

You move forward, and he doesn't stop you. He doesn't flinch or back away when you reach out and put your hands on his shoulders. He can't.

Your touch is solid. Real.

You're real.

His legs give way, forcing him to collapse heavily onto his knees. He can't bear the weight anymore. The grief, the guilt, the shame. It's too much.

“I failed you, General,” he says around the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. Howzer squeezes his burning eyes shut, willing the tears away, but they come regardless. He feels his body tremble, his shoulders shaking as he fights against the sob rising in his chest. He tries to take a deep breath, but his lungs won't cooperate, and all he manages is a choked gasp.

“I…I’m so sorry.”

"Howzer, Howzer, please look at me."

It's not a request.

Your voice is commanding, the way he remembers, and it's enough to coax him into opening his eyes. Looking at you directly is almost too painful to bear, like looking directly at Ryloth’s sun, but he does.

Tears are streaming down your face, but a gentle smile still curves your lips. The hand on his shoulder moves to cup his face, thumb tracing the marred skin of his cheek. Unbidden, the memory of you holding him when he received the wound years ago comes to mind. Howzer hadn't seen it then, but the affection is clear now.

"It's okay," you say, softly.

"It's not," he replies. "I shouldn't have let you go."

Your hand moves to his jaw, and you gently tilt his chin upwards. He wants to lean into the touch, to bask in the warmth of your skin, but he can't. He doesn't deserve this. Not after what he did.

"I should've known. I should've—"

"Stop," you cut him off.

Your voice is firm, but the hand on his jaw is soft and gentle, and your eyes are still kind. He wants so badly to believe that this is real, that you're really here, but the doubts linger. He can't let himself fall into the illusion. He can't let himself lose you again.

"You can't blame yourself for this, Howzer. It wasn't your fault."

"I failed you."

"No, Howzer," you say. "You didn't."

He doesn't know what to say. Your hand is still on his face. Your fingers are trembling.

“I forgive you," you whisper the words softly, and it's more than he deserves. "I forgave you long ago."

It's too much.

His composure breaks, and he wraps his arms around your hips, burying his face in your stomach. His tears are hot and wet, and they soak through the fabric of your shirt. His sobs are loud and broken, and he can barely breathe, but he can't stop, and you don't push him away. The hand on his cheek cups the back of his head, and your other arm wraps around his shoulders.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers.

He isn't sure if you hear him. He's not sure if he wants you to. But you must, because your grip tightens, and your hand runs through his hair.

He holds you, clinging to you like a lifeline, and lets the tears flow. He can't hold back the sobs, the pain, the anger. All of the emotions are coming to the surface, and they won't be held back any longer.

He cries for you, for the pain you endured. For the loss and the hurt. He cries for himself, for the guilt and the shame. He cries because it hurts, and because he's relieved, and because he can't believe this is real and he's so kriffing happy to see you again.

When his tears finally stop, you're still there, still holding him, and he's still kneeling in front of you. His shoulders are stiff, his muscles sore, but he can't find the strength to move.

He doesn't want to.

He wants to stay like this forever.

Eventually, you break the silence.

“Is there somewhere we can go to speak in private?” you ask quietly. Your fingers run through the buzzed hair at the back of his head and linger on the scar there, the one he doesn’t have a story for. A shiver runs down his spine before his brain catches up to your question.

Howzer nods and clears his throat.

"Yeah," he says, his voice hoarse. "My room. We can talk there."

You help him stand, and he takes a moment to collect himself, wiping his eyes. When he looks at you again, he feels a hot sting of embarrassment. It's been a long time since he's let himself fall apart like this, and he's not sure how to act, and he's grateful there's no one else around to witness it.

You don't seem bothered by his breakdown. You smile, and it's soft and warm, and his heart does a strange flip.

"Are you okay?" you ask, and your concern is so genuine that it almost brings fresh tears to his eyes. His emotions feel raw, like an open wound, and he's not sure how much more he can take before he's completely overwhelmed, but when he answers this time, he speaks the truth.

"I will be," he says as he kneels to collect his helmet.

You nod, and there's a hint of relief in your eyes, but the smile on your face never wavers as you step up to his side. He’s surprised to feel your hand threading through the crook of his elbow before he realizes it was he who had held out his arm for you. A force of habit he didn't know he still had, but one that was very welcome.

It had always been your way, before. To walk beside him instead of ahead.

He takes a deep breath and straightens his shoulders.

"Shall we?"

"Yes," you say, smiling.

As the two of you begin to make your way across the landing zone, Howzer can't help but marvel at how natural this feels. The familiarity of your presence at his side, the soft pressure of your hand against his arm, and the sound of your breathing.

All of it feels so right, and Howzer thinks it must be a dream, a hallucination, something, because this is too perfect. It can't be real. It's been far too long for it to be real.

But the weight of your arm on his and the sound of your footsteps at his side feel real, more real than anything he's ever experienced. He's never had a hallucination this vivid before. He hopes it's not just a dream, but he keeps his eyes on you just to make sure.

You look different. Older, maybe. But also more beautiful.

It's a silly thought, but it's the truth. There's a certain peace and calmness to your expression, and it suits you. You look content, like you've finally found what you were looking for, and Howzer feels a rush of joy.

You're alive.

He still can't quite believe it, and he finds himself staring openly at you. He knows the path to his room like the back of his hand, and he could probably make the trek with his eyes closed. But he doesn't.

Instead, he keeps his eyes on you, memorizing every detail, every curve of your face and every twitch of your mouth. He's desperate to fill in the gaps in his memory, the details he's lost and the moments that slipped away. He doesn't want to forget again.

Your head is on a swivel as you take in the equipment and clones bustling around the enclosed space inside the temple. It reminds him of your first day, and he can't help but smile. You haven't changed at all.

Echo and Rex are in the command center along with a handful of other clones. They watch as the two of you walk through, their faces showing a range of expressions from surprise to confusion to suspicion. But they say nothing, and Howzer is grateful. He knows how he looks, with his reddened eyes and blotchy cheeks. They’ll no doubt have questions later, but for now, they keep them to themselves.

“What you’ve built here is impressive,” you say as you give a friendly smile to Samson when you pass by. He does a double-take, his gaze moving from your face to your arm wrapped around Howzer's, and back to your face again.

Howzer smiles back and doesn't offer any explanation.

Samson isn't the only one looking. Several of the men stare, and Howzer can't help the small thrill of pride that courses through him at their wide-eyed looks.

It's a silly thought, he knows. He shouldn't feel good about being seen with you, not after everything that's happened. But he can't deny the satisfaction he feels at the thought that the men can see the two of you together again, and he wonders how many of them had guessed about his feelings.

Probably all of them.

"This is it," Howzer says as the two of you stop outside the door to the room he claimed as his own.

It's not much—a single bed, a locker, and a desk—but it's enough. It's a quiet place to escape to when the chaos of the galaxy around him becomes too much, though he hasn't spent much time in it since he arrived.

Howzer steps forward and places his hand on the panel, and the door slides open. He motions for you to enter first, and you do, letting go of his arm as you step into the room.

You take a moment to study your surroundings before your eyes land on the lone chair in the room. Howzer can tell what you're thinking. You're going to offer it to him, and he doesn't want it. He can't imagine sitting right now. His legs still feel like jelly and his whole body is still buzzing from the adrenaline of seeing you.

Instead, Howzer leans against the wall by the door and takes a deep breath, watching as you walk forward to examine his desk, your back to him.

The room is quiet, the only sound the faint buzzing of the lights above them. He can't hear the commotion outside. He can't even hear his own heartbeat. All he can hear is you, your soft, slow breathing and the gentle rustle of fabric as you move.

He hesitates to break the silence, but he has to know.

“How are you—how did you survive?” he asks. How are you alive, he wants to say. You shouldn’t be alive. The words stick in his throat.

You stiffen slightly, but you don't turn around. The latest report on their medical supplies is held loosely in your grasp, and Howzer watches the datapad tremble slightly.

“You truly don’t remember?” you ask softly, dropping the report back onto the desk. You pivot to face him, your back pressing into the metal edge, and he can't read your expression.

He swallows. His throat feels dry, and his heart is pounding in his ears.

No. He doesn’t remember. But he needs to.

He shakes his head, the motion almost imperceptible. “No, I…I remember we were speaking in your quarters. I can’t remember what about. There was an incoming transmission, and then…nothing.”

Whatever he said, it must not have been the right thing. Your eyes close as if in pain, your fists clenching at your sides. You inhale a sharp, shaky breath. The sight is almost enough to make him drop the subject. But the need to know is greater than the guilt.

“Please." He says your name quietly, hating the desperation that creeps into his voice. "I need to know.”

He realizes that he’s never called you by your first name before, at least not to your face. It had always been General. He thinks he likes the sound of it, and the way it makes your eyes fly open, surprise and a little bit of warmth filling their depths.

The seconds drag on as he waits for your response, the tension palpable between you. The longer he stares at you, the more he notices. Your jaw is sharper now, your skin slightly more tan. Your hair is the same, and so are your eyes, but there's a new air of maturity to you that hadn't been there before. He's not sure how he feels about the changes, only that he wishes he had been there to see them happen.

When you finally speak, the words are careful and measured. “I can show you, if you let me.”

"Show me?"

"If I'm allowed, I could—"

"Yes," he says. He doesn’t hesitate. He trusts you, and he needs to know what happened.

"Okay," you say, taking a step toward him. "This may hurt."

A moment of silent understanding passes between you before Howzer nods, steeling himself for whatever revelation awaits. You reach out tentatively, pausing a few inches away, and he closes his eyes.

Your fingers press into his temple, and he’s suddenly thrust back into your quarters on Ryloth.

“You seem upset,” your voice says, wavering as if underwater until the haze of the memory begins to lift around you.

The blurry shape of you comes into sharper focus as you move to sit on your bunk. Your beige robes have been discarded, revealing the sleeveless wrap tunic you wear underneath. Another hot evening on Ryloth meant you'd forgone decorum again, loosening the top to allow airflow to your sweat-slicked skin. He remembers admiring the strong lines of your biceps and valley of your breasts revealed with the motion.

He’s in the memory but not entirely, watching himself from the outside like a specter in the shadows. Howzer watches as he forces himself to look away from your body to stare out the window. He can feel the same tension, the same anxiety that gripped him then. He remembers the argument you had that morning. Remembers the hurt, the pain, the guilt. Remembers wanting to reach out, to hold you, but stopping himself.

“What’s on your mind?”

“You,” he answers honestly, for once. It’s a half-truth that sticks to his tongue. “Is it true that this will all be over soon?”

“I’ve felt it coming for a while now,” you say.

Your eyes drift to your hands, and he turns to watch you lace your fingers together tightly in your lap. “Count Dooku is dead. Obi-Wan has moved to engage General Grievous. Saesee and General Windu are arresting the Chancellor as we speak. The war very well may be over now.”

“I see.”

A sense of fatigue washes over him, and he leans against the wall to prop himself up. He wants to leave, to soak the feeling in while in the silence of his own barracks, but something stronger urges him to stay.

“Permission to speak freely, sir.”

“You always have my permission, Howzer,” you say earnestly. It had taken some getting used to, being addressed so informally. The first few times, he'd had to force himself not to jump to attention every time you called him by name. He quickly started to enjoy the intimacy of it, and the way the sound of his name on your lips made him shiver.

He sighs, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. He doesn't know where to begin. The last few months have been hard, harder than most, and it's left him feeling raw and exhausted. He's never felt so torn before. Part of him is thrilled that the war is ending, but the other part, the larger, selfish part, is terrified.

“What will happen to us?” he asks, turning to look at you.

Your face is neutral, but he can tell by the set of your jaw that you're tense. The memory of you takes a moment to collect yourself before speaking.

"What do you mean?"

"After the war," he says, trying and failing to keep the edge of panic out of his voice. "What will happen to us?"

“The clones have fought honorably for the Republic. It’s the least we can do to provide for your future,” you reply. “You’ll be given pensions and housing on Coruscant for as long as you all wish. I expect some will continue their roles in reserve, while the rest will be free to choose their own path.”

He nods appreciatively. He has no idea what he would do with such freedom, but he's grateful all the same. The thought of no longer having a purpose terrifies him, but not nearly as much as the thought of losing you.

He should leave it at that, he should thank you and walk away. Howzer is watching the internal battle he faced on that day and screams at himself to leave. He should leave you be, to enjoy the brief respite the two of you are allowed.

But he can't. Not when this could be the last chance he ever gets.

“Thank you. But I…I meant us, sir.” Howzer gestures between the two of you.

Your eyes widen almost imperceptibly, but he can see he’s stunned you. He forges ahead, moving to stare at the wall behind you so he can maintain his courage. “We’ve been together so long, I can barely remember a time without you. Without this. I don't want it to end."

There's a pregnant pause as you struggle for a response, and the fear in the pit of his stomach grows.

“What are you saying?” you ask slowly.

“I’m saying I want more,” he says. He meets your gaze and steps forward, and you rise to your feet at the same time, your tunic fluttering around you.

“Us clones try not to think about the future, but I can't help it. And the only future I want is one with you. That is, if you want that too, sir."

His cheeks are flushed, and his heart is pounding, and he's so nervous. This is the most he's ever confessed, and it feels like the world is crashing down around him, but he means every word.

“Howzer…” Your voice breaks, and it sends a hammer to his heart. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you feel the same,” he says quickly. Howzer’s hand reaches out to grasp your bicep, thumb caressing the bare skin underneath his glove. He moves closer, and your breath hitches as you lean back, but not away.

Your eyes close, head tilting down. He waits with bated breath for you to say something, anything.

When you look up, your eyes are filled with tears, and his stomach drops. Your voice is so quiet, he can barely hear you.

“I feel afraid.”

It's like the wind has been knocked out of him. He opens his mouth to speak, to question you further, but his vambrace begins to ping, the message marked urgent. Howzer watches himself let go of you and turn to receive the transmission, and he feels like he's drowning.

No! He screams at himself. Don't take the call. He can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but watch. You can't let this go. If you lose this chance, you'll never have another.

He's frozen, helpless to watch his past play out. You move toward the window to look out at the setting sun as Howzer opens the encrypted message.

“Execute Order 66,” the hooded figure on the holo speaks, its voice graveled and dark. In his memory, Howzer stares down at the projection with wide, unseeing eyes, before he begins to shake. Something is taking over, something he isn’t strong enough to control.

He knows what he must do.

A cold, heavy weight settles in the pit of his stomach, and his mind feels foggy, sluggish. Howzer looks up from the holo, and the room seems to spin. His hands are trembling, and his heart is pounding in his ears. He blinks hard, once, twice, trying to clear the fog, but it won't go away. A wave of nausea hits him, and his head feels like it's about to explode.

"Howzer?"

Your voice is far away, barely a whisper. You turn, your lips parted, brow creased.

He barely has time to get the words out, to fight the fog for just a second. Just one more second.

"Run," he croaks. He watches his eyes glaze over, watches the last remnants of his control slip through his fingers as he turns, drawing his blaster and firing.

You ignite your lightsaber just in time to deflect the shot aimed at your head. Behind the teal blue glow of your blade, your eyes are wide and confused.

“Howzer?” you ask incredulously. Your arms are raised, holding your saber aloft. But your stance is hesitant, your knees bent as if ready to run.

The blaster is in his hand, and it's pointed at you. It's an impossible weight. A weapon made for killing, a weapon he can't use on you. His hand trembles, and he wills himself to throw it, to break it.

But the fog in his mind is too thick, the orders too loud, and his body moves without him. The trigger clicks under his finger again and again. You duck and roll as a bolt goes whizzing over your head, deflecting another into the ceiling. Plaster and dust rain down, clouding the air around you. You cough, covering your nose and mouth with the back of your free hand.

"Howzer, please, it's me!" you cry, raising the hilt of your saber. It's not meant to fight, only to protect. A shield against the bolts that won't stop coming.

He's screaming at you, screaming for you to move, to run away, but the words aren't leaving his mouth. The next bolt grazes your shoulder, tearing your tunic. The pain makes you cry out. Howzer can see the wound, red and angry against your skin.

He hears the sound of footsteps and voices getting closer outside the door, but he’s too occupied with the need to fire his blaster to acknowledge them. Howzer’s mind screams that he’s trapped alone with a traitor to the Republic, a burning hatred he’s never felt propelling him forward to attack.

The small voice inside him begging him not to hurt you is silenced for good when an unseen force rips the weapon from his hand. His arm is held aloft above his head, and he struggles like an animal in a trap to free it.

His eyes are wide and feral. Yours are nothing but pleading.

"Please," you beg. "You're stronger than this. I know you are. I can't hurt you."

"Traitor," he spits, struggling against the invisible bonds. "You'll die a traitor."

There are tears streaming down your face now, and he can see the agony in your eyes. The anguish and pain. But also a strength, a determination he's seen many times.

Fists are pounding on the door, and it tears your attention away from him for a moment too long. Howzer’s arm frees itself, and he wastes no time reaching for the blaster carbine on his back. Your eyes snap back to him, and you quickly hold out both hands to push him back into the wall.

Even during training, you were remarkably gentle with your use of the Force. Howzer had seen you throw boulders and pull tanks with your command of the unseen energy field, but he’d never felt more than a soft touch until that day.

But in this memory, you hurl him across the room with the force of a landslide, knocking the breath clear from his lungs, his head slamming hard enough to crack the duracrete.

He tries to stand, but he can't.

His arms won't work, and his legs are leaden, refusing to respond. He's helpless as he watches you raise your arm, your eyes filled with sorrow. He's powerless as you reach out and touch your fingers to his temple.

A warmth emanates from your fingertips, and Howzer feels the pressure in his skull building, building, until—

The memory vanishes, and Howzer finds himself back in his own quarters, slumped against the wall. You're still there, standing a few steps away. You have your arms crossed tightly, your jaw clenched.

Howzer can feel his head pounding, a throbbing phantom pain where it had struck the wall. He raises his fingers to rub his temples.

It's quiet. There's no pounding on the door, no gunfire. Just the two of you.

"So it's true. I almost killed you."

You flinch. It's so subtle, he wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been looking for it.

"You didn't," you say.

He shakes his head. "I didn't? It looked pretty fucking close. You did that—" He motions vaguely toward the door. "—to stop me."

"To stop myself," you correct. "You didn't have a choice. I couldn't hurt you."

Howzer's jaw clenches, and his throat feels tight. The memory is still fresh in his mind, and the feelings it elicited are not ones he'd like to relive. The shame, the fear, the guilt.

"But I did," he says. His voice is low, and his tone is grave. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," you whisper, your voice barely audible. You look away from him, and your shoulders droop. "I didn't know. If I'd known the clones had been reprogrammed, I would have tried to find a way to reverse it. To bring you back. All of you."

You sniff, wiping your eyes, and Howzer feels his chest ache. You're blaming yourself. Of course you are.

"Howzer, if there's anything I can do—"

"Don't apologize," he says. His voice is stronger now, and he's glad. He's tired of being weak. Having you here is a reminder of everything he's done wrong, but also of what he could have. What he wants. He straightens, pulling himself away from the wall and standing upright.

"You saved my life. You didn't know what was going to happen. No one did. And even if you had, it would have been too late."

Your brows knit together, and you look back at him. Your lower lip trembles. "How can you forgive me?"

Howzer doesn't know how to answer that. He's not sure there is an answer. Instead, he walks forward, slowly, as if approaching a skittish animal. You look so small, so vulnerable, and he hates it. He can see the worry in your eyes, the guilt. It's the same worry and guilt he's seen in the mirror every day since the war ended.

He's only a step away when he stops, leaving enough space between the two of you that you could walk away if you wanted. But you don't, and the look in your eyes is enough to make him reach out. He wipes a tear from your cheek, and the corner of your mouth twitches.

"How can you forgive me?" he asks instead.

"Because you were doing your duty. Because I care about you. Because I missed you," you say.

"I missed you, too."

You're so close, close enough to touch, and Howzer can't resist the urge. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a hug, letting the tension ease from his body. You lean into his embrace, and he rests his chin on top of your head, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling of having you back.

He's not sure how long the two of you stand there, lost in the embrace, but eventually, you pull away. Howzer reluctantly lets go, dropping his arms back to his sides. You look up at him, and the smile on your face makes his stomach flip.

"What you said," you start, swallowing. "That night. Did you mean it?"

He doesn't have to think.

"Yes."

Your breath hitches, and your eyes search his, seeking something. He knows what it is, and it scares him. The last time he laid his heart bare for you, he’d lost everything. But he's spent too much time living in the past. Too much time wishing things were different, regretting the choices he made.

He doesn't want to do that anymore.

"I meant it then, and I still mean it now."

"Really?"

"I do."

He reaches out and takes your hand, lifting it to his lips.

You bite your lip. He can tell you're nervous, and he feels the same. His stomach is fluttering, and his heart is racing. The moment seems surreal, too good to be true.

But he can feel the warmth of your palm in his, can feel the softness of your skin.

"I missed you," he says softly.

"I missed you, too."

Your words are barely a whisper, but they echo in his mind. He can't resist any longer.

"I want to kiss you,” he admits, his voice low. He runs his thumb over the back of your hand, and your skin tingles beneath his touch. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes," you whisper.

He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, and your breath tickles his lips. He can't resist any longer.

Howzer tilts his head and closes the gap between you.

It's slow, tentative, and he's terrified. But when you melt into him, and your lips part against his, all of his fears and doubts are forgotten.

You're real. You're here, with him.

Your hand grips his armor as you kiss him back, and the world falls away. All that matters is you, and him, and this moment.

He feels whole.

The kiss is long and lingering. It's slow, and sweet, and everything he could have ever hoped for. Your hand finds its way to the back of his neck, and your fingers play with the short hair there. His own hands roam over your waist and back, mapping out the lines of your body.

He feels you shift onto your toes, pressing against him and pulling him closer, and his heart soars. He can't imagine wanting anything more than this, than the taste of your lips on his, the feel of your body pressed against his.

When the two of you finally part, his lips are tingling, and he can't help but chase yours for another quick peck before he pulls back. You're breathless, and your cheeks are flushed, and he feels his chest swell, his hands tightening around your waist.

He never wants to let go.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice cracking. He doesn't want to ruin the moment, but he needs you to know. He needs you to hear the words, the sincerity behind them. "I think I always have."

"I love you, too," you say, and it's like the sun coming out after a storm. "I didn't realize until it was too late, but I love you. I don't think I've ever stopped."

His heart swells at the words. He can't believe his ears, can't believe he's hearing you say them. His throat is thick, and his eyes burn, and he blinks back the tears.

Howzer pulls you close, burying his face in your hair and breathing in deeply as his arms wrap around you. He holds you tightly, and you cling to him just as fiercely.

"Stay," he murmurs into your hair, the words barely audible. "Please."

He can feel the way your muscles tense. You pull back, just enough to look at him. "What?"

"Stay," he repeats, looking into your eyes. "With us. With me."

He watches you blink, the surprise evident on your face. He realizes what he's asking of you. How much of a risk it is. You could be killed or taken prisoner by the Empire, and he's asking you to put your life in the hands of the very people who tried to kill you.

But he has to try.

"Howzer, I—I can't. It's too dangerous. If I'm caught—"

"I won't let anything happen to you. I promise." He reaches up and cradles your face in his hand, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "Please. I've lost you once. I can't lose you again."

Your eyes search his, and he can see the doubt, the fear. He's never begged anyone for anything before, but he'll beg for you. He'll do whatever it takes.

"Please," he says, his voice cracking. "I need you."

"Howzer," you say, but he can tell you're weakening. Your eyes are watery, and your brow is furrowed.

"I can't do this without you. I can't—I don't want to do this without you."

Your shoulders drop, and your head tilts slightly into his touch. You cover his hand with yours, squeezing gently. You sigh, and his heart sinks. He’s prepared to hear a no. To lose you once more, only this time, willingly. He watches as you take a deep breath, steadying yourself.

"Okay," you say softly.

He's speechless. For a moment, the word doesn't register. He's too afraid to hope.

"Okay?"

You nod. "I'll stay. If you'll have me."

He can't help the broad grin that spreads across his face, and he pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you and lifting you off the ground. You squeak, but you laugh, and the sound fills him with joy. He spins, hugging you tight as you giggle into his neck.

He's elated, and he can't hold back the laugh that bubbles up from his chest. He feels light, like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. As soon as your feet touch the ground he's kissing you again, cupping your face and tasting the smile on your lips.

He loves you. You love him. You're staying.

The thought is so incredible, so wonderful, that he can't stop kissing you, and you don't seem to mind. He pours all his emotions, all his love, into each brush of his lips, hoping that you can feel everything he's feeling, hoping that you understand how much this means to him.

He thinks you must.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him close. His hands drift down to your waist, and his thumbs brush against the skin where your tunic has ridden up. He kisses you deeper, and the moan that escapes your lips sends a bolt of heat straight through him.

His heart is pounding, and he can't get enough of you. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, and you part your lips for him, letting him taste you. The kiss grows deeper, hungrier, and his grip on you tightens, drawing you flush against him.

One of your hands moves to his chest, the other threading through his hair. Your touch sets him on fire, and he can feel himself straining against the confines of his armor. He doesn't know how far this is going, but he can't stop, can't bring himself to pull away.

Not when your teeth sink into his lower lip, or your nails scrape against his scalp. Not when you arch into him, your soft chest pressing into his chestplate. Not when his hands explore your body, mapping out every curve and dip, every muscle and bone.

His tongue brushes against yours, and he moans. He wants more, so much more. He's lost in you, and he doesn't want to find his way back.

"Tell me to stop," he says, his voice rough. His lips move to your jaw, and he trails kisses down your neck, the taste of you intoxicating.

The room spins, and Howzer finds himself pressed against the wall, the cold duracrete sending a shiver down his spine. Your hands are gripping the edge of his chest plate, and your lips are hot and demanding. You bite his lower lip, tugging at it, and his eyes flutter shut.

"No." Your voice is husky, and the sound goes straight to his cock. "Don't stop."

His heart leaps into his throat, and his hands grip your waist, pulling you closer. "I want you."

"I'm yours."

The words are a balm on his soul, healing wounds he didn't know he had. He can't get enough, can't stop kissing you. He nearly whines when you break away from his mouth, but the disappointment is short-lived when your lips move to his neck. He gasps, the sensation of your hot mouth and wet tongue overwhelming.

Your hands trail down his body, and his fingers dig into your hips.

"I love you," he moans. His head falls back, and his eyes flutter shut. His entire body is on fire, and the sound of your lips smacking against his neck only adds fuel to the flames. "Fuck, I love you."

You hum against his skin, and he bites back a groan.

"I love you," you whisper, the words ghosting over his neck. "I need you.”

It's all he can take.

His hands reach under your ass and lift, and you wrap your legs around his waist. The kiss is sloppy and uncoordinated, and his teeth clack against yours as he spins and presses you against the wall. You grind against his codpiece, and he breaks the kiss, hissing.

"You're so kriffing beautiful," he groans, his voice ragged. "You drive me crazy."

You're panting, and your cheeks are flushed, and he feels his cock twitch at the sight.

"I missed you," you say again. "I needed you."

He doesn't want to admit how close to home those words hit.

"I'm here now." His voice is rough, and his hands are gripping your hips tightly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," you say, before pulling him back into another kiss.

It's hard and messy and desperate. You're both clinging to each other like your lives depend on it, and it's almost painful, the need that's taken root inside him. He's wanted you for so long, and now that he's here, with you in his arms, he can't get enough. He can't stop.

You pull back, and his head tilts up to chase your lips. He's dizzy with lust and want, his breathing shallow.

"Howzer, can we—" Your voice is breathless, and your eyes are wild.

He nods, understanding immediately.

He kisses you hard, and he can feel your hands fumbling for the clasps on his chestplate. He doesn't want to let go, doesn't want to lose the contact between the two of you, but he does, if only to help you.

It's not long before the heavy plastoid is removed, tossed haphazardly onto the floor. You waste no time, moving on to his greaves. You're so close, your scent clouding his mind, and his skin prickles beneath the intensity of your gaze. If he wasn’t so dizzy with want, he’d be amused at how focused you are, the way your brows are furrowed and your bottom lip caught between your teeth. But he can't think straight, can barely even breathe.

The pieces fall to the floor, and the sound echoes through the quiet room. By the time his bracers are removed, he's already shaking. He can't help it. It's been so long, and the desire coursing through his veins is threatening to overwhelm him.

He pulls at the laces on your tunic, loosening them enough that he can tug the material down. He leans down, trailing kisses down the newly exposed skin. Your breath hitches, and his name is a sigh on your lips. He smiles against your collarbone, nipping lightly before he sucks a mark into the flesh.

"Kriff," you gasp, your hips jerking forward. "Howzer."

The sound of his name sends a jolt of electricity down his spine, and he moans. He pulls back to lift your tunic over your head, discarding it somewhere behind him. You're bare except for your breastband, and his eyes rake over your body, taking in the sight of you, mapping the scars and curves and dips. Most of them he's seen before, the few times you were injured during the war, but the new ones, the ones he doesn't know, they're more than he can handle.

He reaches out, tentatively running his fingers over a blaster burn on your stomach, and the skin jumps underneath his touch.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"Yes," you say, nodding.

He runs his palm over the scar, tracing its edges. The flesh is puckered and pink, and he knows it's a wound that could have killed you. It’s one he should have been there to prevent.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

You shake your head. "Not anymore."

He traces the scar, committing it to memory. There are others, some fresher, some older, and his eyes follow his fingers, touching each and every one.

When he's done, he meets your gaze. Your eyes are wide, and your lips are parted, and he feels his chest tighten. You're so beautiful. So perfect. And you're here, with him.

"Are you okay?" you ask.

"I'm fine," he says, shaking his head. "Better than fine. You?”

"Me too."

His hands move to your back, finding the clasp of your breastband and releasing it. He holds his breath as the band comes loose, and his eyes drop down to take in the sight of your bare chest. His cock twitches in his pants, and he has to stifle a groan.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, reaching out and brushing his fingers against your breast. "Absolutely perfect."

His calloused thumb scrapes against your nipple, and it hardens instantly. Your breath hitches, and he feels his pulse quicken. He wants to hear the sounds you make, wants to know what his touch does to you.

He leans down, and his lips replace his fingers. His mouth closes around your nipple, his tongue flicking against the stiff peak. You gasp, and he feels a surge of satisfaction. His free hand squeezes your other breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your body arches into him, and your breathy sighs turn into moans.

He's intoxicated by the sounds you're making, by the way your body responds to his touch. He can’t get enough, and he sucks harder, teasing your nipple with his tongue. Your hands are gripping his shoulders, and your hips are bucking into his, searching for friction.

You're so sensitive, and his head is spinning. He doesn't know how long he spends teasing and torturing you, but it's not long enough. When he finally releases your breast with a pop, you're panting, and your skin is flushed.

“Armor off,” you growl, and he chuckles.

"Yes, sir," he says, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. He reaches down and tugs at his boot, and you slide down the wall. The look in your eyes makes him shiver.

"I'm not your General anymore."

"No, but I'm still your loyal soldier," he says. It’s meant to be a joke, but it comes out more serious than he intended.

You smirk, and the expression sends a jolt of heat straight to his cock.

"Then get to it, soldier."

He raises an eyebrow, and if he wasn’t so turned on, he might be embarrassed by how fast he rips off his remaining armor, his fingers fumbling at the clasps. When he's finished, you're grinning, and his heart skips a beat. He whips the top half of his blacks off, tossing it onto the floor, and before he can register what's happening, you've wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss.

The feeling of your bare chest against his sends a bolt of heat through him, and his hands find their way back to your waist, pulling you closer. You moan into his mouth, and his cock throbs.

He's so distracted by the feeling of your lips and tongue and hands that he barely registers the tugging on his waistband. Not until his blacks are sliding down his hips, exposing his hard length to the cool air of the room.

"Kriff," he hisses, breaking the kiss. "You're gonna be the death of me."

"Hopefully not," you murmur, nipping his lower lip.

"Well, you're sure making it hard."

You look down, and your lips curl into a wicked grin. He feels his cock twitch, and a drop of precome beads at the tip.

"Hard?" you ask innocently.

He groans, leaning his head against yours. "You're awful."

"I know." You reach down and take his cock in your hand, stroking it gently. He can't help but moan. "But I think you like it."

"Kriff," he curses, biting back another groan. "I love it."

He closes his eyes, and your thumb brushes over the head, spreading the slickness around. His breath hitches, and he can feel the pleasure coiling low in his belly. You're so good at this, and he's already so close, and when you sink to your knees and look up at him through those long lashes, his brain short-circuits.

You grip his cock firmly, and he sucks in a sharp breath, bracing his forearm against the wall. You lean in, and your lips brush against his stomach, kissing the soft skin just below his navel. He trembles.

"Relax," you whisper, pressing another kiss to his abdomen.

“Fuck," he groans. "Don't tell me to relax."

He's so wound up, so on edge, his whole body is tingling. Your tongue darts out, and you lick a hot stripe up his cock, and his hips buck involuntarily. You smile, and his eyes flutter shut, his chest heaving.

Your mouth is warm and wet, and you wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue over the slit. His eyes squeeze shut, and his breathing grows ragged.

You begin to bob your head, slowly taking him deeper and deeper with each pass. When he hits the back of your throat, you hum, and his knees nearly give out.

"Fucking hell," Howzer moans, his voice cracking. His head falls forward, and his forehead rests against his forearm. His eyes are closed, and his mouth is open, and he's trying desperately to hold back the embarrassing sounds that threaten to escape.

You pull back, and the cold air against his saliva-slick cock makes him shiver. Your hand is still working him, pumping his shaft, and his balls tighten. He can feel his orgasm building, his whole body tensing, and it's too soon, much too soon, and he needs to slow down.

"Stop, stop, stop," he chants, pulling away from you. He's so close, so painfully close, and he can't stand the thought of finishing before he even gets inside you.

You pull away, looking up at him with confusion. "Why?"

"Because if you don't, I'm going to come," he manages, his voice hoarse.

You smile wickedly. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

"And what if I want you to?" You hum, your fingers teasing the tip of his cock. It’s the lightest touch, but it makes him jump. He closes his eyes, trying to compose himself. He's never been this close to losing control so fast, and he doesn't want to embarrass himself.

"Please," he begs, his voice a choked whisper. "Not like this. Not yet."

The teasing expression on your face melts into something softer, and you rise to your feet, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. He tastes himself on your tongue, and it only turns him on more.

"Alright," you murmur against his lips, your breath hot. "How do you want me?"

He feels the question like a punch to the gut, and his mouth goes dry. "I—um—"

"Howzer," you say softly, nipping his bottom lip. "Don't make me order you."

His eyes fly open, and his cock twitches. The image of you ordering him around, telling him what to do, how to fuck you—

"Howzer."

He's so fucked.

"Bed," he says, his voice a low growl. "Now."

The corner of your mouth quirks, and you raise an eyebrow. "That's not an answer."

He swallows and reaches down, trailing his fingers along the seam of your trousers. Your eyes flutter shut, and a breathy sigh escapes your lips. He watches you, and he can see the way your chest is heaving, the flush that creeps down your neck. It gives him the confidence to continue.

"I want you to take these off," he breathes. “And I want you on your back.”

"Yes, sir," you say, a teasing smile on your lips.

His heart lurches. "Oh, now you listen to me."

"Maybe I like when you're in charge," you purr.

He can't help the groan that escapes him.

Your hands slide down his chest, and you walk away, turning your back to him as you loosen the ties to your trousers. You make a show of sliding them down your legs, bending at the waist, and he nearly chokes when your underwear slides off, too.

"Kriff," he mumbles, his eyes glued to your ass.

You straighten and toss him a coy look over your shoulder, and he's helpless, completely and utterly enraptured.

"Like what you see?"

"Always," he replies, his voice low.

He can't stop himself from reaching out, his hand running up the smooth skin of your thigh. But you dance out of his grasp, laughing.

"Not so fast," you tease.

He growls, a sound that rumbles in his chest. "Don't be a tease."

"What's the matter, Captain?" you ask, stepping towards the bed. "Getting impatient?"

Howzer lets out a laugh of disbelief. He's beyond frustrated, he's already the most desperate he's ever been. Usually he’d play along with your games, but right now, he needs you, and he can't stand the thought of waiting another minute.

"Yes," he says, his voice rough. "Now get on the fucking bed."

You raise an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Yes, sir."

You move, and in one fluid motion, you're laying down on the bed. You spread your legs, inviting him, and he nearly passes out. You look like every fantasy he's ever had, laid out for him, waiting for him.

"Like this?"

"Yes," he groans, his voice cracking.

"Come here, then," you say, your tone seductive.

He can see how wet you are, how ready you are for him. It makes his head spin, his heart race. He wants to taste you, to bury his face between your legs. But the ache in his cock is too strong, the need to feel you overwhelming. He has to take a deep breath before he approaches, afraid his legs won't work.

"What are you waiting for?" you ask.

"Just...taking in the view,” he replies, his voice low and rough. He tries to meet your eyes, but he can't stop staring at the apex of your thighs, at your glistening pussy, begging for him.

You giggle, a sound he's never heard from you before, and he decides right then and there that it's his new favorite sound.

"So poetic," you tease.

"I can be," he retorts, trying to play along even though all his blood is currently rushing south.

"Come on," you say. "Don't make me wait any longer."

He's never been able to deny you.

Howzer steps forward, and before you can register his movements, he's kneeling on the bed between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs. He's not gentle as he pushes them further apart, baring you to him.

"Oh," you gasp.

He smirks, and his eyes rake over your body as he settles himself between your legs. He takes a moment to memorize the sight of you, your hair splayed out on the pillow, your flushed skin, the way your chest rises and falls with every breath.

"Fuck," he mutters, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm going to enjoy this."

"Please," you whimper, your hips bucking. The sound of it wakes him from his stupor, and he grips your thighs tighter, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive flesh.

"What was that?"

You bite your lip and look away, but he can see the heat in your cheeks, the way your breathing is heavy.

"I said please," you repeat, turning your gaze back to him.

His smirk widens. "I couldn't quite hear you," he teases, his fingertips grazing the outside of your folds. He can feel how wet you are, how hot, and it makes his head spin.

You whine, and your hips buck against his hand. "Please, Howzer."

The sound of his name on your lips is like music, and he can't resist any longer.

Howzer leans down and presses a hot, wet kiss to your inner thigh. You gasp, and he sucks a mark into the skin, his tongue flicking out to soothe the sting. He repeats the process on the other leg, leaving a matching mark, and your body writhes beneath him. He pulls back, admiring his handiwork.

"You look good like this," he says, his voice a low rumble.

"You're a menace," you huff.

He chuckles and runs a finger along the length of your folds, gathering the slick that's pooled there. "That's not a very nice thing to say."

"You're not being very ni—ah!" Your words turn into a gasp when he dips his head, his tongue dragging through your folds, the taste of you coating his tongue. He feels you tremble, and your hand tangles in his hair. He loves the way you grip him, and the soft sound of his name spurs him on.

Howzer moves to your clit, his tongue circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips arch off the bed, and he has to use his forearm to keep you down, his hand splayed across your stomach. He slides two fingers inside you, curling them and rubbing the spot he knows will make you moan.

He's rewarded by the sound of his name, your breathy cries filling the room. He works you hard and fast, his tongue and fingers relentless. You're soaking wet, and he can't believe how hot and tight you are around his fingers.

"I've dreamed of this," he growls, his lips brushing against your clit.

"Really?"

He nods, and the movement causes his stubble to scrape against your skin. "Mhm. Ever since we first met.”

You let out a laugh, but it quickly turns into a moan when his fingers hit the right spot. "I-is that so?"

"Yes," he says, curling his fingers and pressing hard. "All those years fighting beside you, and I could barely control myself. It was torture."

You keen, your pussy clenching around his fingers, and he can't help but chuckle.

"I used to think about all the things I'd do if I ever got the chance."

"I thought about it too," you pant.

He looks up, surprised. The motions of his hand stutter, but he regains his composure, picking up the pace and making you gasp. "You did?"

You nod, and he watches your face, your eyes closed, your brows furrowed.

"What did you think about?"

"This," you breathe. "How you'd feel, how you'd taste, how you'd make me come."

The admission sends a jolt through him, and he moans against your clit, the vibrations making you writhe. He doubles his efforts, and his tongue draws patterns across your sensitive flesh. Your thighs tense around his head, and he feels the way you tighten around his fingers.

"I thought about you fucking me," you continue, and his eyes flutter shut. "About you filling me up and making me scream."

He can't help the noise he makes, a low, desperate groan. His cock throbs, aching for relief, and he knows he can't wait much longer. He needs you to come, needs to feel you come undone beneath him.

He can feel you getting closer, the way your breathing gets shallower, the way your muscles begin to tense. You're panting his name, and your hips are rolling, and he can tell you're close, so close.

“I’ll do whatever you want, sweetheart," he growls, the words muffled against your skin. "Just let go. Come for me."

The pet name seems to do the trick, and a string of curses spills from your lips as your body convulses, your cunt clenching and spasming around his fingers. Your hands grip his hair, tugging painfully at the roots, and he can't find it in himself to care. He keeps pumping, drawing out your orgasm until you're writhing, begging for mercy.

When you're finally spent, he pulls back, resting his cheek on your inner thigh. He can't stop looking at you, can't stop drinking in the sight of you, flushed and satisfied. You're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and his chest feels so full, so complete.

"Well?" he asks.

"What?"

"Was it everything you imagined?"

Your face breaks into a smile, and you shake your head, laughing. "It was better."

"Good," he says, kissing the inside of your thigh. He slowly withdraws his fingers, and his lips find your clit again, sucking gently and licking up the fresh wave of slick.

You moan, and your hands fall from his hair to the sheets, clutching at them. He can't get enough, can't stop tasting you. He could spend hours between your thighs, and it wouldn't be enough.

"Howzer," you sigh.

"You taste good," he mumbles, not bothering to pull his lips away from your cunt.

"Come here," you plead. "I want you."

"I am here."

"No," you laugh. "I want you inside me."

"Is that an order?" he asks, teasingly.

"It is," you reply.

"Then I better follow it."

Howzer is on top of you in an instant, his lips finding yours. You moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, and he groans, his hips bucking against yours. His cock is pressed against your slit, and you're so wet, and it would be so easy to slip inside. He can't stand the thought of waiting any longer.

He reaches between your bodies, and you feel him lining up, the blunt head of his cock teasing your entrance. He pulls back, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against yours.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Always."

The word fills his heart with warmth, and he can't stop the smile that spreads across his face.

He's still smiling when he pushes inside, and his grin only grows wider at the feeling of your tight, wet heat around him. He has to fight the urge to come right then and there, and his hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Kriff," he gasps.

"Don't stop," you pant, your eyes screwed shut.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He thrusts in deeper, sinking another inch, and the noise that escapes your lips is the hottest thing he's ever heard. He does it again, and again, and before he knows it, he's fully sheathed inside you, his cock stretching you open, his hips flush against yours.

"Sweetheart," he breathes, the nickname coming out almost unbidden. "You feel so good."

Your hands are wrapped around his neck, and your eyes are screwed shut. Your brow is furrowed, and your mouth is hanging open, and he can't tear his eyes away.

"I—" he starts, but the words die in his throat. He can't find the right ones, can't articulate the depth of his feelings for you. So instead, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and then another, to the tip of your nose.

You look up at him, and the expression in your eyes is so tender, so full of affection, that his heart skips a beat.

"I love you," he whispers, the words escaping him without thought.

"I love you, too."

His heart soars, and he can't help but lean down and kiss you, his lips crashing into yours. It's a messy, passionate kiss, full of heat and need and love. You cling to him, and he loses himself in the feeling of you, of your arms and legs and mouth. He sets a slow pace, his hips moving in shallow, lazy thrusts.

You break the kiss, gasping for air, and he takes the opportunity to hooks his hands underneath your knees, bringing them up and bending you in half.

"What—" you start, but your question is cut off by a moan as he thrusts deeper, the angle changing and his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you.

"Oh," you gasp.

"You like that?"

You nod, your eyes closing, and he grins. His movements are languid, and you're so wet, and it's the best thing he's ever felt, the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around his cock.

"So do I," he says, leaning forward to press a kiss to the side of your knee. "Feels so good, sweetheart. So kriffing good."

"Howzer," you murmur, the word a sigh.

He hums in response, and the feeling of it vibrates through his chest, his mouth still pressed against your knee. You shiver.

"You feel amazing," he says, his voice low and husky. "I can't believe how good you feel."

"Howzer," you groan, your hips bucking, the movement causing him to slide in even deeper on each thrust. "Harder."

"You want me to fuck you harder?"

"Please," you beg, your voice a whine.

"Fuck," he swears. "Yes, sir."

He pulls back and sets a new, punishing pace. He can't stop the noises that escape him, and his balls slap against your ass as he fucks you, the sound obscene. He's so close, but he needs you to come again, needs to feel you squeeze his cock, hear his name fall from your lips as you climax.

"Look at me," he orders.

You do, and the sight of your eyes, wild and dark with desire, is almost enough to push him over the edge. But he holds back, determined to make you come.

He wedges a hand between your thighs, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles. Your breath catches, and your cunt clenches around him, the rhythmic tightening sending him spiraling closer to the edge.

"Come for me," he groans, and he can't believe he's begging, but he is, and he doesn't care. "Please, sweetheart, come for me."

The pressure of his fingers and the sound of his voice are enough, and you shudder, crying out his name as your cunt spasms around him.

It's too much. He's been on edge for so long, and it's impossible to resist any longer. Before he can stop himself, he's coming, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, his cock pulsing as his balls empty themselves, coating your walls. He can feel his release dripping out, leaking down his shaft, and the thought of it is so filthy, so hot, that he nearly blacks out.

"Fuck," he gasps, his head falling forward. He's shaking, his body wracked with the force of his release. It feels like every single nerve in his body is on fire, and his vision is blurred, and the only thing keeping him tethered to reality is the feeling of your hands in his hair, gently massaging his scalp.

When his body finally stops trembling, he opens his eyes, and you're looking up at him, a smile playing on your lips.

"Hi," you say softly.

"Hey," he replies, his voice hoarse. He looks down and sees the mess between your thighs, his cock and your folds coated in his release. He groans. "Sorry, I—I should have asked if you were okay with that."

"It's fine," you reassure him, your hand stroking his hair. "It was good. Really good."

"I'll pull out," he mumbles, leaning down and kissing you.

"Wait," you say, and the sound is muffled against his lips. "Not yet."

"Okay," he whispers, pulling back.

"I just want to feel you for a little longer."

The words make his heart ache, and he leans down to capture your lips in another kiss, softer this time. Your legs fall from his shoulders, and they wrap around his waist, keeping him close.

"How's that?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Perfect," you murmur, running your hands down his back.

He presses his forehead against yours, and he closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling of you. The two of you stay like that for a few moments, neither of you wanting to move.

Finally, he pulls away, and the soft, disappointed noise you make sends a jolt through him.

"It's alright, sweetheart," he soothes. "Just trying to find something to clean us up."

You groan and bury your face in the pillow, and the sight is so endearing, he can't help but lean down and kiss the corner of your mouth.

"I'll be right back," he says, reluctantly untangling himself from your limbs.

"Fine," you huff, and the pout on your lips is adorable.

He climbs off the bed and walks to the 'fresher, and when he returns, you're propped up on one elbow, watching him. Your gaze is focused on his softening cock, and his cheeks heat up.

"Like what you see?" he asks, echoing your words from earlier.

You raise an eyebrow and smirk. "Always."

The blush deepens, and he clears his throat. He makes his way back to the bed, and he cleans up the mess that's leaking out of you, wiping up his spend. When he's finished cleaning both of you, he tosses the cloth to the floor and climbs into the bed, pulling the blankets up and tucking the two of you in.

"That's better," you sigh, curling up next to him.

Howzer wraps his arm around your shoulder, and you nestle into the crook of his arm. He rests his cheek on the top of your head, and the two of you lie in silence, enjoying each other's presence.

"I love you," you say softly, after a few minutes.

"I love you, too."

Your hand rests on his chest, and your fingers trace the planes of his muscles. He shivers, and he can't suppress the grin that spreads across his face. He feels like his heart might burst.

"So," you say, after a while. "How long have you been holding onto that?"

He snorts, and his arm tightens around you. "How long ago was that day on Kamino?"

"What?" you ask, surprise evident in your voice. You sit up and look at him, and he's pleased to see the blush that stains your cheeks. "You're kidding."

He shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "Nope. That's when I knew."

"Howzer!"

"What?"

"That was...that was ages ago," you stammer, and the way you can't seem to get your words out makes him chuckle.

"Yeah, well," he shrugs. "What can I say? I'm a romantic."

"Well, I'm sorry it took me so long," you murmur, laying your head back on his chest.

"It's alright," he says, his hand finding yours and lacing his fingers through yours. "You're worth the wait."

"So are you."

He closes his eyes and presses a kiss to the top of your head. He can feel his eyelids getting heavy, and the weight of your body is comforting. The steady rhythm of your breathing is soothing, and before long, his consciousness begins to slip away.

The last thing he hears is the sound of your voice, sleepy and content.

"I love you, Howzer."

"I love you, too, sweetheart."

He drifts off to sleep, and the last thing he feels is the press of your lips against his chest, just above his heart.

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honeykitcat · 22 days ago

Text

You’re My Home

Fives [CT-5555] • Angst & Fluff

It’s hard to sleep without Fives at night, at least...ever since you two gotten closer then eventually being something. Yeah, work kept your mind at ease because you’re helping repair their weaponry and their ships once they dock in. But the loneliness doesn’t help at all.

[Transmission Request]

You stared at your holopad confused before accepting the request and seeing Fives on the line.

“Cyar’ika!”

“Fives?!”

“I mean. Who else would it be?”

“I...I will end this”

“No no no! Please I want ten minutes” Fives smiles from the other side just admiring every feature he can see. He misses you.

You simply do the same for just a minute before bringing your knees to your chest. “How’s the rotation going?”

“Pretty good, we have a broken comm for you to fix when we get back. That’s for sure” Fives laughs making you laugh.

“I wish you were here, I miss my human heater...it gets really cold at night around this time” You won’t openly admit to missing having him in the bed, or that he’s the reason you rarely have nightmares anymore.

Fives was about to say something when Rex called out for him and their brothers. Meaning the end to this call. You frown for a second before waving him off as he waited a moment longer.

“You better go before he starts yelling at you”

“I know—just. Ah fuck. Okay. I love you”

“I love you too”

When Fives ends the transmission, the alarm for docking roared in your quarters. Probably a shipment but you still have to get up, put on your boots, and grab your tools before heading out.

The moment you got onto the dock, you didn’t see the ship in. So it was still in transit but going back to your quarters wouldn’t give you enough time. Staying and waiting was your best bet, at least you had your BB-4 in the dock with you. Giving you some company.

“Y/N! Off your ass. They’re in range”

“On it sir” You grabbed your tools and heading into position with BB-4 rolling right beside you staying put.

“The damage report has already been reported in. Each of you has a different task and well some don’t have that much to work with” The rodian states as you turn to your fellows who were staring you who seem to have only one task.

“Uh sir. I can pull my weight”

“I know Y/N, you were requested for this one and will only be doing this one...as per request”

You stood there confused as the ship finally came in only making your heart pound in your ears. Staring at the report being a few damaged comms, making you realize shortly after.

They’re home...He’s home

Of course Rex is first to step out and the moment he locked eyes with you. He started to laugh before quickly moving out the way of Fives who started sprinting the second he got off tackling you to the ground. Your crew laughs at the action while you quickly think...

Ouch.

You wince from underneath the six foot clone making him move quickly to tower above you.

“Cyar’ika! I’m so sorry, I just got excited coming home to you” Fives quickly took his helmet off to look you over but before he could even make sure you were truly okay, you brought your hands to his face giving off a pain filled laugh.

“I’m just happy you’re back in one piece...and it better fucking stay that way” You continue to laugh watching him smile before helping you up.

“Did you break them Fives? Need me to check anything?” Kix joins us as Fives scanned you again before Kix did. They’re always double checking.

“I’ll head to med bay after I do my work, I doubt this tank of a man did that much damage” You tried to laugh that time before getting a headache instantly. Maybe tackling you wasn’t the smartest.

“Y/N go get checked then do your work!” Your boss saw the impact and he wasn’t going to let you do anything injured.

“It’s just a concussion, probably” Kix took your other arm as Fives follows but stops for a moment when BB-4 bumped into him.

Fives quickly scooping up the droid before running to catch up to you two. He knows how much you love that fucking droid so of course it’s tagging along.

Once you were in the clear and will most likely be sore for a while, you sat in the cockpit with Fives while you fix the comms. He couldn’t sit still and decided to lay down beside you watching you work. He’s always like this when he comes back and you don’t mind. You love him.

“You didn’t give me one?”

“What?”

“I didn’t get one!”

“Okay Fives. What didn’t I give you?” You smile playing along when you know he’s referring to a welcome home kiss.

Fives just pouts waiting while you put in the last wire before sliding out watching your lover bonk his head on his way out.

“Aww, are you okay?”

“Yes. Yes...” Fives rubs his forehead the second he sat up. You continue to smile kissing his forehead making him smile.

“Better?”

“Mmm. Not quite”

“Oh?” You smile kissing him gently on his lips feeling his hand snake up behind your neck. When you parted, he kisses your cheek down to your neck. “Does this make you feel better Fives? Kissing me in the cockpit instead of the comfort of my quarters?”

“I missed you Cyar’ika...” Fives whispers as he continues to kiss but soon interrupted by the feedback of the comm.

“Well...at least that works, now I want you out of that armor and in my arms. But not in here when I should be working” You smile kissing him once more before going to do a diagnostic check.

“You are a tease”

“You love me”

“That I do!”

After finishing up, you laid on the bed in one of Fives’ shirts and shorts of your own waiting for him to finish up in the shower. It was getting cold so instinctively you grab the blanket covering yourself as Fives finally finishes up coming out in just his shorts. He stares at you from the side of the bed seeing you already comfy. But he was gonna ruin that.

“NO” You yell the second he pulled the blanket off of you. “Fives!!”

“What! I’m jealous!”

“Of a blanket?!”

“Always!” Fives climbs on top of you putting all of his weight on you. “I’m warmer!” He’s not wrong on that one.

You wrapped your arms around his neck holding him close as he adjusted himself to make you both comfortable.

“How was your rotation?”

“Mmm...smoother than other times. Didn’t have to fight many or at all”

“When you walked out, you had a few bruises. Who gave you those this time?”

“Hm. Kix when he found out I haven’t been sleeping”

“That’s a harsh punishment. Should’ve just sedated you...” You kiss the top of his head before getting more clingy. “Why weren’t you sleeping?”

“It’s hard to sleep when my home is elsewhere”

“Fives there’s beds everywhere—“

“I love how dumb you can be”

“Okay—if we are determining who’s dumber...I can get your brothers to back me up” You laugh feeling Fives move out of your embrace towering you. “Fives...?”

“You’re my home cyar’ika...You as yourself. I’m home when you’re with me. I need you most days and it’s hard...without you there”

You couldn’t help it, you started to cry catching the trooper off guard. Fives carefully moves himself off of you as you quickly sat up feeling him take your face into his hands.

“I-I didn’t mean to upset you...”

“N-No no...you’re just...goddamn it” You balled as he wiped away the tears that fell. “You are my home too and I love you so much”

“I love you more cyar’ika, I love you so much more” Fives pulls you into his embrace feeling you get closer. “Y/N?”

“You’re my home, my love, my universe...I need you to come back to me. I need you to be safe”

“I promise, I do...”

It didn’t take you long, but you got it done. The day Fives was leaving for another rotation you had a few minutes before he got aboard. Suddenly the words were hard to come out and all you did was take off his glove to put on a silver band on his ring finger. You two have talked about a stronger commitment before and we’re always interrupted by the campaign. Fives couldn’t find the words and all he did was remove his helmet, pull you in close, and kiss you like his life depended on it.

“FIVES LETS GET GOING” Rex always interrupting, but Fives parted as you helped put his glove back on before watching him get on.

Every time the ship leaves, your heart breaks a bit more.

Your home is leaving and all you want to do is hop aboard. But knowing Fives, he’d want you safe.

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honeykitcat · 24 days ago

Text

OFFICE OF COMMANDER FOX

MAIN LIST

AO3

Announcement

Announcement Two

31 notes · View notes

honeykitcat · 24 days ago

Text

Unattached

Fives x Fem!Reader

NSFW Ahead Minors DNI 18+!!!

A/N: To all the girls who wish they lost their virginity to a clone trooper - this one’s for us.

Tags/Warnings: Loss of virginity, Best Friends to Lovers, Alcohol, Gambling, Lil bit of angst, Fluff, Smut, Oral Sex (F! Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Slow burn (technically), Love Confessions, Happy Ending!!

Summary: Since the moment you were transferred to the 501’st as a Civ Medic you and Fives gravitated towards each other and over many months of friendship you can’t help but slowly fall for the charming ARC Trooper. The tension only increases when he finds out just how inexperienced you are.

Word Count: 9.8k

(For clarification, the italics are flashbacks)

The data pad read ‘Order for Civilian Medic Transfer’, which is really just a nicer way of saying ‘You can’t do anything about this, so just accept it and suffer’.

You had no choice when you were inevitably rotated between legions, untethered. Your newest order was to the 501st, and you find yourself standing in an empty Medbay; it’s quiet. Too quiet. You’ve either been fortunately assigned to a legion that didn’t see much action, if that were even possible, or you were stood in the eye of a hurricane.

Your eyes are caught on the tattoo across the scalp of the head medic, ‘A good droid is a dead one’ and you suppress a smile at the sentiment. It’s why you were needed - clones weren’t fond of droids, even those programmed for medical purposes.

“New?” The clone asks, eyes focused on a datapad. You weren’t, not by any means, you had been rotated countless times over the duration of the clone wars. But, you already begin preparing yourself for the usual gruff demeanour that often greeted you, although you were better than a droid, to many clones you were still just a ‘Civ’, despite the many sleepless nights of studying and GAR medical training.

“No, sir, transferred from the 104th.” You keep your words short, formal, but the clone medic’s eyes light up in recognition.

“Under Commander Wolffe?” He asks, a hint of surprise in his tone as he actually looks away from the datapad.

“Briefly,” you admit, recalling how just a few days before the commander in question practically growled at you when you had to check his eye. You lasted a week there. “I was with the 212th before that.”

The head medic eyes you with a curious look, waiting for you to elaborate, so you continued, “Typically Civ medics are just seen as temporary by the head medic, until a clone medic becomes available.” You explain, perhaps a bit too fast. How many times could you fit the word medic in that sentence? You internally groan, but he gives a small hum of acknowledgement, whether it was in agreement or disagreement of your statement, his face didn’t betray him either way.

“Go get yourself settled, and then report back here in an hour.” He says with a slight sigh, passing you the datapad, a blinking spot on the screen indicating where your bunk is - at least this time you weren’t in the shared barracks. “We’ve only just got back from being planetside on Coruscant for a week.” Ah, that answers the question of why it had been so quiet then.

“Thank you, sir.” You nod, picking up your small pack of personal belongings, it wasn’t much, but it was the only anchor you had when you were transferred around so often.

“Kix is fine.” He nods, giving you a genuine smile. “Welcome to the 501st.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The small room is thrumming with energy that’s been ignited from an evening of drinking following a particularly rough mission for the men. Contraband in the form of amber liquid that burns your throat and fuels bad decisions, is grouped together on a small crate you’ve been using as a makeshift table for the evening.

You’re currently sitting on the floor, leaning against a crate next to Fives as he divulges details to you about their most recent mission. Details that you probably aren’t supposed to know, but he tells you anyways, because ‘what are friends for if not to impress’, he had once told you with a sly wink.

You knew most of the other Civ workers in the GAR weren’t as close to the clones they served with as you were. In all of the legions you had been bounced around from, there was a clear divide between the small number of Civ members, compared to the clones. But in the 501’st, those theoretical lines were blurred, or probably didn’t exist at all, with how Fives’s arm settled around your shoulder. He always had been the most friendly out of his brothers.

Your attention is drawn away from the warm expression of your friend, and you groan as you catch Jesse and Hardcase standing side by side, comparing their lengths.

“Put it away, for the last time they’re all the same size!” You call out with a laugh, making Fives frown and whip around as he’s been interrupted from your conversation.

“Know from experience with clones?” Jesse sends you a drunken wink as his hands sloppily stuffs the offending body part back into his blacks.

“Medical experience with clones.” Your face almost hurts from smiling as you shake your head, before turning back to Fives. It’s faint and fleeting, but a look of annoyance crosses his features. You’re not awarded the opportunity to ask about it though, because he’s already delving into another over-exaggerated story of how he took out a whole group of droids on his own.

You wouldn’t really care if they all weren’t true, you just enjoyed hearing him talk. The man could make even the most boring senate conversations interesting, you’re sure of it. So you smile, hooked onto each of his words, cursing the way your heart beats too fast when he reaches out to push away some hair that's fallen from the usual tight bun you have to wear it in. His fingers graze the skin of your cheek, leaving a burning trail.

It’s a small gesture that doesn’t even break the rhythm of his conversation. The touches are natural, instinctive on his part. He’s always touching you - you know to him it means nothing more than that, but your tell-tale racing heart screams at you that you wish it did.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once you had returned from being settled in, Kix had directed you to some neatly stacked crates containing new medical supplies to restock the old ones. Your sluggish movements remind you just how little sleep you’d managed on the transport here from the 104th, your body was still aching from the hours spent laying on the durasteel floor between containers of explosives. Not the best sleep you’ve had, and surprisingly not the worst.

“Hey Kix, can you tell me if this looks infected?” A voice pulls you from your thoughts, alerting you to the attention of a topless clone trooper, something that no longer phased you given how many entirely naked clones you had treated. Upon seeing you, the clone goes from being relaxed to formal instantly, clearing his throat as he fumbled to get the top half of his blacks on.

“You,” he clears his throat, his voice now adopting the typical ‘trooper at attention’ tone as he pulls the clothing over his head, “Are not Kix.” His top blacks are on backwards, and he runs a finger along the collar which now presses uncomfortably to his flushed neck.

“No, I’m not.” You agree with him, suppressing a small smile at how he looks caught off guard, from his surprised expression you may as well be a battle droid standing in the medical bay.

“May I?” You gesture to his top, and he reluctantly removes it once more, taking a seat on a free bed. You see his issue, a common rash splaying across his shoulders from where his armour has been rubbing his skin through his blacks.

“You’re the new medic?” He sounds more nervous than you are, his jaw tensing when you run your fingers along the rash, checking for any signs of infection.

You give a small hum, confirming he’s correct as you step away. “And you are?”

“Echo. I, uh.. Wasn’t expecting a Civ?” They never do.

“Not infected, by the way, it’s just irritated.” You seek out a steroid cream, which you conveniently just restocked. “Here, use this twice a day, and keep the area as dry as possible.”

He gives you a short, formal nod before he redresses, correctly this time, and leaves the room with his face almost as red as his rash.

You’ve moved onto another crate when you catch the movement from the corner of your eye, somebody passing the door to the Medbay. You think nothing of it until you see the figure again, this time he slows slightly to glance inside the room.

He walks past a third time - and then a fourth.

On what would be the fifth time you poke your head out slightly to watch him walk almost to the end of the hallway, just to turn around and begin his lap back past the door. He stops in his tracks when he sees you looking curiously at him, but quickly recovers even though he’s been caught, and strides back towards you. You catch a glimpse of a tattoo on his temple, but it’s his grin, framed by neatly trimmed facial hair, that seems to distinguish him from other clone troopers you’ve come across. It’s cocky, confident, and warm. Especially warm when he takes hold of your hand and presses it to his lips in a greeting that makes it feel as though you’re trapped in a boiler room, overheating.

“I’m Fives, and you are?”

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You were settled between Echo and Fives, the three of you with empty cups waiting for the next round of the game. Each round you had to take a shot based on your answer to the question, which so far had ranged between ‘If you’ve been shot by a droid’ - which Rex groaned at, and ‘If you ever fucked a girl in the 79’s fresher’, which made several of the men cheer.

Your heart sinks a bit when Fives drinks at that one, recalling the night just over a month ago on Coruscant.

You had all been there together, his arm slung around your shoulder in the booth as you both laughed at some fleeting joke made by Jesse. You had grown closer, close enough to the point that he got teased relentlessly by his brothers for calling you his ‘best friend’ whilst under the influence of some strong pain medication in the Medbay.

You left to get some more drinks from the bar when Sinker approached you, a spark of recognition in his eyes. You were trying to focus on ordering the drinks, blushing as you attempted to turn down the Sergeant who was whispering over-sweetened things in your ear at how he wished you’d stayed with the 104th for longer.

You smiled in thanks when Echo came to help, claiming he saw that you may need help with carrying the drinks. You were grateful for the assistance, laughing with Echo under the usual volume of the crowd until you caught sight of your best friend, stumbling through the crowd towards the fresher, his hand intertwined with a beautiful Twi’lek girl.

You remember how Echo looked at you as he realised the reason behind your tightened jaw and hoarse voice when you excused yourself for some air. You couldn’t stand the sympathy in his eyes, the eyes that looked identical to those of your best friend, the man you were in love with.

So much for being unattached.

“It wasn’t that good.” Fives nudges your knee with his own, pulling you from your thoughts. A casual smirk plays on his lips and you’re about to laugh off the comment, ready to deflect the attention from your friend, when his twin interrupts you.

“Yeah, cause you couldn’t get it up!” Echo slurs as he leans against you, clutching his cup as some of the amber liquid sloshes down your chest before he apologises and wipes the stain above your breast with hazy eyes. Fives catches his brother's wrist, pushing it away from your chest lightly, and your mind races at Echo’s statement - Fives hadn’t slept with the Twi’Lek girl?

“Shut up, Vod.” Fives grumbles, his fingers tightening around his own cup as he looks away from the two of you. A blush, that must just be from a mix of alcohol and annoyance, creeps up to his face. Thankfully as most of these questions have been related to battle or women, you’ve barely drank, so you can at least try to be rational and push away thoughts that creep into your mind of how you think Fives would take you against the wall of a fresher stall. You can ignore the contemplation on if he would show restraint, or if he would make the walls shake.

“How about this - take a shot for how many people you’ve slept with,” Jesse calls out to the small group of you, an intoxicated grin on his face. Several hands reach for the last remaining bottle at once, ready to fill their cups, each of their owners immediately wanting to show off to the rest of the room's occupants.

“No!” Kix’s hand is the fastest to snatch the liquor away, holding it close to his chest plate. “We are not looking after you all in the Medbay with alcohol poisoning!” He gestures between you both, and Jesse bargains, coming to a compromise for 1 shot for every certain number, but the specifics of the round are drowned out by your own heartbeat.

Your body stills and you look down to your half full cup. It would be easy to drink, to lie to yourself and those around you. You don’t even have to drink more than once and yet you just continue to stare at your reflection in the liquid, it’s as if the cup were judging you.

“You know you’re supposed to at least drink once, right?” Fives whispers in your ear.

“Yeah, just got distracted trying to work out which of your brothers are definitely exaggerating,” You nod, taking a sip from the cup as you avoid his eyes that burn you more than any liquor ever could. You place the empty cup at your feet and lean your head against Echos, managing a small smile at how he’s snoring against your shoulder.

Fives gives a small hum of thought, finishing his own drink before placing the empty cup next to you, allowing his finger to linger on the rim for a moment. Your gaze is focused on the way the traces of liquor coat his fingertips, making the battle-calloused skin glisten. You close your eyes, trying to fend off the thoughts of how the whiskey tainted fingers would taste on your tongue, and the mental image of them coated in something sweeter than the alcohol.

“Remember the first time I dragged you here?” Fives’ amused tone forces your eyes open, his warm hand settling on your knee and he taps his fingers rhythmically, almost to the same beat as your unsteady heart.

It had been just over one standard month, one of your longest posts so far, and you were already finding yourself anxious that you could be transferred away at any moment. If you had told yourself just over a month ago that in your new assignment with the 501st that you would wake to two half-drunk troopers in your room, begging you to come play Sabbac with them, you would have diagnosed them with battle induced psychosis.

“Well, not with us-” Fives starts, rummaging around the small closet for something you could wear over your sleeping vest.

“For us.” Echo finishes, practically pulling you out of your bed with an eager nod as Fives approaches you with something in his hands.

“Hands up, sweetheart.” In your tired state, you obey thoughtlessly, allowing Fives to slip the sweatshirt over your head. His fingers trail down your sides, eliciting goosebumps across your skin as he pulls the heavy fabric down over you, and between the contact and his name for you, your heart skips a beat. It nearly stops when he winks before turning away to get your shoes.

Clone Troopers were often flirty, but over the last month, Fives seemed determined to earn the title of being the biggest flirt. Regardless which of his brothers got sick or minorly injured, he was always the one pulling them through the door and would then spend the entire time sweet talking you. Just last week, Rex had nearly concussed himself on a pipe and looked like he wanted to hit Fives who didn’t stop talking the whole time you examined the injury.

“And why do you need me to play for you? I’ve never even played before,” You swallow thickly, sliding your feet into the shoes as the twins guide you from your room, both of their hands on your back, ushering you down complex hallways that all look identical.

“Fives got caught cheating, so we both got banned,” Echo rolls his eyes, placing the blame on his brother, who begins telling you the rules of the game, which they are playing a slight variation of given that they only had items to bet, not credits. You had reluctantly allowed them to bring a full bottle of rather expensive vodka you had purchased last time you were on Coruscant.

“You did not wake up the new medic just to get her to play for you.” Jesse groans, and Rex begins apologising to you for his brothers, ready to scold them for waking you up, but you raise your hand to stop him.

“It’s no bother.” You shake your head, remembering Fives and Echo’s advice to act confident - so really you just had to ask yourself ‘What would Fives do?’

“You know how to play?” Kix asks, surprised by your sudden change in demeanour. He had been used to you keeping your head down in the Medbay, following orders, not showing up with a bottle of alcohol to bet on and Fives’s arm slung around your shoulder.

“Oh please, I’ve been playing Sabbac longer than some of you have been out of the tube.” You feel Fives give your shoulder a proud squeeze at your lie as he places the bottle of vodka on the makeshift table, and you both take a seat, “Deal me in?”

After several rounds of you finding your feet in the game, Fives drops his hand to your waist, giving it a squeeze - he’s signalling to go in for the kill. You turn your head slightly to look into his eyes, and he gives a slight nod that doesn’t go unnoticed by your opponents, he’s making it look so sure you’re going to win, but in reality your cards weren’t good.

You and Rex were down to the last cards, everyone else had folded. Either of you could have the winning hand, but if one of you backed out now before your cards were revealed, you could at least keep your own stake in the game. It was about the bluffing now, and thankfully you were good at that.

“Well, Captain?” You and Fives lean backward in sync. You press the cards to your chest, hiding how they’re on the verge of shaking from Fives’ grip on your waist, but also to hide your tell. It’s a small, barely noticeable movement, your forefinger running along the edge of your thumbnail - a nervous movement that Rex hasn’t noticed past your arrogant smile that perfectly mirrors Fives’. “What’ll it be?”

There’s a short beat where the room is silent and you hold the gaze of the Captain, all of the others staring between you both like it’s an intense standoff. He looks away first, tossing the cards down with a huff as he backs out, giving the win to you; he actually had a good hand.

“Oh and by the way, sir,” You lay your cards down, revealing that you had already gone bust, over the number limit to win. “I’ve never played Sabbac in my life.” You grin at the shocked expression on his face that melts into a warm smile and you’re enveloped into a hug from Fives while Echo reaps your winnings from the table.

After you all decide to have a drink from the bottle you bet with, the tiredness catches up to you, and you struggle to stay alert with the alcohol that casts a haze on your mind.

“C’mon, I’ll take you back.” Fives nudges you, picking up the half-full bottle of vodka as he pulls you to your feet, shaking his head in amusement when he tugs a bit too hard and you fall into his chest. “Already falling for me, sweetheart?” his voice is low, something that can only be heard between the two of you in the room full of his boisterous brothers.

You roll your eyes in amusement, a defence against how the whisper makes heat spread throughout your body. You take a half step back, placing the empty cup on the crate as you exchange a short goodbye with Echo.

“I’m gonna walk our lovely medic here back to her room, I’ll be back soon,” Fives gives a mock salute as you both make your exit and you try to ignore the whistle from one of the men as Fives chuckles, shaking his head. “Animals aren’t they, Mesh’la?”

You hadn’t known this side to any of the clones you’d served with, albeit you were just a medic, none of them had ever been this relaxed around you. The entire time you had been in the GAR, it had been lonely. There was no one to celebrate with after battle, no late night conversations between friends, no one to just sit with and cry when you weren’t able to save a life. But walking through the corridors with Fives somehow made it all worth it.

“You did great, sweetheart, I’m impressed.” Fives brings the bottle to his lips, taking a swig of the clear liquid as you stop outside of your door. “You’re just full of surprises aren’t you?” His tongue darts out to lick the vodka off his lips and you can’t help but let your eyes linger there after the action. His gaze is already meeting yours when you look up, heat flickering in his eyes like the flame of a candle - he’s caught you staring.

Fives’ hand comes up to hold your waist once more, his grip tighter now, drawing you closer like you were a flower he wanted to admire. The scent of vodka from his breath intoxicates you, and you find yourself hypnotised, leaning closer. You don’t know what causes it, but at the last moment he freezes, his hand falling from your waist to press the panel outside your door, opening it.

“Goodnight.” He gives a tight-lipped smile before stepping away, walking back down the corridor in the direction of the barracks. Despite the heavy sweatshirt and warmth of the vodka in your blood, you feel empty as you enter your dark room. You find yourself lying awake in your bunk as you work through a mixture of disappointment, embarrassment, and something that ignites an ache between your thighs.

He stopped himself from kissing you, and you didn’t know why.

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You know your way back, he doesn’t need to walk you, yet he always does. It’s been almost 8 standard months since you were transferred to the 501st, you could practically navigate your way around blindfolded. So, you know you're about to turn onto the corridor your room is on when he speaks.

“You didn’t drink.”

Your mouth goes dry, it’s like you’ve just eaten a whole pack of ration crackers while sitting in the Tatooine desert with no water. The lights above feel harsher, as if you’re under a spotlight on the Medbay examination table, and Fives is the one inspecting you. He’s peering at you from the corner of your vision, gauging your reaction to his statement.

“What are you talking about, Fives?” You shrug in an attempt to appear nonchalant, but unfortunately due to his metabolism he was as sober as you, meaning he was just as observant. You couldn’t brush off his attention when he places a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your place just as you round a corner. From here you can see the door to your room, the third from the end. It’s taunting you at how close you were to getting away with the secret you’d been keeping against your chest.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” His free hand grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger, directing your attention to him. You swallow as he draws your face closer, eyes raking over your features as he gives a small shake of his head. “You didn’t drink.”

“Yes I did.” Your voice is impressively steady, you’re good at bluffing. Fives already knows this, but he knows you better, and his eyes dart down in search of something. Your fingertip presses against the edge of your thumb in a movement that Fives had catalogued in his brain since that day you beat Rex at Sabbac.

The credit drops. You can see the moment it registers in Fives’ brain as his jaw goes slack, his grip on your chin loosening.

“Are you a- mph!” Your hand covers his mouth and you push him to the wall before he can shout aloud what you’ve kept unsaid for your whole time in the GAR. Fives was an ARC trooper, he could easily push you away, but his muscles seem to weaken against your grip. You feel the resistance in his body melt under your touch, as his eyes soften just above where your hand covers his mouth.

“I know you’re a loud mouth but please,” Your voice is low, urgent, as you give him a warning look, your face burning from embarrassment as he’s just come to the realisation of why you didn’t drink. You didn’t have any number to drink for. You can see him linking it together in his head - why you turned down flirtatious advances from his brothers, why he walked you back alone after every late night. It was why your body was so responsive to every small touch and honeyed word from his lips; like a flower chasing fleeting sunlight in the late afternoon. “Just this once, Fives, keep your voice down.”

Fives gives a short nod down at you, assuring you he’ll be quiet. His fingers loop around your wrist, tugging your hand from his mouth. You unsuccessfully try to ignore the way his lips had felt against your skin, you’re so caught on the small patch of wetness on your palm that you miss the clench of his jaw and flash of emotions in his eyes.

“You’ve really never..?” He trails off, the words settling into the small gap between you, they’re not taunting or teasing, they’re simply disbelieving. Even though he’s released your wrist now, it’s still suspended in the air, as if you’ve been frozen in carbonite. You’re afraid to move away, that it would be just like all those months ago, that the moment would be shattered and lost.

Your breaths are mingling together, you’re like an asteroid orbiting, drawing closer and closer to his planet, bracing for impact. Fives is unblinking, waiting for the answer he already knows, but needs to hear for himself.

“No.”

Something stirs in the depths of Fives’ eyes and there’s a tension you could almost reach out and grasp from the air. Your body acts on its own, hand breaking free from its frozen stupor to find interest in a small scar on his jaw. You remember treating the small cut, he never even flinched, but you had let him hold your hand anyways. ‘It’s for comfort’, Fives had told you, accompanied by the usual sly wink that made it all the more difficult for your free hand to remain steady when you cleaned the cut.

Fives’ eyes slip closed when your fingertips graze against the shining scar, his breathing becoming carefully controlled. You recognise the pattern, it’s the same pace it was during the times he would take you to the training rooms, his body pressed to yours as he taught you to shoot. He would chuckle into your ear when your hands would shake, causing you to miss.

Your hands are steady now, no signs of the trembling are evident when you raise your attention higher. Your finger traces its way over the inky ‘5’ on his temple, and you’re about to move it away but you find yourself held in place, fingers still pressed against the tattoo.

Fives’ constant touches were always casual, fleeting, and meaningless. But this? This was deliberate.

His gloved hand is circled around the bare skin of your wrist once more, keeping your fingers pressed against his temple. After a short, breathless moment, he moves your hand, but not to push it away this time. He pulls it closer, making your fingers trace across his cheekbone, against his warm skin all the way on a deliberate path to his mouth.

Fives’ lips ghost across your fingertips and in contrast to his rough exterior and battle scarred skin, they’re soft. Just above the point of your fixation is his heavy stare, focused and serious, like you’re his target in the heat of battle.

Your heart is thrumming against your ribcage like blaster fire and you wonder if he can feel the pulse in your wrist through his gloves at the sheer force of it. There’s barely any space between the two of you, and it only lessens with every beat of your heart.

“Just… stay still for a second, please,” Fives’ eyes burn into yours and he’s like a black hole orbiting you, pulling you in with his gravity. “Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” His voice is a strained whisper, just cosmic background noise, all you can focus on is how his breath fans across your lips.

His eyes close again when you nod, and you allow yourself to slip away into the same darkness as he consumes all of your senses.

The touch is light, a soft brush of his lips against your own, and the gentle contact has a shiver running through your body. His hand has placed your palm back to his jaw, covering it with his own as he pulls you in deeper. The second kiss is more confident, the swipe of his tongue over your lower lip has the world around you dissolving into a meaningless void as he becomes the centre of your universe.

Before you can part your lips for him, Fives pulls away, just enough so he can look at you. There’s a dazed expression on his face, like he’s been concussed but is strangely happy about it. The momentary bewilderment melts away into an unusually shy smile and he’s about to kiss you again when you’re interrupted. There's laughter echoing from the direction you just came and Fives pulls back further, a suddenly serious look taking over his face.

You’re filled with a strange sense of deja vu when he steps away, your heart already sinking. Before you can open your mouth to apologise for getting carried away, to try and repair whatever strain the kiss could have put on your friendship, you’re being pulled along by his gentle grasp. Fives is making urgent paces down the short walk to your door, slamming his free hand to the control panel to get you both away from whatever prying eyes may have stumbled upon your private moment.

The door whooshes down to swallow you both in the darkness of your room and just like all those months ago, your back is pressed against the cool durasteel door. Only this time, you’re on the other side of it.

You immediately miss the warmth his body has been providing you with when he walks over to your desk, fumbling in the darkness from your lamp switch. Your lips still tingle from where his own were pressed against yours, and you swear you can still taste him.

The room is poorly illuminated from the dim bulb, but it's enough to highlight the figure of Fives leaning over your desk and you take in the full sight of him. He’s still wearing his armour from the waist down, but his upper half is only dressed in his tight blacks, and the lamp casts shadows that accentuate every ridge of muscle. It’s times like this where you’re reminded the man in front of you isn’t just your best friend, but also a highly decorated ARC Trooper, a man who spends most of his days in battle.

The serious look doesn’t leave his face, even when he’s moved back in front of you, blocking out the rest of your room with his large frame. At some point in the darkness, Fives has removed his gloves, allowing you to feel the rough skin of his hand as it cups your face. His thumb tugs at your lower lip, smearing saliva across the swollen skin as he teases the sensitive flesh. You can make out the apprehensive desire in his eyes as he marvels down at your mouth, before looking up to meet your gaze once more.

“Kriff, I…” His voice is light, and there’s an uncertain, almost desperate edge to it before he swallows it down. “Sweetheart, do you want this?”

It would be easy to lie to the both of you and back out. You never expected to meet anyone when you enlisted into the GAR straight from your medical school. Back then you had wanted to be a doctor, it was expected of you by your family, you sacrificed your entire social life to work for it.

You were never given the luxury of free-time, how could you ever have met anyone when all you did in your later teen years, when all your friends were partying and meeting their partners, was study? It was never a case that you didn’t want to be with anyone, but life simply prevented you from it. You were in your third year when the war broke out, two more years at the university and you would have graduated, but instead you decided to take your study credits and enlist as a medic. In less than a standard rotation from the moment you notified the university, you were on a transport to your first assignment.

You had let your work and the war rob you of so many experiences, you wouldn’t let them take this from you too. You wouldn’t let them take him from you too.

“Yes, Fives.” You nod, allowing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. You’re sure of this, sure of him.

“Tell me to stop,” There’s a hunger in Fives’ eyes when you say his name and his lips press back to yours in a kiss that’s over far too quickly. “At any time, tell me to stop.” He’s holding your face still, unmoving until he has your consent.

“Okay.” There’s no reluctance in your tone, just a breathless need that makes Fives’ jaw tick.

Fives exhales, his shoulders relaxing and your eyes close again in anticipation, awaiting his kiss. But instead you feel the heat of his forehead press to yours, as if he’s anchoring himself against you, just for a moment.

“Okay, sweetheart.” His mouth is instantly on yours, his right hand still cups your jaw, but his left slips around your back in search of the zip on your uniform. He makes quick work of pulling the zipper down to loosen the material from your skin, and both hands travel down to your hips, tugging at the edge of the fabric.

“Hands up.” Fives’ voice is low in your ear as he presses a kiss to your hairline, and you raise your arms, allowing him to slip the top from your body. He discards it on the floor, not wanting to waste any time that could be spent with his hands on your exposed skin.

Fives is slower this time. Each movement is purposeful when he guides you both towards your small bunk, his tongue slipping past your lips in a kiss that makes you dizzy as you taste him in your mouth.

When the back of your knees meet the edge of your bunk, Fives’ lips begin to trail down your body. His path starts at the soft skin of your now exposed cleavage, and continues down past your bra, over the smooth skin of your stomach. There’s a soft scrape when his armour makes contact with the floor, he’s dropping to a kneeling position with his lips hovering over your abdomen. You look down at the man kneeling before you with his fingers hooked in the waistband of your uniform leggings, and you can’t help but smile. Fives pauses momentarily, sending a wink up at you before he tugs the fabric down, exposing the flesh of your legs.

“Lay down.” Fives whispers, and you can feel his warm breath tickle your stomach.

You settle backwards onto the bunk, allowing Fives to remove your leggings entirely, along with your shoes. You’re left in just your simple, black GAR issued bra and panties. It’s nothing special by any means, but Fives eyes you as if you’re an oasis he’s stumbled upon in the middle of a month-long battle. One meant only for him.

You let your eyes slip closed as you hear the familiar noise of his armour being removed, clattering to the floor. It’s something you’ve heard many times when he’s come to relax with you on an evening and you find yourself counting each piece removed as a distraction until bare fingers brush your knee. It’s a comforting touch to draw you back to him.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart, look at me.” Fives is sat just between your legs, bare aside from tight boxers that leave little of his anatomy to the imagination. You already knew what clones looked like naked, you had treated enough of them to not be phased by any part of their body. But a clone on a Medbay table was different to your best friend whose lips were pressing to the soft flesh of your inner thigh. ��Is this okay?”

He inhales against your panties and you attempt to swallow your embarrassment and nervousness at the sight of your friend between your legs with only a thin layer of fabric between you. The sight of his ever-present smile between your legs sends a flood of heat through your body before it concentrates in your lower stomach.

When you don’t reply immediately, he pulls back slightly, giving the thigh he’s hooked over his shoulder a light squeeze. His brown eyes are filled with concern, searching your expression for any hesitation.

“You still with me?” His thumb traces patterns against your skin, each movement only encouraging the fire in your body.

“I’m still with you,” You nod, watching as something lights up in his eyes. “What are you-“

Fives immediately silences your question with an action. His wet, open mouth presses to your thigh again and you feel yourself exposed to him when he hooks a finger in your panties, pulling them to the side.

“I’m taking my time with you Mesh’la.” His hot breath fans over your now exposed cunt and you fight the urge to clasp your legs together, you’ve never felt more vulnerable lying in your bunk, entirely bare to the person you trust most and it’s a vulnerability that makes your heart race as if you’re under attack.

Fives seems to sense your nervousness as he holds your knees firmly apart with his shoulders and free hand, keeping your legs open for him to litter small kisses on your inner thighs, all the while keeping you exposed for him.

“Focus on me, Cyar'ika.”

Before your apprehension can get the better of you, Fives is licking a slow, experimental stripe up your slit, parting your folds with his tongue. His eyes are on yours the whole time, studying the awed look on your face and gasps of pleasure when his tongue runs over your clit.

Fives shakes his head, grumbling something under his breath. Before you can decipher it, he’s using one hand to lift your hips from the bed while his other practically tears the panties from your body, leaving you in just your bra. Strong hands move to grip the top of your thighs and pull you to him so he can secure his mouth to your core without obstruction, filling the room with wet, desperate noises as he laps at your cunt.

Your hands twist in the thin bed sheets, desperately searching for something to ground you as his tongue delves inside you. His mouth is attached to you like you’re his last meal before an execution, the first drop of water after a mission on a desert planet, something he’s denied himself for far too long.

One of his fingers circles your entrance and your eyes snap open, finding him already looking up at you with a question in his gaze, asking for permission. You can only nod, not trusting your ability to speak with Fives’s tongue dragging slow circles around your clit.

Your head slumps back to the floor when he proceeds with your consent, the sensation is entirely foreign as you feel his digit sink into you, testing your tightness. Your own fingers were nothing in comparison to his, even just the one is beginning to stretch you.

“Fives…” Your breathless plea encourages him and your teeth sink into your lower lip as he adds another finger to stretch you further. You let out a small whimper at the slight burn and he slows his movements slightly to allow you time to adjust.

“Shh, Mesh’la,” He changes the angle slightly, massaging his fingertips against the walls of your cunt as they search for a particularly sensitive spot. Your body jolts, arching towards him when he finds it, and a moan escapes you. “That’s it, relax.”

The heat in your core is building as you grow wetter, making it easy for him to work his fingers into your tight hole, only adding to the growing pleasure building in every part of you, begging to escape. He presses his thumb to your swollen clit, one goal in mind.

“Need to make sure you’re ready for me, Cyar'ika.”

Fives withdraws his fingers from your gushing cunt, his hands instead moving from under your thighs and securing themselves back to their original position on your knees, keeping your trembling legs open as he continues to suck lightly on your clit when you reach your climax. Your body shakes, set alight with pleasure that’s only intensified by the way his head rests against your thigh, looking up at you as if committing the moment to memory.

When you finally relax against the bed, the pleasure having temporarily robbed your body of energy, you expect him to be done and move onto the next step. Instead, he lets out a low chuckle and begins circling your clit with his thumb once more.

“Do you think you can give me another one, Mesh’la?” His soft smile contrasts his words, but his eyes gleam with mischief when you whisper a small ‘yes’ in response.

He’s using just his fingers this time, two of them working you in a scissoring motion, stretching your walls as his other hand slips between you and the mattress. His fingers expertly find the clasp to your bra, freeing you from the last item of your clothing.

His pupils are dilated, drinking in the sight of your writhing body, now entirely bare for him. He leans back slightly, taking in every detail, something between a smile and a smirk on his lips when his eyes focus on his own fingers pumping in your tight hole. The moment he feels your orgasm hit, cunt tightening around his fingers, he descends on you once more. Teeth pulling at your nipple, his thumb secured to your clit as he lets you ride out your orgasm, your hips attempt to grind up against his hand, chasing pleasure.

The world is falling back into place around you when he shifts his weight on the bed, and you hear the final piece of clothing hit the floor.

Fives is kneeling in front of you, a hand on each of your knees as you take in the sight of his bare body. His large cock makes the breath hitch in your throat, but he presses a soft kiss against your lips, prepared to ease the tension that threatens to overwhelm your body. His eyes are filled with a warmth that reassures you when he pulls back to press another kiss against your forehead, “You can take it, Cyar'ika, I’ll go slow.”

Fives settles his hips between your parted thighs, hooking one of your legs over his waist to keep you open beneath him. Soft lips ghost over yours and you feel the head of his cock settle against your entrance.

“Are you ready?” His thumb brushes along your jaw, a loving reminder that it’s your best friend above you, the person you trust the most. The same man who you would stay up with late at night after every difficult battle, who you would always pick up an extra ration bar for, the man you were in love with.

“Yes.” Your eyes slip closed as you press your lips back to his.

The initial pressure of his cock entering you gives way to a sharp pinch that causes you to suck in a sharp breath through your teeth. Despite all of Fives’s efforts to prepare you, the unfamiliar pain seizes your body in an uncomfortable grasp.

“Relax for me, Cyar'ika.” He murmurs the assurance against your mouth, forcing his own breathing to slow, unconsciously prompting you to calm down. A hand presses to the underside of your thigh, pushing it upwards as he rolls his hips into you, he’s only halfway inside and you try to force yourself to relax around his impressive girth.

“That’s my girl.” He groans into your neck as his hand drops from your thigh to drag precise circles around your tight clit. The added layer of stimulation makes you gush around the half of his length inside you, making it easier to take his cock, but he doesn’t push any deeper. Instead he rocks his hips in a shallow motion, allowing you to adjust to this size first.

“Shh, don’t worry, Mesh’la,” He strokes your hair, continuing to press soft kisses of assurance to your mouth as he works your clit in time with his shallow thrusts. “It’ll be easier once you cum with me inside you, then you’ll be more relaxed for me.”

Fives’ hips pick up their pace, but he still limits himself, expertly watching your body's reactions to his cock. He’s continuously ensuring he doesn't go too fast, too hard, too deep. It’s a balancing act, one he seems to be perfect at with the way he already has the beginnings of another orgasm taking grasp of your body.

“Fives!”

You’re grinding helplessly against him now, one hand on his tanned chest and the other grasping at the short hair on the back of his head. Between Fives’s whispered words of adoration in your ear, you can make out the wet noises as he thrusts inside you, each movement causing more of your wetness to drip between your joined bodies, smearing you both with your arousal.

You’re hooked onto his words like a lifeline as he guides you through the experience.

“Kriff-” He shakes his head as he takes in the sight of you cumming around his cock. But it’s not lust in his eyes, it’s something far more intense. “I promised I wouldn’t do this..” His voice is strained, like he’s trying to keep the words inside of him.

Before you can even catch your breath fully to ask what he means, your world is spinning when he pulls you upwards, slotting himself underneath you so you can no longer try to read the emotions in his face. Your back is now pressed to his chest, his body supporting you to stay upright and he’s hooking his right hand under your knee, spreading you apart.

His chin rests on top of your head, the position allowing him a full view of your body as his cock enters your cunt from behind; it’s more than before, but still not the full length. Your right arm curls up around behind you to hold the back of Fives’ neck, needily pulling him closer in the moment as you writhe against his body.

“Look at that, Cyar'ika,” You feel the rumble in his chest just as much as you hear it, and it draws your attention down to your joined bodies. He shifts slightly to support your head as you catch glimpses of his cock disappearing into your tight hole in a series of shallow, restrained thrusts. “Look how perfectly we fit together.”

His eyes remain locked on your body, the way your chest heaves and cunt tightens, dripping down his cock as you cum once more, you’re already losing count. From what you were always told by friends when you were in University, losing your virginity was supposed to be a far cry from this. In fact you don’t think a single one of your friends had cum when losing theirs, and yet here you were, the room almost spinning from the pleasure Fives had given you.

Fives chuckles at the blissful look on your face as he pulls his hand from your clit, allowing you to relax against his larger frame. “You are really something else, Cyar'ika.” He’s slower this time when he rolls you both over once more, cradling the back of your head as he rests you back onto the pillows.

He resumes his original position above you, thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. His eyes are full of adoration when he looks down at you, and there’s no trace of the painful stretch from earlier when he slides the full length of his cock inside you this time.

He’s been so focused on your pleasure that his own has been forgotten, but you see the evidence of it. He’s coated in a sheen of sweat that makes him appear like one of those glossy paintings in the art galleries on Coruscant. He’s an artwork, beautifully crafted, every muscle in his body coiled tight in restraint as his hips grind against yours.

It’s your turn to touch him this time, to appreciate every bit of the vulnerability in his face as he presses his forehead against yours and you angle your face upwards to steal a kiss. A tortured moan escapes his lips as his thrusts only increase in speed, he’s clinging onto you like it’s his sole purpose.

“Where?” His breathing is ragged against your neck.

You make a confused noise in response and he curses something in Mando’a.

“Where do you want me to cum, Mesh’la, hm?”

You‘re speechless from the pleasure, but thankfully your body answers for you, already locking your legs around his hips to keep you joined together.

“Alright, Cyar'ika, inside it is.” There’s a soft rumble of amusement against your throat before his mouth finds yours again. One hand tangles in your hair while the other grips your hip, both of them seeking to drag you closer. You’re two stars colliding in the void of the universe, no longer orbiting each other, instead becoming one as your light drowns out all darkness around the pair of you.

His name is falling from your lips, cries of it suffocated against him when his tongue slips into your mouth. Fives empties himself inside you, his cock unloading a flood of warmth that already overspills, leaking from your cunt with every slow movement of his hips. He pulls back, an unreadable emotion in his eyes before he buries his face in your hair, distracting himself by stroking at your burning skin. You stay there as you both begin to calm, hearts beating in sync with one another as your bodies remain joined.

He’s breathing heavily in your ear, an affirmation that you haven’t died and ascended to some afterlife when he drags his hips away from yours, leaving you empty as he stands up.

“Where are you going?” You hate yourself for sounding so needy, but with his cum leaking from between your thighs, how could you not. You knew it was common for men to leave straight after sex. You’ve caught some of the boys’ one night stands sneaking out barely ten minutes after they had been brought to the barracks, hair messy and clothes dishevelled.

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m not leaving.” He winks at you before disappearing into the small fresher joined to your room. You hear the water running for what seems like far too long, before he returns with a warm washcloth.

“Gotta clean us up before we make a mess on the bed, I’m not falling asleep in a wet patch.” He settles back between your legs, whispering soothing praises as he cleans your combined fluids. He’s thorough, making sure there’s no trace of him left before he presses a kiss to your inner thigh and discards the cloth into your laundry basket.

“C’mere.” He settles down next to you, lifting an arm to allow you to curl up against him and he pulls the bed covers over your waists. “You did so well, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, basking in a moment neither of you want to end. It’s sweet, intimate, and perfect.

Yet you can’t stop yourself from asking the question.

“What did you mean when you said you promised you wouldn’t do this?”

He pauses, an awkward smile tugging at his lips, you’d never seen him nervous like this, a blush creeping into his cheeks that he can’t even blame on the sex. “Caught that did you?”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. Your cards were on the table, it’s only fair that his should be too.

“I suppose it’s only fair given that I didn’t let you get away with not drinking.” There’s a nervous edge to his laugh as he drags you closer to him, like he’s afraid you could disappear at any given moment.

“Do you remember the first time we played Sabbac, you kicked Rex’s ass, and I walked you back to your room?”

You nod slightly. The memory still plagued your thoughts on sleepless nights, it embedded itself in a playlist of embarrassing moments that liked to keep you awake. Yet, it also featured on the list of thoughts that had your legs twisted in the bed sheets as you imagine what would have happened if he did kiss you that night.

“I wanted to kiss you, but I couldn’t.” He sighs regretfully, admitting the truth he had been fighting against all of the months since that night.

“I think you’d only been here for what - a month?” You feel his laugh against your cheek as it rumbles in his chest. “And I couldn’t get you out of my damn head, I even made Echo fake being sick once just so I had an excuse to come to the Medbay and talk to you.” You remembered, and now felt slightly bad for insisting you give Echo all those unnecessary virus and anti-nausea shots.

“I needed the excuses to see you, because if I didn’t, and I saw you without them, it’d mean something that I’d been avoiding.” He trails off, trying to find a way to put it into words, it wasn’t something he had ever been good at. But he would try, for you he would try.

“The rest of the boys found out because I called you my girlfriend once when Kix gave me some of the heavy stuff in those green syringes.” He laughs, shaking his head and your mind begins to put the pieces together, that’s why they teased him so often about it. “They all promised they wouldn’t tell you how I felt though - I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

He drags a hand down his face, his jaw tenses. “And then I got jealous when I saw that Sergeant from the 104th talking to you, how he had his hands on you,” He shakes his head, an irritated look playing on his face, both at the other trooper, and his own actions on that night. “Thought I blew my shot, and I tried to cover it the only way I knew how.”

Your mind recalls him and the Twi’lek making a beeline for the 79’s freshers, how just a month ago you ended up crying in the alleyway, it was like taking a blaster bolt to your chest. No amount of Bacta could fix the pain that night, but you had certainly tried to heal it with whiskey.

“But I didn’t do it, and it’s not like Echo said, not because I couldn't,” He pulls himself back from you, but continues to hold you, to keep you in the moment with him as he explains what happens, a regretful look on his face. “It’s because she wasn’t you, Cyare.”

He presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and your fingers trace over the tattoo again, just for a moment, just until he finds the strength inside of him; the strength to override his programmed instincts to be a loyal, unattached soldier and nothing more.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t…” Fives trails off, opening his eyes. He needs to see your reaction, whether it’s good or bad, he needs to know. “Fall in love with you.”

You wonder if this is what the Jedi feel with the force around them, but instead of the whole world, you just feel Fives. The warmth of his skin under your fingers, the certainty in his eyes, the utter devotion for you in his voice as he fights against every form of conditioning he’s received.

“Fives, you idiot…” His expression is concerned at first until he sees your teary eyes and beaming smile. “I love you too.”

You had loved him since the moment he kissed your knuckles on your first day in the Medbay, every interaction after that only strengthened the bond between you.

Fives smiles down at you, his quiet laughs tickle your skin with warm air as you’re lured back into his embrace. He laughs disbelievingly, shaking his head as he allows his body to press back against yours, a perfect fit.

“We have so much time to make up for, sweetheart.”

You never want to lose this feeling, his lips marking your body, peppering reminders everywhere that you’re his, you have been since the moment that fateful order flashed up on your datapad. You’re anchored, attached, tethered to him - whatever word you want to give it, you’re his.

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honeykitcat · 5 months ago

Note

Hello can I get headcannons of the brothers reacting to mc turning from a sheep into a human please?Thank you ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

❝ 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐩-𝐢𝐬𝐡 ❞ Ver 1.0

╰┈➤ LOVE ME DESPITE IT ALL? | HEADCANON POST

question : "Can you just get even more adorable?" AKA demon brothers seeing their beloved sheep... as a human!

requested.by : @tiny-axolotl-things

pairing.s : Lucifer x MC, Mammon x MC, Leviathan x MC, Satan x MC, Asmodeus x MC, Beelzebub x MC, Belphegor x MC [all separately]

note : hi hi, thank you for the request!! <33 I apologize how this is shorter than what I wish to go for, but with a prompt already done by many, I could only bring so much to the table ;v;

Welcome to the Devildom, where dreams are your darkest nightmares.

Navigating through the exchange program in stereotypical Anime Hell while being an amnesiac sheep was beyond exhausting. More often or not, you have dreaded at least once the thought of not being able to return to your normal self after this. Yes you did get along with these terrifying all-powerful demons, angels, and a sorcerer and they seem more than enthusiastic about you in your plush wooly form. It's just... you know this isn't you.

And so days passed by. . .

Nearing the end of the exchange program, you all of course exchange small bittersweet moments in preparation for your farewell. Who knows when will be the next time? You wouldn't want to wait for the afterlife. So the day before your departure, as you got up from your bed, did your morning routine [ or not ], and marched forth towards the dining hall, you were greeted by. . .

LUCIFER ; "My... you're quite the sight."

Did you...?

Granted, he's the least surprised among all of them.

He was the one who stumbled upon your paper while selecting for the perfect candidate, so he already had a grasp on what you looked like prior to this program.

That doesn't necessarily mean he was less than surprised.

In fact, Lucifer had to do a double take before glancing over your human-esque form.

You didn't need to know that, however.

Lucifer acts like seeing you as a human was nothing out of the ordinary: perhaps more of as a burden since now you have to quickly adjust to these new conditions while setting in the last days of your stay.

He's quick to notice his brothers' reactions to your new form, as the avatar could feel another migraine forming.

Just what he needed on a Thursday morning.

Though, when you ignore his monotonously disappointed words, and focus on the way he acts around you, got to say...

Lucifer can't deny that he's been wishing for this moment.

With the amount of times you have spent together as a sheep, it's no surprise how the Avatar would get used to your small, more subservient form.

His dearest Zephyr whom he had kissed as a sheep...

And whom he'll do more to as a human.

MAMMON ; "Er- shattap!! It's nuthin'!"

HOLD UP—

Goddamn, who's this beauty right here?

W- yer the human??? Eh.. uh.. ya heard nothing!!

Okay but in all honesty he thought you were some weirdly attractive burglar who snuck into the House of Lamentation at the wrong time.

He was disappointed that he didn't notice that it was YOU at first.

Shock, bafflement, and offence aside— he's hooked.

Man, he's been craving for this moment.

You in your actual human flesh? I mean don't get him wrong he was fine when you were this adorably small sheep and pft- you're just a human now it's the same difference—

Wait.

That means... he can flaunt you now for the whole world to see...

...

Ya better be prepared when the avatar of Greed clings to you like a lovesick puppy. He was given the bragging rights to HIS human.

The GREAT Mammon's human now!

I'd leave it up to you if you're still gonna go by his actions or not [please do].

Sheep or not, Mammon loves you in whatever shape or form. Heck, nine times out of ten that if ya ever asked him the "will you love me if I was a worm?" question — no matter the answer, he would always mean "yes".

He will be missing your much cuter self, though...

He could settle for this.

He WILL settle for this.

[Both forms are equally as lovable in his eyes.]

LEVIATHAN ; "OMGOMGOMGOMG—"

WAHHH ! ! ! ! ! CHAT IS THIS REAL!?!?!

He was right!! He CALLED it!!

You were HOT. Anime and Manga don't lie, the little animal companion is almost ALWAYS some hot-ass human form.

And you really fit the description up to a T!

Any form of denial has got the third born ventilating. Sprinkle in some "What do you mean you're not hot? What is he then? Trash?"

This was the final ending of "Reincarnated as a sheep and ruled over hell with 7 lovers" and he was RESISTING the urge to just point out the many references.

May his father save his heart.

When he sees Mammon get close to you he pulls up the official Human Police card. No no no!! No one's monopolizing his player two right this instant!!

Though in all seriousness, let him take a picture of you. Just a quick snap...

This is totes like meeting an online friend — but also not since you've seen eachother irl for a year— BUT also you haven't done a face reveal until now so there's that—

Cosplay with him, will you? You were already like a cute side-companion for cosplay but.. now? That he gets to see the real you?

If you give him an adorable pout, he has officially short-circuited.

Leviathan.exe has stopped working, please wait.

You're too much for his heart.

SATAN ; "There are a million little things I'd like to tell you."

ASMODEUS ; "You're just soooo CUTE!! Eek!!"

But he only had time for one.

You, human... have surprised him in many unexpected ways.

Satan had perked up from his booklet, taking in all your appearance.

So THIS was how you looked like. . .

A lot of words are circulating his mind. It's just. . . wow.

You have him enthralled.

Emerald eyes scanned over your body as he thought of over a million words to describe you. It didn't help that your sudden morph was in perfect-sync to the plot-twist of his current read.

Unlike some of the others, he's more respectful with his actions. He would pretend like nothing happened if it caused you discomfort, or he'd give you all his time and attention if you didn't mind.

He loved you as a sheep, but there's just something intimate with seeing his darling as an actual, walking, fleshy, human.

Satan felt embarrassed feeling a rush if emotions over something so... it's undescribable.

He took notice of someone leaving the room, though he couldn't pay attention enough to know who it is. It felt strange. Akin to a live-adaptation of his favourite novel.

But he didn't want to look so confused.

The blonde was trying to make sense of his emotions, though me masks it off with a casual smile.

That's right, we shall stay classy for now... for his kitten's sake.

Or would you still prefer the lamb nickname?

So many questions. . .

[ *inhuman squealing* ]

Aren't you JUST the cutest!?!?

If no one stopped him, he's got his hands all over you.

Are those your clothes? Cute! Mind if he dressed you up even better?

He's gawking at your appearance, singing praises towards every itty bitty detail he notices about you.

Hello? Aren't you pretty?? Not as much as he is, duh!! But second place isn't so bad. . .

Asmo puts you up at a pedestal at the sight. He adores you even more.

Picture here!! Picture there!! Pictures everywhere!! Every snapshot in every angle all to just CAPTURE your all too captivating presence.

It doesn't even matter if your hair is messy, glasses need fixing, or whatevs. You got him enchanted and that doesn't even encapsulate the excitement he has.

Better do something before Asmodeus goes to post some of the best shots he's taken— hey!! Your beauty is too picturesque to not be shared!

Hm? Your sheep form? Not to worry!!

Okay but don't be surprised if he dressed you up in sheep-inspired outfits for the first few mini fashion shows he hosts in his room.

Seriously, if it wasn't the near end of your stay he'd do a lot more!!

#supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, aren't we?

Asmo won't stop gushing about you for the next few hours so, well, beware of that.

BEELZEBUB ; "Mm..? Mfmmm.."

So shocked he stopped eating for a few minutes.

No joke. You were a showstopper.

To be honest, you looked more delicious in your sheep form.

Hm? Adorable? No you are equally as adorable.

He took note that you were probably getting overwhelmed, so he offered to help.

Beel's more chill with your appearance. Sure, it was a shocker, but he didn't want to cause you discomfort by doting all over you.

He was kind of glad that you're now in a more comfortable form. You wouldn't have to worry over them while being so... short... and stubby... and fluffy... and—

Beel would also shield you from the peering eyes of his brothers in case you show any sign of discomfort towards all the attention.

He wouldn't want you to suffer while getting used to your newer- err- older? form.

Okay but it will take him a while to stop looking at the floor whenever you talk to him. You might be short [or not] but, hey, a reminder that you're at a more reasonable height now.

Seriously, he's just both captivated and concerned.

However, Beel couldn't help but notice the eerie silence of his twin. He would go over and ask if Belphie was okay.

The latter didn't answer, choosing to just leave the room.

Beel's reaction grow even more worried, looking at Belphie walking away and back at your form.

It was conflicting, to say the least.

He's staring.

BELPHEGOR ; "..." // implied events of lesson 16 [OG]

Really staring. Silently.

Not just in any part of your body, but your neck, specifically.

While to his brothers it was a shocker, but at the same time ethereal sight to see you as you—

— to Belphegor, it felt different. In the demon's eyes he's replaying that very moment.

How your neck had markings. Bruises. All from his own hands during that incident.

It didn't matter if it was only him seeing it, Belphie only felt an unnerving tow of guilt.

Didn't matter how long since that incident been, it's fresh in the Avatar of Sloth's mind like yesterday.

He excuses himself from his brothers, going up in the attic. He was deep in thought, clutching against the pillow.

It was blank. Numbing. You looked just as adorable as he imagined... it drove him mad that it was the same body that he—

Oh?

Belphie perked up at the ding! of his DDD. He swore he had that on silent. Grabbing it, he checked what it was all about.

Asmodeus had already shared your photo to everyone else... [ *sigh* ]

Typical of him.

But as he looked closer in the photo... Huh.

You were more than adorable — a small blush spreading across his cheeks.

All those negativities put aside, he wondered if you were just as warm to cuddle as when you were a sheep.

AS FOR YOU . . .

It took you a long moment to realize, maybe since you're so used in navigating as a sheep that you never really thought much about it.

You could've sworn that you woke up as a sheep, did your routine as a sheep, and got ready as a darn sheep...

Did the magic just poof'd away at this convenient moment? Eh, be glad you still had the clothes you wore prior to this exchange program.

So congrats, human, you finally got your form back.

As a bonus all your memories before the exchange program had also returned — so it was a win-win in your favour. Although, the headache wasn't something you were prepared for.

Still, how does it feel like being stared at by the demon brothers? Watching as they admire your true, human form?

Seeing the soul behind the magic and wool was a breathtaking sight. You basically held them captive for the first few moments.

You still held their attention on a leash until now.

That was then followed by the usual chaotic banter between the brothers, calling dibs on who gets to have you first.

Albeit, you haven't really gotten used to being human now... A year depraved of all familiar senses has made you feel foreign to your own humanity. Furthermore, you have changed a lot in the past year; that couldn't be ignored.

Even your mannerisms still resembles of the sheep. Of their precious lamb that they brought down to the Devildom...

You should probably find a uniform before someone notices that you've been wearing the same garment for a year.

ADDITIONAL A/N: hi hi!! Will do the more formal A/N once I wake up later haha ;v; a bit tired from.going out earlier but I had the sudden urge to finish this. Sorry I had to go to the Lesson 16 route for Belphie- I couldn't imagine it any other way even though I and many others have moved on from it ToT

Might do a Ver 2.0 of this with side characters, or a different way to interpret the prompt haha... lemme know what you think!!

divider/s by @/cafekitsune | artwork by NTT Solmare

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honeykitcat · 5 months ago

Text

the years start coming and they don’t stop coming

In which Lilith’s return distorts her brothers’ perception of time.

Part 2 here

Keep reading

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honeykitcat · 5 months ago

Note

I'm seeing replaced! MC au a lot and I love it!! I was wondering about your take on an angsty replaced au where the brothers having deserted MC leads to a bad turn of events?? You don't have to do this as I know requests are closed, and I hope you take care of yourself!!! ;)

Part 2 here

Part 3 here final

Your death is a quiet little thing.

You'd always expected your passing to be surrounded with people you loved, with tears and last words exchanged before the light of your soul left your body. They would learn to move on and make peace with your demise.

Barely a whimper escaped in the dead of the night, the only sound being of the collision that your body made with the cobblestone, the Devildom having been rendered silent again.

And yet, a quiet demise left a storm in its wake.

"I need to see them! They must be waiting for me to come and—"

"Come and save them?" Solomon's tone is harsh and angry, yet deflated and tearful. The demon flinches at the impact the sorcerer's voice has on his heart. "You wanted to save them when you couldn't even bother to spend time with them?"

Cruel, yet the truth is bitter.

The Avatars are no fools, because the blood seeping into the cracks of the cobblestone is evidence enough of the truth they've all been so blatantly hoping was not real.

And yet, it is.

"Their heart isn't beating anymore—I—I can't," A garbled cry. "I can't heal MC when they're already.." Simeon trails off, tearful eyes falling on your lifeless figure, and the angel breaks into a fit of sobs again.

"It's not true. They must be alive, they can be brought back by—"

"Brought back by what? Brought back, only to be cast aside by all of you?!"

The former seraphim snaps his head to glare at the Morningstar, whose eyes are widened at the sheer wrath rolling off Simeon. It was a matter of curiosity, to see the composed angel drowning in fury. But they all knew Simeon wasn't one to be angered, and now they've kindled the flame in his soul.

Asmodeus's voice breaks the air. "They should have called for us through the pacts! We could have arrived on time," The demon nearly wails, his shoulders sagging at the scene.

"But you all were busy with the second exchange student, weren't you all? You couldn't have bothered to get up without throwing a fit," The sorcerer growls, biting off each word. A snap of his fingers, and Asmodeus is left standing in his place from where he tried to run and get to you.

"You don't deserve to be near them. None of you," Solomon mutters through gritted teeth, ignoring his friend whose left sobbing on the spot. The rest are in a similar state, with Levi rendered immobile without being made to, and Satan fuming.

Angry at himself for not being there for you, angry at the demon that dared to kill you, angry at everything because it took you away from him.

But we often only find out the value of something after losing it, don't we?

"Please, let me see them." Beelzebub pleads, the shaking of his shoulders evident as the demon stares in horror at the crimson in the cobblestone. His worst nightmare, come alive.

He wanted to hold you in his arms one last time too, but that's something he won't get to have.

Simeon stands still, shielding your form from the outside world, the lower half of his wings being stained with the blood on the ground.

The angel nods his head, his fists still clenched before shifting to allow the demon to pass.

The brothers feel their heart break.

"MC! No—no—no!" Beel mumbles fervently, the word a chant on his tongue as his hands tremble to touch you, yet afraid that you'll break when touched. Like porcelain, what humans were to demons and angels.

The anguish in his heart is felt by the demon's twin, who doesn't utter a single word, finding his nightmare having come alive again.

He had laughed, upon tricking you. Mocked your humanity before throwing you down the stairs, finding sick pleasure in the thud.

And now, he's also the cause for your demise.

The crows caw in the night, grieving the demise of someone they considered their own. They're mourning you, and the people you've left behind, who abandoned you.

"I found them bleeding out," Simeon finally speaks, his voice devoid of any emotion. "Solomon and I tried to heal MC, but it was futile."

At the mention of your name, the sorcerer doens't bother hiding his tears.

Lucifer rushes forward after, fingers desperately checking for a pulse, the gloves now stained with your blood. The hand falls weakly to the demon's side when not a sign of life is felt.

Mammon joins him next, desperately begging you to wake up, his voice being drowned out by the crows.

Levi stands fixated, yet his sobs are the loudest. A useless shut-in before, still useless after.

Satan holds your hand in his own trembling one; his roar at not being able to feel you shaking the air around the brothers.

Belpheghor doesn't move, at first. When he does, it's to fall on the ground and scream.

The brothers had promised once, that you didn't need to be scared because they would always be there to protect you, whether from beings from horror movies or in real life.

They've broken their promise.

Solomon and Simeon stand behind, their sobs quiet yet no less mournful. They were the ones to comfort you after the brothers didn't bother to treasure your presence, and the sorcerer can still hear you sobs when you cried into his chest after Lucifer berated you for not being on par with the new student.

Simeon doesn't know what he'll tell Luke. What will he say? The cherub hasn't handled someone's demise before, and yet he'll have to learn to live without you patting him on the head after he baked treats and comfort him when demons won't stop their teasing.

The brothers didn't treasure what they had, and now that you're gone only then do they realise what they've done.

Death is common, and yet the passing of someone you loved is hard to bear. Sometimes we don't value what we have, and it's through bitter lessons that we learn.

Fate is a cruel teacher, Diavolo thinks before signalling for Barbatos to proceed. The butler nods, preparing to open the portal.

The Prince has watched from the sidelines for far too long. This time, he'll forgive the brothers transgressions, and bring you back.

It's not fair that you perish in the process, for you are a part of them all, after all.

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honeykitcat · 5 months ago

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The Secret Garden with Lucifer

Characters: Lucifer x GN! Reader

Word Count: 1200+

Genre: Smut

Rating: Mature/NSFW - Minors DNI

Tags: smut, reader has gn body, outdoor sex, oral sex, fingering, hand stuff, penetration, unprotected sex, fangs, marking, biting, implied blood, possessive luci

A/N: This goes along with the current in game event, "Terrible Time Trouble" (aka "Hourglass"). When I got to the secret garden scene, my mind began to wander...and now here we are, haha. ♡

You found yourself with Lucifer as time stood still, your faces mere inches away from each other's. The two of you were in the secret garden of the Demon Lord's Castle after returning the enchanted hourglasses to the Prince and his butler. Along with the favor of borrowing the garden, you had asked the Prince to keep time frozen for just a little while longer - a detail you neglected to share with Lucifer.

His crimson eyes sparkle as he looks down at you as peels off his glove, cupping your cheek with his bare hand. You swear that you can feel your heart stop along with the rest of time when his hand caresses your face, your eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment at the gentle feeling.

“I wish I could freeze these moments, without magic,” he whispered softly, “so that all you can focus on is me.”

He finally closed the space between the two of you, his lips colliding with yours in the most tender of kisses, your hands finding their way to his chest. The kiss deepens as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into him, your arms sliding themselves around his neck as you lightly nip at his bottom lip. Lucifer moans against your lips, gripping you tighter as he feels you press your body against his. He breaks the kiss for only a moment, looking down at you with lust apparent in his eyes.

“If only our time here were limitless. It will be any moment now that Barbatos fixes the flow of time back to normal,” he said as he tried to suppress his disappointment. A brief flicker of confusion crosses his face as he sees a deviant smirk spread across yours as you shake your head.

“No need to worry. I asked for a second favor in return for our help tonight; the gift of time,” you replied, watching the same smirk spread across his lips before he leans down to kiss you again, his lips crashing on yours like waves crashing in a storm. Suddenly, you felt both of his hands cup your ass before you felt him pick you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his abdomen, neither of you breaking the kiss as he carried you to the tea table nearby. You start making quick work of all of the buttons on his RAD uniform as he does the same to your tie, both of you frantically making out and pulling off each other’s clothes as quickly as possible.

Soon enough, Lucifer is down to his uniform pants, while you have your shirt completely undone with your pants off. Just as you finish undoing his belt buckle, Lucifer reaches forward to peel off your underwear in one fluid motion. He leans down to kiss you one more time on the lips, pouring as much passion into it as he could muster, before getting down on his knees and spreading your legs apart. He kissed the insides of your thighs with teasing little nibbles, making his way up to what he has been truly craving. You had teased him when you were both in the cafeteria, after he had eaten that marzipan figurine of you that Luke had made - but now he wanted to taste the real thing, just like you had mentioned.

He starts off by licking you slowly, deliberately, taking his time to pull each and every moan from your trembling body. Your hand finds its way into his raven-like hair, subconsciously pulling him into you as you grind against his face, your other hand grabbing at your own chest. He slides a finger inside of you as he continues to suck on your sex, his own moans vibrating against you and filling you with pleasure. As Lucifer’s pace quickens, so does your climax, as he pushes you over the edge while you moan out his name. His pride inflates at your praises. He pulls out of you and stands up, immediately pulling you back into a kiss as he lines himself up with you. He slowly pushes into you, the both of you moaning in unison as you gaze into his ruby eyes, both of you blazing this moment forever into your memories.

Lucifer finds himself buried in you up to the hilt, having to bite his lip and rest his forehead against your shoulder as he begins to thrust his cock in and out of you. The moans escaping the Avatar of Pride’s lips only being muffled by his mouth being on your neck as he leaves sloppy kisses all over your skin while he slams into you faster and faster. There is almost an essence of greed to his lust, for he knows this unique moment is once in a lifetime - who knows when time will be frozen again? When everyone else is frozen along with it, your eyes solely on him? He must seize the moment. He must take you completely.

He continues to pound away at your tight little hole, leaning back slightly to rub at your sex, adding to the overwhelming pleasure you are feeling. He starts to feel you clench around him, spurring him to thrust and stroke even faster as you are both propelled to reach the peak together. As you felt the ultimate wave of pleasure start to wash over you once again, you felt Lucifer lean in and brush his fangs against your tender neck. As you hit the height of your bliss, your walls squeeze him tightly, causing him to spill his seed into you as he bites into your neck. You let out a loud squeal, accompanied with a moan as you ride out your orgasm, feeling yourself dripping in multiple ways.

As you both come down from your high, he holds you close to him in his arms, your legs wrapping around him as the two of you try to catch your breaths. He licks your neck clean and gives it another little kiss before moving to kiss you again on the lips. The two of you help each other get dressed, making sure not to miss a single detail. You wince a little as he accidentally brushes the bite he left on your neck, prompting you to ask him about it.

“I was acting on impulse. I wanted to take you completely,” he explains nonchalantly, his hand brushing it even more gently as he continues, “a mark to commemorate this moment forever.” Suddenly, his finger tips are glowing, and a magical pulse is sent into the wound on your neck, tingling as it heals you. He kisses your forehead and links your arms together, the two of you starting to make your way back towards the castle. He stops and turns you to face him, your eyebrows knitting in confusion as he looks down at you fondly.

“Thank you for taking this moment with me. I shall cherish it forever,” he said, before leaning down to kiss you. The two of you savor one last slow, passionate kiss right as you hear the doors to the Castle open, and Diavolo laughing in his usual cheery tone. As you walked back to the Prince on together, you couldn’t help but to cherish every moment you spend with the Avatar of Pride - this one, however, was truly unforgettable.

- demonvibez ♡ - likes/reblogs appreciated - do not copy/repost! -

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honeykitcat · 7 months ago

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GOT MILK?

pairing: clive rosfield x f!reader

summary: when jill offers to look after your daughter for a few days, clive indulges in a secret fantasy

word count: 4.6k

content: NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI you will be BLOCKED!) established relationship, you & clive have a child, pregnancy mention, minor body insecurity, oral (f! receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, breast/nipple play, spit, praise, dirty talk, cursing, petnames (sweetheart, love, darling, etc.)

a/n: um…..blinks

dividers by @/cafekitsune

Three months. Three long, arduous months. It’s been three months since you’ve been given a proper break.

You loved your daughter more than anything in this world, probably more than life itself. She’s as cute as can be, never failing to tug on you and Clive’s heartstrings whenever she laughs and giggles.

Clive thinks she takes after you, despite her having his inky hair and light eyes, whereas you believe she’s more like him, obviously.

“She may have my features, but she acts more like you.”

“You both make the exact same face sometimes, I swear,” he chortles, sauntering over to plant a kiss on your cheek. “She has your cute pout, your adorable smile, and even your bratty attitude when she’s grumpy, but that’s neither here nor there,” he jests. You feign offense and playfully swat his chest in rebuttal, “I most certainly do not have a bratty attitude.”

Keep reading

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honeykitcat · 7 months ago

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WHAT GOOD IS A SWORD THAT NEVER GETS BLOODY?

pairing: clive rosfield x plus sized f!reader

summary: clive helps you relieve your cramps in the best way possible

word count: 3.6k

content: NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI you will be BLOCKED!) established relationship, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it) period sex, blood kink, breast/nipple play, finger sucking, spit, praise, dirty talk, petnames (love, darling, sweetheart, etc.), clive is hairy and uncut

a/n: i wrote this entire thing with my pussy and i will never regret it!!!!!!!!!!! written during a time when i was achy and in pain. this is uhm, very self indulgent DJDJDJDJDJ.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

You’re on your side, curled in the fetal position, groaning in pain, when Clive comes into the room. Immediately, he’s by your side, caressing your arm gently. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asks, concerned. ‘"Cramps" is all you can mutter in response. “Ah,”

Clive wasn’t used to dealing with periods. Before the two of you started dating, he hadn’t had much experience with them. Sure, Jill was around frequently enough when they were children, but she was never keen on sharing those intimate details of her life with him.

Keep reading

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honeykitcat · 8 months ago

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Lab Rat ~ Carlos Oliveira x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Working in the laboratories of Umbrella seems very mundane, until there is a new recruit in the U.B.C.S. helping out securing the perimeter of the Umbrella Headquaters.

Word Count: 5.5k+

Note: I actually work in a microbiology lab and got gifted a keycard holder with the Umbrella Corps logo for work. So this is pretty self indulgent.

Genre: Fluff, Slow Burn (kinda)

Warnings: Talk about bacteria (idk if that's a warning but eh), bad flirting, a little self doubt, minimal talk about trust issues.

-----

Early shift was never your favourite, but someone has to do it. At least the shift team was nice, with your work bestie present it would be bearable. Getting out of the changing rooms in your lab scrubs, you put your keys in your side pocket, pulling on the strings of your backpack while making your way towards the lab.

The morning hours were not exactly your best, so you just sluggishly greeted whoever crossed your path. Pulling out your keycard to unlock the door, you were greeted with an unknown voice, ripping you out of your stupor.

"Good morning." He said, glancing at you as you try your best not stare too obviously as you check out the man in front of your lab door.

He is quite tall and buff, you got to admit, and his wavy curly hair is sticking in each and every direction. Seems like you are not the only one who has a hard time waking up early.

Narrowing your eyes at him and his gear you ask him with a still raspy voice laced with some sleep "Who are you and what are you doing in front of the lab ?"

Directing his eyes at you, he shifts from one foot to the other, casually crossing his arms over his chest, leaning his forearms on the back of his gun. You tense a bit at the movement, always having been wary around weaponry and the likes. Right now you are just hoping that the guy knows what he is doing.

"Standing guard." He replies very shortly. At least he does not waste time.

"Okay but why ? We have an alarm system that's up to standard. We don't need guards." You explain your confusion about his presence.

"Yeah, the boss told me. But he requested it anyways. I'm new to the job. Guess he wants to see if I'm taking it seriously or something." The guard finishes, picking at his fingers lightly.

Nodding, you hear the elevator ding down the hallway. "So you will be standing guard here all day ?"

"Not all day but for the morning shift, yeah."

Humming, you both were interrupted by your colleague.

She came around the corner in a quick walking tempo, but upon spotting you, she immediately slowed down greeting you with a smile.

Judy is a in her mid forties, and a few of the others described the both of you as the mom-kid duo of your lab.

"Morning !" She waves at you, making you quirk your mouth a bit. You will never understand how anyone can be a morning person, but she is.

"Hey Judy,"

Arriving at your side, she looks at the handsome guard behind you.

Noticing her look, you turn to her "He is a guard here for the lab."

"Uh huh. Who ordered you to be here ?" She inquisits. Judy has always been one to not take shit from anyone.

"My boss did, ma'am." He answers.

"I will check that." Judy clarifies.

Checking my wrist watch, I gently tap Judy's arm, pointing to the door.

"We gotta go. Shift is starting." You turn back to the man "Bye...."

"Carlos. name's Carlos." He smiles and the accent of his really comes through when pronouncing his own name.

"Bye then Carlos. Let's go, Judy." You turn around, lightly dragging at her arm.

"Hey wait ! What's your name ?" Carlos calls after you as you are about to place your keycard on the reader. Judy shoots the dark haired man a look, before proceeding to go to the door to hold it open.

"(y/n)."

----

The day was quite uneventful up until lunchtime. Sure, the occasional malfunction of a device, which led to you having to call tech support definitely were not your favourite pass time. Hating the very thought of having to take a phone call; it makes your whole system nervous.

When lunchtime rolled around, Judy came to your workstation.

"Hey, you wanna come get something from the canteen ?" She asks, already being disinfected with her lunch box in her hands, ready to get some food.

"No, thanks. I want to get something lighter right now. Maybe some sandwiches and a chocolate bar or something. I want to cook dinner tonight." You explain while still working on some last bacteria ID for today. You still have to get the antibiograms done for all of your specimen.

"Well okay. I'll just go then and meet you in the back, okay ?" Judy asks, taking a look around.

You nod as Judy sighs "Do you want some help after lunch back here ? It's quiet in the front, I have the time."

And she is right. The front being the place where the delivery drivers bring in specimen from hospitals and doctors around the area. Around this time of the year it's always slow.

Looking at her with your best puppy eyes you plead to your senior "Yes, please."

Chuckling at your, she turns on her heels and leaves you to your last steps before you are able to take a break.

Placing your bacteria ID target inside the MALDI-TOF device, you pray to a higher deity that the darn thing works this time and saves you another awkward phone call.

Disinfecting and washing your hands, you get your wallet and make your way out of the lab.

"Hey, (y/n)."

"Oh my god, you scared me!" You gasp, speedily turning towards the voice.

"Sorry. You forgot I was here ?" Carlos asks, scratching the side of his neck with his index finger.

"Kinda, yeah. I'm sorry. I kinda had a crappy day." You try to explain, feeling a little bad for having forgotten the handsome guard at your lab door.

"Oh man I'm sorry to hear that." Carlos tries to console you, making you wave him off.

"Maybe we should stop apologizing to each other ?" You give him a faint smile.

Carlos seems to relax a little, a sly smile of his own gracing his lips. "Yeah, maybe we should. Are you going to the canteen ?"

"Nah. Just going for some sandwiches."

"Oh well, alright. Honestly, I don't trust canteen food anyways." Carlos says, seemingly lost in thoughts.

"Let me guess, bad experiences in the past with it?"

"Yeah. Worst week of my life." He chuckles, once again shifting his body weight from one foot to the other. Noticing this, you wonder if he really stood right here this whole time without moving from his spot. And if so, if his feet hurt as bad as you imagine yours would.

"Campylobacter, correct ?" You take a wild guess.

Carlos looks at you stunned "How do you know that ?" He asks nervously, obviously embarrassed at the fact that you knew.

"Well, they are the most common gastrointestinal pathogen. Secondly followed by Salmonellae."

"Wow okay whatever you say doc." Carlos grins at you, believing everything you say without even questioning it.

"I'm not a doctor, Carlos." You sigh, gesturing to the lack of a classic white coat.

Taking a look at your watch, your eyes widen.

"Damn, my break time is almost over, sorry I gotta go, Carlos. See you later !" You speak hastily, already semi running down the hallway.

The line at the bakery shop luckily is not too long, so you actually have a shot of getting some of your break time in.

Quickly ordering your sandwich and chocolate bar, you ponder for a moment.

Your thoughts run back to Carlos. Yes, sure you were on lunch break. But did he have a lunch break ? Did he already have one ?

"Could I have another one of those bars, please ?" You decide to quickly order after yours.

"Of course. Here you go." The cashier gives you a tight lipped smile, and you can tell they don't want to be here. Probably a student making needs ends. Handing them the cash, you send them a sympathetic quirk of your lips.

Speed walking back to the lab, you struggle to hold everything in one hand as you try to grab your keycard from your pocket. Turning around the corner, you spot Carlos not where you left him, but at the other side of the door. Stopping next to him, he moves his rifle to the other side of his body, away from you. Maybe he noticed your tenseness earlier this morning.

"Hey. I just wanted to give you this. I hope it's okay. I didn't know if you already had a break, or if you even like chocolate bars like that but-"

"That's very nice of you, (y/n). Thanks a lot." The pretty guard genuinely smiling at you.

Seeing him smile at the small snack you brought him made you feel warm inside your stomach.

"Glad you like it." You smile, leaving him be, entering the lab, making your way to the break room.

-----

"What do you think of this Carlos guy, (y/n)?" Judy asks.

To say that Carlos was the talk of the lab that day was an underestimation. Where ever you go, you hear your colleagues debating about the new security addition to the lab.

There were basically three sides.

One: They don't trust him or like him, without having spoken more than two sentences with him.

Two: They like him and wonder if he is in a committed relationship, trying to figure out if his wearing a ring underneath his gloves.

Three: They don't care and accept him as part of the lab environment now.

You don't really know where you stand, but it is definitely not team one.

Over the course of the next days and weeks, you find yourself talking quite a lot to him whenever you find the time.

You both kind of had an unofficial official agreement that, when you would come in on your early shift, you would just nod at each other in greeting and talk during the day.

On later shifts though you would start smalltalk for a few minutes before you had to disappear behind the lab doors.

You get to know each other quite well. You learned that Carlos didn't always work in Raccoon City. He was a mercenary before being employed by the U.B.C.S.. Carlos didn't really speak much about his childhood or teenage years, and you let him be.

You on the other hand tell him whatever he wants to know about you, yet he always gives you an out if you don't want to answer. It's nice to be able to talk to someone with mutual respect.

"But tea is just hot leaf juice if you really think about it." Carlos comments, ruffling his dark mane. "And coffee is just hot bean juice so what is your point ?" You laugh, getting ready to enter the lab with your keycard dangling from your fingers. Carlos gives a hearty laugh at your comeback.

You swipe the card through the reader, the green light signaling your access.

"Do I see you later ?" Carlos asks, getting ready to start his shift, reaching his hand back to his gun to get in position.

"Yeah, sure." You reassure him, sending him a bright smile, then stepping inside the lab.

Today's shift consisted of you and Judy covering the front, accepting and working through the specimen sent to the lab.

It's a quiet day though and you try and pass your time by reading your workplace documents.

Working in the lab means rules after rules, but for good reason. A lab is a dangerous place if you don't know what you are doing.

Judy, of course, had other plans.

"So...." She starts. And you can already smell which way this conversation is going to go.

"So ?" You answer warily.

"Oh come on, (y/n). Tell me about it. Do you like Carlos ?" Judy exclaims, making you do wild gestures to shut her up, not wanting to draw attention to you two.

"Please stop it. You have been asking me that question for days now." You complain, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"And you still didn't answer so I will ask again." Man, Boomers and their persistence. You love Judy dearly, but sometimes you wish she would see the boundaries you set.

"And I still won't answer."

"Okay fine. But what is the issue anyways ? I mean he seems nice and you like talking to him. I know you don't like talking to anyone really, so that means something."

"Even if it does, what's the point ? I'm just a little lab rat. I don't think I have much to offer to him.

Carlos is nice to everyone as well. Which is very cute, but that's not what's important now."

Judy just leans back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other, smiling smugly at you.

Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention back to the monitor. Checking the time in the bottom right corner of the screen, you roll back your chair, stretching your arms and legs out.

"I'm gonna go and get some sandwiches. You want something, too ?"

Judy shakes her head no and stands up as well.

"You know what ? Maybe you shouldn't talk so lowly about yourself. You are a wonderful person (y/n), and worthy of a good match." Judy smiles at you through the mirror as you stand behind her while she is washing her hands.

You are too stunned to speak now. Deep down you know she is right. But past experiences or lack thereof even make you doubt it.

Upon leaving the lab, you are surprised to not see Carlos in his usual spot. A little shook, you even stop and stare at the empty door side, wondering where he went.

But you didn't have unlimited time, so you gathered your thoughts and walked towards the bakery shop.

Arriving there, you had a few minutes before you were to order.

Your mind wandered back you your little banter with Carlos today. Smiling to yourself you decide to give in to Judy's words.

"...and I'd like a coffee to go please."

"Of course, that makes 18 $ please." The cashier tells you. It's the same one from a few weeks before. But they seem to be doing better right now.

Heading back, you are greeted by Carlos looking around , and the sight makes you sigh in relief somehow.

Hearing your footsteps nearing him, he turns to you, smiling and relaxing his posture as soon as his gaze reaches you.

"Hey Carlos. I was wondering where you were !" You exclaim, coming to a halt.

"I was gone for like five minutes. Did you worry about me ?" He says in a lightly mocking tone, undermining it with a smug smile, as you roll your eyes, replying "Yeah, worried I got this for nothing."

You hand him the one way cup filled with the bean juice you were talking about this morning.

Carlos deep dark eyes widen a tiny bit, barely noticeable, before laughing boisterously.

You knew he was loud, but this was the loudest he ever laughed in your presence, and, while you didn't necessarily like loud noises a lot, you don't mind it.

"Man, we really are like two peas in a pot !" The tall latino laughs, making you look at him in confusion.

He bends down and reaches his hand next to his army issued boot, revealing the same type of cup. Standing up straight again, he hands it to you. Accepting it shakily, you lift the warm cup to your nose and take a sniff through the little opening of the lid.

Upon realizing you smile incredulously at him.

"No...."

"Yes !" Carlos grins, clinking the bottom of his cup against the side of yours. "Cheers!"

You laugh, carefully blowing inside the tea cup to cool it down.

Drinking your tea and coffee in silence, you begin to notice that your break time is almost up.

Time seems to fly when you are near Carlos. Even the silence right now is not awkward, but peaceful.

"The coffee is really good here, I gotta say. Though I know a place that's even better." Carlos mutters after finishing his drink with a sound of satisfaction.

"Really ?" You smile, smacking your lips to get the remnants of the tea off them.

"Yeah. Maybe we could go there some time ?" Carlos asks with an anxious tint in his voice.

Looking at him with wide eyes, he senses your state.

"I mean, we don't have to, but I'd really like to and.." Carlos trails off.

Over the weeks you now know him, you more or less told him a little about your trust issues. They were getting better, but sometimes, in unforeseen events, it resurfaces and makes you freeze like a deer in the headlights.

Catching yourself, you blink once or twice before answering "Yeah. Yeah sure why not." With a shaky, but excited smile.

You exchanged the date and time of your meet up, deciding to go there after your next joined early shift.

-----

Telling Judy about your little meet up with Carlos before it happened was neither a good idea nor your own doing.

"So you finally did what I told you to do!" She exclaims, clearly more excited than you are.

Huffing, you close your locker and grab your backpack, waiting for Judy to get ready.

"No, I didn't. He asked me to come with him to change to the coffee drinking side."

"And would that be so bad ? Also, that's dating 101. A nice, cute little coffee date."

"Ugh, can you please stop it ? I'm glad to just have a friend at this point. Also, not a word as soon as we step out of here, are we clear ?" You threaten her, but Judy being her own confident self, knows that she doesn't have to take it seriously.

Waving her hand at you, Judy takes her bag over her shoulder and walks over to the door you are already holding open for her to follow you.

Today is the day you are supposed to meet up with Carlos after work. And truth be told, you were maybe a little tiny bit excited. It's not often that you go out to eat or drink, especially with friends. You are simply never invited, or seemingly the only one of your few friends who has to work.

The fact that you hate the early shift hadn't changed over the few months since Carlos started working, but he honestly made showing up a little easier.

Upon rounding the corner to the lab doors, you were surprised to not the man with the mane in front of them. Judy noticed your little skid in your step, slowing her pace and asking what was wrong.

"He's not here, Ju. He's not here. Why is he not here ? I told you that was a mistake, going to drink a coffee with him. Now he doesn't show up at all." You talk yourself in a panicked, anxious state.

"Calm down, will you ? Maybe he just overslept, or he had to change shifts ? There are more than one explanation for this, especially more rational ones than your brain comes up with."

You take a deep breath before answering "I don't think I'll go to the coffee shop then."

Sighing, Judy swipes her cards along the reader, opening the lab doors for you.

The remainder of the day was spent in silence from your side. Your colleagues occasionally tried making conversation with you, but soon noticed your sour mood and left you be. You were fine with that. You probably only would have pissed them off. Being in a sour mood always made you very honest as well, but chose to keep your mouth shut for the sake of your reputation.

Lunch time came around, and your mood still hadn't lifted. Today you even brought your own little lunch with you, because you thought after the coffee shop, Carlos and you could grab something to eat then. Slowly you eat your food, but other than that you don't engage with anyone in the breakroom.

When the end of your shift came after a boring and uneventful day, you mood plummets even more as you grab your backpack and water bottle, making your way out of the lab.

Trotting along the hallway, you realize that everyone from the early shift already left.

Stepping through the glass door, you were met with the person you didn't think you'd see.

"Carlos ? You're here ?" You ask in confusion.

He smiles nervously and you notice that he is not in his usual U.B.C.S. uniform, but in casual clothes. The pair of jeans he is wearing are quite form fitting, as is the nice dark button down that is carded at his elbows. Even his hair seems a little more tamed than usual.

"Yes, my boss summoned me to his office, which is all the way across the Umbrella campus, only to tell me that I have today off." Carlos explains, immediately noticing you look a little gloomy.

"Are you okay, though ?" He asks, stepping a little closer.

Over time you learned that Carlos is a fan of physical contact, but respects your wishes and keeps your personal space to you.

"Honestly, not really. I thought you wouldn't show up today, to work or to the coffee shop. Thought you bailed on me. Wouldn't be the first to do so." You mutter the last part, but Carlos caught every word.

Shaking his head franticly, he puts his hands on your shoulders, and you let him. Following his movements is a very nice smell of probably a really expensive perfume, but you love it the second it hits your nose.

"No. No, no. I would never do that. I was sent away immediately and wasn't allowed back on campus." Carlos elaborates further, rubbing small circles in your shoulders with his thumb.

The relief that you weren't stood up made you want to hug him, but it was so foreign to you that you couldn't bring yourself to follow through with your desire.

"Okay, fine, I believe you." You smile at him, making him return the gesture.

"Good. Now how about you go change and I'll wait at the main entrance for you. Sound good ?"

"Sound good. Give me 15 minutes."

Stepping back, Carlos gives you a mock salute before turning on his heel, making his way to the main gate.

Twelve minutes later, you fast walked up to him. You weren't dressed in your very best clothes, but not too shabby either. Carlos never mentioned how fancy this café is, and you thought it was more important to feel yourself in your attire.

"You look nice, tesoro." Carlos breathes, as he takes you in; it's his first time seeing you in civilian clothes as well.

"You clean up very nicely yourself." You spit out, trying your luck in using a phrase Judy advised you. Seeing Carlos eyes light up the way they do, it seems like you hit the bullseye.

"So, how do we get to the shop then ?"

"Well, it's not the most convenient, but the bus has a direct route there."

"Sounds good to me." You nod, trailing by his side to the station.

The bus ride was short lived and comfortable, talking to Carlos seemed to make a lot of your everyday inconveniences a little more bearable.

Upon entering the small coffee shop, Carlos walks right up to the register, leaving you at the entrance for a second. You take your time looking around. It's mostly empty, many plants decorate the interior. You especially appreciate the cozy armchairs and two to three seater couches.

"Our table is over there." Carlos gestures to the far end corner with a window and a two seater couch facing said window. The window sill doubles as a table, but seems to be broad enough for someone to sit on there and look out the window.

"Did you reserve it ? The place is barely filled." You chuckle as you take off your backpack, storing it at your feet.

"Better be safe than sorry."

"True. So, what did you have in mind ?" You ask as you both sit down.

With a grin, he hands you a menu, keeping one card for himself.

"So, I thought that we would both order something for each other. You get me a tea of your choice, and I choose a starter coffee for you. What do you think ?"

Thinking it over, you nod and start looking for a drink, concentrating on the task.

Carlos looks at your thinking face, finding it endearing you put so much thought into it.

After choosing your drinks and ordering them by just pointing on the menu for the waiter, you wait and pass time.

"Hey Carlos, what kind of cologne are you wearing ?" You ask, wondering ever since you first smelled it.

"Oh, um, it's the same brand my father used. It's kinda old." He explains, rubbing his wrist where he probably sprayed some of it.

"It smells good though. Your father has a great sense of smell." You compliment.

"Thanks, I will let him know the next time I see him."

Before he can go on, the waiter places your drinks in front of you.

You are faced with a mug of light brown liquid and milk foam.

"Okay, what did you order, Carlos." You beg for an explanation, not trusting the sweet smelling drink in front of you.

"It's a cappuccino, but the milk foam is infused with cocoa. Figured something sweet for my sweet company would be fitting."

Brushing him off, you chuckle shyly. Not being used to compliments now taking a toll on you.

"What is it what I have in front of me, tesoro ?" Carlos wonders, testing the heat of the mug by holding his hand above it.

"I figured that the New York Chai could be to your liking. It's not as boring as chamomile but not as sweet as a wild berry mix. I hope you like it." You state, focusing your gaze on the coffee in front of you.

Raising the cup to your lips, you give it a taste test, Carlos mirroring your actions.

To your surprise, it actually tastes good. What strayed you away from coffee was the overbearing taste of it. But this combination really hits it off.

Side eyeing Carlos, you see him already at half the cup.

"You enjoying yourself ?" You giggle as he sets down the cup hastily and nods vigorously.

"I really like the aftertaste of this. It's not bitter, but not sweet either, kinda addicting." He defines what's going on in his mind. Gleaming, you turn to him excitedly.

"I know, right ? I can't define it either but it's so good !" You speak enthusiastically, hand gestures and all.

But noticing his bewildered look, you quickly regain composure and apologize.

"No, no, please go on. I love it when you speak so.. animatedly." He imitates you gestures gently, making you feel appreciated.

You were always told you were too much or too energetic and to tone it down. At one point, you just stopped partaking in conversations entirely unless you were spoken to.

"Also, how do you like yours ?" Carlos asks, grabbing your mug and taking a sniff.

Reminding yourself of his words just seconds prior, you grin at him, elaborating your new found liking towards coffee.

"I actually love it. Never thought coffee could taste so good ! Really enjoy the milk foam, gives the whole drink a fun texture."

"I'm glad you like it so much." Carlos grins, looking at you with a longing and content gaze.

Smiling, you continue to drink your beverages in peace.

"Do you still have time or do you have somewhere to be ?" Carlos asks after paying for the drinks. He insisted on it, saying it was his risk if you didn't like what he ordered for you.

"No, my couch doesn't really count as a place to be, huh?" You smile as you go to put on your coat. With gentle hands, Carlos grabs it from you, gesturing to turn around. Holding the jacket open, you slide your arms through the sleeves as he drops the rest of it on your shoulders.

The contact feels so intimate and domestic, that you want it to be the way to put on your coats all the time.

"Well, if you want to go home that's okay, I don't want to keep you:" Carlos suggests, but is quickly interrupted by your hands waving in dismiss.

"No, that's not what I meant. I have time on my hands." You add, feeling a little embarrassed that he thought for even a moment that you'd rather be anywhere else, but here, with him.

"Great ! How about we grab a snack together before we call it a night, then ?"

"Sounds amazing. Lunch break's been forever ago." You sigh, subtly rubbing where your empty stomach sits.

"Cool, so what does your tummy crave ?" Carlos asks, rubbing his hands together in excitement.

Thinking it over, you prefer a lighter meal over some heavy food, considering you don't drink coffee and you don't know how your body will react with overly spicy over heavy food over it.

You take a look around your area, along the busy street littered with shops, you spot a small stand selling waffles. Perfect. A snack and it fits your beverages as well.

"How about that waffle stand there ?" Pointing your finger to the general direction of where you spotted the stand.

Carlos' eyes light up like a childs' on christmas. Nodding his head, he offers up his arm to take and walk over to the waffle stand.

"I love waffles, you know ?" Carlos grins brightly, nearly dragging you there once you placed your hand in the crook of his elbow.

You gift him a smile and nod for him to continue talking.

"Back at home, we didn't exactly have things like waffle stands. But when mi padre came back from the U.S. one time, he got some for my siblings and me. Fell in love with it instantly, but they were hard to come by. So when I first moved here, I had to physically stop myself getting them every day." He laughs, ending his little anecdote.

Looking at him the entire time he spoke, you admire him for telling you of his childhood.

Carlos doesn't like talking about it a lot, and you can figure out why. You never pressure him to do it either, but appreciate and cherish the little things he does share with you.

After arriving at the little stand, the vendor asks for your order.

"Two waffles, please. You can go crazy with toppings; my treat, no arguing."

You tell your companion, knowing he will most likely argue like the gentleman he is.

But being equal to him is far more important to you.

And crazy does he go. Fair enough, not as crazy as some kids go, but it sure is something seeing a man of Carlos stature holding a waffle with chocolate sauce, sprinkles and a few marshmallows as topping sure is a sight. Not to mention the sincere and happy smile as he eyes the treat, withholding himself until you have yours.

Taking your waffle and paying the vendor, you leave a little extra for them and turn to Carlos again, who gestures his head behind him, wanting you to follow him. Regarding him closer, you notice his hair swing with his motion, almost completely back to how you know it. Very sweet.

Looking at him in confusion, you step up beside him to take a look.

He wants you two to sit near the fountain on a bench.

"Good idea." You acknowledge, before lightly bumping into his arms to make him follow you.

After being seated, you enjoy your waffles in silence, with you finishing first.

You wait until Carlos finishes so you can bring both of your cardboards to the trash.

Taking the opportunity to look at him next to you, you realize that no one in a long time had made you feel so content and safe the way Carlos does so effortlessly.

When he finishes with a satisfied hum, you blink yourself out of your train of thought.

"Give me your cardboard, I'll put them both in the trash real quick."

Nodding in thanks, he hands his over and you do as you said.

Coming back to him, he is already standing, fixing his shirt a little before you approach.

"It's getting late now, and I know we both have early shift tomorrow, so if you want to go home I would like to bring you home."

Feeling the tiredness settling in your bones, you accept the offer, once again relishing in the safe feeling Carlos gives you.

After one public transport ride later, where you really had to restrain yourself from falling asleep on Carlos' shoulder, you finally arrive home about half an hour later.

"Thank you for taking me home. I guess I see you tomorrow morning." You say, keys in hand, ready to fall into bed.

"No problem. Sleep well." Carlos smiles slightly.

Waiting a beat of a moment, you do something you would normally control your impulse not to do it.

But gripping Carlos' shoulder, you lean in to give him a kiss on his cheek, squeezing his shoulder, before turning back and entering your flat, not waiting for an answer.

Throwing off your jacket and shoes in the entry way, you prepare for bed and the next day.

And boy, what one hell of a day that will be.

~~~

Part 2

Please leave a like or reblog if you enjoyed :)

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honeykitcat · 9 months ago

Note

Please Mother....

May I ask for some nsfw headcannons of werewolf Clive?

I am but a thirsty child 🥺🤲

My dumbass read this ask with the conviction of a starving Victorian child LOOOOL

Of course child, eat up

Clive gets a possessive streak, especially on the days leading up to and on his heat. If it’s not his brother or Jill he doesn’t want you near them, even poor Gav and Cid are on thin ice.

He follows you everywhere you go, a shadow in the form of a six foot brickhouse of a man. It’s kind of adorable.

Scents you, a lot. He’ll do it at random, it doesn’t matter if you’re in public or not, if he needs you he needs you. Your only warning is a hand around your waist before he takes a deep inhale against your pulse point, a deep rumble of satisfaction on his chest.

“You smell good,” he whispers. “My scent is wearing off though, I’ll fix that tonight.”

Your face grows hot at exactly what he’s implying.

Later that night, true to his word, he does just that. He spends what feels like eons biting at the soft skin of your neck, your collarbone, caressing anywhere his hands can get to. His own mark, his way of telling the world you are his and his alone.

He also loves it when your nails scratch at his back, his chest—if he could walk around shirtless and let the world see just how well he satisfies you, he would.

The entire time he ruts into you, humping between your legs, cock sandwiched between your thighs so well he could cum just like this.

Eventually he’s had enough, and it’s then that he forces you onto your knees and sinks his cock into your warm cunt.

You’re astonished at how big he is every time, always so tight even after so many years.

But it’s alright, because Clive always knows how to make himself fit.

It’s now that his instincts remembers how desperately it needs a warm body, where the beast finally overtakes the man. Now all you feel is the sweltering heat that exudes from his body, fucking you into the mattress without a care in the world.

Growling into your ear, all praise as he tells you how good you feel, how you’re made for him, how good you’ll look with a belly full of his kids.

He doesn’t stop bullying your poor body, not even when you cry and bury your face into the sheets. It’s all motivation for him.

“Made for this, made for me,” he growls. “Say it, say you’re mine, let the whole world know it.”

And you do, not an ounce of shame left in your body.

His knot grows inside of you, full and heavy. His claws rip the sheets below you as he loses himself more and more in the throes of pleasure. You’re moaning like a bitch in heat, and the beast prefers it that way, when you’re a sloppy mess, ruined by his hand, ready and receiving of his seed.

You pass out for a moment when he cums, the sheer fullness of his warm cum making your eyes roll back and your toes curl. When you wake up he’s still hard inside of you, greedily licking at your mouth as if you weren’t just in another world.

Dazed, you let him explore your mouth, cock still throbbing as your thighs shake. You can feel his cum falling from your pussy, a fact that has Clive still barely thrusting into you without a thought in his head.

“Can’t let it fall darling, he mutters against your lips. “Need you nice and full, yeah? Want you to be round by next summer.”

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honeykitcat · 9 months ago

Text

Good Girl

pairing: Clive Rosfield x Fem!Reader rating: Explicit (MINORS DNI; 18+) word count: 9.5k summary: Reader needs the rough side of Clive in bed. High jinks ensue. This takes place after Follow the Morgenbeards, and while there are some contextual things that are referenced from the first one shot, this can be read by itself.

warnings: porn with plot, established relationship, miscommunication, fluff and smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cunnilingus, blow job, masturbation, hair pulling, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, possessive behavior, spanking, desk sex, slight degradation, pussy slapping, face-sitting, deepthroating

Spoiler free aside from a vague mention of a side quest and a hunt.

[AO3 link]

The Backyard has become one of your favorite places. Getting to enjoy the greenery and the fresh oxygen coming from the fruit trees and plants has become a pastime of yours. Your reason for visiting today, however, was a mystery; for Clive wouldn’t tell you.

You had woken up in his bed alone, and assumed he went ahead for an early start and let you sleep in. When you got up later that morning, you saw he left you a note that there was a surprise for you in the Backyard. Your automatic thought was that the Morgenbeards had bloomed. Clive had told you he had to get a special kind of morbol, a Carrot, to help the flowers take root. He had brought a part of it a couple weeks ago, and it’s the only thing that could be waiting for you to unveil.

So imagine your surprise when you see a whole bed of not just Morgenbeards, but flowers from all over Storm. Pinks, blues, reds, purples, and yellows paint the grass and soil, and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. Clive went through all the trouble of finding so many beautiful flowers across Storm, and the gesture makes your heart swell. He is so good to me you thought. You truly couldn’t believe that you were the one to capture Clive Rosfield’s heart.

Lost in thought, it takes you a second to register two armor bound arms wrapping around your middle. “Found you.” Clive whispered, squeezing you tighter and his breath tickling your ear. You laugh and sink further into his arms, embracing the beautiful moment you are experiencing. “I can’t believe they bloomed. They are wonderful.” You sigh, your eyes never straying from the flowers before you. He hums and turns you around to get a good look at you. He can’t help but think how you are as stunning as ever, even more so with the look of pure happiness on your face.

“I would have stopped at nothing to ensure that they bloom.” Clive stated, bringing a hand to cup your face with his palm. “Even more so now seeing the joy it has brought you.”

You grasp the hand on your cheek and bring a kiss to his palm. “You are too good to me, Clive Rosfield. You have no idea how much I adore you.”

“And I you, my beautiful girl.” Clive smiles and brings you back to him for a kiss. You can feel yourself grinning from ear to ear. Clive wears his heart on his sleeve. Since love has been declared between the two of you, he doesn’t hesitate to show his affections. You could be talking with another person in the Hideaway, and he will come give you a quick peck on the cheek before continuing his rounds. You could be helping Mid in her dungeon, and he would embrace you with ease as you continue to work. Ever since that night, he has not shied away from showing his love for you, letting everyone in the Hideaway know you are his.

The thought of that night sends a flutter to your stomach. It’s been a mere few months since the incident with the vampire thorns… and the best sex you have ever had. After you had been rid of the poison, you thought the night would end with you going back to your quarters and acting like nothing had happened. By the Founder, were you wrong.

If anyone had walked in and saw what was happening before their eyes that night, they definitely would have thought Clive was the one infected with sex spores.

Because that man was insatiable.

He had pushed you over the edge so many times, had you moaning his name like he was a God you worship. He had spanked your ass until it was a “gorgeous” red, as he had put it, and fucked you until you left plenty of drool and tears in your wake from the pleasure you received. It was messy, it was intense, it was mindless. And you loved every single second of it.

However, every time you both partake in any sort of sexual activity, he treats you like you are his treasure. He makes love to you with care, mending his heart with yours as he sends you into bliss. It is beautiful, caring, loving, and intimate in all the right ways. As much as you love how he takes care of you, you do wish there were more nights where he took you like he did before.

You don’t know why he holds back. You like to think the first time was a great experience for the both of you, despite the circumstances of getting there. There have been many times you would initiate on the rougher side, but the night would always turn out the same. You understand, and maybe it’s on you for not communicating what you want, but you wish he could read your mind. Saying the filthy words of what you want him to do is too much. Especially to him.

“What’s that pretty head of yours thinking about?”

You are released from your thoughts and look up at him, seeing him looking at you with a look of adoration. You can’t help but blush. “Just thinking how lucky I am right now. Wondering what I did to deserve such happiness.”

He smiles and grabs your shoulders, running his thumbs in circles near your clavicle. “For everything you do and more, you deserve everything that your heart desires. I’d move mountains to make them happen.”

Everything except fuck me like Ifrit has taken hold of your cock.

You inwardly smack yourself. Oh, by the Founder please shut up.

Clive grabs your hand. “I have a few tasks to finish up today. I’m hoping they won’t take me too long though. I should be back by dinner.”

“Okay, sounds good.” You smile. “I’ll see you later then.”

“That you shall, my love. I love you.” He kisses your hand and goes towards the stairs, heading to his next task for the day.

“I love you too.”

“Jill, I don't know what to do. I know I could just tell him what I want but it’s embarrassing.”

You and Jill are out on the Boarding Deck, looking out onto the horizon. Earlier in the day, Jill had noticed your unusual demeanor and offered to listen to your quips and worries. To talk about the topic of sex with Jill when it pertains to Clive was the last thing you wanted to do, but you are reaching your whits end and talking to his childhood friend seems to be a great idea.

Jill listens intently, the cogs turning in her brain as she processes your words. Jill has always viewed Clive as a softy; always wanting to do good on others. She believes Clive would listen to your request of rough sex if you asked, but what she doesn’t understand is why wouldn’t he want to? A man like Clive has so much of the world on his shoulders. It only makes sense that he would want to let off some steam.

“_____, not to get too many details, but about that night. Was there anything later that night or the day after that could have startled him?”

You hum in thought. You think back to that morning. You had woken up in his bed alone. You remember feeling every emotion under the sun because he wasn’t there when you woke up. You didn’t have time to dwell on it though because Clive had come back in with something in his hand. “Morning, love. I’m sorry for not being here when you woke up. I went down to see Charon to buy some potions.” He had said, but he sounded far away. You remember him administering the potion for you, and afterwards he held you close for a long time; no words spoken. It was comfortable, but you knew he wanted to say something. You didn’t understand why he was acting the way he was, not until you had looked in the mirror later that morning. Your neck was covered in hickeys, and you had grip marks on your hips. But you didn’t see yourself as wrecked. You felt you were glowing. The marks on your body served as a reminder of the passionate night you had, and while you wouldn’t recommend taking a hit from sex pollen, you would do it all over again because you crave it. You crave him. He satisfied a hunger that you didn’t know you even had, and you needed to experience that again.

You groan. “I think I know why. But he never brought it up. He never mentioned his concerns.”

Jill nods and she seems to understand what you were referring to. “Clive has always had a hard time being honest with himself. You know he has no problem sharing how he feels about others, but when it comes to himself, it’s hard. He has never put his wants first, and I’m willing to bet he wants what you want too. However, you need to express that to him. Because if he isn’t reciprocating, it’s because he feels he went too far.”

It makes sense, you thought. And it doesn’t help that Clive is a gentleman. So how do you go about bringing out the depraved man he is hiding under his calm exterior?

And then it hit you; a plan already forming in your head. A slight curl of your mouth as you conjure up all the ideas in your head. You are going to tease him; wind him up so badly that he takes his sexual frustration out on you. Not only will you save face from the embarrassment of saying what you want out loud, but it will be fun. Good heavens it will be so much fun.

Jill sees the look on your face, and chuckles. “Something tells me you are going to do everything but tell him how you feel.”

You laugh. She isn’t wrong. “Oh, I’ll be telling him, just in a more orthodox way.”

You thank Jill for lending her ear before heading to rest a bit before dinner, as well as hashing out all of the things you are going to do to Clive to get him riled up. Maybe he doesn’t take notice of your rough habits in the heat of the moment, but with prolonged “accidents” and no relief, he is going to go mad. You are prepared to turn him into an absolute beast.

Even if he takes you to the slaughter.

It wasn’t often that everyone got to eat together for dinner. People would be out on missions, bring their food to their work stations, or turn in early. Tonight, however, was one of the few nights everyone was eating in the Ale Hall together, and it was lively. Everyone was eating the delicious food Molly had dished out and pints were being passed around in droves. You were sitting at a table with Clive, Jill, Gav, and Tarja, enjoying the night together, laughing about nothing and everything. It truly felt like the world wasn’t going to shit.

What a great time to enact your plan.

Clive is sitting to your right and his chair is right beside yours, your right thigh and his left thigh touching. Everyone else was sitting across from the both of you, with Gav sitting closer to Clive’s right side. You knew you couldn’t get too crazy, as you didn’t want to bring attention to your antics with Clive’s body in view of others. You knew you’d have to be sneaky. Challenge accepted.

You place your right hand on his thigh while you continue listening to Gav’s story about his experience in the hot spring baths near the Dalimil Inn. You sense Clive glance at you, but he immediately dismisses it, seemingly not thinking much of it. You leave it there for a while, building anticipation, then decide to start rubbing it up and down. You would get near his crotch and then go back down to his knee, repeating the cycle like it was routine. You feel him shift slightly, and he took a deep breath, but his face showed no effect.

This was going to be more fun than I thought.

You move your hand away and use it to pick up your spoon, only to “accidentally '' drop it onto the floor by Clive’s boot. “Whoops my spoon.” You shrug and lean down to grab it, making sure your hand grips his thigh as you pick it up. On the way back up, your hand glides over to his crotch to give a quick squeeze. This causes a grunt to leave his lips, following some coughing after which causes everyone to look at him.

“Are you okay, Clive?” Jill asks concerned, oblivious to what games you were playing.

Clive nodded, pulling himself together quickly. “Yes, thank you. Must have choked on something.” Jill nods and continues to listen to Gav, while Clive looks at you accusingly. You smile, feigning innocence and decide to do one last thing.

“I think I’m going to turn in. I have a long day tomorrow and would like to get some rest.” You announce as you stand up. Clive stands up with you. “Would you like me to escort you?”

You push him to sit back down. “You stay and enjoy tonight. It isn’t often you get to eat with everyone. I’ll see you in the morrow.” You act like you are going to kiss his cheek when you decide to “trip” onto him, your chest pressing into his face. You shake them slightly, acting like you are getting your bearings straight before standing up. “Ah my apologies, Clive. A little bit of alcohol and I’m a clumsy little thing.” Clive’s eyes are wide and mouth slightly agape. You wish everyone goodnight, and successfully lean down to kiss his cheek before sauntering away from the table, smirking to yourself at what you feel was a successful night.

Today was laundry day, which was the most tedious job you have in the Hideaway. You didn’t mind per say, however having to clean things in certain ways, wait for things to dry, and deliver laundry to people took up the whole morning, so you like to get up extra early to get started.

You enjoy this time today particularly because now you have time to think about what your next move will be in riling up Clive. You haven’t seen him this morning, seemingly because he had tasks outside of the Hideaway, which gives you plenty of time to think of a plan. Maybe you’ll get Hortense to make you something that’s a little more revealing to skimp around in. Maybe you’ll grab something phallic from the Backyard Garden and tease him with what your mouth can do. Shit, maybe you’d go wait for him in his chambers and play with yourself. That definitely seemed to work last time. The ideas are endless!

You finish hanging the clothes and linens on the lines in the Rear Stacks, and head down to the pier to dispose of the dirty laundry water. As you get to the main deck, you see Clive walking from the small boat, waving at Obolus as he walks away. You can feel the devil horns growing from your head as you get on the lift. All you have to say is thank the Founder you wore a white bodice today.

The lift reaches the pier, and you walk off, waving at Clive as you continue walking with the bucket of water on your arm. Clive sees you and picks up his pace to meet you halfway. As you walk closer, you see that his uniform is filthy, like he had been rolling around in mud for hours. You couldn’t stifle the laugh that passes your lips as he looked so roughed up. “Thank the Founder you got your uniform dirtied up on laundry day, handsome.”

Clive laughs with you. “I apologize, my lady. Things got out of hand.”

You set the water bucket down and stand so your chests are almost touching. You bring your fingertips to his arm and let them travel slowly up. “Did you have some fun without me?” You pout, your fingertips now at his shoulders. Clive grins, catching on to your playfulness. “If wrestling with a sekhret in the swampy waters of the Greenheaves is your definition of fun, then it was very fun.”

“You are a dirty boy.” You grin, your fingertips now at the opening of his undershirt. “It’s okay though. I like cleaning you up.” You let your finger drag on the skin of his pectoral, collecting some of the muck that was there. Your other hand travels to his hair, gripping it slightly and pulling his head down so his ear is by your mouth. “Just so I can dirty you up again.” As you say that, you run your dirty finger right under his ear. You feel his body twitch, the undersides of his ears always so sensitive. You release him and step away, reaching down to get the water bucket like nothing happened. You hear Clive release a sigh as you are looking away, and you smirk. This is all too fun.

You go back to look at him. “I’ll pick your uniform up from your chambers. Go ahead and get clean and I’ll catch up with you later, yeah?”

“Y-yeah. I will see you later, my love.” He stutters, face noticeably red even under all the muck. He presses a quick kiss to your cheek before heading to the lift.

Time to enact the second half of this teasing session.

You pick up the water acting like you were about to dump its contents into the water when you tilt it towards you slightly, letting the water run down your chest and turning your white bodice very see through. You drop the bucket to draw attention to yourself from Clive. “Bloody hell, I’ve made a mess of myself.” You run your hands up your breasts, pinching your nipples every pass so they are peaked through your drenched top. You glance up at Clive, and the sight before you makes your stomach flip.

Clive is staring you down. His eyes are directed to your movements, his pupils growing bigger and his mouth slacking. You can see his brain is working overtime to process what he was witnessing; his innocent little girl turning into a cunning woman right before his eyes. You walk towards him, pulling your bodice down slightly. “I guess I’ll need to change into something more presentable.”

You stop in your tracks when he walks slowly towards you and takes his cape off. You stare at him, wondering what he is about to do. He takes his cape and wraps it around your shoulders. You grimace slightly. “Darling, I’m fine. You just made me filthier with your cape.”

Clive takes a step closer, mirroring your positions from a few moments ago. He leans his head to your ear, and the words that come out of his mouth make your pussy flutter. “I’d rather have you filthy than go back up with your tits on full display for everyone to see. They are for my eyes only. Don’t you forget that.”

With that said, he steps away and walks back towards the lift, leaving you there in your drenched bodice, his dirty cape, and your now damp knickers. He is so close to snapping. You just need to give him a little more of a push.

And only then will you be in for it.

“Clive, please let me cum!”

“No.”

Clive was fucking you, his hand in your hair and his hand wrapped around your throat, keeping your back to his chest as he continues thrusting into your tight heat. You were whimpering at the fact that he wouldn’t let you cum, pulling out every time he’d feel you clenching on him for too long.

He is giving you hard thrusts, making your breasts bounce on their own accord. He takes the hand that was in your hair and draws it down to your stomach, keeping his hand on the lower part of your belly.

“Fuck can you feel that?” Clive growls into your ear, pushing down on your stomach where his cock is bulging. You cry out and grab onto his arm that’s draped around your chest, gripping for dear life as he continues his assault on your pussy. Clive pushes your head back, so your head is on his shoulder, and leans down to kiss you. The kiss is gentle in juxtaposition to the pounding he is giving you. He pulls away slightly, lips grazing each other and breaths heavy. He keeps his eyes on you, and finally grants you what you’ve been needing.

“Cum for me, sweetheart.”

Your eyes shot open, brain processing where you were and why you weren’t cumming. You let your senses take control, and you see you are in Clive’s chambers and note that the morning horizon has yet to break. You can feel a warm, burly body pressed against you, arm draped over your torso and the sound of light breaths passing through the air.

Fuck I had a sex dream…

You inwardly groan. This is getting out of hand. The dream felt so real, and it was one of the hottest things your brain has ever conjured up. You know you are wounded up tight to be having dreams like that right beside the man who could make that a reality.

Soon enough. It will happen soon enough.

You reach down to feel that your knickers are damp. You dip your fingers into your heat and couldn’t believe how wet you were. You bring the essence to your clit and gently rub it, shivering at the contact. Founder you are so sensitive. You must be super on edge to be so sensitive without any prior pleasure. You keep rubbing your clit, wanting some form of release. You want to wake Clive up but it’s too soon. Give in now and your efforts will be for nothing.

As you continue to touch yourself, an idea pops into your head; the ultimate move to drive Clive to madness. You giggle to yourself; this was such a good idea you couldn’t believe you hadn’t thought of it before.

You are going to put your soiled knickers into Clive’s pants pouch before his trip to Dalimil today.

You maneuver yourself so your arms aren’t touching Clive, not wanting him to wake up while you are playing with yourself. You alternate between rubbing your clit and fingering yourself, drawing out the fluids so it sets in your underwear. You go back to your dream, filling in the gaps of what happened before and what happened after you woke up. Imagining how after you would come, he would keep fucking you until you came again and again. Imagining how he would pull out and make you suck his cock covered in your juices, ensuring that you consumed every last drop of his spend when he comes in your mouth. How he would make out with you after, wanting to get a taste of himself from your lips. That thought alone sends you over the edge.

You bite onto your arm to prevent the cathartic sounds that want to escape your mouth, and push through it. You let the cum from your pussy seep out onto your knickers and you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. You have never done something so naughty before and it feels so good to act out, especially knowing what these actions will hopefully lead to.

You remove your hand and lick your essence to rid yourself of the evidence. You take Clive’s arm and move it off of you so you could get up. You move from the bed and walk to where he keeps his uniform. You slide your knickers from under your gown and fold it neatly so it would fit nicely in the pouch. Right as you stick it in there, you hear movement from the bed.

“_____, are you okay?”

You turn to see a sleepy Clive, his eyes half-lidded as he looks at you. You turn around, playing off the innocent facade after doing something naughty. “I’m okay. I had to go to the privy chambers to relieve myself.” You walk back over to the bed and Clive sits up to draw you back into his arms. He snuggles his head into your neck as you lay on your back, taking a deep breath before releasing it. “Truthfully, I don’t know how I’m going to survive a night without you beside me. I can’t sleep without you.”

You turn your body to face him, heart melting at the small confession. “It is only for a night, my love. Besides, you’ll have something to look forward to. So don’t keep me waiting too long.” You run your fingers down his face, Clive turning his head to kiss your palm before pulling you closer, his head resting against your chest. His legs intertwined with yours and he places his arms comfortably around you. You sigh, enjoying the peace of the night with him.

The calm before the storm.

Clive has been in Dalimil all day, helping L’ubor with some disturbances happening out in the Velkroy, as well as helping a few residents in the area. He had come back from the desert to the Briar’s Kiss to deliver the stolen resources from one of the bandit groups that lurked nearby, and L’ubor looked thrilled.

“Cliiiiive.” He draws out. “I knew you’d get the job done.”

“I’m glad I could be of service.” Clive nods. “Is there anything else that needs to be handled?”

L’ubor shakes his head. “Please, you’ve done enough, and it is almost night. You should rest up for your travels back home tomorrow. Take this gil and mineral deposits for your resourcefulness.”

Clive takes the gifts from him. “I appreciate it. Till next time, L’ubor.”

Clive turns to walk away, opening his pouch to put the items in when he feels something within it. That’s strange. I swore I emptied them yesterday.

He takes out whatever the item was and inspects it, only to flush a thousand shades of red when he realizes what he’s holding. Your knickers. He is in shock, wondering what your knickers were doing in there. He definitely didn’t take them, he’s not a pervert. He thinks back to this morning when you were standing on the other side of the room… where he sets his uniform.

Curiosity sets in, lifting the underwear to his nose and inhaling briefly. The brief scent traveled up his nose and in that moment a switch flicked in his brain and blood started to rush to his groin. He groans. She smells so fucking good.

With haste, Clive goes to his room in the inn, wanting to take care of the ever-growing problem in his pants. He lies on the bed, still fully clothed, and starts to grope his cock through his trousers. Your underwear is in a death grip, his mind wandering to thoughts of you and how much of a naughty girl you’ve become.

Looking back at the last couple days, he starts to think about all the incidents that happened with you around. He really did think the groping at dinner was an accident; a reflex to protect yourself from the fall that just happened to land your tits in his face. He grew more suspicious the next day at the pier, when you were talking in euphemisms and “accidentally” spilt water on yourself. He gropes himself harder at the thought that you were going to go back up with your breasts on display through your wet bodice. Fuck, you were really going to do it.

But this? The knickers in his pouch? He almost couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe you would do something so risqué. This alone makes the other incidents purposeful, and it was now obvious what you were doing, and it worked because his mind has opened the vault of all the filthy things he wants to do to you.

He slides his hand into his trousers and pulls his cock from its confines. He takes the hand that was on his cock to spit in it before returning it there, letting it warm his cock up as he strokes it. He starts to imagine every little thing he has wanted to do to you, fucking his fist as he pictures himself punishing you for all the bad things you did. You were supposed to be his good girl. Not a cunning, little brat.

He brings your underwear up to his face to inhale your scent, sending him into a frenzy. Your smell makes his mouth water and his hand go faster. Clive loves eating your sweet cunt. He loves the sounds that come out of your mouth as he sucks on your clit and licks your tiny hole; breathy wisps of praises that reach his ears. He loves to rub on your clit as you orgasm so his tongue can collect your sweet nectar, consuming it like it is his last supper. He can’t get enough of it, and smelling your essence from the present you left him is sending him into a fit that he can't taste you right now.

He is jerking his cock off at a lightning pace, imagining himself fucking you on your knees begging for relief. Imagining you with tears and drool on your face as the overwhelming need to cum kicks in. That image alone sends Clive over and as he starts to fall, he brings your used panties back to his nose, inhaling quickly before he descends. He moans loudly, not caring if anyone in the inn hears him because his mind is only focused on one thing: you.

As his orgasm subsides, he relaxes against the sheets, dirty panties in one hand and his now soft cock in the other. He needed that release, but his release now has him determined. He was going all in on you when he got home.

With a clear head, he thought about the night of the vampire thorn incident. It was that night that made Clive very aware of his primal needs. He had never been so lost in pleasure before, and he loved letting go of his inhibitions. However, seeing you covered in marks, while one of the sexiest things he has seen, woke him up. He had to remember that night was different because you were infected with something that altered your sex drive. Your mind was in chaos, so his rough touch is what you needed to get you out of it. But what about after? He didn’t know if you would like his actions as much in your regular state, so being softer with you seemed the way to go and for a while he believed that is what you wanted. He should have communicated because it is apparent that he was wrong. You wouldn’t do all these things for a sweet, loving session of coitus. It was an invitation for him to bring you to your knees and ruin you.

He can’t wait to tear you apart.

“Ta-da!” You cheer as you hold up a flower garland you finished. You were teaching some of the Hideaway kids how to make flower garlands, as they had some free time after their lessons with Tomes. They were in awe of your creation, weavings on stems that show off the red blossoms.

“Can we make one, _____?” One asked, leading the others to chime in agreement.

“Of course! Just make sure to only use the flowers in this bed. The other bed is a no-no.” You point out the bed full of Morgenbeards being off limits since they are used for a purpose rather than scenery. You watch them pick what flowers they are going to use, helping a few get their garlands started before you hear your name being called. You turn to see it is none other than Gav.

“Hey Gav, what’s going on?”

Gav gets to you and smiles. “Clive is back! He has requested your presence in his chambers. The big sap seems to have missed ya.”

“Oh okay! Um… do you mind staying with the kids? They are making flower garlands.”

“Sure! Hey kids!” He says waving at them.

You walk behind Gav and place your garland on his head. “I have to run off for a little bit. Show Gav what I taught the lot of you.” You walk away and laugh as you hear the kids telling Gav how pretty he looked with your garland, hearing him complain and say it made him “handsome, not pretty”.

You take your time getting there, savoring the moment before what’s about to go down. The knickers must have worked. There is no way they didn’t. The anticipation is building as you walk up the steps to his chambers, now standing at his door. You take a deep breath, prepare yourself, and walk in.

You see Clive sitting at his desk, writing something down until he hears the doors open. He looks up and smiles at you. “Hey sweetheart, it’s so good to see you.”

You observe him. He’s in his white undershirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He is smiling at you, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His eyes are giving off something more… ominous. You can’t read what they are saying, but you are hoping it’s what you’ve worked so hard to achieve these last couple days.

“Gav said you wanted to see me.” You say, closing the doors and standing by them.

“Hmm yeah, we just went over some things from my trip to Dalimil. I got him to fetch you for me since he was on the way out.”

You nod. “How was your trip?”

Clive stares at you, lips curling as he places his papers in his drawer and puts his quill to the side. “It kept me busy. Had some surprises along the way, but nothing I couldn’t handle.” He sits up a little and scoots his chair back. He pats his lap. “Come over here.”

You walk over and around his desk, sitting in his lap with your legs dangling over his thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. Clive wraps his arms around your torso and squeezes you to him, letting his head rest on your shoulder, but not before kissing your cheek. You giggle as he snuggles his head into your shoulder blade.

“Were you a good girl while I was gone?”

The question catches you off guard, his tone playful yet conniving. “Y-yeah. I’m always good for-“. A gasp escapes you as a resounding smack lands on your thigh. Your eyes go wide as he lifts his head to look at you and the gentleman you’ve grown to love is gone. His eyes are sharp, a gaze that makes you want to curl. He rubs the spot he smacked, keeping eyes on you as his other hand clasps the back of your neck. “_____,” he draws out. “Don’t lie to me. I know what you’ve been doing.”

Your mind is going haywire. You like where this is going. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Clive tightens his grip on your neck, not enough to hurt, but enough to send the message you’ve been desperately wanting. “You are such a minx. Tempting me with your bad behavior.”

“Did it work?” You ask, admitting to your actions with the subtle question.

“You have no fucking idea.” He practically growls.

Clive stands up with you in his grasp and pushes you on his desk, chest flat on the hardwood. He lifts your dress up past your legs and hips, and he almost loses his control. You are bear for him, no knickers in sight. “Fuck, you really did have it all planned out. Wearing no panties hoping I’d fuck you the minute you walked in.” His hands run up your thighs to the globes of your cheeks. “You are going to have to earn it, sweetheart. Starting by taking accountability for every bad thing you've done.”

Yes, yes, yes! You thought. You were going to get what you’ve been needing.

Clive rubs your left cheek before bringing his hand back, landing a blow. “For teasing me at dinner.” He lands another one on the same cheek, causing you to whimper as the sensitive skin pulsates. “That’s for shoving your cleavage in my face and groping my cock.” He smacks your right cheek. “And acting like it was an accident when in reality you are just cock hungry whore.”

You moan, the feeling of his rough hands spanking you only making your pussy wet. He keeps going, alternating between each cheek, making sure to rub the supple skin between each hit.

Smack

“For your behavior on the pier.”

Smack

“For pouring water on your bodice to show off your tits.” He delivers two quick smacks in succession. “And for almost going up to show them off to everyone else. I can’t believe my good little girl would try that.” His possessive nature is sending waves of arousal to your brain, and it commands your legs to spread further, pushing your ass into his rough hands; that only makes him smack your ass harder. “That’s for enjoying this. Fuck, you really are a minx.”

Smack, smack, smack

He delivers three in a row, making your cheeks burn in the best way. He leans over your body, his clothed cock rubbing against your bare slit. He grips your hair in his right hand to bring your ear closer to his mouth. “And those were for your cum stained knickers you left me. Do you know what I did with them?”

He flips you over and lifts you, so your bottom is on the edge of his desk, getting on his knees so his face is lined up with your pussy. You flinch slightly, your butt stinging from his spankings, but you focus away from the burn when he pries your legs open, settling them on his shoulders. He nips at your thighs, running his tongue along the marks he leaves in his wake. Your hands go to trail through his hair when he takes your hands and pins them to the desk. He looks up at you, his face right up on your dripping cunt, his breath hitting your hot folds. “I jerked my cock off to your scent.” He presses a kiss to your clit. “I stroked my cock with your knickers to my nose, imagining I was eating your sweet cunt. I was going crazy not being able to just taste you.” He gives a tiny lick to your folds, stopping right before your clit. “I’ve been thinking about this ever since, so I’m going to indulge, and you are going to sit here and keep your hands to yourself while I enjoy my meal. Do you understand?”

You are at a loss for words; all you can think is how hot this side of him is. He smacks your thigh, springing you back to reality. “Do you understand, _____? I need you to tell me so I know you are listening.”

You nod enthusiastically. “Yes, I understand.”

His arms wrap around each thigh, locking you into position with your hands on the edge of the desk, and his mouth goes straight to your clit. He licks the underside of it, while his mouth suctions around it, causing your legs to spasm at the combination of stimulation. His hands are gripping the inside of your thighs as he continues to enjoy himself, his eyes trained on you as your chest goes up and down and your nails dig into the wood of the desk. He pulls away and uses one hand to spread your lower lips, seeing your hole leak with arousal. All he can think is how this is what he has been craving for hours as his tongue dips into your cunt, lapping at it as your juices collect on his tongue. Watching him eat you like this, like this is all he would want to eat for the rest of his life, makes you throw your head back with a groan. Clive chuckles and goes through the motions of sucking your clit and licking at your tight hole before he feels the oncoming wave of your orgasm. He senses you are about to tumble over, and right as he feels your pussy flutter on his tongue, he pulls away.

“Fuck Clive I was almost there.” You whine, shaking from the orgasm you were denied.

Clive stands up, his hand coming to your face to squeeze your jaw as he looms over you. “Oh, you aren’t going to cum until I tell you to. You are being punished, sweetheart. I will only let you come when my good girl has come back to me. You will take what I give you.” He lets go of you to back away, slowly stripping away his clothes, teasing you that he is the one in control. And there is nothing you can do about it.

He takes his trousers off, and your eyes bulge right from your sockets. He had no braies under his trousers, but what he did have was something wrapped around the base of his cock and his balls.

By the fucking Founder, my knickers are wrapped around his cock.

Clive snickers at you. “You like what I did with them? Now I can have my way with you all day if I want to.” He pulls you to your feet to pull your skirt fully off, letting it pool around your feet. He makes quick work of your corset and bodice, drinking in your naked form. You stand under his intense gaze, waiting for his next set of instructions.

“I want you on the desk, on your knees, legs spread.” He commands softly. In an instant, you climb on top of his desk, doing exactly as he instructed. You place your arms in front of you so they dangle off the desk, causing your upper body to be flush against the wood. Clive massages your ass, gripping your cheeks and pulling them apart. “Your ass is so pretty, especially now that it's nice and red.” You smirk and shake your ass in his hands, earning you a hard smack. “And here I thought my good girl was coming back.”

He spits on his hand, stroking his cock to get it ready for your ruin. Seeing you like this, with your legs spread out on the desk, not caring that it is uncomfortable on your knees, ready to be mounted and taken by him sent his arousal into a frenzy. He settles behind you, one hand on your hip while the other guides his cock into your tight heat. You groan as he pushes in inch by inch, loving the way your cunt hugs him tightly. Clive lets out a deep breath as he is fully seated inside of you, savoring this moment before it ends.

“Clive, please move.” You whine. “Ruin me. Turn me into your good girl.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. He pulls his cock out, with the tip settling at the beginning of your entrance, before slamming back in. You jolt forward, arms and hands doing everything they can to hold onto the desk for dear life. He continues these motions; slow, hard thrusts that jolt your body back and forth, each stroke hitting your sweet spot that knocks the breath out of your lungs. Clive is grunting as he continues, loving the way you feel around him. “I love that I get to break you in. Every. Single. Time.” He says attached to a powerful stroke.

You moan as he picks up the pace, slamming into you as your pussy becomes more wet with each stroke. Your pussy flutters on his cock, signaling that you are on the precipice of cumming, when he pulls out. You whine at the emptiness, your hole clenching around nothing, trying to regain the sensation you had previously. You feel his finger swirl against your hole as it continues to flutter, causing a soft “fuck” to leave Clive’s lips. “Your cunt must love my cock. She’s begging for him.” He quips. He pushes back in and continues where he left off, fucking your cunt with everything he’s got.

You feel yourself clenching on him, the need to cum coming back ten fold. You turn your head to look at him, and seeing him with his chest glistening and his attention directed to where your pussy and his cock meet sends you reeling. You squeeze on his cock, his facial expression shifting as he sees what you are doing. He pulls out again, smacking your pussy this time, which makes your legs spread farther. He wraps his arm around your torso and pulls you up to his chest, shoving his cock back into you. His hand goes to your hair, pulling it back to expose your neck for him. He nips at the flesh between your jaw and your neck, licking the tiny bites to soothe them. He licked behind your ear, causing you to shiver from the sensitivity. “Something tells me that no matter how many times I punish you, you love being naughty. Like it is second nature to you.” You smile at his words.

Because he is absolutely right.

“You may think you can get away with it, but you are wrong. Because for now, you are going to be begging to cum. And I’m not going to give it to you.” He growls, keeping you in place as he sets a fast pace. Clive can read you like the back of his hand, meaning that every time you are about to cum, he knows and he pulls out. He waits a few minutes, kissing under your jaw and running his hand from your torso to your breast, pulling at your nipples and squeezing them. Then he goes right back in and continues the cycle.

You are wailing, wanting to cum so bad, but he is not letting you. Taking his cock away from you, playing with you, then giving it back to only take it away again. Not being able to cum is driving you to madness. Even with your knickers around his cock, you don’t know how his stamina is lasting as long as it is. Granted, he is no ordinary man.

You try to rub your clit to initiate a quick orgasm before he could pull out, but he catches your hands to bring them behind your back. His left hand is wrapped around both your wrists, preventing you from touching yourself. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. As I said, you will take what you are given.” He wraps his right hand around your throat, not squeezing, but to keep you in place. You can feel yourself going insane, tears from being denied multiple times flowing down your cheeks and moans leaving your lips each time his cock hits home. Your pussy flutters again, and once again Clive pulls out, causing you to wail. “Please put it back! Put it back where it belongs!”

Clive felt feral at your words, the possessive nature taking over his body as he flipped you over once again. He inserts his cock before wrapping his arms around your hips, and lifting you off the desk. Your arms wrap around his neck, and he can feel your body buzzing from denying you relief so many times. He is starting to feel it too, the need to cum possessing his body. He walks up the steps, with you still connected to him, and once at the bed he flops down on it so you are on top. “You want to cum so bad? You have to earn it, so work for it.” He says sternly.

Your legs are tired from holding up your body against the hardwood of the desk, but you are at your limit for being denied and you need to cum. You adjust your legs, place your hands on his chest, and start to rock your hips up and down on his cock. The smacking of your ass against his thighs resound throughout the room as you bounce on his cock, working for that orgasm you desperately need. Clive watches, and you are a sight to behold: everything from your messy hair, to your glowing skin, and your tear stricken face… you are an angel sent to him.

You feel yourself grow frustrated as you are close to cumming but are missing something. You groan as you bounce faster, trying anything to get you there. “I can’t, fuck, I can’t. Clive please make me cum I can’t do it.”

Clive sits up slightly, bringing one hand to your cheek to caress it. “Will you be my good girl from now on?”

“Yes, I’m sorry! I’ll be a good girl just fuck please!”

Clive goes to bring your body down, chests pressed together, and starts rocking his hips up into yours. He keeps one arm around your torso and brings the other one down to your clit to rub tight fast circles. He brings his lips to yours, inhaling your cries and whines as he pummels up into you, holding you so he can give you everything he’s got without you straying away from him. You feel like you are being fucked stupid, and your mind in shambles as he fucks you.

Once again, you feel yourself clench on his cock, your pussy wanting to milk his cock so bad as you cum.

Clive senses it, and this time he accepts it. “Cum for me, darling. Give me your nectar.”

You wail as your pussy spasms, clinging onto his cock as he fucks you through it. You feel your cunt gush, your cum covering Clive’s thighs and his fingers as he slows the rubs on your clit down. He brings that hand back up and licks his fingers, groaning at the taste of your essence. You are slowly coming down from your orgasm when Clive lifts you off his cock and pulls your body up his, your knees hitting the mattress as he holds onto your thighs to eat your pussy.

Nothing could have prepared for the way Clive devours your cunt. The moans and growls coming from him as he laps at the essence he helped bring on, pushing your body down more like he can’t get enough of what your hole is giving him. The amount of times you were denied, as well as your recent orgasm, has made you so sensitive. The urge to push him away is strong, your clit overstimulated, but he pulls you back to lock you in. You let out a sob as you cum on his tongue, rocking your hips as you whine at how hot this all was. He slows his roll, and removes you from his face, his smile glistening with your arousal. You lay to catch your breath, overwhelmed at what you are feeling. After a moment, you look at him and see his cock looks pitiful; it is practically needing to escape from the confines of your knickers.

You turn your body to face Clive, running your hand down his chest. “Clive darling, you didn’t cum.”

He lets out a breathy laugh. He sits up, hands on your face as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I know. Where do you want my cum? You’ve been good so you choose.”

You already know where you want it. “I want to swallow it. May I suck your cock please?” You bat your eyelashes.

“Anything for you.” He kisses your mouth quickly. “Where do you want me?”

“Can you stand up? I want to be on my knees for you again.”

Clive groans, feeling more blood rush to his cock, if even possible. He stands up, and reaches for the knife on the chest behind his bed to cut off your panties, his cock too hard to remove them intact. He sets them both aside, and turns to see you already on your knees, ready to take his cock. Like his good girl.

He stands in front of you, and your hands run up his thighs, nails dragging up and down. You admire his cock, pulling his foreskin back to reveal his pretty pink tip. You give little licks to his top, kissing it and running your tongue along it like you’d be kissing him. You then start to run your lips down his shaft, using the same techniques as you did with his tip. You bring your hand to his balls, carefully massaging them in your hands as your mouth continues its ministrations.

Clive groans from above you, his right hand settling on a tight grip in your hair with his left hand resting on your cheek, admiring how you treat his cock. You move back to the tip and insert it into your mouth, gently sucking it as you gaze up at him. “Fuck, if only you could see yourself right now.” He says gravely and needy. He pushes your head further down on his cock, your mouth accepting him as his tip gets to the back of your throat. You take a few deep breaths, preparing yourself as you swallow around his tip, causing Clive’s hips to buck. You choke slightly, regaining yourself as you pull your mouth back to the tip before going back down, sucking hard every time you get to the tip and swallowing when it is in the back of your throat.

Clive feels himself getting impatient, and tests the waters as he uses the hand in your hair to guide your mouth up and down his cock, slowing fucking it as you suck. You are moaning at how he is using you, loving the idea of him letting you suck his cock whenever he wants.

He sees how much you are loving this, which makes him guide his cock in and out slightly faster; enough to get him off, but not enough to hurt you. “I should let you suck my cock more often, seeing how much of a harlot you are for it.”

You moan, sending the vibrations to the tip and he groans loudly, cumming without warning. You bring one hand to the base and jerk it while sucking the tip, making sure to get all that he has to offer. You let his softened penis fall from your mouth, and you swallow his spend, enjoying the musky taste that is unequivocally him.

Clive gets on his knees to scoop you up in his arms, settling you on his lap. He holds you close, rocking back and forth as you both come down from the long session you both fulfilled.

“Hey Clive?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Which is?”

“I like when you are rough with me. I always have. I’m sorry I didn’t communicate that earlier. I was embarrassed.”

You feel Clive’s body vibrates as he laughs. He turns your face to him, looking at you with the look he always gives you: one of adoration. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry I didn’t see your needs sooner.” He kisses your cheek and cradles your head into his neck. “Truth be told, I was worried. I was so rough with you for our first time together. And as much as I loved it, I was worried it wasn’t what you wanted.”

You shake your head, lifting your head so you can see him. “Please understand that I love when you make love to me. It makes me feel so loved by you and so wanted. I want to keep those intimate times, but I also want times like these where we let our inhibitions go. I want the calm and I want the storm. I want everything.”

You place your hands upon his cheeks, leaning in to give him the softest of kisses. He returns it, squeezing you closer so you won’t disappear from his hold. He releases your lips and places his forehead against yours. “I love you, _____. I will love you past my dying breath.”

You laugh, warmth running through your chest. “I love you too, Clive. Nothing will ever stop me from loving you.”

“Let me run us a bath. Let me take care of you.” Clive suggests, even though you know he wouldn’t take no for an answer. You nod in affirmation, letting him get up to carry you to his bathing room.

“Oh, Clive?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Do you think everyone heard us?”

Clive snickers. “Without a doubt.”

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