#i can work for 79 hours straight

[bunny7567]

Tear you apart - Part 1

Pairing: Wolffe x fem!reader

Summary: You’re heartbroken, angry, and barely holding it together. The last thing you need is another man. But then you meet Commander Wolffe – and he doesn’t offer comfort. He offers control.

Word count: 6.9k (hehe nice) Tags/Warnings: NSFW 18+; rough sex; pinv sex; he uses ✨️safety sheaths✨️; female masturbation; D/s dynamic; dom!Wolffe; named!Reader; also awkwardaf!Reader; there's a reference to one of my fav tv moments in there; aftercare; smoking; drinking; sexual harassment; crying

A/n: So this is uhh something. I read this fic a while ago and it made such a big impact that I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I wanted to try my own hand at dom!Wolffe. Tessa is sort of an oc, but not that defined, and I've been enjoying writing 2nd person pov so I thought I'd mesh the two. She's not described that much besides having hair long enough to be pulled. Title is from Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge

Optional: take a shot every time I say he growls and see if you can make it to the end of the fic* (*OP assumes no responsibility for liver damage incurred as a result of this drinking game, or for subsequent hospital visits)

Taglist

The loud music is giving you a headache, and the ever-shifting shimmering lights are too much to bear. Doesn’t help that you’ve had one too many glasses of some horrible, cheap wine, in some misguided attempt to drown your sorrows. Your still way-too-fresh sorrows.

Absentmindedly, you lean on the bar, placing your hand directly into a puddle of something sticky. Your stomach turns

You should’ve just stayed home.

Pushing away from the counter, you shake your hand, debating whether you should brave the journey to the fresher through the masses of dancing bodies. The 79s is surprisingly full considering the late hour. It’s too chaotic so you decide to wipe your hand on your black skirt – you’ll just throw it straight into the wash as soon as you get home.

The colourful lights keep on flickering, and from a nearby table loud cheers erupt as the Coruscant limmie team finally scored against Kothlis. The game is being projected onto every holoscreen – a touching display of loyalty considering that the local team almost never wins.

 You search the crowd trying to locate your friend, and spot her attached to the mouth of a trooper dressed in grey-painted plastoid. She certainly moves fast when she wants to – she’s left you at the bar not even fifteen minutes ago. You wonder if she even made it to the fresher.

You peer back at the trooper, then all around you. Grey seems to be the most prominent colour in the cantina tonight, save for the few Corries and troopers in plain officer uniforms.

Grey…that’s the 104th if you remember correctly. Deploying in two rotations to retake a strategic planet in the Mid-Rim. You’d know – you’ve only just spent the last week and a half fully immersed in terrain maps and intelligence reports, coming up with three different assault strategies and four exit plans. Good strategies too – the 104th should come out of this campaign with little-to-no casualties. You’re certain of that.

Not because you’re overconfident – but because you’re thorough. You always have been. You take your job as a strategist seriously. You've worked hard to rise through the ranks, to earn your place.

So many training sessions. So many sleepless nights buried in tactical manuals. But it paid off. You made lieutenant. You’re proud of yourself even if your boyfriend isn’t–

No.

Ex.

Your ex… You keep forgetting.

You throw another quick glance towards Saskia, but she and the 104th trooper aren’t even coming up for air. The corners of your eyes already sting with unshed tears as the high of the alcohol abruptly begins to morph into nostalgic grief. The dam is about to break – you have half an hour at most until you become a sobbing mess. No point in ruining her night too – you’ve already spent three nights in a row crying while curled up on her couch– you’ll just send her a comm once you’re home.

Pushing through the crowd, you make your way to the exit and out into the cool night air of Coruscant. But you don’t linger. With fast, decisive strides you leave the 79s behind. You’re pretty drunk, you probably should take a taxi. But there’s no rush. There’s no one waiting for you back at your place. No one besides some half-eaten take out and a couple dying plants. Maybe this break-up will finally motivate you to take better care of the poor potted Naboo succulents you keep spontaneously buying. Hey, if you’re not gonna take care of yourself, you could at least take care of something else.

The dry chuckle dies in your throat as you round the corner, and you stop dead in your tracks. Your blood runs cold, a dreadful panic spreading from your stomach to every part of your body, seeping into your bones.

Just ahead, a young Basolar woman is pressed against a wall, four men towering over her. Their lewd jeers carry to you, turning your stomach. Even from here, you can see the terror in her eyes, the rigid way she holds herself. That girl is in danger and you have to do something about it.

Only… you can’t.

Not like this. Sure you have military training but you cannot take on four men, all larger than you, empty-handed. It wouldn’t end well.

You need a weapon.

Without thinking, you turn around and start running. There is a cantina full of clone troopers just around the corner. One of them is bound to have a blaster on him, and once you’re armed, you can return and help that poor girl. You just need to move fast.

Your prayers are answered. Outside the 79s, a clone trooper leans casually against the wall, a cigarra glowing between his fingers. He’s missing the upper half of his armor, but two holsters hang at his hips – and the sleek black blasters are right there, within reach.

Perfect. Exactly what you need.

If you were sober, you’d probably pay more attention to the rest of his armor – more specifically to the colours and the kama – but your brain has latched so forcefully onto your plan, you have tunnel vision.

“You!” you shout, still a few steps away. “I need your blaster!”

The clone turns his head, and you almost stumble under the weight of his glare. It’s not just the look – it’s his eyes. One, a rich dark brown like every clone’s. The other, cybernetic: silver-grey, gleaming as it catches the streetlight. And the scar… it’s long, brutal. The kind of mark that says he’s been to hell and back – and that he’s not the type of man you demand things from. Too late.

“Excuse me?” he challenges. His voice is a low growl, calm, but there's a flicker of amused curiosity beneath the steel.

“I need your blaster!” you repeat, panting as you come to a stop in front of him. Your voice is laced with fear and urgency and your hands are trembling when you begin frantically gesturing. “There's four men harassing a young girl around the corner and she needs help. I can't confront them with just my fucking purse. Give me your blaster!”

He straightens from the wall instantly, flicks the cigarra away, and crushes it under his boot. “Take me there,” he orders.

“I can handle it if I have a blast–”

“Do you really have time to argue?” he cuts you off. “Take me there.”

The adrenaline finally starts to clear the alcohol haze from your brain. Right – that is a much better plan than charging in by yourself. You should’ve thought of it yourself. Idiot.

 The clone in front of you is big, imposing, and that scar across his eye makes him look downright threatening. And you know the deadly precision these troopers possess. You’ve studied plenty of battle footage, you’ve seen how they move, how they fight… how they kill.

Without another word, you pivot and sprint back toward the alley. Your heart hammers in your chest, breath short and ragged. But the heavy thud of armored boots behind you is strangely steadying. Reassuring, even.

You just hope you’re not too late.

When you round the corner she’s still there – and unfortunately so are the thugs. Her head is turned away, eyes screwed shut, as one of the men runs his grubby fingers along her face. Rage surges through you, and before you can think better of it, you step forward and shout:

“Get your hands off her!”

The men whip their heads around to glare at you – and for one nauseating moment, you feel every cell in your body scream mistake. But then their eyes shift, just over your shoulder… and a flicker of panic ripples across their expressions.

The clone steps up beside you, the picture of steadiness, one hand already resting on his blaster.

“Go back to the 79s and find Commander Fox,” he says calmly but quickly. “Red armor. First floor. Second booth from the stairs.”

From the corner of your eye, you catch the movement as the men square their shoulders in preparation for a fight.

You don’t move. You should. But if you leave, it’s four against one…

“Go now!” he barks without looking at you, the sharpness in his voice slicing through your panic like a blade.

This time, you know better than to argue.

By the time you return with Commander Fox and a couple other shock troopers he barked at to follow, the fight is already over.

Two of the men lie motionless on the ground, one of them groaning – barely. The other two are nowhere to be seen.

The clone trooper is crouched beside the Basolar girl, his voice low and steady as he calms her down. There’s a bright-red mark on his jaw that looks like it’ll bloom into a nasty bruise by morning – one of the thugs must’ve landed a punch – but otherwise, he seems unharmed.

 “Wolffe,” Commander Fox says, stepping forward. “What happened?”

The man rises, and dives straight into a sitrep. Calm. Succinct. No emotional embellishments.

You, meanwhile, stop dead at the end of the alley, your brain finally processing all the pieces of information.

Grey pain on the greaves and boots.

Kama.

Wolffe…

Commander Wolffe. Of the 104th.

Kriff.

You’ve never met him before. But Maker, you’ve heard about him.

He’s infamous.

The no-nonsense, zero-tolerance-for-banthashit, tough-as-durasteel leader of the Wolfpack.

And you screamed at him to hand over his blaster.

You yelled at a superior officer.

Oh kriff.

You’re dead. You’re done.

You’re gonna get court-martialed and dishonourably discharged and–

“Hey.”

The low voice cuts through your spiralling thoughts, bringing you back to the present.

“Are you alright?”

Commander Wolffe is standing right in front of you, watching with unreadable focus. The man’s Sabacc face is impeccable – not a twitch, not a flicker. But somehow… you no longer think you’re in trouble.

“Uhh… yeah. Yeah,” you manage to croak. “Is she…?”

“She’ll be fine,” he replies, glancing back toward the girl for a second. “Fox will take her statement then make sure she gets home safe.”

You nod a few too many times, your words failing you. Then you clear your throat.

“Thank you… for your help. And... I'm sorry I was a bit uhm...” you trail off, feeling your cheeks begin to burn.

“Demanding?” he supplies, a dry edge to his voice – but there’s a flicker of amusement there too. Maybe even the ghost of a smirk.

“I think the adrenaline got the better of me,” you chuckle, suddenly feeling very awkward under his gaze. “And possibly the many glasses of Corellian red.”

He studies you. Not just glances – studies. His eyes track every twitch of your lips, every fidget of your hands.

“How are you getting home?” he suddenly asks.

You blink, thrown off by the shift in his voice. Not exactly warm, but… not cold either.

“I'll walk,” you say after a beat. “It's not too far away.”

“Alright, I'll walk with you.”

You flinch at the offer – although it sounded more like a command.

“There's no need–” you start.

“It's not up for debate,” he cuts you off, voice firm, categorical. “Those men saw you. I’m not gonna let you leave by yourself just to get jumped two streets down.”

You gulp. The sharpness of his eyes, the fierce protectiveness of his voice – it’s really doing something to you. And the fact that he’s still watching you. He hasn’t looked away for more than one second. He’s watching you like you’re a battle strategy worth learning.

 It’s unnerving. But also deeply, alarmingly exciting.

You mumble a barely audible, “Okay.”

He jerks his chin toward the road. “Lead the way.”

The walk to your place is mercifully quick. Wolffe doesn't say much, but you feel his burning gaze on you the entire time. You, on the other hand, can’t stop talking and start to ramble. You hate the silence and desperately need to fill it.

“So I uhh… I went out with my friend tonight. I wasn’t just, you know, drinking by myself. Well I mean I kinda was by the end cause she ditched me. For one of your men actually. Tall – I mean of course tall, as tall as-as you, cause-well obviously, you’re all– umm… white hair? Grey? Something like that.”

“Sinker,” he replies flatly.

“Well, at least you know where he’ll be tonight,” you offer with a forced chuckle.

Nothing. Not even a twitch of a smile.

“Yeah, no. That was, uh, bad. That was… Sorry. I-I ramble when I’m nervous,” you weakly explain.

“Do I make you nervous, mesh’la?” he asks in that same infuriatingly calm voice.

“You’re a bit terrifying,” you admit, your voice small and uncertain.

You risk a glance up, and your eyes meet. His gaze is intense and it sends a shiver down your spine. You immediately look away… but not before you catch it. A faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Well.

At least you’re entertaining.

“Umm…” you start after a beat of silence. “What does that word mean?”

“Mesh’la?”

You nod, quickly glancing his way again.

“It means ‘beautiful’,” he answers

Butterflies start violently fluttering in your stomach and you’re certain your face has gone bright red. He called you beautiful. He thinks you’re beautiful. It shouldn’t affect you this much – but it’s been a long time since anyone’s said something like that.

“Oh,” is all you manage to mutter.

You reach your building and step inside. He follows right behind, just as he has the entire walk, and your heartbeat gets faster and faster the closer you get to your door. You’re almost panting as you walk up the stairs – which doesn’t usually happen, it’s only two levels.

By the time you reach your door you’ve made up your mind. The idea seemed completely out of the question when Saskia suggested it at the beginning of the evening, but now? Now it’s all you can think about. He is all you can think about. His presence, his eyes, his commanding voice. And how he’d feel inside of you. You’ve never had a one-night stand before… But then again, you’ve never had your heart broken in such a harrowing way before.

 You’re certain this is exactly what you need.

With a shaky hand you input your code in the panel outside your apartment. The door hisses open and you take a deep breath, then step in and turn to face him.

He’s still watching you – silent, steady, intense. You can feel the electricity hanging between you.

“Do you want to come in for some caf?” you ask.

“You're offering me caf at 3 in the morning?” he counters with a faint smirk, leaning on the doorframe.

“Tea then...?”

“Mesh'la, if you want something from me, all you have to do is ask.”

“I... w-well, you see...” you stammer.

“Come on, where's that fire from earlier?” Wolffe teases. “You basically screamed at me to hand you my blaster, you can ask a question now.”

“Do...” You swallow before taking a deep breath. “Do you want to come inside and fuck me?”

For a second – a dreadfully long second – you think you’ve read this wrong, and anxiety simmers uncomfortably in your stomach. But then he inches closer, the look in his eyes sharpening.

 “You sure about that?” His voice is quiet, even – but there’s a rough edge under it, something dark and controlled.

You nod.

“That’s not an answer,” he says. Still calm. Still waiting. But it's a challenge now.

“Yes,” you whisper. “I’m sure.”

You step aside, allowing Wolffe to walk past you and enter your apartment. After another deep breath, you follow him into the living room area – and immediately freeze as the light turns on.

You forgot the state you left everything in…

There are empty take-out containers on the caf table, flanking a bouquet of dead flowers forgotten in a vase. The throw pillows are all gathered to one side of the couch and a knitted pink blanket is sprawled over haphazardly. But the worst thing has to be the empty bottles of wine – two of them – knocked over on the floor.

You frantically hurry to gather the litter, disappearing into the kitchen to throw everything away. The kitchen looks… worse. You glance around helplessly then practically run back into the living room just to make sure he won’t follow and witness even more of the mess.

“So sorry,” you mumble as you begin folding the blanket. “It uhh… it’s been a long week.”

But Wolffe’s not looking at you. He’s moved closer to the window, and his attention’s fixed on a holo-picture tucked on one of the shelves.

Your stomach sinks.

It’s a picture from two years ago, taken while on vacation on Spira. You’re standing on the beach in a long, floral sundress, smiling widely. Next to you is your ex, his hand around your waist, gazing at you like he actually meant the things he used to say. Maybe he did – but you’re not certain any of it was real anymore.

“Who’s this?” Wolffe asks.

In a few quick strides you’re by his side, and snatch the frame, slamming it face-down on the shelf.

“I forgot to get rid of it,” you mutter.

Wolffe’s voice turns to ice. “I don’t help people cheat. If that’s what this is, say so now.”

A bitter laugh escapes before you can stop it.

The Commander raises a brow at the unexpected reaction. He doesn’t say anything, but the weight of his gaze is demanding an explanation.

“He’s not around anymore,” you start, pushing past the knot in your throat. “You see, he had a terrible accident…” You square your shoulders and somehow keep a straight face. “He tripped and fell... and landed straight into my former friend’s vagina.”

 Nothing could’ve prepared him for what you just said, and Wolffe actually huffs a small laugh – more in surprise than anything else.

“I see you’re handling it well,” he comments dryly.

“Oh yeah, amazing. I just dragged a total stranger into my apartment at 3 a.m. But hey – best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?” you say with a forced chuckle.

Amusement flicks into his eyes for a moment, before his expression sobers again.

“So you’re broken up?” he asks for confirmation.

“Yes,” you nod.

“When?”

“Three days ago.”

Wolffe visibly stiffens. His eyes search your face, lingering on your lower lip which you’re currently anxiously chewing. Then he sighs and takes half a step back.

“You’re not ready for this,” he declares.

“Wait, no!” you blurt out, voice filled with panic. “No – please don’t leave.”

“You’re too vulnerable. I don’t take advantage of–”

“You’re not taking advantage,” you cut in, too desperate to care that his gaze turns instantly colder at your interruption. “I just... I feel like I’m still his and it’s making me sick. I don’t want… I don’t want to be his anymore. I-I want to feel wanted, I want… I want to feel something real. Because for months all I’ve felt – all I’ve been – is invisible.”

You wish you could tell what he’s thinking, because there’s clearly a battle raging behind his eyes. You’re not sure which side will win, so you push.

“Please. I know this is crazy. Bu I… I need to forget. I need to stop thinking about it, just for a little while, and I know you can help me.”

Maker, you don’t think you’ve ever sounded this needy before. But your pleading seems to do the trick. Wolffe’s eyes darken and he steps closer, crowding you against the shelf.

“You want to forget?” he growls, voice low and dangerous. “You want me to fuck you so hard you can’t remember his name?”

A shiver runs down your spine and your breath catches, a tingle of heat curling low in your core.

“Yes,” you whisper breathlessly. “Please.”

“So polite,” he murmurs, more to himself than for you to hear.

He lifts a hand, fingers taking hold of your chin and tilting it up, forcing you to meet his gaze. Not that you could look away even if you wanted to – his eyes have you mesmerised. The beautiful, dangerous warmth of his natural one is accentuated by the clinical coolness of the cybernetic. He’s searching for something – hesitation, uncertainty – but you make sure he doesn’t find it.

“This isn’t how I usually do things, but for you I’ll make an exception,” he says, his tone thoughtful, almost soft. But it hardens when he follows with an order. “Take me to your bedroom.”

You comply instantly. There’s an edge to his voice that tells you he’s not a man who tolerates repeating himself. And besides, you don’t want to stall – not when he has you trembling just from a look and the smallest touch.

You walk fast – too fast – and trip on some clothes forgotten on the floor as soon as you enter the room. Luckily, Wolffe is right behind, and he steadies you with a firm arm around your waist. And pulls you flush against him.

“Easy,” he rasps in your ear.

Your back is pressed against his chest and you can feel his hot breath on your skin. Heat blooms in your cheeks, both from his proximity and from embarrassment. But you lean against him, taking a moment to breathe and appreciate the warmth radiating from his torso.

“Sorry. I swear it’s not always this messy,” you mumble.

“I’ve seen worse,” he says dryly. Wolffe lets go of you and steps deeper into the room, eyes quickly surveying the small space as if searching for threats on a battlefield. Then he turns to you. “Name.”

You’re a little taken aback by the curt command and for a second you swear you’ve forgotten it.

“If we’re doing this, I’d like to know who I’m doing it with,” he continues.

“Right, of course, sorry,” you reply a little breathlessly. “Tessa.”

“Tessa,” he repeats, low and steady, like he’s testing how it feels on his tongue. “Come here,” he then orders.

You finally unfreeze from the doorway and in a few steps you’re standing right in front of him at the foot of the bed.

“I need to ask again – are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Your eyes go wide. That just slipped. You’re not sure why. It could be habit – he outranks you after all – but it could be that his presence simply demands it. There’s something about him – all of him – that makes you eager to please… to submit.

“You call me Sir like that again and I’m going to lose every ounce of restraint I have left,” he warns.

You find his eyes again and the intensity in his gaze burns through you. It’s hungry, predatory – a crack in his armor of control.

A spike of boldness shoots though you. “That’s what I’m waiting for. Sir.”

He slowly shakes his head. Not disappointed, but sort of… impressed. A little bit amused. And very much aroused.

“You asked for it.”

Then he lunges.

His hands are everywhere. Pulling you close, sliding up and down your sides, gripping your hips, groping your breasts. Not gentle. Not asking. You’ve given your permission and now he fully intends to ruin you.

And when his lips crash on yours? You’re completely gone.

You grasp at the fabric of his blacks, holding tightly onto him as he claims your mouth. The kiss is wild, devouring, mind-bending. When his tongue pushes past your lips you are grateful for his strong hands holding you up – otherwise you know you’d just collapse. Your knees are weak. You’re breathless. You’re trembling. You’re… overwhelmed.

You push at his chest and Wolffe immediately stops all movements, but leaves his hands firmly planted on your waist. He pulls back, appraising you with a cautious glance.

“Still with me?” he asks.

You nod. “Just… catching my breath.”

“Good,” he growls. His hand moves up your back, all the way to the base of your skull, and tangles in your hair. With a sharp tug at the strands, he tilts your head. “Cause I’m just getting started.”

A small gasp leaves your lips at the sudden pain – but his mouth is prepared to swallow it. This kiss is slower, more deliberate. And yet his tongue is still dominating your mouth. He tastes faintly of Tabacc and his lips are surprisingly soft. You try to keep up, match his movements. Every time you try to change the rhythm – to take control – his grip in your hair tightens like a warning.

Finally, you surrender. You wrap your arms around his neck and melt into him. And you take it all. Every sweep of his tongue. Every scrape of his teeth. His taste, his warmth – it’s all so intoxicating.

Your submission pleases Wolffe, and with a low grunt he rips his mouth from yours, only to drag it down your neck in a hot, claiming trail. The heated kisses he places on your skin are fuelling the fire in your core, quickly spreading over your entire body. When he licks a long stripe up the column of your neck you don’t even try to fight the moan that escapes your mouth.

Wolffe pulls back, flashing you a dangerous smirk. But just as quickly as it appeared on his face, it’s gone, replaced with that calm, collected mask. He releases his grip on you, and orders you to do the same.

“Hands off,” he says.

You follow the order, briefly worried you’ve somehow done something wrong. But as he takes a step back, his eyes are still hungry, and he’s looking at you like you’re a gift he cannot wait to unwrap.

“Undress,” Wolffe commands, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wardrobe.

Your hands move almost on their own. You free your top from the waistband of your skirt, then swiftly pull it over your head, letting it fall on the floor. Your skirt follows – a quick unzip, a shimmy down your legs. There’s a moment of hesitation once you’re standing in front of him in just your mismatched bra and panties. A moment he does not appreciate.

“All of it,” he drawls, voice low and clearly displeased.

You snap out of it and comply, reaching back to unhook your bra. The garment falls to the floor and you hastily tug the panties down next, stepping out of them. You straighten and fight the urge to cover yourself with your arms as the reality abruptly sinks in. You’re now standing fully bare in front of a man you’ve only just met – and as much as the thought mortifies you, it also excites you.

Wolffe hums approvingly, allowing his eyes to slowly drink in your naked body. Your skin prickles in anticipation.

“Beautiful,” he drones. Then, louder: “Spin.”

“Spin?” you repeat incredulous.

“You heard me.”

For some reason, this command is more difficult to follow. It feels demeaning, clinical… As if you're on display, inspected like a piece of gear. You glance at him, meaning to argue – but his stare silences you. Icy. Patient for now, but not forever.

You slowly turn.

You’re not sure when he pushes away from the wardrobe, but the second you’re facing away from him, you feel his palm sharply land on your ass with a loud smack! You yelp, and whirl to face him, gaping with your mouth slightly open.

“If you want to do this, mesh’la, you’re gonna do it my way,” he says, his voice a carefully controlled growl. “When I give you an order, you follow it. No stalling. No talking back.”

You blink. His intensity is deliciously overpowering.

“Say it.”

“Yes, Sir. Your way. I-I want that,” you reply.

His gaze softens for a moment, just long enough to speak the next words. “But if it gets too much, you tell me and I stop. Understood?”

You nod.

“Words, Tessa.”

“I understand Sir.”

“Good,” he says firmly. Then he lowers his lips to your ear and whispers, “I’m gonna fucking tear you apart.”

Without warning, he plants a hand on your shoulder and pushes. Not too forceful, but just brusque enough that you fall back on the bed.

But he doesn’t follow.

“Move up,” he orders, voice once again made of durasteel.

You do as you’re told and shift yourself until you’re almost at the bedhead.

Wolffe nods approvingly. “Spread your legs. Touch yourself.”

Your cheeks burn instantly, but with a shaky hand you follow his command. Your fingers spread your folds and you’re surprised to feel how wet you are. You’re fully soaked, and he’s barely touched you. But then again, you did feel the dampness start gathering in your panties the second he stepped into your apartment. And that kiss earlier was… something else.

You coat your fingers in your arousal, and bring them to work on your clit, slowly circling the sensitive bud.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes snap up to his. Wolffe is still standing at the foot of your bed, arms crossed and carefully watching the motions of your fingers. Like a predator stalking his pray. You almost laugh – his name makes perfect sense now.

Without taking your eyes off him, you let your fingertips glide from your clit to your entrance, then sink a digit into your aching core. Wolffe’s restrains is impeccable, yet you do catch the way his grip momentarily tightens on his bicep. His eyes are laser-focused on your finger, and the way it slithers in and out of you. But when a whimper sounds from the back of your throat his gaze is pulled to your face. He keeps watching you, scrutinising every small frown and parting of your lips as you slowly work yourself to your peak. He waits patiently, until your eyes flutter closed and he knows you’re nearly there.

Then his voice cracks through the air.

“Stop.”

You freeze, startled. Your hand retreats from between your legs as your gaze snaps to his, a mixture of frustration and confusion written across your face. But he’s smirking – not cruelly, but with a glint of satisfaction in his eye, like this is exactly what he wanted.

“Good girl,” Wolffe rasps.

Any lingering irritation disappears in an instant at his praise. You never thought those words would do anything for you, but the way he says it – and means it? You have to bite your lip to keep from smiling.

You avert your eyes, suddenly feeling flustered.

“I didn’t say you could look away,” Wolffe scolds, a sharp edge to his voice.

“Sorry, Sir,” you say, quickly resuming eye contact.

Once he knows he has your attention, Wolffe pulls the top of his blacks over his head, carefully folds it and places it on your desk, moving with the leisure of a man who has all the time in the galaxy.  Your mouth falls open and you know you’re fully, blatantly gawking at him – but you simply cannot look away.

He looks like one of those ancient Mandalorian warrior statues you’ve seen in history museums, with big defined muscles and faded scars scattered on his wide chest. You can easily tell he’s active duty – he’s so much larger than the non-combat clones you work with at HQ. And, Maker, the gorgeous tan colour of his skin… You cannot wait to get your hands on him.

Wolffe gives you a smug look, and continues to undress, swiftly shedding his belt and kama, leg armor and lower blacks. Then he hooks his fingers in the waistband of his boxers, and pulls them down to reveal his thick, hard cock.

The most shameful whine escapes your lips before you can stop it, and for what has to be the hundredth time tonight, you feel your face go red.

“You can take it, sweetheart. Don’t worry,” he teases.

“I’m not–” you begin to protest, then roll your eyes and you bite your lip. “It’s just… really pretty.”

Wolffe huffs a small laugh. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called my cock pretty before.”

“Well, I’m a unique experience,” you shrug, trying to cover your embarrassment with nonchalance.

“You’re definitely something,” he mutters, climbing into bed. “Do we need…?”

“There’s safety sheaths in the nightstand,” you say, gesturing to the side of the bed.

Without hesitation, Wolffe reaches in and pulls out the sealed pack, peeling it open slowly with a curious look.

“They’ve been sitting there a few months,” you say, voice steady but a bit bitter. “He was too busy with my friend, I guess.”

Wolffe’s eyes narrow just a fraction, a flicker of resentment flashing behind them before being replaced with his skilfully-crafted stoic look.

“Well,” he hums, low in his throat. “I’ll put them to good use.”

You watch captivated as he rolls a safety sheath on his hardened length before he positions himself over you, kneeling between your legs. His hands are on either side of your head and his darkened eyes are admiring you almost reverently. Without thinking, you reach your hand up, but freeze halfway to his chest.

“May I touch you, Commander?” you ask, voice barely a whisper.

The corners of his lips twitch into a smile, even as something possessive flashes in his gaze. “You may.”

Your hands are on him immediately, gliding over his chiselled pecs and abs. It’s ridiculous how well-built this man is. Then your right hand slides around his neck, and you pull him down.

He meets your mouth in a hot, hungry kiss and one of his hands quickly finds your breasts. His tongue pushes past your lips just as his fingers star pinching your pebbled nipple, muffling the moan that threatens to escape. Then his lips trail down your neck to your chest, and suddenly all your senses are flooded by a piercing pain as Wolffe sinks his teeth in the flesh just below your collarbone. You can already tell it’s gonna bruise – he wants you to remember you were his, even if just for the night.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging lightly as you attempt to pull him away. He grunts, then with a speed you can barely register, Wolffe gathers your wrists in his calloused hands and firmly places them above your head.

He pulls back, and the look he gives you is almost wild.

“What do you want from me?” he demands. “I want to hear you say it again.”

“I… I want you,” you breathe.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, mesh’la,” he taunts.

You swallow, trying to steady your voice. “I want you to fuck me.”

Wolffe smirks, slow and wicked. “My pleasure,” he growls.

Then he sinks into you.

You gasp – it’s like he’s splitting you open. He’s definitely bigger than the men you’ve had before, but not uncomfortably so. After a couple carefully-controlled rolls of his hips, all pain melts into pleasure, and you hook a leg around his waist.

He’s watching you carefully, assessing every moan, every gasp, every little twitch – reading your body like a map, adjusting his angle and rhythm to match your reactions with almost terrifying precision. You wish he’d let you touch him, but every time you try to move your hands, his grip on your wrists tightens. He’s not gonna let you do anything – not unless you ask.

“Please,” you whimper, barely audibly.

“Please what, sweetheart?” he asks, his tone almost mocking.

“Can I… please. Please let me touch you, Sir,” you beg.

“How could I say no when you ask so nicely?”

He releases your wrists, and you don’t waste a second. One arm hooks under his shoulder, the other wraps around his neck. Wolffe shifts, bracing himself on one forearm while the other trails down to your hip, his grip firm and possessive as his fingers dig into your flesh.

Then the rhythm changes, his thrusts pick up speed. He’s fucking into you mercilessly, making the bed creak so loudly, you’re worried your neighbours will hear. Although they’re more likely to hear you and the strangled, breathless moans, forcefully driven out of you with each precise plunge of his hips. Your fingers tangle in his hair again, and this time Wolffe doesn’t stop you – he actually groans at the sting, the pain spurring him on.

“You’re mine tonight,” he grunts in your ear, low and strained. “You hear me?”

“I… I’m yours,” you echo, barely able to speak.

His grip on your hip tightens, possessive, grounding. “And if I have my way, you’ll be mine long after that.”

The words ripple though you like the aftershocks of an earthquake. It feels like a promise you didn’t realize you were desperate to make. But, Maker, you want it. All of it

“Y-Yes. Yes, please, Commander. I’m yours. I want to be yours,” you moan imploringly.

A low growl rumbles from deep in his chest before Wolffe crashes his mouth to yours again. This kiss – if you can even call it that – is a brutal attack of tongue and teeth, stealing the air from your lungs. It sends you reeling, shoving you over the edge so hard, it catches you both by surprise.

You arch under him as much as you can with his weight pressing you into the mattress. A strangled cry of his name tears from your throat, barely intelligible. It feels like you’ve been struck by lightning and your orgasm crackles through you, violent and consuming, sparking from your core to every nerve ending. You’re half-aware that your fingernails are digging into his back, but you couldn’t stop even if you tried.

Wolffe doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow. He fucks you through it, determined to prolong your climax until he’s driven all coherent thoughts out of your mind. His eyes are locked on you the entire time – and the second your bliss-shattered expression shifts into a flicker of overstimulation, he finally lowers his head into your hair, groaning as he lets go and finds his own release.

He pulls out carefully, then rolls on his back, allowing himself a moment to catch his breath before he gets up to dispose of the safety sheath.

You, however, are wrecked. Fully, utterly spent.

You’re staring at the ceiling, panting heavily, your brain desperately trying to make sense of what just happened. But your thoughts are wrapped in a thick fog of lingering pleasure – a fog that abruptly lifts as the endorphins crash.

And it’s like being hit by a speeder.

Suddenly, everything aches. Your body is sore – but that’s the least of it. The real problem is the grief of the past few days violently flooding your brain. Your heart pounds in your ears. You can’t catch your breath. You don’t understand what’s going on.

Until the tears start falling.

Oh…

Oh no…

You clap a hand over your mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle your sobs. But there’s no hiding.

The mattress dips besides you, as Wolffe returns to bed. You don’t dare look at him, but you feel his strong arms wrap around you, gently pulling you against his chest. He’s saying something – he’s telling you to breathe – but you don’t know if you can follow his command.

 He repeats it patiently, over and over, until finally, you drag in a shaky gasp.

“I’m s-sorry,” you choke out.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he says, firm but soothing. “It’s natural. Cry for as long as you need, sweetheart.”

And you do. You bury your face into his chest and sob for what feels like hours.

Wolffe never moves. He just holds you, arms firm around you, one hand slowly stroking your back with a gentleness that seems galaxies apart from the man who – minutes ago – fucked you like he wanted to break you.

You’re not sure how long it takes, but eventually the tears run dry, and your shaking finally stops.

Wolffe pulls back, but doesn’t say anything. He just watches you, his gaze steady and grounding as his fingers draw lazy patterns along your side. His eyes have you completely enthralled.

“Are you gonna stay?” you hear yourself weakly ask before you can even register it.

“Do you want me to?” he counters.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Then I’ll stay.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, and the two of you settle back into the silence. Briefly, you wonder how he can just look at you like that – so long, so steadily, so reverently – but then again, you’re doing the same. Your eyes flick to the scar that cuts across his face, and your mind drifts the report you’ve read all those months ago.

“Lucky to be alive,” was a comment someone made.

“Not luck,” a clone officer argued. “Just pure stubbornness.”

Without thinking, you reach up, fingertips softly brushing the scar. Wolffe finches.

“Sorry.” You pull away just slightly. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” he answers, voice a little strained.

“C-Can I?”

His brows pinch together, like he’s weighing a high-risk move. But then he breathes out, and says quietly, “Go ahead.”

Your fingers return to his face, and Wolffe closes his eyes. You trace gently down from his forehead to his cheek. Then, for some reason you can’t explain, you inch forward, and press a soft kiss just beneath his eye.

That does something to him. But besides a small, slightly sharper inhale, he does not give it away.

You curl into his side and eventually fall asleep.

Wolffe follows shortly after. But not before one quiet thought slips through his carefully guarded mind:

“I’m in trouble.”

Taglist: @selene131 ; @kindalonleystars

Other parts will follow... uhhh... eventually. If anyone wants to be tagged in them let me know.

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

Hello! I had an idea for a Kix x Fem!Reader where she transfers into his medbay but she stands out because she remembers every clones name. Regardless if she hasn’t even met them she has read all the files and committed them to memory and he’s like astonished but also touched. Maybe his brothers are like “if you don’t make a move I will” Hope this is good! Have a good weekend! ♥️

“First‑Name Basis”

Kix x Reader

Hyperspace thrummed beyond the transparisteel ports while Kix tried to tame the Resolute’s perpetually crowded med‑bay. Bacta monitors chimed, troopers squabbled over whose scar looked “coolest,” and Kix’s gloves were still sticky with drying crimson when the hatch whispered open.

A quiet but confident voice announced, “New med‑tech reporting, sir—[Y/N].”

Kix flicked off his gloves, surprised. “You picked a kriffing busy shift to arrive—welcome.”

From the nearest cot, Hardcase crowed, “What d’you bet she faints when she sees my arm?”

You crossed to him without blinking. “CT‑0217 Hardcase—through‑and‑through blaster hit, distal humerus, yesterday. Dermabind’s due for a swap.”

Hardcase shut up so fast Fives snorted.

You pointed down the line:

“CT‑5597 Jesse—rib bruise, de‑pressurised plating on R‑3. Three‑hour ice intervals.

“CT‑5555 Fives—fragment nick, upper thigh; you’ll pretend it doesn’t hurt until it infects.”

“CT‑0000 Dogma—scalp laceration, eight stitches. Stop picking at them.”

Each trooper stared like you’d grown a second head.

Kix folded his arms. “You read our charts?”

“Memorised the battalion manifest on the shuttle. Names separate patients from barcodes.”

A low whistle: Jesse grinned around a pain‑killer stick. “Kix, vod—if you don’t lock that down, I’m escorting her to 79’s myself.”

Fives elbowed him. “Brother, that’s my line.”

Dogma muttered, “Show some discipline.”

“Show some charm,” Fives shot back.

Kix cleared his throat, ears reddening. “Settle, vod. Let the medic work—unless you want a protocol droid doing your stitches.”

⸻

Kix found you re‑stocking kolto packs. “Most rookies need a week to learn nicknames; you quoted service numbers.”

“You’re not rookies—you’re veterans. Acting like it matters.”

His voice softened. “We spend our lives as copies. Remembering us by name… that’s a rare kind of medicine.”

Across the bay, Hardcase bellowed, “Kix! She fixin’ your ego yet?”

Jesse added, “Timer’s ticking, sir!”

You hid a smile. “I still need orientation, Kix. Maybe… a tour of the ‘cultural hub’ I’ve heard about?”

Kix’s grin was pure relief—and a little wonder. “Med‑officer‑ordered R&R, 79’s cantina, 2000. Mandatory.”

Hardcase whooped. “Ha! Called it!”

⸻

Blue and gold holo‑lights flashed off clone armor stacked by the door. Fives tried teaching you a rigged sabacc hand; Jesse heckled from behind; Dogma nursed one drink like it was contraband; Hardcase danced on a tabletop until Rex appeared, helmet tucked under his arm.

Rex eyed the scene, then you. “Heard the new medic can ID every trooper in the Legion.”

“Only the ones who’ve been shot today, sir,” you said, straight‑faced.

Hardcase cheered. Jesse rapped knuckles on the table. Even Rex let a ghost of a smile slip before nodding to Kix: Good find.

Jesse leaned close while Kix ordered drinks. “Take care of him, cyar’ika. Our medic patches everyone but himself.”

You watched Kix laugh, shoulders finally loose for the first time all day. “Count on it,” you said, lifting a glass.

Across the cantina, Hardcase elbowed Fives. “Told you names matter.”

Fives clinked his mug to Jesse’s. “Here’s to finally being more than numbers.”

And—for a few riotous hours beneath 79’s flickering lights—every soldier of the 501st felt like the only trooper in the Grand Army, thanks to one medic who never forgot a name.

[vodika-vibes]

Hello Vodika!

I don't know if you accept requests, but I would like to make one request. Could I have a request regarding our Commanders (Cody, Wolffe, Fox, Bly, Ponds, Gree, Neyo and Bacara) where they will seen their S/O in 79's dressed in their battalion colors? I wonder how the boys will react to this. 😉😏

I greet you warmly and wish you all the best in your life! ❤

His Colors

Pairings: Commander Cody x Reader, Commander Wolffe x Reader, Commander Fox x Reader, Commander Bly x Reader, Commander Neyo x Reader

Word Count: 2041 in total

Warnings: Some suggestive comments and actions

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: hi there! I do always accept requests, so thank you very much for yours! I made the choice to only pick five Commanders of the ones you listed since I felt like it was going to get repetitive (and I don't know Ponds or Gree all that well).

Commander Cody x Reader - Orange at 79s

Cody’s mouth goes dry when he sees her.

She’s clad in a tight dress. It's tight enough that Cody’s not actually sure how she’s breathing, let alone walking. 

And it’s orange.

The same shade of orange that decorates the front of his armor. 

She sees him, and a blinding smile crosses her face, as she waves at him. He watches her say something to her friend, and then she hurries over to him and flings herself into his arms, “Cody!”

“Cyare,” His voice is slightly hoarse, “You look—” He trails off, not having the right words to describe her look.

Her smile brightens, “You like?”

Cody’s hands settle, tightly, on her hips, pulling her flush against him. He’s still dressed in his armor and, for the first time, he wishes he had something a little more casual to wear.

Her smile, somehow, brightens even more. “Good. I bought it for you to enjoy.”

“Yeah?”

She leans in so her painted lips hover over his ear, “My lingerie matches.” She whispers.

Cody is pretty sure that her comment just broke something in his brain, because the only thing he can think of, now, is pale orange lingerie against her pretty skin.

“Why would you tell me that?” He asks, “Now I can’t think of anything else,”

She laughs, and Cody’s heart swells, “Good. Now I’m sure I’ll be able to keep your attention.”

Commander Wolffe x GN!Reader - Grey at the Park

You’re late. You’re very late. 

It’s not your fault that there was an accident right outside your work, and you were stuck waiting for the traffic police to clean up the mess before you could leave.

But you’re still late.

You didn’t even have time to change. You’re still wearing your boring, grey scrubs. You went and bought a very nice outfit for your date with Wolffe.

And now you aren’t even going to be able to wear it.

It’s enough to make you want to cry.

Hopefully, Wolffe will still be waiting for you. He said he would, but you were supposed to meet an hour ago.

You wouldn’t blame him in the slightest for leaving.

You hurry into the park, heading straight for the meeting point. The meeting point is the bench near the fountain, the bench where you met him for the first time.

And he’s still there. A datapad in his hand, his gaze locked on the small device. You slow from your quick walk as you approach him. He really is so handsome.

He must have a sixth sense devoted to noticing people staring at him, though, because he lifts his gaze and meets yours. You watch as his gaze flickers down to your outfit, and you feel a surge of self-consciousness. 

Scrubs aren’t designed to look flattering on anyone, after all.

You nervously smooth your hand down the front of your scrubs as he stands and walks over to you, an unusual smile on his handsome face. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” You start, “I didn’t even have time to go home and change. I bought an outfit that’s more attractive than—”

You stop when his hand presses against your cheek, and he leans in to catch your lips with his.

He breaks the kiss and you stare up at him in confusion. And then you realize that your scrubs are the same color as the grey on his armor.

“You look really good in my colors, cyar’ika.” He murmurs, “How about, instead of going to dinner, we go back to your place, and I show you just how good I think you look.”

And your face burns with flustered embarrassment.

You suppose he likes it.

Commander Fox x GN!Reader - Red in the Senate Archives

Fox sighs as he folds his arms as he scans the archives.

It’s empty. Of course, it is. No one comes to the archives unless they need something.

He impatiently drums his fingers on his vambrace, seriously considering leaving. He has work to do, he shouldn’t have to wait for them to show up to do their job.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m here!” Fox turns when he hears a familiar voice and the, even more, familiar sound of heavy boots on the tiled floor. He’s not able to smother his smile when they come to a stop in front of him.

“You’re late, little bird.” Fox chides, though there’s no heat in his voice as he looks them over. They ran here from the lifts, obviously, there’s sweat on their brow and their short hair is plastered to their forehead.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. The Chancellor needed me to deliver something to Senator Organa,” They gasp out, pressing their hand over their heart. 

“You need to work out more.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

They scowl at him, and then unzip their jacket and toss it over the back of a chair, “I’m in perfect health, thank you.”

Fox’s breath catches in his throat when he sees the shirt that they’re wearing. It’s silky, and sheer in some places. And the same color as his armor.

His little bird is wearing his colors.

Fox steps closer to them, absently tossing his gloves on the table as well, before he lightly catches the hem of the, surprisingly delicate, shirt. “What’s this?” He breathes out.

They turn so they’re facing Fox, “I bought a new shirt at lunchtime.” Their smile becomes playfully innocent, “Do you like it?”

Fox steps closer to them, his free hand sliding to the back of their neck, “Where’s the archivist?”

“Went home. It’s after closing time,” They reply.

Fox hums thoughtfully, and the hand that was lightly gripping the hem of their shirt moves to the topmost button, unfastening it. And then it slowly moves down the front of their shirt.

“Fox—”

“Well, since we’re alone,” Fox murmurs, as he leans in to hover his lips over theirs and slowly continues to unbutton their shirt, “How about you sing me a song, little bird?”

His comment is rewarded with a delighted giggle, and Fox leans in to seal his lips over theirs. 

His little bird wearing red is just not fair, really.

Commander Bly x F!Reader - Yellow at sunset

Bly’s not sure what he did to deserve the attention of someone as amazing as her. Especially since everyone and their cousin seems to think that he has a thing for his general.

Hell, even his girl thought that he had a thing for his general.

It had been a hassle trying to convince her differently. Luckily, General Secura had been more than happy to talk to her. And tell her all about her amazing girlfriend.

In any event, the conversation had been enough that she said yes when Bly asked her out. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Doesn’t mean that he understands why she wants him, of all men. But he’s not going to question it.

“Bly?”

Her voice, soft and musical, causes him to whip his head around, a broad smile already crossing his face.

And there she is.

Standing several feet away from him, her pretty hair pulled into a loose braid over one of her shoulders, her painted lips spread into a warm smile.

And clad in a dress in his colors.

That, and the way that the setting sun paints her in golds and oranges, Bly finds himself at a loss for words. 

Well, not really.

Only his words are all things like, “Marry me,” and “I love you”. Silly little comments like that.

Absently she plays with her braid, “Well, how do I look?” She asks shyly, “I know I don’t usually wear yellow—”

“You could wear a trash bag and still be the most stunning woman on any planet,” Bly says, once he manages to find his tongue.

She giggles, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

If Bly ever has the displeasure of meeting the person who told her that her smile is weird-looking, he’s going to introduce them to his hunting knife. But he quickly shoves the thought to the side so he’s able to hurry to her side.

She smiles up at him as he stops in front of her, “You really like it?”

“I love it. You look amazing in my colors, you should wear them more often.” Bly lightly takes her hand in his and twirls her, pulling a startled laugh from her lips.

“Bly!”

“I just need to see from all angles,” He teases, as he twirls her again, the hem of her skirt flaring out, and twisting around her legs. “Yeah,” Bly breathes out, “You look perfect.”

“Thank you.”

He sets his free hand on her hip, “Dance with me?”

She averts her gaze, shyly. But there’s a smile on her lips as she nods. “As if you have to ask?”

Commander Neyo x F!Reader - Burgundy at the Winery

You smile politely at the sommelier as he approaches you. You offer him Neyo’s name and mention that he should already be here, and the older man smiles kindly, “He’s sitting in the back. Follow me.”

This isn’t your first date with Neyo, you’ve been dating for well over a year at this point, but he’s been deployed for the last six months, and this is your first proper date since the war ended.

As much as you’d like him to move in with you, Neyo refuses. Claiming that you’ve only been dating for six months and that more time is needed to determine if the pair of you are a good fit.

He’s not wrong, of course.

But he’s been your pick since the first day you met him. It’s disheartening to think that he doesn’t feel the same way.

You take a deep breath and smooth the velvety material of your burgundy dress. It’s new, and it might, very well, be the most expensive thing that you own. You had it specially made to match the burgundy of Neyo’s armor.

Hopefully, he’ll like it.

Hopefully, he still likes you.

You see Neyo before he sees you. He’s wearing a dark burgundy button-up shirt and some nice slacks. If you had to guess, the top two buttons probably aren’t buttoned, because that’s the kind of man he is.

He’s nursing a glass of wine.

You feel your heart clench. You really do love him more than life itself. You hope he knows that.

You can tell when Neyo sees you.

While your handsome Commander would never slouch, he was sitting casually. And the moment he sees you, he straightens in his seat. As you approach, you see his gaze dart down your body, and you see his severe mein fade into something more welcoming.

Well, welcoming for him, at least.

Neyo stands as you stop by his table, “Cyare,” He lightly takes your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. Now that you’re closer you can see just how much he appreciates how you look right now. “You look beautiful,”

You smile at him, all warmth and affection, and you watch as something soft creeps into his gaze, “Well, I wasn’t trying to match with you, but we do make quite a striking pair, I think.”

He chuckles and brushes the backs of his fingers against your cheek, “Well, we certainly look better than some of the people here,” He agrees, and then his gaze sweeps down your body again, and something like hunger slides into his gaze, “I’ll just have to behave myself until we’re alone.”

You tilt your head, questioningly.

“Ah, cyar’ika,” Heat runs down your spine at the molten way he says his pet name for you, “You’re wearing my colors. You didn’t expect me to not react, did you?”

A small smile lifts your lips, “Well, that’s something to look forward to, isn’t it?”

Neyo’s grin is small and secretive, but he lightly releases your hand and pulls out the chair next to him, “Your chair, cyare.”

“Well, thank you, Commander.” You sink into the seat and have to muffle your giggle as he sweeps your hair off your neck to press a lingering kiss against your neck. Tonight is going to be fun.

[clavicuss-vile]

So I'm British, and have been thinking for a while that I need to leave the UK someday because of the apparent war on trans people our government has, and having been on testosterone for a little over 6 months now the idea of losing access to it is world-altering. Many GPs are already refusing - it's just going to get worse for us here.

I was looking at trying to learn Dutch and move to Belgium one day, and this election result has really just pushed that thought of "its going to get worse, we need a backup plan", but I don't know if its the emotions of the election or the reality kicking in but I really, really don't think it's possible anymore.

Not to self diagnose, I don't know for certain, but I strongly suspect I have autism (and a big number of autistic peers have agreed), and I really, really cannot force myself to sit down and learn a language myself. There is not a chance in hell I can afford a tutor (I've checked, the best cheapest but still decent seeming tutor was £19 per hour, you'd realistically need 4x a month at minimum, that's £79. I genuinely cannot afford that extra outgoing.)

Past that, if I *was* able to crack down and learn Dutch, Brexit has basically made it impossible to move anyway. We've lost our right to free movement, I don't have a university degree because I went straight into the workforce. I'm not a skilled worker - I work in administration, currently reception-type and assist HR, but I'm not a *skilled* worker. So no foreign company would sponsor a work visa because why would they? They have their own workers for unskilled jobs.

It's basically just hit that I'm not getting out of here, and if it does get worse and our health care crumbles even more, my only option will be private (unless that gets banned) or DIY, and I'm honestly scared shitless of DIY because the idea of illegally possessing a controlled substance (testosterone) scares the crap out of me.

Not a bundle of joy at the minute, obviously my problems are far less than everyone that's going to be directly affected by this but I just wanted to vent a little and get it off my chest.

Be safe everyone

[tibialtybalt]

MAG 79 - Hide and Seek

ITS TIME ITS TIME ITS TIME ITS TIME

How THE HELL did I forget about Streets by Martin K Blackwood 😭😭😭😭😭

TIM Yeah, and then he said, “Sorry for everything”. Something’s up.

MARTIN You don’t think he’s going to… y’know…

Martin is straight up worried that Jon's gonna kill himself huh!

MARTIN Court?

TIM Yeah. Er, tribunal if we’re lucky, inquest if we’re not.

Tim nerd emoji <3<3<3

MARTIN Look, I know you don’t like him…

TIM Got that, did you?

MARTIN But I’m not going to help you get him fired.

TIM Martin! What do you think is happening here?

Poor Martin and his money problems always at the forefront of his mind

NOT!SASHA JUMPSCARE this podcast is so fucking funny

MARTIN We can’t just leave him.

TIM Yeah, we can.

💀💀

MARTIN I’m going.

[FOOTSTEPS]

TIM Martin! Mar… I’m not coming down there with… Damn it. Fine.

💀💀💀💀💀

This is the funniest podcast of all timeeeee

Just stay quiet.

Proceeds to yap

God, I’m an idiot. Smash the table, kill the monster, stupid! Lazy, sloppy assumption. Of course the table was binding it. The table is webs and spiders. Spiders are something else.

I really can't blame him for this at all. I mean he's running on like one hour of sleep just found out his friend has been dead for months and wanted to act Right Then. And the solution he came up with would've worked if he were in a different story!

TIM Oh, for God’s sake, this isn’t about you.

MARTIN It never is.

My god he's seething in that line

The Martin Snapping Moment of the finale!!!! Yippee!!!!

Guards! Find me that edit where the "it wouldn't be the end of the world" echoes dramatically and then we cut to s5

HAHAHA HI MICHAELLL

TIM What are you doing down here?

MICHAEL Probably watching the Archivist die. Maybe not. Either way is amusing. I… I think it’s called ‘a sport’.

Helpppp

TIM Martin…

MARTIN No, no, okay, because there’s two of us and there’s one of you, okay. He’s not killing anyone!

TIM Martin, look at his hands!

Martin is so ready to throw down lmaooo go crazy! You can do it probably. Punch that blonde man

🥺.........Jon my little guy....................

Threaten him all you want but the second you say it hurt Sasha!....

Do you have any idea how long I watched you? You and your little… acolytes. I hated it. Let me tell you a story. You like stories; we can even call it a statement if you want.

I really love how they say these lines tbh!!

Not!Sasha is a fun stretched out little bastard.....

You’ll miss the Unknowing, of course, but you wouldn’t understand it anyway.

My friend the Unknowing mention

ARCHIVIST [Whispering] I’m sorry. Martin, Tim… Sasha. I’m so sorry. I should have… I didn’t… I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.

BAWLS!!!!!!! WAHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

NOT!SASHA I wonder, if I wear you, will I really become the Archivist? Rob the eye of its pupil? Probably not. Better to just kill you I think.

You don't want to be the Archivist? Look look?

Their scream and his "..............what?" are REALLY good. They're both so confused about it

Hiiii

[st4rw31rd0]

Vent thing

I swear when you live in a family with a smoker,alcoholic,r4p1st,4bus3r. You don't even wanna live there.

Like what the fuck! Me, sis, mom are tired as hell. Mom has been running around for work and stuff, sis has to deal with her opps and have several exams a day, and she's exaughested, and I'm running off of 5 hours of sleep(not enough for my skinny ass) and had to deal with 79 stares from my opp. My my stinking dad is drunk for 3 days straight.

Dude.hes tired because hes drunk. We are tired because we worked. I dont care if he cant stand. He is gonna work for himself. My mom asked me "why did we give birth to you! To serve us-" excuse you? SERVE YOU? I AM NO SERVENT-YES MOTHER, YOU ARE NOT AS HAPPY AS I AM, BUT THIS IS A FUCKING MASK. YOU NEVER KNEW ME. AND YOU NEVER WILL.

I KNOW THERE ARE PEOPLE OUT THERE SUFFERING WORSE BUT TO THE POINT WHERE YOUR PARENT SAY THST WHEN YOUR SISTER TRIED TO DEFEND HERSELF AND YOUR FATHER TRIED TO STRIP THAT RIGHT AWAY FROM HER IS FUCKING CRAZY. WE ARE NOT SERVENTS. BECAUSE THAT SON OF A PISS DRINKER(canon) AS 2 FUCKING LEGS, AND 2 FUXKJNG ARMS AND CAN DO SHIT HIMSELF LIKE DRINK BUT CANT FUCKING SUPPORT HIS 3 KIDS?

Dude. Im kicking my dad out. He said

Little shit("dad"):"I'll just leave"

Me:"Yes please! Please do!"

I swear my grandpa blamed me because I couldn't add ICE-TUXKING ICE to his water cuz the fridge had no ice. THIS SHIT HAPPENED BECAUSE OF ICE SO I GAVE HIM A WATER BOTTLE-A COLD WATER BOTTLE. WATER IS WATER.

Summary: my dad is stupid because there was no ice and chaos blew up in my house. Because there was no ice.

[travelnestcarrental]

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Local Power. Real Difference.

Think about it. You’re searching for rental cars for Uber, maybe on short notice. You want something clean. Affordable. Easy to book. You don’t want to wait in line or get slapped with charges for things you didn’t ask for. That’s where Travelnest thrives.

This crew understands Orange County’s rhythm—its college life, family visits, airport runs, and all those last-minute ride share car rentals. From fuel-efficient sedans to spacious SUVs, they’ve got the keys you need.

Why Choose Travelnest Car Rental?

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Not everyone wants a 7-day deal. Some drivers work weekends only. Some families need two days in town. Others stay for a month. Travelnest bends with your schedule. You book what you need—no pressure, no fine print circus.

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3. Real Humans When You Need Help

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4. Prime Costa Mesa Location Close to Everything

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Don't settle for chaos. Book smarter. Drive better. Save more. Travelnest.

Let me know if you want this turned into a press release version too!

[daddycephalopod]

Stars Fading: Chapter 2

A Bet is a Bet

Summary: A night at 79s with a few of the commanders and one captain turns sour, Cody feeling guilty about the whole ordeal the next day.

Fluff. Angst. Stuff. Warning: Attempted mugging scene, violence ensues. People get drunk at bars.

@starstofillmydream is really the only tag I have but if anybody wants to be tagged in fics, let me know 😄

Kyra had enlisted Isla to help her pick something to wear. She had freshly showered, wearing her hair down again. Isla was currently going through her closet, making noises here and there but no actual words. She threw black leggings at her, followed by a black shirt with a questionable slit. The slit started from the plunging neckline down to just above her belly button.

“Why did I agree to this?” She frowned in the mirror as she decided to braid her hair half up, half down.

“Because you’re deeply in love with this man and need to show him your affection by betting on if he can fuck other people or not.”

Kyra shot her a warning look, Isla holding her hands up.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” Isla said

Kyra rolled her eyes but didn’t verbally respond to that. The girls had left, going back out to 79s together.

Rex, Cody, Fox, and Wolffe were the ones at the table tonight. The others were busy working or somewhere else in the bar.

“Not that it isn’t nice to see you, but you’re certainly out here more than usual. Any reason for that?” Rex asked, tone a little teasing.

Before Cody could answer, Kyra came through the door and headed straight for their table. Rex smirked knowingly, Cody shooting him a wry look. He had noticed the slit in her shirt but he had also noticed that this shirt allowed him to see more scars on her body. There was a bigger one, going down the middle of her chest. What was her story and where did they come from? Obi-wan’s warning rang through his head.

“Hello boys. I hope Cody forewarned you I was coming.” She said as she sat next to the mentioned commander.

“He said something about it in the chat.” Wolffe said

“Chat?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, we have an encrypted channel we speak to each other through when we’re on Coruscant.” Rex said

“That goes off at all kriffing hours.” Fox added with a wry look.

“Not that you aren’t already awake, doing the chancellors bidding.” Cody said

“Is that what we’re calling Kavra now?” Kyra asked

Fox nearly choked on his beer as Rex and Wolffe had to hide their smiles behind theirs.

“She’s a senator’s sister. It would be highly inappropriate.” He replied, trying to make it seem like he didn’t almost just choke on his drink.

“Oh come on, Fox. She’s an absolute catch and everybody who walks by her knows it. She exudes confidence and knows how to command a room if needed, but she’s also funny and might be able to actually kill you.”

“Is confidence and command something you’re into, Kyra?” Rex asked, tone teasing.

“Why do you think I agreed to sit here tonight?” She responded with a devilish smile.

She then looked around the bar, “alright, Cody. I do have boring mechanic duties to take care of first thing in the karking morning. So, who’s your first victim?”

Cody’s eyes scanned the room, landing on a brunette who was making eyes at their table. It would almost be way, way too easy. He stood and went over to her, leaning against the bar as he spoke to her. He pointed back at their table and she blushed a bit, giggling. Definitely already drunk.

Kyra took a sip of her whiskey and leaned back, watching.

“Why do you do this to yourself? Don’t you think you should get to be happy too?” Rex asked

“What makes you think I’m so unhappy?” She asked

“Aurora is worried about you.” He replied

She smiled a bit at that, small and genuine.

“I miss my home, I left one war to fix machines in another one because I was tired of killing my own. I have a lovely loft, wonderful friends, and the company of a million handsome men at my disposal. I’m bound to complain sometimes but really….I’m okay, Rex. thank you, though. Besides occasionally Isla and Rory, nobody really checks in on me.”

“No attraction to the Jedi?” Wolffe asked in a teasing tone, trying to lighten the mood.

Kyra snorted, “absolutely not. It’s not even a matter of the Mando vs Jedi thing, and they’re certainly very pretty to look at, but not my thing. Aurora is my best friend though and I’ll take anybody out who tries to harm her. What about you, Wolffe? Any Jetti catch your attention?”

He shook his head, “nah, but I’m okay with that. I’ve got my brothers and I’m pretty sure I won the lottery in generals.”

“Don’t let Cody hear you say that.” Rex said with a snort.

Speaking of Cody, him and his mystery woman appeared.

“This is Cori.” He said, introducing her to the table.

Fox’s comm went off right after the introduction. He had sighed heavily, obviously very tired.

“Duty calls.” He stood, tucking his helmet under his arm.

Kyra smiled, “tell Kavra I say hi.”

He blushed at that and rolled his eyes, leaving them.

“Kyra, would you mind sitting next to Wolffe now? I’d like Cori to sit next to me.”

The woman blushed at that but Kyra did move. She as going to lose this bet and she absolutely knew it the moment they sat down. She wanted to see how far he would take it though. He kept whispering in her ear, kissing the spot underneath it. It was bold and it made her giggle sometimes or blush heavily. Kyra caught one of the questions he asked her, taking a long sip of whiskey.

“Are you as beautiful on the inside as you are the outside?” He whispered into her ear, voice even more deep and husky than usual.

He kept eye contact with Kyra as he asked, almost ignoring the giggle that escaped the woman near him. Kyra could have broken her glass with how tightly she was gripping it now. Something else he said got a giggle out of her before they excused themselves from the table to leave the bar. Cody had kept eye contact with Kyra the entire time.

“With all due respect, you should tell Cody how you feel.” Rex said

“With all due respect, fuck off.”

Kyra didn’t mean it, not really and she could see Rex understood she was upset. The one thing the captains and commanders liked about Kyra is that she was respectful of rank, sure. But she was going to treat you like everybody else, or how you treated her. She was also severely loyal to her friends and they had noticed that from her bond with their significant others, particularly Isla and Aurora. Family was family and it didn’t always have to be a blood family.

After a few moments of silence, she stood.

“Well, gentlemen. This was mostly fun but I’m going home now.”

She tossed credits on the table, leaving after telling them goodnight. Wolffe had offered to walk her back but she kindly declined, needing the time alone to organize her thoughts. The chill of Coruscant rolled through as she walked on, wrapping her arms around herself as she wished she remembered to bring a shawl or jacket of some sort with her. She felt a shift, immediately noticing two individuals trailing her. She stood up a little taller and walked a little faster.

They were definitely gaining on her, though. Before Kyra could react, she was shoved into the alley by one and pinned by the other. She narrowed her eyes at them.

“You want to let me go.” She said

“What is that? Some attempt at a Jedi mind trick?” One of them sneered at her.

“I am no Jedi.” She said with narrow eyes before kneeing the man in the crotch.

She then flipped him over her shoulder before having to grab the other man and shove him against the wall. She got a couple hits in on him, knocking him out before the other got up.

“We don’t want trouble, we just want your credits.” He said, brandishing a knife now.

“Asking nicely goes a long way.” Kyra said before going to attack him again.

He got the upper hand, kicking her knee from behind hard enough to cause it to ache immediately. He had landed two blows to her face and held the knife up.

“Cooperate, bitch.”

Kyra spat in his face, the man growling low before slashing at her with the knife now. She managed to dodge it from her throat but the move got her in the arm. She then threw all of her weight up at him, charging the man into the wall behind her. Kyra kept smashing his head against the wall until he stopped moving. She used the wall next to them to stand up, tasting blood from her split lip. He definitely landed a hard punch to her face. She steadied herself and limped home then, not going back to see if either men were okay or alive.

When Kyra didn’t report in the next day, Isla went to go visit her at home.

“What happened?!” She asked with a frown.

Kyra had a black eye, a bandaged arm, a healing lip, and a noticeable limp from being kicked from behind.

“I put some assholes in their place.” She shrugged.

“You could have called. Where the fuck was Cody or the others?” Isla asked.

“They offered to walk me home, I said no.”

Isla frowned, “you’re going to get yourself killed one of these days.”

“But I’ll go down swinging.” Kyra said

“Kriffing Mandalorian.” Isla sighed

“Stupid Coruscanti.” She replied back to her.

“I’ll be back, I’m going to get you some medicine to help with the pain.” Isla said, heading off to to find Kix.

Cody had been in the med bay, a routine physical that was insisted upon by GAR standards. He didn’t mind it too much, Kix was good company. He was about to head out when Isla almost knocked him over on her way in, and she didn’t say anything either.

“Are you okay?” He asked

“Kyra was jumped, I need some of those pain shots.” She said to Kix.

He frowned at that, “I can’t just hand over medical supplies without doing an exam.”

“She’s limping, cut on her lip, and a black eye. I’ll have her do a follow up with you but I need the shots for her or she’s going to have a really hard time with her leg.” She said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Kix sighed and slipped a few syringes into her hand, “as far as anybody is concerned, those went missing. Understood?”

“Thank you.” Isla said, going to leave.

“Kyra was jumped last night?” Cody asked, walking with her now.

Isla’s comm went off and she groaned.

“I’m so sorry, can you take these to her?”

Isla had already shoved them in his hand and headed off before he could reply, making him almost drop them. He swore under his breath and headed towards Kyra’s apartment. He knocked on the door and waited for a response, wondering how bad off she really was. It took a few minutes but then she opened the door.

Cody’s heart dropped when he saw the shape she was in, immediately helping her back to the couch.

“Isla sent me, she had to go do something else.” He said

Of course Isla sent him, Kyra might kill her later.

“No problem, it’s always nice to see you.” She smiled a bit.

“This had to be a horrible way to end the night.” He remarked as he put the syringes on the table.

Kyra didn’t bother reaching for them yet, distracted by her data pad now as she began putting in orders for parts and tools.

“At least one of us had fun last night.” She said

It was supposed to sound like she was teasing him but it came out kind of snippy. A silence sat between them at that, Cody frowning a bit.

“Sorry. I…I’m in pain and I’m tired.” She frowned.

“It’s alright. I think I owe you some credits though, a bet is a bet.” He said

“A bet is a bet.” She echoed.

Something seemed very off about her and he wondered what would have been different if he had just followed his own actual desires last night. He was looking at Kyra as he spoke to the stranger because it was things he wished he could say to her. He wished it was her underneath him last night, then maybe things would have ended better. His bed might have stayed warmer for much longer. They could have had breakfast, probably joking and jabbing at one another like they did.

He didn’t like the distant, detached approach of one night stands and very rarely engaged in them. Last night, if he didn’t, he might have ruined his friendship with Kyra. He never had his self control slip like it did when he saw her in that low cut top last night and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He stood now though, trying not to think about it, and went to look to see if she had a first aid kit.

“Ah yes, please. Pilfer through my apartment.” She said, her tone dry.

“I’m trying to see if you have medical supplies.” He called out to her from the refresher.

“Cody, I’m fine.”

He ignored that, finding at least a cold pack for that eye. He cracked it and held it against her face, making her look away from her work. She seems a tiny bit annoyed but also tired.

“I have work to do.” She said

“It can wait a minute. I’m going to also give you my direct comm information so if you ever get into a situation again, you’re not dragging your own corpse home.” He said

Kyra frowned a bit that that, did he blame himself for not being there? She rested her hand on top of his, “you’re not responsible for this.”

That seemed to shake something awake in that head of his as they made eye contact now.

“I know you blame yourself a lot for what happens to your men, as a leader and as someone who cares for their brothers. Wolffe offered to walk me home and I said no. I’ve lived in Coruscant long enough to know there was a risk. This isn’t your fault, Cody…”

He looked away from her gaze then, trying to ignore how warm her hand felt in contrast with the ice pack underneath it. She pulled his hand and the pack away slowly, some of the swelling around her eye already going down.

“You wanna watch a holodrama with me?” She asked

“What?” He asked, looking up at her now.

“I’m tired and I think I could fall asleep to a movie. Do you want to join me?”

“I would but I have to get back to work.” He said

Kyra nodded at that before trying to get up but he stopped her.

“What do you need?”

“There’s an extra keycard to my apartment in my bedroom. It’s on the nightstand and I want you to have it.” She said

“Why?” He asked

“You should use a key of your own if you’re going to drag my corpse home.” She said, repeating his words from earlier.

Cody went back to her room to grab it, taking noticing of the bedroom. Her sheets on her bed were black and disheveled, a few more blankets draped on the bed. They looked handmade, he noticed that about all of the blankets in the apartment and then it made sense when he saw she had a loom in the corner with baskets of yarn.

The room was mostly clean besides that, not matching the chaos of the rest of the apartment. She had a few plants in the window too and a beautiful view of the city below.

“Are you going to gawk or grab the key?” She asked, again sneaking up on him.

She smiled when she noticed she had startled him.

“You didn’t have to get up.” He said

“I’m heading to my bed. Work will wait for the day.” She said, limping over and sitting on the edge.

Cody mentally cursed at himself as he grabbed his comm and messaged Waxer about needing him to be a stand in for meetings today. He could work on paperwork from here today. He moved to help her tuck in, a small smile on her face.

“Don’t you have work to do?” She asked

“Nothing that can’t wait.” He replied

“Cody.”

“Kyra.”

A silence fell between them for a few moments and then he could have sworn he’d seen her blush a little. She had injected herself with the pain meds that Cody brought before laying down. She would feel very body heavy soon and realized she wanted comfort.

“Would you…” she motioned to the bed

His eyebrows shot up and she shook her head.

“Didn’t get satisfied last night?” She asked, something mischievous twinkling in her eyes.

Cody didn’t answer that, removing his plastoid instead before crawling in next to her. She immediately pushed him onto his back and put her head on his chest. He wrapped an arm around her slowly. She wasn’t sure if it was the medicine that was slowly easing the pain in her, dragging her towards sleep, or if she just felt like being honest because she felt she could trust Cody, but this felt right. Like this was supposed to be.

“Usually Isla is here to do this, but I’m happy it’s you.” Kyra said, sleep starting to lace into her voice.

“Go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” He said

“Better be…kick your ass.” She muttered, earning a small smile from him.

Soon Kyra fell asleep and not before long, Cody did too.

[markantonys]

okay, let's do some mathematical adjusting to get to some more interesting stats

those who read the books first:

142 total voters

79 thought the pacing was good (55.6%)

63 thought it was too rushed (44.4%)

those who went into the show without any book experience:

87 total voters

68 thought the pacing was good (78.2%)

19 thought it was too rushed (21.8%)

those who thought the pacing was good:

147 total

79 who'd read the books already (53.7%)

68 who hadn't read the books (46.3%)

those who thought it was too rushed:

82 total

63 who'd read the books already (76.8%)

19 who hadn't read the books (23.2%)

229 total voters is a pretty small sample size to begin with, and less show-first people than prior-readers voted, so the results should be taken with a grain of salt. but that being said, we can see a trend that is exactly what i expected when i created the poll: the majority of complaints that 1x01 was too rushed did NOT come from the viewers who actually were being introduced to the story, characters, and world for the very first time.

now, if i'd phrased the poll as "did you feel 1x01 gave an adequate introduction to the main characters?" then maybe we would've gotten some different results, because it might* also be true that newcomers didn't care about the EF5 very much and maybe we can infer that's because 1x01 didn't spend enough time setting them up.

(*the fact that we are on The Gay Website where much of the userbase could never be induced to care about anyone but gay sorceress rosamund pike definitely skews our impressions of how the EF5 were received by show-onlys; from what i've seen outside of this niche corner of the internet, other show-onlys do seem to be quite fond of various emond's fielders, and even on tumblr nynaeve beat moiraine in my "favorite show character" poll. i also just fundamentally disagree that 1x01 didn't do good enough character setup for the EF5 - as a show-only myself i was very attached to and invested in most of them by the end of the episode - but that's another topic.)

but regardless, one thing is clear: while those who'd read the books first were pretty split, the significant majority of show-first people were satisfied by the pacing. so, sorry, longtime readers, but the showrunners know more than you about how to appropriately pace a pilot episode to engage newcomers. i'm always baffled to see that making the first episode 2 hours long or else having more episodes in the season and delaying the leavetaking until episode 2 are so often wished for by readers, because if you ask me those are two great ways to really put off newcomers and casual viewers. pilot episodes need to have snappy pacing, a dramatic inciting incident, and a clear idea of what the plot of the show will be in order to get viewers hooked straight off; later in the season is the place to add breathing room and more character work.

[tardis--dreams]

Procrastinating my actual work by trying to formulate that stupid german summary. Every word hurts. Physically.

[zoeykallus]

Clones asking you for a date (approaching you) at the 79's:

Some Of Our Favorite Clones x Reader (pick up at 79')

Warnings: Partly slightly suggestive

Rex: creeps around you for quite a while and doesn't quite know how to address you.... When he finally does, he is prepared, well dressed, has used aftershave and has some pick up lines ready. But when he approaches you and you look up to him, his head is completely empty. He can't think of any of the cool phrases he had ready and just stares at you for a moment. Finally, however, he decides on a simple variant and asks you outright: "May I invite you to dinner?"

Fives: sees you, knows immediately he wants you and goes straight to you. He is not shy, maybe still a little nervous, because he finds you just insanely awesome, but he walks towards you with a disarming smile that you can hardly resist from the get-go.

"Hello beauty? Can I buy you a drink? By the way, a no is not acceptable" He is also one of those who are most likely to kiss you on the first night. Depending on what signals you give him, you can also expect more.

Wolffe: takes his time, watching you from a distance for quite a while, almost a bit like a stalker, maybe even for several days. He proceeds methodically, noting which drinks you like, who you talk to and to which music you tap your foot or maybe even go on the dance floor. Finally, he asks the DJ for one of the songs you like, sits down next to you at the bar and simply orders you one of your favorite drinks without being asked. "I'm Wolffee. What's your name?"

Cody: is actually not necessarily shy but unexpectedly awkward. He speaks directly to you, gets flustered with his words, laughs nervously and hopes you won't be put off by it. He makes a joke or two, finally introduces himself and asks for your name. "Y/N, would you go out with me?"

Hunter: tries to approach the matter calmly and serenely, which also works quite well, until you look at him with a flash of your eyes and he starts to sweat. You make him nervous, his senses are flooded by your wonderful scent, the tender sound of your heartbeat and the irresistible smile on your lips. He would love to just kiss you, but he pulls himself together. Should you be so bold and brave to leave the 79's with him this evening, and get involved with him, you can prepare yourself for a hot evening.

Crosshair: knows what he wants and that is you. He makes no secret of it and addresses you directly. He is very direct and now it depends on you. Whether you react shyly at first or go straight for it, as long as you don't reject him outright, sooner or later that night you'll be sitting in a separee, his hand in your panties heating you up and his mouth on your ear whispering dirty, sweet little nothings to you. One of the things he'll whisper to you will be a description of how he wants to drive you crazy in the sheets.

Tech: is initially overwhelmed and tries to proceed methodically, similar to Wolffee. However, he turns around several times and changes his mind when he tries to approach you. You will notice sooner or later and when you do, you should take the lead because Tech is just too shy and insecure. But as soon as you ask if you can sit at his table and engage him in conversation, he will open up and enjoy your company. Finally he asks you for a date, because now he knows that you obviously like him too.

Echo: he is very reserved. Seeks your proximity, but does not address you for a long time. At some point he casually engages you in conversation, he is so incredibly nice, sweet and a total gentleman. You talk for hours, the whole evening and when it's time to say goodbye, he finally comes out with "I had a great evening and would like to repeat that. Maybe we'll go out sometime?" Clever Boy.

Wrecker: is not really shy but similarly awkward as Cody. However, he is more playful, manages to engage you in conversation by showing you little tricks with his beverage cup, inviting you to play darts and accidentally splitting the dartboard with a too hard throw. The whole evening is playful and funny. The question if you want to go out with him he just throws in between, almost casually, that doesn't mean he doesn't care, not at all, that's just his chaotic way. You have fun, he paid attention to that and that you are safe. With him at your side, no one dares to approach you indecently anyway.

Hardcase: is so confident that it's actually almost annoying. He just walks up to you, puts an arm around your shoulder and says, "Hey beauty, doing okay?"

There are only two options, respond positively or blow him off right away. But as soon as you react positively you won't be able to get rid of him for the rest of the evening, as well as every other night he sees you at 79's.

[raisethestake]

Tech x reader (NSFW) pt. 1/2

Excuse some of the crude language, I dont picture a relationship with Tech being overly romanticised so it felt weird to have especially eloquent and descriptive words for some reason 😂

Mostly fluff, gets more NSFW the further down you read. Enjoy!

(pt. 2 in development)

· I am a retired bounty hunter who gets employed by the Republic as a reconnaissance contact

· I was born on Ord Mantell

· I am quite paranoid, which makes me a great scout as I am always on the lookout.

· I am covered in piercings and tattoos

· Tech is also covered in tattoos

[reference 👇]

Meeting

· I work in 79's when I'm not on missions. This is where I was briefly acquainted with the Batch.

· I then got put on a mission with them about a month later.

· He is fascinated by my creative knowledge and wisdom. It is different than his own knowledge and while he's actually quite good when he joins me to paint sometimes, he struggles with conceptual ideas and prefers cold, hard facts.

· Me and Tech really hit it off with intellectual debates. I learnt stuff from him and he liked it when I asked for advice, but he also learnt about social and moral concepts from me.

· I am a trained night owl because I work in a bar, but i also enjoy the mornings, soaking in the peacefulness of either sides of the day.

· We are always the last 2 to go to bed, working in silence or having hushed conversations in the cockpit.

· Tech started to look forward to this undisturbed time with me.

· everyone noticed that I was Tech's new favorite person.

Flustered

· he was sat in the corner in 79's one night looking a litle distracted. I asked Hunter and Crosshair what was up when they were getting drinks. Hunter wasnt sure, but Crosshair said

· "he's hung up on someone and doesnt quite know what to do with himself."

· Hunter looked incredulous "who??"

· Crosshair's gaze went straight from Tech to me. I responded with a snort.

· he'd gotten onto Tech's data pad and seen mission reports filed by me. It looked like he was researching me, analysing my speech and thought process to be able to talk to me better.

· they asked me what i was going to do. I made a 'fuck it' face and finished my shift half an hour later.

· i came out with shots and offered one to Tech. "Come one mopey, we gonna dance?"

· as he stood up and shotted, "theres just something i gotta do first" and I took his chin and met his lips to mine.

· he got very flustered and started babbling about something in a low mumble. I took his hand and led him to the dancefloor.

· his dancing was a little awkward and self-conscious, but he was glad it was jazz so he didnt have to let loose to blend in. He was watching me intently the whole time. Me peppering him with kisses and him beginning to reciprocate, letting go of my hands to pull my waist in close. My arms thrown around his neck, we danced in an embrace.

· as we were around the boys all the time, we didnt get ample time to ourselves.

· Tech is NOT a morning person. He will stay asleep as long as time allows and is very grumpy. He will snap at people before he has his coffee.

· The boys warned me after we'd already slept together. I enjoy quiet in the morning anyway so I hadn't disturbed him.

· Morning Tech started to appear less often as having someone wake him up with neck kisses put him in a much better mood.

· we soon worked out that his main kink was love bites. It turned him on to see them during the day and know I was his.

· Tech is a madman. He clutters, scribbles on his walls, accidentally stays up late and tattoos himself.

· I slot into this well. While not as hardcore, I also tattoo myself and I am easy with the clutter. I am not the most tidy person but I like that I never feel guilty for it because he's worse than me.

· We are the lords of parallel play. We can sit in silence for hours. Tech tinkers, I do creative things, sometimes we sit and tattoo each other.

Good Morning

· we were on the Marauder after the rest of the boys woke up early to pick up parts in the city.

· I got up to make caff. Tech came in as I sipped and looked out the window.

· he made a cup and came to stand just behind me. I took his arm and wrapped it around my waist. He relaxed into it and rested his cheek on my head.

· I kissed his hand and he melted. He kissed my temple and made his way down to my neck, his hand moving to my hip. He stretched to set down his caff and squeezed my hips.

· i set my mug down and reached behind my head to stroke his hair. He pulled my pelvis into his as he added little licks down my neck and nibbled my ear.

· i turned around and our lips met. He towered over me as we backed against the wall.

· we jacked each other off at the same time until he lifted me up to curl my legs around his head and sat me on him.

· he began respectfully, but adapted as I encouraged him to go harder.

· i ended up turning round and he took me from behind. One hand reaching to rub my clit and biting my neck.

· he finished just after me.

· i had to brace against the wall to keep myself standing - weak in the knees. Tech twisted around and leaned his back against the wall. We looked at each other panting and chuckled before he took my hand and turned me around, sinking down to bring me ino his lap, where he held me and we kissed and talked.

· Tech is a sex GOD. I've had it good from bounty hunters, but never like him. He learnt everything about the female body when we got together to ensure I had the best time.

[we-are-inevitable]

Your ask box is my kingdom, I am taking it over

But anyway I so badly want your thoughts on Jack and Davey in my college prof au please please please I know I haven't spoken about it on tumblr yet except from a little bit but I love your Javid so yeah

-has watched high school musical thank you very much

ok ok @roideny obvi this is your au but here are my Very Important thoughts bc i love them Very Much ugh. in love w them

David Jacobs-Kelly:

44 years old, born in ‘79

Undergrad: majored in English, minored in Creative Writing

Masters: Poetics and Theory AdvC- NYU

Doctorate: English and American Literature, thesis is over gender and sexuality in Shakespeare

he’s been Dr. Jacobs-Kelly for about seventeen years by the time the story takes place!

as a prof, he teaches a comp class, an honors comp (Critical Analysis and Writing), and some creative writing/poetry courses! he’s a very busy man.

he meets Race, Albert, and Finch because they’re students in his comp class!

when he’s not teaching, he’s really involved in the local queer scene. i feel like he’s a staple at drag brunches and pride celebrations; he’s not a huge club fan anymore but he still loves being Involved. growing up during the aids crisis is traumatizing at the least, and im sure he lost a few friends, so he stays up to date in the queer stuff to sort of honor them.

he marries jack in 2011 when gay marriage is legalized in new york!

he’s a huge shakespeare fan, as seen by his phd studies. he has a hamlet-inspired tattoo because he’s gay

tbh he probably has a cat named after shakespeare (they have two cats im calling it now. shakespeare and bryan, name courtesy of jack)

he and jack don’t have any kids, but he’s a loving fun uncle for Les and Sarah’s respective kids!

Jack Jacobs-Kelly:

45 years old, born in ‘78

Undergrad: Studio Art! but he dropped out after a semester <33

he just decided that college wasn’t for him. why pay money for something he doesn’t need?

he goes straight into a set design apprenticeship that medda helps him get! medda is his adoptive mom, so he’s been around queer spaces and theatre since he was around 15. he loves it, it’s his home

that being said he probably sells his own paintings and maybe does mural work on the side, he likes to keep busy and is invested in the art scene, and he meets davey when davey moves to New York for his masters! he’s the reason davey stays in NYC <33

he’s very eccentric, and very much doesn’t give a fuck. he’s a black queer man- the universe already nerfed him, so why worry about anything else? i can see him being the really go-with-the-flow husband to davey’s more tight-strung academic vibe. they really balance each other out

again, they don’t have kids, but i feel like this jack is very much For The Youths? i can see him volunteering a lot, working for organizations that help troubled kids get into the arts— i feel like it’s his passion project that makes him feel better when davey is busy at the university all day. in another life he’s a foster parent, but he and davey just don’t have the lifestyle to foster, so he focuses his energy elsewhere!

whenever davey “adopts” some freshmen he’s always on board. he really hits it off with Albert!

not as involved in the queer scene as davey, but his career is literally in musical theatre set design, so even if he’s not in the queer scene he’s In The Queer Scene

i don’t wanna talk about him losing medda but i can see him eventually inheriting the theater!

he loves his nieces and nephews! he’s a big family guy

Extra Thoughts:

jack and davey are a pair. they rarely go anywhere outside of work without each other, and they’re so, SO in love.

jack pretty regularly comes to see Davey while he’s at work; he’ll bring him lunch to office hours and pop in to watch him lecture from time to time.

davey attends the opening night of every show jack works on <33

their apartment is always a mess LMAO. davey has papers and books everywhere, there’s paint on the floor, brushes all over the place— it’s what happens when you cross a tired academic and an adhd creative. shit happens.

they actually stay pretty hip and on-trend? idk how it happens but jack is rlly good with youth culture and davey is on top of gay culture so like. yeah they work.

over summers and breaks, they travel a lot! not anything crazy expensive— they love international travel, but they’re also a big fan of road trips and rental cars!

they are my FAVORITES and i love them so much

[dexters-bluemilkshakes]

i made "the 501st goes to Target", "the disaster lineage goes to Target", "The Clone Wars Squad ™ (+Satine) goes to Target", "The Rebels go to Target", "The Original Trilogy Gang Goes To Target", “The Driods of Star Wars go to Target (chaos ensues)”,  and now I give you:

the 104th go to target

Wolffe: whenever wolffe is at target, he makes sure to stock up on eye drops. he has always been super bothered by arid weather drying out his eyes, and when he got his cybernetic eye, it only got worse. desert planets and all of the sand getting in the joints of his eye are tourture and he refuses to go through that kind of pain again if he can help it. he and anakin don’t interact that much, but when they do, they either talk about ahsoka, or s a n d . 

wolffe also likes to walk with plo and they chat about the shenanigans the wolfpack pulled recently. they also use this time to talk about themselves. something about the warm lighting and the close shelves creating a sense of cozy closeness has always helped wolffe relax a bit and gets him to stop calling plo “sir” off duty. plo listens as wolffe talks about the chaotic clone commander (+ rex) group chat. wolffe also appreciates the advice plo gives him whenever he talks about this one girl who works at 79s that caught his eye. plo likes to to tease him, but in the end, he is the reason wolffe had the courage to talk to her at all. 

wolfe also buys a LOT of snacks and tote bags and speeder-bike locks. because he loves his squad. he does. but a man has gotta eat, so he locks away his candy bars in a bag.

the boys always get into it anyway, and wolffe is 87% sure that plo helps break in. they leave his favorite candy for him though, and wolffe has a hard time trying to complain about them. 

Boost: goes straight to the hair isle. sinker stands behind him, making pun after pun about the brand names of different pomade. boost started to frequent using a hair product obi-wan suggested to him. obi-wan was quick to insist that he himself doesn’t use it, but heard it was good through the space-grape vine. however, one time ahsoka told boost that he smelled like obi-wan, and its not like either of the two men wear cologne. 

so naturally, boost and sinker make up elaborate stories about obi-wan being involved in some conspiracy with the hair product company. they build upon it every time they go to target. plo overheard once, and gave them a blank look. they shut up, but then plo quietly added that obi wan hides the product in his underwear drawer, according to ahsoka. 

so. 

the story continues. 

boost also has a tradition where he lets sinker guide him around the store with his eyes closed, just to make sure he doesn’t hit any walls. boost will then randomly stop and thrust his arm out. whatever he points to, he has to buy. though sinker is only supposed to make sure he doesn’t run into anything, he has on multiple occasions steered boost into buying goofy things, like lingerie. 

Sinker: though he isn’t even allowed to wear them, he will occasionally buy graphic tees. he really likes studying the art, and he keeps them in the drawers with the pint for their armor and gunships, and calls them “design inspo”. plo got him an actual book about how to create dynamic designs, and sinker looked at it for hours. he keeps it in the barracks on coruscant, and its one of the things he misses most about the planet when he is away. 

sinker also has a love for monster energy, even though it makes him hyper for a full 24 hours. he’s literally had to go out running with some brothers on a different sleep schedule (or with anakin or any other person up at ungodly hours of night), just to get the energy out. his favorite is the meiloorun flavored one. he only ever gets one at a time. once he got two cans and saved the second for another night, but a shiny found it and that Did Not Go Well (the shiny is fine, he just ended up in medbay because he was shaking so badly. ten year olds with 20 year old bodies who are still ten consuming caffeine doesn’t mix well. sinker is 11. its only slightly better.) 

the most noticeable incident is the time sinker bought a can, and then went to walk with boost. while drinking it. it the store. he was going crazy, and boost always returns his energy,

so cue chaos.

they saw a shirt with a wolf on it and started running around, howling. they then ran into the pen and pencil section, and started throwing pencil boxes. they ended up fighting over a handful of pens, all of which snapped, and ink got EVERYWHERE. ahsoka was there with them that day and peeked her head into the isle in time to see it happen. she took a holo-pic before running away, her brothers chasing her. they forgot to tell anyone about the ink. it became an inside joke between the three, and they laughed about it every time they were together. the stain was still there even when ahsoka was all grown up, and boost and sinker weren’t there to laugh about it anymore. 

in fact, that stain outlived all of them. 

Comet: comet is basically dad jr. he walks around with wolffe a lot, and they tend to walk in a comfortable silence. they can only trust each other (and plo) to say they’ll be quiet and then actually follow through. comet holds the list of things they need to get and steers the cart while wolffe puts things in and evaluates prices. 

comet spends the rest of his time in the book section. he especially likes to look at dad joke books. he never buys any, but he memorizes and/or writes down jokes and tells them later. usually he likes to tell jokes when it’s completely silent or there is an awkward pause in conversation. 

comet is also tasked with getting everyone’s caf orders from the space starbucks outlet in the store. he’s the only one who has the patience to actually stand in line. he also gets those glass bottles of frappuccinos but he always gets. so many. he genuinely thinks that they taste good, but its a running joke that the amount of bottles he gets is directly proportional to how many reports he does in one day. 

Warthog: really likes playing tutorial games in the video game section. he doesn't have many games on his data pad, but he really loves videos games, especially ones that involve flying. plo bought the wolfpack a handheld console once, and while it officially belongs to all of the clones, warthog gets to hold on to it, since he uses it the most. plo always gives him enough credits to buy one new game per target trip for the “squad”. it always happens to be just enough to pay for whatever game warthog has been talking about the past few months. 

he also sometimes will join up with boost and sinker to be the chaos trio ™. warthog likes more quiet pranks in comparison to the goofy and large pranks the other too pull, for example, he bought a pack of pens and left it on the bottom bed of boost and sinker’s bunk. the two never found out who it was, but they knew someone else found out about the pen incident. 

(warthog had been one isle over, and figured out what happened). 

warthog also really loves trying on ridiculous outfits with clashing clothes. the pack gets together and votes on the most atrocious outfit, a picture of which gets sent to the group chat to become the new pfp for the time being. 

Plo: plo buys snacks and headphones and blankets and dad things ™ . He and comet and wolffe all pick out fun things to bring home to the pack. either something a brother mentioned they wanted, or a trinket that reminded them of someone, or just an extra blanket because boost and sinker keep fighting over them, the resident parents of the pack will make sure to grab it. 

when doing his quiet walks with wolffe, plo talks about his padawan days, or goes into the detail on the plot of the latest thriller holo-novel he’s been reading. wolffe always gives him crap about buying flimsi copies of his novels for stealth missions, instead of just downloading them to a private data pad. plo always gives some line about the aesthetic, but really, plo only did it once to try it, and it annoyed his troopers so much he only reads printed novels now. 

he participates in some shenanigans himself. he goes over to the bouncy ball crate and chooses one to carry with him through the day. whenever he senses one of his men nearby, he will gently float the ball over the aisles and bonk them on the head before quickly calling the ball back to him and running away. 

he doesn’t buy much for himself, other than the headphones. he always gets cheap ones because often times they break or he looses them. 

the rest of his money goes to buying things for his pack and ahsoka. 

when ahsoka accompanies them, which becomes less and less frequent as the war progresses, he helps her pick out new boots for battle, because she wears out the soles very quickly. jedi are not supposed to have worldly possessions, but he found a lamp shaped like a loth cat, and if anakin can have a pod racing poster in his room, plo figured ahsoka can have a cute-shaped light.

ahsoka named the lamp after r2.

the time they went to target after ahsoka left, plo bought himself a loth cat lamp. 

he named it after her. 

+bonus:

they dragged along baby ‘soka: in the first days of the war, before ahsoka was even anakin’s padawan, they took ahsoka to their target. she goes FERAL oh its so funny. it was only her second time there, and it had been YEARS since she last went, so she was very excited. eventually wolffe stopped her by kneeling in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. he calmed her down enough for her to hop onto his shoulders so he could give her a tour. plo buys her a lemonade at the space starbucks outlet at the end of the day, and they went to dex’s for lunch, on obi-wan’s suggestion. 

she l o v e s target so much that when she became anakin’s padawan, it was one of the first things she suggested they do to bond together. 

[cherry-blossom5243]

As I grow older, I encounter more and more questions about kids. Let's get one thing straight - I never had any maternal instincts nor have I ever wanted kids. They were never in any future plans and still are not. In fact, I don't even like kids! I absolutely hate when people say things like "oh but you will change your mind" blah blah or when they try to almost force it! It's absolutely ridiculous. Long story short, I want to start a thread of reasons not to have a child as I was recently asked for reasons. Well I already have over 100. Please feel free to continue in comments or reblogs.

Reasons NOT to have a child:

1. Exhaustion

2. Nausea

3. Being uncomfortable

4. 9 months of carrying it

5. Restricted movement

6. Kicks

7. Punches

8. Pussy tear

9. Possible ass tear!?

10. Possible C section

11. Possible complications

12. Responsibility FOREVER

13. Moneyyyyy

14. Something can go wrong at any time

15. Long hours in painful labour

16. No more freedom

17. Have to consider the child in all decision making

18. Can't freely travel

19. Can't freely go anywhere

20. Can't do whatever you want

21. Screaming!!!

22. They're selfish

23. Needy bastards

24. Unnecessary crying

25. What if I can't even comfort them

26. Waking up at all hours

27. Sleep deprivation

28. Dirty!

29. No more me time

30. No more us time

31. Can't work for a while

32. Will make haemorrhoids worse

33. My blood pressure is already low

34. My heart problems can make us both worse

35. Oxygen issues

36. Possible death of me and/or the baby

37. Teeth! I don't wanna lose them!

38. Nutrients thief

39. Hip problems forever

40. More stretch marks

41. Body shape changes

42. Flappy boobs

43. Flat ass

44. Increased weight

45. Swollen ankles

46. Swollen legs

47. Swollen fingers

48. Period issues during

49. Period issues after

50. Childbirth!

51. Costs upon costs for at least 18 years

52. Sore titties

53. What if I hurt it

54. It's so fragile

55. No proper sleep

56. No proper rest

57. I don't have the energy

58. I might pass on genetic conditions

59. Depression will get even worse

60. They might end up hating me

61. Might end up hating life and be just as depressed

62. Their vomit

63. Faeces

64. Will not want them in public in case they cry and are, well, like kids are

65. Tantrums

66. No time

67. Can't delve into many hobbies unrelated to the child

68. Teething

69. Doctors, doctors, doctors

70. Sex life??

71. Relationships?

72. Friends?

73. Work?

74. I dislike most children

75. I dislike many humans

76. Have to be conscious of every word, swears etc.

77. Have to act like a role model all the bloody time

78. Want a drink? Alcoholism? Judgement from others

79. Judged on how good am I as a parent

80. Constant "suggestions" from others on how to do things

81. Judged if I have other ways

82. Family will want to be even more involved and present

83. Vegetarian beliefs challenged further

84. Other views challenged

85. I like eating and doing stuff without having to mind another being first

86. Vomit will make me Vomit!

87. I like my personal space

88. I enjoy peace

89. I enjoy quiet time

90. I enjoy watching movies etc. Without distractions

91. I like it just being me, my partner, and our furry family

92. I want animals (unlike kids), which are much better and as much a part of the family as a human would be

93. Have to wipe their ass for a few years!

94. Wiping noses

95. Endless cleaning

96. I'm grossed out by stinky little kids

97. I don't think I have enough patience

98. I like tidy places - kids certainly won't help with that!

99. What if I don't love it? Don't have any maternal feelings towards them?

100. Even further lowered self-esteem

101. My mental health issues will certainly take another beating

102. I just don't want them!!!

[djarrex]

Chrono

| masterlist |

Pairing: Captain Rex x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ 100%

Word Count: 1.7k 

Warnings: piv shower sex, very brief vaginal fingering

Summary: (See note for explanation) You signaled for your Captain, and he came to you. Instead of your usual spot, you both agreed on a change of scenery. Who’s thirsty? 

A/N: This is just a little Captain Rex oneshot from an idea I had in my head about how the reader could signal Rex by messing with her chrono on her wrist, sort of like purposefully messing with it but while not being too obvious, y’know? It sounds better in my head.

***

About a half hour ago, you had walked by Captain Rex in the war room, signaling him of your… need… in passing. There was this agreement you both had come to: if either one of you needed some stress relief - or even just missed one another - you’d signal with the wiggling of the chrono you both wore on your wrists. It was weird at first; to play with your chrono so much in front of others because it seemed so obvious, but it worked. It always worked. Most of the time it was in passing while on the ship, other times it was at 79’s while you sat with all the guys in their favorite booth.

If you were on the ship, the go-to location was the medbay. It was usually empty except for the medical droids, but you had powered them down in preparation. You ran the med bay, after all. You weren’t expecting any visitors – other than your Captain.

You leaned on the wall, waiting over by the supply closet. Whenever your activities took place in the medbay, they usually carried on in the closet – just in case someone were to waltz in. You always locked the door, but you never know.

Another few minutes went by until the door finally whisked opened. Rex stood at the entrance with his helmet clutched to his side.

You stood up straight, hands on your hips. “Kriff, Rex. I’ve been waiting f- ”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, cyare.” He sighed, stepping into the room and sat his helmet on the counter nearest him.

“What kept you for so long? You know, I think that’s the longest you’ve ever kept me waiting - and I’m including the months I waited for you to finally make a fucking move before we had sex for the first time.”

“Very funny.” He grinned and rolled his eyes, shutting and locking the door behind him.

You stepped closer, your arms folded across you chest. “In all seriousness though, what’s going on, Rex?”

He sighed again. “Looks like I won’t have as much time off as I’d like to. I’m scheduled on the bridge at 06:00 tomorrow morning for a briefing. I’m accompanying General Skywalker, General Kenobi, and Commander Tano on a mission to Zygerria.” Your brows furrowed. Walking over to sit on a cot, you grabbed his hand and led him to sit with you.

“…Zygerria? Maker, Rex. What the hells is on Zygerria?”

“Well... Do you really want me to tell you, or would you rather have me instead? Because I know what I’d rather do,” He grazed your thigh, “and let me tell you, it’s not going over the story of the missing Togrutas and rescue mission. We’re on a time crunch here, cyare.”

As much as you loved the feeling of his hands on you, you weren’t expecting that answer. “Missing… Togrutas?” You widened your eyes, and he frowned.

“Cyare.”

“Ha, sorry.” You leaned in towards him, your mouth close enough to his, threatening a kiss. “Well, since you have to get up really early… maybe we shouldn’t- ” He leaned back from you, his eyes shooting accusing daggers at you.

“I’m sorry, but aren’t you the one who signaled me? Wiggling around your chrono, making a pass through the war room? You never walk through the war room. Common, cyare. You got my attention, so here I am.” You couldn’t help but chuckle, and he loosened up enough do to the same. You reached for his hand still on your thigh and held it in your hands.

“Can you – can you come back to my apartment with me? I need to clean off, seriously. I’ve been sanitizing all day – I probably smell like chemicals.” You saw the cogs turning in his head before he answered. His eyebrow raised, then lowered as he released another sigh.

“Alright, fine. I can’t spend the night, though. As much as I would love to wake up to you in the morning...” He took his other hand and ran his gloved thumb across your bottom lip, “I’m needed for a mission. I’m sorry.” Rex never was truly able to relax, and you absolutely felt for him. It seems like the only times he’s ever able to really let loose is when he’s with you, and even then, there is always some metaphorical clock ticking in the background, counting down the seconds he has left with you before he’s needed by his General again.

You nodded and smiled, knowing that he’s doing his very best and you were grateful he was even willing to go back to your place at all. Having him in your bed will always beat the medbay on this ship or the alley behind 79’s.

“Hey, you go first.” You gestured to the door as you caressed his cheek, “I’ll wait a few minutes before heading off the ship and meet you back at my place in an hour. Sound good?” 

***

About half an hour later you were back home and were beyond ready for some leave time. You tossed your bag haphazardly on the counter, making your way to your room to quickly shed off your clothing, tossing them into a bin. As your top came off over your head you got a huge whiff of chemicals - you were a walking fire hazard.

Turning the sanisteam on the hottest setting, you stepped in and closed your eyes. The showers on the Resolute were fine, better than most probably, but nothing compared to your shower. The pressure of the scalding water dug into your scalp as you massaged the soap into your hair. You turned the setting slightly cooler - so you didn’t acquire third degree burns from a shower - and stood in silence while the water rained down on your tired form. Once your hair and body were clean, you decided to stand under the water for just a little while longer, letting your muscles relax as your head tilted back with your eyes closed for just a little while longer -

“Cyare, are you enjoying yourself?”

Your eyes shot open as you were pulled out of your relaxing trance. He stood just outside the ‘fresher fully armored, sans helmet, and watched you with a cocked head and a smirk. 

“Stars, Rex. Sorry I -” You turned around to shut off the sanisteam but he stopped you.

“No, wait. Don’t turn it off.” You raised a quizzical brow and folded your arms against your chest. Was – was he wanting to join you?

“You going to join me, Captain?” You were unable to hide your mischievous grin. With that, he quickly worked at his armor and tossed it all into a pile in your adjoining room. You watched in amusement as he shed his blacks and threw them in the bin with your own dirty clothes.

As soon as he stepped in the shower, there was no time wasted. You were gently pressed against the wall of the shower, your back making contact with the cool tiles as Rex let his hands travel up and down your waist. His lips met yours; your hands shot up to cup his face while his hands decided to head south.

Before you knew it, you were moaning into his mouth as he worked your clit with calloused fingers.

“Please Rex, I want you. I want your cock. Please.” He smiled against your mouth, still working his fingers, but letting them trail down to the outside of your hole, teasing your entrance.

“Are my fingers not good enough for you, cyare?” He breathed a laugh into your mouth, earing a low moan from you.

“No… no, they’re p-perfect – always – perfect. I just… I need m-more.”

His fingers retracted from your heat. Before you could complain at the loss of contact, your left thigh was being lifted up around his waist and your arms quickly wrapped around his neck in an attempt to hold yourself steady. He teased your clit with the head of his cock, earning whimper out of you.

“Rex, please.”

His voice, deeper than ever, set off fireworks in your gut, “Yes, ma’am.” 

He bucked his hips upward, sending his cock straight up into your pussy until he was fully inside in just one motion. You let your head fall back; the loud thump of your head hitting the wall made him pause. You didn’t even realize you had hit your head until he asked if you were ok.

“M’fine.” You shot him a reassuring smile. “Keep going.”

He resumed his deliberate thrusts – jabs of his hips that would’ve sent you all the way up the wall if his hands weren’t glued to your hip and ass. His lips met your collarbone; the gentle nips he gave the thin skin there send shockwaves through your body. You were close already, and he knew it.

“Cum for me. Common.” He was commanding you with his mouth still attached to your clavicle. It took his one hand to shoot down where you were connected - resuming his torture on your throbbing clit – to make you lose all strength in the one leg you were standing on. He must have felt it, because the grip he had on your ass became harder to keep you upright – to make sure you didn’t collapse; you clamped down hard on his cock with your brutal orgasm, making his thrusts lose their rhythm as he grunted into your neck.

He finished inside you of you – something you always told him to do; this time he didn’t need a verbal confirmation because he already knew the answer – your body was still shaking as you slowly came down from your high. 

He pulled out of you with a tired sigh, completely spent, and went to stand directly underneath the warm water in silence. Rex looked so content as he stood underneath the water, his head tilted back with his eyes shut, just as you were before he arrived. You gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then climbed out of the shower to dry off. You wanted him to have this moment to himself. He deserved to relax.

***