#i had a request for a post order 66 with them and i might write more

[jetii]

Until Morning

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

Words: 12,758

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, forbidden relationship, smut, soft dom!Wolffe, orgasm denial, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, marking (in both ways), the beginning is filthy but he's actually so sweet in this, well ok it's all filthy, they are in looovvve

Summary: After confessing your feelings for each other, you and Wolffe carry on. During the day, you're nothing but professional, but what happens behind closed doors is something else entirely.

Prompts: 67. “It’s taking all my self control not to bend you over the table and fuck you right here.” & 92. “Fuck, knowing that you’re walking around filled with my cum has me so hard.”

A/N: I spilled angst all over the smut again, sorry! Hope sweet, affectionate Wolffe makes up for the bits of sad. I'd recommend reading For One Night first if you haven't already. Thanks @aynavaano for the inspo I needed to write this sequel and for inspiring the original!

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Waking up next to someone was a feeling you had yet to get used to, but it was certainly not something you would complain about. The warm, firm body beside you, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the sound of his breathing — it's a balm on your weary soul, and a reminder that for a little while, at least, you aren't alone.

You open your eyes and watch him, his features soft and peaceful. In sleep, the lines of stress and worry are gone, the scar stretching across his eye less harsh, and Wolffe looks almost boyish, his expression open and vulnerable. Your heart clenches at the sight, and you resist the urge to reach out and stroke his cheek.

In the early hours of the morning, it's easy to forget what awaits you both outside this room. To imagine a world where you could stay like this forever, the two of you lost in each other. You'll take what few moments you can get, though, and treasure them.

Wolffe stirs beside you, his face scrunching up in annoyance, and he lets out a grunt. That was something you were used to — how grumpy and irritable he could be in the mornings. It's endearing, and you stifle a smile, knowing he would grumble even more if he saw it.

"I can hear you thinking," he mutters, his eyes still squeezed shut. "Go back to sleep."

"Good morning," you reply, amused.

"No, it's not."

He turns his face, burrowing deeper under the covers, and you bite your lip hard to keep from laughing. He's a notorious grump in the mornings, and you'd learned the best way to deal with it is to leave him alone and let him wake up at his own pace, but when you try to get up, his arm snakes out, pulling you back against him.

"Wolffe!"

"Where do you think you're going?" he rumbles, his voice husky.

"To start the day," you tell him. "Some of us have a meeting to get to."

"No," he protests, his arm tightening around your waist. "Canceled."

"It's not canceled," you huff, but the protest is half-hearted, and when his hand slides down to your hip, squeezing the flesh, you can't help but lean back into him, a soft sigh escaping you.

"Not yet," he murmurs as his fingers trace circles on your skin. "Stay here a little longer."

"Plo is expecting you," you say, the reminder more for yourself than him. "You have a lot of work to do."

"I'm sure the General will understand," he says.

You know you should be the responsible one here, but it's hard to resist him. Especially when his lips are ghosting along the sensitive spot beneath your ear, his breath hot against your skin. It's tempting, too tempting, and your resolve crumbles.

"Fine," you relent. "But not too long."

Wolffe smirks, triumphant, and his lips find yours, capturing them in a deep kiss. You melt into him, your body sinking against his, and you lose yourself in the sensation, the feel of him surrounding you. His hand drifts down, tracing the curve of your waist, and he tugs you closer, his hardness pressing into your hip.

"Wolffe," you mumble, breaking the kiss. "We shouldn't. I need to report to Plo, and you—"

"Are busy," he interrupts. "Very, very busy. Right now."

"You're impossible," you groan.

"Mm," he hums, his lips trailing down your throat. "Don't worry, jet'ika. I'll make it quick."

Before you can protest, his hand is slipping between your legs, his fingers seeking out the wet heat of your core. He finds your clit, his thumb rubbing lazy circles on the bud, and you gasp, the sound lost in the kiss.

He's insistent, his touch firm and purposeful, and he wastes no time in delving deeper, dipping into your wetness. Two fingers slide inside of you with little resistance, and the stretch is just shy of too much, his thick digits filling you in a way that has you trembling.

"Kriff, you're so wet already," he growls, his mouth pressed against the hollow of your throat. He nips at the sensitive flesh, his stubble scraping against your skin. "Tell me, jet'ika, does the thought of sneaking around turn you on?"

"No," you gasp, even as your hips buck against his hand.

"Liar," he chides.

Wolffe pulls his fingers out, and before you can whine in protest, he flips you over, pinning you beneath him. His gaze is dark, pupil blown in his single gold eye, and the predatory look on his face makes your toes curl. He leans down, his mouth pressing against the shell of your ear.

"Do you know what I'm going to do?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "I'm going to fuck you. And I'm going to make it quick, just like you asked. But I'm not going to let you come."

"Wolffe—"

"You're going to walk around today with my cum dripping out of you, and every time you see me, you're going to remember how good it felt. You're going to be thinking about how hard you came on my cock last night, and how badly you want to do it again. And you're not going to get to,” he continues. "You're going to have to wait, like a good girl, until we can sneak away again. Until I can fuck you properly."

The words make a wave of heat wash over you, and your cunt clenches around nothing, a desperate ache forming between your legs. You arch against him, seeking friction, but his hands pin your hips to the bed, preventing any movement.

"Understand?"

"Yes," you breathe, your voice shaky, and he rewards you with a sharp nip to the neck.

"That's my girl," he murmurs. He moves to straddle your thighs, and the sudden shift of his weight makes you gasp. You can feel his length, hot and heavy against the curve of your ass, and you can't help but push back, teasing him.

He chuckles, the sound rough.

"Oh, I see how it is," he says, and he pushes you flat, his palm splayed on your lower back. "You're not very good at being patient, are you?"

"You're taking too long," you grumble.

"I told you I was going to make this quick," he says. "So be a good girl and keep still."

He grips your hips, pulling you up, and then he's pushing into you, his length sliding in easily. The stretch is delicious, and you bite your lip, the ache settling low in your belly. He fills you perfectly, the angle allowing him to sink deeper than before, and you moan, the sensation of being full almost too much. Your head drops down, resting on the pillow, and he gives an experimental thrust, the motion slow and deliberate.

"Maker," he hisses, his hands digging into the flesh of your hips. "You feel so fucking good."

He sets a punishing pace, his thrusts hard and fast. He fucks you like a man possessed, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing in the room. He's not gentle, not sweet, and the contrast of his tenderness the night before and his roughness now has you panting, your fingers twisting in the sheets.

He leans forward, his chest pressing against your back, and the change of position has him hitting a spot deep inside of you, the friction sending sparks dancing across your vision. You whine, and he shushes you, his breath hot against your skin.

"Shh," he whispers. "Gotta keep quiet. Wouldn't want anyone to hear you, would we?"

The thought makes you tremble, and he huffs a laugh.

"Yeah," he says, "you'd like that, wouldn't you? For everyone to hear how good I'm fucking you."

He punctuates his statement with a sharp thrust, the head of his cock hitting the spot again. You clamp a hand over your mouth, muffling the moan that threatens to slip out.

"So good," he growls, his voice low and ragged. "You're so fucking good for me."

His pace becomes frantic, his thrusts losing their rhythm. You can tell he's getting close, his breathing heavy and labored, and you can feel the tension coiling in his muscles, the anticipation of his release making your cunt clench around him. Wolffe hisses, his grip tightening on your hips, and he slams into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt.

The sensation is enough to make your eyes roll back, and you feel him twitch inside you, his cock pulsing. His release is hot and sticky, coating your inner walls, and the knowledge that he's filling you up, marking you as his, sends a rush of arousal through you. The idea is depraved, filthy, and it's only your hand covering your mouth that keeps you from crying out.

You can't help but grind back against him, the pressure inside you almost too much. His hands grip your hips, holding you still, and he chuckles, his lips trailing along the shell of your ear.

"Ah, ah," he chides, "be a good girl and take it."

You bite your lip, trying to ignore the desperate need building inside you, but the friction is almost too much, the sound of his voice whispering in your ear making the ache worse. You're trembling, the tension in your body coiled tight, and the only thing you can focus on is the feel of him inside you, his cock stretching you wide.

And then he's pulling out, his length sliding free. The sudden emptiness inside you is a shock, and you can't help the small whimper that escapes. He shushes you, his fingers stroking the curve of your hip.

"What did I say?"

"Wolffe," you gasp, your voice hoarse. "Please, I need—"

"No."

He moves off you, the mattress shifting, and the loss of his warmth is almost enough to make you sob. He runs his hand along your spine, the touch soothing.

"Turn over."

You do as he asks, rolling onto your back, and the sight of him, his pupils blown and his chest flushed, is almost enough to undo you. He leans over, his hand coming up to cradle the side of your face, and his thumb traces the curve of your cheek.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he murmurs, his eyes burning. Your cheeks flush, the compliment making your heart skip a beat, and he gives you a soft, almost sad, smile.

"You really are, you know," he says, his voice thick. "Beautiful."

His other hand trails down, brushing against your thigh, and he grips your leg, his fingers digging into the flesh.

"I want to see you."

You open your mouth to ask him what he means, but the words die in your throat as he pushes your legs apart, his gaze zeroing in on the spot between your thighs. The action is intimate, almost obscene, and you can't help the flush that spreads across your cheeks, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Perfect," he mutters. "Kriff, you're perfect."

His fingers move, his knuckles brushing against the wetness that's gathered between your folds. You whimper, the touch almost painful, and he lets out a rough sound before sliding his fingers into you. You can feel him pushing his cum back inside you, the action somehow more erotic than anything else he's done, and the thought makes you blush even more.

"That's it," he murmurs. "There you go.”

You can't help but push back, grinding yourself against his palm, and his fingers press against the spot deep inside of you, the pleasure making your vision blur.

"Oh, fuck," you breathe.

He leans forward, his breath hot against your ear.

"If you can make it through the day," he says, his voice low and rough, "I promise I'll make it worth your while. I'll take my time. I'll taste every inch of you. I'll lick my cum out of you, and then I'll fuck you until you can't walk."

The promise makes your toes curl, and you whimper, the ache inside of you almost too much.

"Wolffe, please—"

"Commander?"

There's a knock at the door, and the sound of a voice just outside is enough to make your heart drop through your stomach. Wolffe's head snaps up, and he curses, his expression shifting from lust to irritation in an instant.

"What?" he calls out.

"Sir, it's Sinker," the trooper replies. "General Plo wanted me to remind you of your meeting with him. You're late."

"I'm aware," Wolffe grits out.

He glares at the door, jaw clenched, and then he turns back to you, his expression softening. He runs his fingers through your hair, smoothing down the messy strands, and the touch is so tender, the look on his face so vulnerable, that it almost makes your heart stop.

"We'll finish this later," he promises. He glances down, his gaze taking in the sight of his fingers buried inside you. "Fuck."

You look at him, and his expression is torn, the desire to stay, to continue where the two of you left off, clear. You bite your lip, trying not to whimper, and he closes his eyes, his nostrils flaring.

"I wish I could just—"

He cuts himself off, and then he's pulling his fingers out, leaving you empty and wanting. You watch, mesmerized, as he brings them to his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste the slickness that coats them.

"Fuck, I can't wait to have you on my tongue," he says.

You whine, the image of his face buried between your thighs making the ache in your core flare, and he smirks.

"I know, cyare," he murmurs. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you."

"Okay," you whisper.

"Get dressed," he says. "I'll see you at the meeting."

"Right."

He gets up, moving away from you, and the sudden loss of him is enough to make the knot in your chest tighten. The room feels empty, colder, and you swallow hard, the feeling of him still lingering on your skin even as he pulls on his blacks and starts to clip his armor back into place.

"Wolffe," you say softly.

He pauses, turning to look at you, and the tenderness in his expression makes your heart skip a beat. Wolffe was not a soft man, and the thought of him looking at you like this, like you were something precious, was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

"I love you."

He smiles, a real smile, the kind you don't see often. The kind that reaches his eyes.

"I love you too," he says. "I'll clear the way. You wait five minutes and then follow. Don't make eye contact."

You nod, and he hesitates, the look on his face making it clear that he's just as reluctant to leave as you are. His hand hovers over the control panel, his fingers trembling, and then he lets out a sigh, pressing the button that slides the door open.

"Five minutes," he says.

"Five minutes."

And then he's gone, the door sliding shut behind him. You stare at it, your chest aching, and then you bury your face in your hands, pressing hard against your eyes. You take a few deep breaths, trying to get yourself under control, before you climb out of bed, searching for your discarded robes.

The next few hours are going to be difficult, if not downright painful. You had no idea how you were going to get through them, how you were going to look at him and not see the man who'd held you, touched you, whispered the sweetest things in your ear.

It's a cruel trick, one the universe is playing on both of you, and you know it. But despite the pain, the longing, you would choose him. It's been months since the two of you started sneaking around, stealing moments here and there, and while it's far from ideal, you can't bring yourself to regret any of it.

Despite everything, you're happy. Happier than you've been in a long time. And if the price for that happiness is the constant ache, the longing, the knowledge that you'll never truly be together, then so be it.

Because in the end, it's worth it. He's worth it.

So you dress, ignoring the way the fabric brushes against the sensitive skin between your thighs, clinging to the dampness of your skin, and you steel yourself for what's to come. The rest of the day is going to be miserable, the hours dragging on as the two of you struggle to keep up appearances, but when the night falls and the lights dim, he'll be waiting.

And that is the promise that keeps you going.

"Five minutes," you say to yourself.

You count down the final seconds, the minutes passing agonizingly slowly. When the timer finally hits zero, you let out a shaky breath and push the button, the door sliding open with a hiss.

You step into the hallway, closing the door behind you, and then you square your shoulders, the resolve in your gut steeling you for the hours ahead.

It's going to be a long day.

But the promise of the night to come makes it a little easier to bear.

It's a familiar routine now, the two of you sneaking around.

Hiding in the shadows, finding quiet places where no one will find you. Kissing him, touching him, and letting him do the same. Whispering promises, sweet nothings, and holding him close. The stolen moments, the brief seconds when it's just the two of you and the rest of the galaxy fades away.

It's a dance, a game, and it's one you and Wolffe have been playing for months now.

And yet, there's something new about today. Something different.

This time, there's a hunger, an intensity, to his gaze that wasn't there before. Wolffe has been watching you all day, and each time your eyes meet, it's like a current running between the two of you, an awareness, an acknowledgement.

You know, and he knows, that when the two of you are alone, nothing will stop him from taking you. From claiming every inch of your body. From showing you exactly how much he needs you, how badly he wants you.

The knowledge makes you ache, and the hours crawl by, each second feeling like an eternity. The two of you haven't had the chance to be alone since this morning, and the anticipation is making you tremble. It's a cruel thing, this game, and you've spent the better part of the day trying to keep yourself from looking at him.

It's hard, though.

Wolffe is an imposing figure, his presence commanding. And even with his armor, even when he's not touching you, the pull between the two of you is electric, magnetic.

It's almost painful, this dance the two of you are doing.

He's standing at the front of the command center, his hands clasped behind his back. His shoulders are tense, his expression stoic, and his gaze is trained on the holotable. You know he's only half paying attention, his thoughts no doubt elsewhere.

On you, you think.

You try not to fidget, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, but the longer you stand here, the more aware of him you become. His scent, the way his breath hitches every time someone gets too close. The heat of his body, the way his eyes track your every move.

It's maddening.

You've spent the past few hours working in silence, the two of you trying to avoid raising suspicion, but now, with the day almost done, the tension between you is palpable. You're wound tight, your body thrumming with nervous energy, and the thought of spending another second in this room is making you antsy.

Your gaze flickers to Wolffe, just for a second, and his eyes find yours, the intensity of his stare sending a thrill through you. His expression doesn't change beyond the working of his jaw, but the gold of his iris burns bright, the color shifting as his pupil dilates.

It's a simple gesture, but it's enough.

And it's enough to make the ache between your thighs throb.

He looks away, his focus returning to the hologram in front of him, and the moment passes. But it lingers, the ghost of his gaze, the weight of his attention, settling on you like a physical touch. You're trembling, and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to glance over at him again.

Wolffe is a patient man, a trait that had served him well as a soldier, but when it came to you, that patience was a thin thread. A single strand that could snap at any moment.

And if the look in his eyes is anything to go by, it won't be long before that thread breaks.

"You've done well, Commander," Plo Koon says, his deep voice cutting through the silence.

Wolffe inclines his head, his expression neutral.

"Thank you, General," he replies.

"I appreciate the hard work you've put in. As well as your dedication. It hasn't gone unnoticed."

"It's my duty, sir," Wolffe says stiffly.

"I'm aware that these have been... difficult times."

Wolffe's jaw clenches, but he doesn't respond.

Plo turns, his gaze sweeping the room, and his eyes linger on you, the corners of his mask shifting in what you've come to recognize as a smile. You struggle to return it, and his expression softens. You have a sinking feeling that your former master is aware of more than you'd like, but he doesn't seem upset. If anything, he looks understanding, perhaps even a little sad.

"These are trying times for us all," he says, his voice soft. "I understand that this mission has been particularly difficult for the two of you."

You glance at Wolffe, and the look in his eyes is enough to make your breath catch. The raw hunger, the naked need, is enough to make your knees buckle. He doesn't look away, and his gaze is intense, searing.

"Yes," he rasps. "It has."

"Then perhaps we should call it a night," Plo says. "The both of you have earned a rest."

"I—" Wolffe clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from you. "Sir, with all due respect, I'm fine. I don't need a break."

"Commander," Plo says, his voice gentle but firm, "I insist.”

Wolffe's nostrils flare, but he doesn't argue.

"Sir," he grunts.

Plo Koon gives a dismissive wave, and the others shuffle out, their chatter filling the air. Wolffe remains at the front, his hands still clasped behind his back. His posture is rigid, his shoulders tense. The only movement is the subtle clenching and unclenching of his fists.

He's waiting.

You watch him, trying to hide your own nervousness.

"You've done good work, Commander," Plo says. "Both of you."

"Thank you, General."

"I'll leave you to your evening."

He turns, walking toward the exit, and you can't help but stare after him. There's a sense of finality in his words, and you feel a stab of guilt. Plo has been a father to you, a mentor, and a friend. And the idea of deceiving him, of sneaking around behind his back, is something you've wrestled with for months.

The truth is, though, that there's no other choice. Not really.

It's a cruel game, and the rules are set.

The door slides shut behind him, leaving the two of you alone, and you can't help but hold your breath. Wolffe doesn't move, and the room is filled with silence, the tension between the two of you thickening. You can feel his gaze on you, his stare burning, and you swallow hard.

"Sir, a word," he says to you, loud enough for anyone who's still lingering to hear. "I'd like your opinion on the reports."

"Of course, Commander," you reply, swallowing hard, and Wolffe waits until the room is completely clear before turning his gaze on you, his eye burning.

"You," he growls.

"Me?"

"Are you trying to kill me?"

It takes you a moment to realize what he's referring to, and when you do, a flush spreads across your cheeks. You bite your lip, trying not to grin.

"I don't know what you mean," you say innocently.

"All fucking day," he mutters, stalking toward you. The sound of his footsteps echo, the click of his boots against the floor loud in the otherwise silent room. His stride is steady, his pace even, and the tension between the two of you builds with every step he takes.

Wolffe stands in front of you, his body towering over yours, and the proximity, the way he's looking at you, is enough to make the blood rush in your ears. He places a hand on the console, leaning towards you, and his eyes are dark, his pupils blown.

"You've been watching me," you whisper, and his eye darkens.

"Do you blame me?" he murmurs. "You're a sight, jet'ika. Standing there, pretending like nothing's going on. Fuck, knowing that you’re walking around filled with my cum has been driving me crazy.”

His hand moves, the tips of his fingers brushing against your cheek, and the touch sends a shiver down your spine.

"Did you like it, cyare?" he asks, his voice low. "The idea of me watching you all day, knowing what we did? How much I wanted to fuck you?"

You let out a shaky breath, your body aching for his touch.

"Yes," you whisper.

"Maker," he breathes. "What you do to me."

His hand moves, tracing the line of your jaw, and his gaze is fierce, possessive. You can feel the weight of his attention, the heat of his skin. His hand comes to rest under your chin, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“It’s taking all my self control not to bend you over the table and fuck you right here, right now," he says.

The words send a jolt through you, and you bite your lip, trying not to moan. You've been aching for him all day, the memory of this morning leaving you wanting. You want to touch him, feel his skin against yours, and the hunger in his eyes, the need in his voice, is enough to make you lose any remaining shred of self control.

"You're not the only one," you whisper.

He lets out a rough sound, his other hand moving to grip your hip.

"Is that so, jet'ika?" he murmurs. His lips brush against the shell of your ear, and you can feel his hot breath, his stubble scraping against your skin. You whine, arching into his touch, and he huffs a laugh, the sound making your toes curl.

"I can't wait to get you alone," he says.

"You won't have to."

His hands tighten, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, and he pulls you close. The press of his armor against your body is sharp, the cool plastoid making you shiver. He leans down, and his lips brushing against the hollow of your throat.

"We should stop," he murmurs, his breath fanning across your skin. "I should walk away."

"Probably," you agree, even as your fingers trail along the curve of his cheek.

"I don't think I can."

"Neither can I."

His teeth scrape against your neck, his stubble scratching the sensitive flesh, and you can't help but tilt your head back, exposing more of yourself to him.

"Kriff," he mutters. "I've been thinking about this all day."

You sigh and close your eyes. "Me too."

He lets out a sound that's half growl, half sigh, and his lips move along the column of your throat. His fingers trace circles on your waist, the touch making you tremble. He's close, his body pressing against yours, and the feel of him, the scent of him, is almost too much.

You've waited all day for this, the promise of being with him, touching him, the only thing keeping you from falling apart. And now that the moment is here, it's hard to breathe, hard to think. Harder still, to think about the consequences of this.

But you can't bring yourself to care. Not with his hands on you, his mouth on you.

You need this, and he needs you.

It's the only thought in your mind.

Wolffe presses a kiss to your pulse point, the sensation sending a spark of electricity through you, and his hands are roaming, tracing the curve of your waist. One wanders higher, skimming your side until it cups your breast. His thumb brushes over the stiff peak, and the friction makes your toes curl, a jolt of pleasure shooting down your spine.

"Wolffe..."

"Yeah?"

"We need to leave."

"Right," he murmurs. He pulls back, his hands gripping your waist. His gaze is heavy, his iris dark, and his pupils are blown wide, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

"Right," he repeats, and you can't help but smirk at the reluctance in his tone. The heat in his gaze softens, his expression shifting into something that looks a lot like adoration.

"Fuck, I love you."

You bite your lip, trying not to grin like an idiot.

"I love you, too," you tell him.

He huffs a laugh, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face, and he leans in, his lips brushing against yours. The kiss is soft, gentle, but there's a hint of urgency, a tension, to the way he's holding you.

"Come on," he murmurs. "Let's get out of here."

You nod, and he lets go, his hands dropping away from you. The sudden loss of him is painful, and you have to force yourself not to grab him and kiss him again. Instead, you step away, moving toward the exit, and he follows, his pace slow.

As you approach the door, his fingers brush against the small of your back. The touch is light, the barest hint of contact, but it's a promise. A reminder.

A reassurance.

"Come on," he whispers, his breath ghosting across your ear. "I have plans for you."

The promise makes your cheeks flush, a thrill of anticipation running through you. Wolffe was not a man who did things by halves, and when he set his mind to something, he was relentless. You've seen that same dedication, that single-minded focus, in battle, and the idea of it being turned on you is almost too much.

"Oh?"

Wolffe grins, and the sight is almost predatory.

"Oh yes," he murmurs. "So hurry up. Unless you want me to take you here."

You let out a shaky breath, a rush of arousal making your core throb. The hand on your back urges you forward, guiding you until the door slides open. As soon as you step into the hall, his touch retreats, and he clasps his hands behind his back, the picture of professionalism.

But the look in his eyes is anything but.

"After you, General," he says.

Despite yourself, you can't help but smirk. "As you wish, Commander."

He falls into step beside you, the sound of his boots loud in the empty corridor, and the two of you make your way toward the turbolift. The silence is heavy, the air charged with anticipation. Every part of your body is acutely aware of him, the heat of his gaze, the sound of his breathing.

"So," he says, his voice casual. "How have you been enjoying your time back with the 104th?"

You frown and glance at him over your shoulder. His expression is smooth, the line of his mouth even, but his eyes are burning.

"What do you mean?"

"Just making conversation."

You study him for a moment longer, and then shrug, turning back to the hallway.

"It’s been fine," you reply, unable to keep the confusion out of your voice.

"Fine, huh? No problems? No difficulties adjusting?"

You hesitate, your brow furrowing before you realize what he's doing. You give a friendly nod to a group of troopers walking past, and they greet you in return, oblivious to the tension between the two of you.

"No, Commander," you say evenly. "Nothing I can't handle."

"That's good to hear," Wolffe replies. "We're all happy to have you back."

"It's nice to be back."

"I'm glad."

The two of you enter the turbolift, the doors sliding shut behind you, and Wolffe turns to you, the look in his eyes sending a thrill down your spine.

"I think we should talk about these 'difficulties adjusting,'" he says, and his tone is almost teasing. "Maybe come up with some solutions."

"Maybe."

The lift begins to descend, the floor numbers flashing above the doors, and the air crackles with anticipation. You're acutely aware of his proximity, his body so close to yours, and it takes all your self-control not to touch him. Not to run your fingers over the ridges of his armor, the smooth plates glinting in the dim light.

Not to kiss him.

He glances at you, his eye burning, and he reaches out, his fingers brushing against the curve of your shoulder. It's a simple touch, barely a caress, but the gesture is deliberate. He's making a point, and you can't help but smile, your chest aching with fondness.

"You seem tense, General," he says, and there's a hint of amusement in his tone. "Is everything alright?"

"You're insufferable," you murmur.

"I'm not the one who's been distracting me all day," he retorts, his voice low.

You can't help but roll your eyes. "You started it."

"Did I?"

"Yes."

"And how do you figure that?"

"You know very well what you did this morning," you hiss, and you can't keep the smile off your face. "Don't think I've forgotten."

"Remind me," he murmurs. He steps closer, and his hand drifts lower, his fingers skimming along your arm.

"Wolffe—"

"Please," he whispers. "Remind me."

You can't stop yourself. You reach up, your fingers cupping the side of his face, and the gesture is tender, affectionate. You brush a lock of his hair behind his ear, and he leans into the touch, his eyelids fluttering closed.

"You were very naughty," you murmur, and the word, so unlike you, makes him smirk. You can't help but grin in return.

"Is that right?" he whispers.

"Very," you continue. "Teasing me like that. Filling me up. Making me wait."

He lets out a low groan, his eyes opening.

"It's been torture, Wolffe. Thinking about you. Thinking about this."

His hand comes up, his fingers curling around your wrist, and he presses a kiss to the palm of your hand. His breath is warm, his lips soft. He doesn't break eye contact, his gaze fixed on yours, and you can't help but lean into him, your body pressed against his armor.

"It's been hard for me too," Wolffe whispers.

The admission is almost painful, and you bite your lip, trying to fight the swell of emotion in your chest. The two of you have been sneaking around for months now, finding stolen moments here and there. You've made the most of it, but the fact is that this is dangerous, the risk of being caught too high.

"I hate this," you say. "Having to hide."

"Me too," he says. His expression is raw, vulnerable. "But it's worth it. Being with you. Seeing you."

You blink back tears, and he cups the side of your face, his thumb brushing against the curve of your jaw. He presses your palm against his lips again, and his gaze is fierce, unwavering.

"Worth every moment," he whispers. "Even if it kills me."

"I know," you reply. "I know."

The lift slows, the doors sliding open, and the spell between the two of you is broken. Wolffe steps back, his expression neutral, and he gestures for you to step out.

"After you, General," he says, polite and detached.

"Thank you, Commander," you murmur. Your hands fist at your sides, your body aching for his.

Wolffe follows you, the two of you stepping into the empty hallway. It's late, the corridors abandoned, and the silence is almost deafening. The only sound is the hum of the ship's engines and the pounding of your heart. You walk slowly, deliberately, and the tension between the two of you builds, the ache in your core growing stronger.

"Your quarters or mine?" he asks.

"Yours," you reply.

"Why?"

"Because they're closer."

Wolffe lets out a rough laugh, the sound making your heart skip a beat, and he falls in step beside you. His arm brushes against yours, the contact sending a jolt through you, and he looks down, the corners of his mouth curving into a smirk.

"So eager," he murmurs.

"You're one to talk," you reply.

"Fair point."

He grins, his eyes twinkling, and the sight is almost too much. He's breathtaking, his expression bright and playful. It's rare to see him so open, so free, and the realization that you're the only one who gets to see him like this is humbling.

You smile back, the warmth in your chest spreading, and he bumps your arm, his gaze fixed on yours.

"It's nice, though," he says softly.

"What is?"

"This," he replies. "Being with you."

You can't help but bite your lip.

"It is," you agree.

"Even if we're not... able to..." He trails off, and the look on his face is almost bashful. It's adorable, and it makes your chest ache. You reach out, placing a hand on his arm, and his eyes drift to the spot, a sigh escaping him.

"I'm happy," he murmurs.

"Yeah," you whisper. "Me too."

He huffs a laugh and gives you a sheepish grin.

"Sorry," he says. "This isn't exactly how I planned to start the evening."

"I don't mind," you say.

"I know," he replies. "But we have time for all that later."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," he murmurs, and the promise in his tone sends a shiver down your spine. You bite back a smile, trying not to squirm, and he gives you a mischievous look in return. He's teasing you, and you can't help but feel a stab of affection. 

There was a time, not so long ago, that Wolffe had been wary of you, reluctant to trust you. But now? Now, there was a level of familiarity between the two of you that you had never experienced with another person. An ease, a comfort. And while you knew the risks, the thought of walking away, of ending this, was unbearable. 

Whatever it was that was happening between the two of you... it was real. It was important. And it was worth the risk.

You turn to him and smirk.

"What are you going to do to me?" you ask. "Gonna tie me up?"

Wolffe groans. "You'd like that."

"I would," you agree, unabashed.

"Not tonight," he murmurs. "Tonight is about you."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm," he says, and the low rumble of his voice makes your toes curl. He looks down, his gaze darkening, and he smirks. “To make up for this morning."

You try not to groan. Wolffe's dedication to your pleasure was both a blessing and a curse. While the man was nothing if not determined, his focus was intense. And when he set his mind to something... well. You could hardly complain. 

But it was difficult to accept his attention without offering anything in return. It was hard not to want to give as good as you got, and even harder to relinquish control. But when it came to Wolffe, the urge to surrender, to submit, was overpowering. He made it easy. Made it tempting. Made it feel right. 

You let out a shaky breath, trying not to tremble. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you."

"You're going to let me take care of you."

The words make your stomach twist. It's hard to believe that a man as powerful and intimidating as Wolffe is capable of such gentleness. That he can be so soft and tender. You don't deserve it, and yet, he seems content to give it.

"If you say so," you murmur.

"I do."

His tone is firm, almost stern, and the sound makes your heart skip a beat. He glances at you, and the look in his eye is tender, his expression filled with warmth.

Wolffe stops in front of his door, and you stand a distance back, your hands tucked in your robes. He places his hand on the scanner, and the door slides open, revealing his darkened room.

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment.

Then he steps aside, gesturing for you to enter.

"After you," he says, his voice a low rumble. You look around the empty hallway before stepping inside, and the door slides shut behind you, the room darkening.

There's a faint click, and then the light flares, illuminating the space.

The sight makes your breath catch.

The sheets are rumpled, the same as you left them this morning, but there's a vase of flowers on the nightstand, the petals a vivid red. Next to it is a bottle of wine, and two glasses sit beside it. There are candles lit around the room, their flames dancing, and the smell of spice and clove fills the air.

He's been busy.

He's been planning.

The thought of Wolffe standing here, arranging flowers, lighting candles, setting everything up for you, makes your heart ache. The gesture is so unexpected, so sweet, that you feel the breath leave your lungs. You don't deserve him.

He moves around the room, extinguishing the lights until only the candles remain, casting everything in a warm glow. His movements are precise, careful, and the look on his face is almost nervous.

"You did all this?" you whisper.

"Well," he says, his tone hesitant. "It's not much. But... yes."

"What would you have done if I said I wanted to go back to my quarters?" you ask, your voice hoarse.

He steps closer, his body looming over yours.

"I would've convinced you," he murmurs, his breath fanning across the side of your face. "I can be very persuasive."

You glance up at him and are startled to find his gaze already on you. His eyes are dark, his pupil blown wide. His mouth is set in a firm line, and there's a flush spreading across his cheeks. Your lips part, your throat suddenly dry, and you swallow hard.

He smiles, and it's a small, hesitant thing. "Too much?"

"No," you whisper, shaking your head. "Not at all."

He lets out a low sound that might be relief and reaches out, his hands coming to rest on your hips. His grip is light, and the heat of his skin seeps through the fabric of your robes, warming your flesh. You can't help but sway closer, leaning into his touch.

"So," he starts. "Would you like a drink? Or should we get started?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Started?"

"We have a lot to cover," Wolffe says with a wicked grin. "A lot of lost time to make up for."

Your eyes widen, and a shiver runs down your spine.

"How long were you planning this?" you ask.

He shrugs, his gaze flickering across your face.

"A while," he says, his voice a low rumble. "Would have done it last night, but someone was feeling feisty."

You can't help but grin, remembering how you had teased him. How you had teased each other. The way his mouth had felt against yours, his hands gripping your hips. How you had ridden him, his body trembling beneath you. The look in his eye as he'd watched you.

"Sorry," you murmur. "But the view was incredible."

"It's always a show with you," he murmurs, his smile wry.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," he says. "Every time you walk into a room."

You blush, and he chuckles, the sound low and throaty.

"Don't deny it," he says. "I've seen the way you move. The way you hold yourself. Like you know people are watching. Like you're aware of every eye on you."

You swallow hard, your cheeks hot. He's not wrong. There had been a time when you'd enjoyed the attention. But that was before. Before the war. Before your world had changed. Before Wolffe. Now, his gaze was the only one you craved. His opinion the only one that mattered. And the idea of disappointing him, of letting him down, was unbearable.

"You do that," he murmurs. "Get people looking at you."

"You're the only one I care about," you whisper. "I've always had eyes for you."

Wolffe blinks, startled, and a slow smile spreads across his face. The sight is devastating, the softness of his expression making your chest ache. You can't help but lean into him, drawn to him like a magnet. 

The way he looks at you... It's the same way he's always looked at you. Fierce and gentle. Aching and longing. Hungry and hesitant. You've never met anyone who can convey so much emotion with a single look. And you've never felt as seen as when he looks at you. You've never felt as loved as when he holds you.

Wolffe's hands slide along the curve of your waist, and he pulls you against him, the press of his armor against your chest making you shiver. He leans in, his nose brushing against yours, and you tilt your head back, trying to capture his lips. But he avoids the contact, his mouth hovering just out of reach.

You huff a laugh. "Kiss me already."

He hums and brushes his lips against yours. It's barely a kiss, the touch a featherlight tease. But it's still electric, the contact making your skin tingle. He does it again, the pressure lingering, and your eyes flutter closed, a soft moan escaping you. 

The two of you trade soft kisses, and it's torturous, the pace so slow and gentle. It's almost maddening, and your core throbs, the ache becoming more persistent. 

He breaks the kiss and pulls back, his gaze burning. You can't help but reach up and cup the side of his face, your fingers brushing against his cheek. The skin is smooth, and you trail a finger down the line of his scar, the raised tissue warm.

"What is it?" you ask.

"I can't decide where I want to start," he says, his voice low. "And how much I can fit in."

"You have all night," you murmur, trying not to smile.

He raises an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge, General?"

You bite your lip. "Maybe."

"Mm," he hums. "Well, we'll see how you feel after I've had my way with you."

"Promises, promises," you say, a smirk curving your mouth. You gasp as his hands tighten on your waist, the touch making your skin burn. He's not hurting you, not even close, but the pressure is a reminder of his strength, the raw power he has over you.

"Do I ever disappoint you?" he asks, his voice soft.

"Never," you whisper.

His mouth curves into a smile.

"Good," he murmurs. He dips his head, his lips brushing against the curve of your ear, and his breath is warm, his stubble scraping against your skin. "Take your robe off."

You nod and fumble with the clasp, your hands clumsy. He waits patiently as you tug the garment off and toss it to the side. As soon as the fabric falls to the ground, his hands move to the collar of your tunic, and he begins to undo the ties, his fingers working slowly.

"You have no idea how much I want you," he whispers. "No idea how badly I need you."

You shiver, a moan escaping you, and his hands slide down, tugging the shirt free from the waistband of your trousers. He pulls it over your head and tosses it aside. It lands in a heap next to the discarded robe, and your boots quickly follow

He leans down and presses a kiss to your bare shoulder as his hands find the clasp of your bra. He unhooks it with ease and lets it fall to the floor before straightening up and pulling you flush against him. His mouth finds yours, and his lips are soft, the kiss gentle.

He breaks the contact, and his gaze is burning.

"Take the rest off," he says, and his tone is soft, but the command is clear.

You reach down and push your pants off along with your underwear, and his hands move, gripping your hips. He lifts you effortlessly and sets you down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under your weight. You shift, the sheets cool against your skin, and he kneels down, his hands trailing along the length of your leg.

His fingers brush against the inside of your ankle and begin to trail upwards. The touch is light, almost ticklish, and his mouth follows, his lips leaving a burning trail along the inside of your calf. He reaches the sensitive flesh behind your knee and presses a kiss to the spot before continuing upwards.

"Wolffe..."

His lips find the inside of your thigh and continue upwards. His breath is warm, and his stubble scratches the delicate skin, making you gasp. It's agonizingly slow, the pace unhurried, and your toes curl, your muscles clenching. He reaches the crease of your hip, and his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin.

"Wolffe..."

He chuckles and continues higher, his mouth moving toward your center. His lips brush against your folds, and you shiver, the sensation making you tremble. He pauses and looks up at you, his gaze burning.

"I've been thinking about doing this all day," he murmurs. "My mouth on you."

You can't help but squirm, his words sending a thrill down your spine. He presses a kiss to the hollow of your hip, and then, without warning, his mouth is on you, his tongue tracing along the length of your slit. You let out a ragged gasp and fall back onto your elbows, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through you.

"Oh," you whimper, your voice shaking. "Oh fuck."

His mouth is relentless, and the pleasure is immediate and intense. The sensations are almost too much, and you can't stop the moan that escapes you. You're wet, embarrassingly so, Wolffe's release still leaking from your core.

The thought makes you blush, but Wolffe doesn't seem to mind. His hands slide along the length of your thighs, and his thumbs part the swollen flesh of your folds. He dips his head lower and licks a long stripe up your slit before sucking on your clit. The pressure is unrelenting, and you writhe under his attention, your legs trembling.

"Fuck," you hiss, trying to keep still. "Fuck."

His mouth is everywhere, his tongue licking and teasing and tasting. It's too much, the pleasure building, and you can't help but arch your back, your eyes squeezing shut. Your breath comes in short gasps as he laps at your folds, his hands gripping your thighs. You can't help but thrust upward, grinding against his mouth.

"That's it," he whispers. "Good girl."

The praise sends a shiver down your spine, and the orgasm hits you like a bolt of lightning. Your eyes fly open, and the room blurs, everything fading away except for the sensation of his mouth on you. Your body tenses, your muscles contracting, and your head falls back, a ragged gasp escaping you.

The waves of pleasure roll over you, and it's several moments before the feeling subsides, the tension in your body finally releasing. You've barely relaxed against the sheets when Wolffe slides a finger inside of you, his movements slow and gentle. The sensation is almost painful, the friction making you hiss. 

He pauses, his mouth pulling away from you, and he studies you, his brow furrowed. "Alright?"

You can't help but nod. "Yes."

His eyes dart to the scar that bisects the inside of your thigh, his gaze lingering.

"Does it hurt?" he asks softly.

"Not anymore," you reply. "Just sensitive."

"Are you sure? I don't want to—"

"Please," you whisper. "Please don't stop."

Wolffe nods and continues, his movements slow and steady. You watch as his finger moves in and out of you, the sight making your skin flush. His thumb brushes against your clit and begins to move in small circles. The contact is almost too much, and a whimper escapes you.

"Oh," you gasp, biting your lip. "Fuck, Wolffe..."

He dips his head and his tongue joins his thumb, the two of them working in tandem. His mouth is warm and soft, and the sensations are almost too much, the pleasure making your eyes roll back. He adds a second finger and his movements become faster. Harder. You can't help but buck against him, grinding into his hand.

"More," you beg. "More. Please."

He doesn't hesitate. His mouth closes around your clit, his tongue flicking over the swollen bud, and your core pulses. It's almost too much, and you writhe beneath him, trying to get away from the pleasure.

But he doesn't stop.

His fingers continue moving inside of you, his mouth relentless. He adds a third finger, the stretch almost painful. Your core clenches, the tension building, and it's a matter of moments before another orgasm crashes through you, more intense than the first.

Your back arches off the bed as your muscles tense and then go limp. Your limbs feel like lead, and you collapse back onto the mattress, gasping for air. Your vision is blurry, the room spinning. You can feel sweat beading on your forehead, and it takes a moment for your senses to return.

Wolffe's kneeling between your legs, his hand resting on the inside of your thigh. His expression is smug, his eyes twinkling, and there's a hint of mischief in his gaze.

"Want another?" he asks.

"Fuck," you groan. "You're going to kill me."

He smirks and leans forward, pressing a kiss to your stomach. "You said that last time."

"Did I?"

"And the time before that," he murmurs.

"It's a good way to go."

"Hm," he says. He kisses a line across your abdomen, and his hands wander, sliding along the curve of your waist. "I can think of a few other ways."

His mouth travels lower, his lips brushing against the hollow of your hip. You can't help but tense, a moan escaping you.

"Relax," he whispers. "I've got you."

"Please," you beg.

"Please what?"

"More."

"More of this?"

"Yes," you gasp.

Wolffe smirks, and his tongue licks a long line up the inside of your thigh. His stubble is rough against your sensitive flesh, and you can't help but squirm, trying to get away. But his hands grip your legs, his hold firm, and he continues, his mouth traveling up the inside of your thigh.

The contact is teasing, his movements slow and deliberate, and his tongue is hot and wet against your skin. You can't help but buck your hips, grinding against his mouth. He groans, and the sound makes your eyes roll back.

"Don't stop," you beg.

"No?"

"Please."

"Beg me," he murmurs, and he nips at the inside of your thigh, the sharp pain making you gasp.

"Please," you gasp. "Don't stop. I need you. Please."

He chuckles, his breath fanning across your slick folds.

"Good girl," he whispers.

You shudder at the praise, a shiver running down your spine. His mouth returns to your center, and his tongue traces along your folds, lapping at the sensitive flesh. The contact is electric, and you writhe, your head falling back.

"Wolffe," you moan, trying to pull away. But his grip is too tight, and his tongue continues to move, licking and teasing and tasting. It isn’t long before you're trembling, the tension in your body reaching its breaking point. Your hands fist in the sheets, and you arch off the bed, crying out as the third orgasm rocks through you.

You collapse back against the mattress, panting.

"Fuck," you hiss, trying to catch your breath. "Wolffe."

He doesn't respond, his mouth still on you. His tongue flicks over your clit, and he sucks the swollen bud between his lips, drawing another cry from you. He doesn't stop, and the pleasure builds, the sensations becoming almost unbearable.

"Wait," you gasp. "Wait, I—"

But it's too late. The fourth orgasm is even more intense than the others, and the intensity makes you see stars. Your whole body goes rigid, and you can't stop yourself from thrashing. Your back arches off the bed, and your fists twist in the sheets as your mouth clamps shut, a high-pitched whine escaping you.

It feels like an eternity before the pleasure finally subsides, and you slump against the mattress, trying to catch your breath. Wolffe pulls away, his mouth shining, and he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Okay?" he asks, his tone amused.

"I'm... I'm..." You swallow hard, unable to form a coherent thought. "Yeah."

"Good," he murmurs, and his voice is a low rumble. He pushes himself up and sits back on his heels. His eye is dark, his pupil blown wide, and his hands come to rest on your waist, the pressure firm.

"Up," he murmurs. "Knees."

You nod, and your limbs move slowly, the exhaustion from earlier creeping up on you. Your body is still trembling, and it takes a moment for you to settle into position, your knees digging into the mattress. 

You watch as Wolffe stands, and he strips off his armor in quick succession, the movements smooth and efficient. The sight is always a surprise. You're not used to seeing him bare.

When the war first started, the clones had been reluctant to undress around you. Their uniforms were a source of comfort. Of safety. It was only later that you realized how vulnerable it made them feel. How naked they were without their armor. It was a show of trust. A sign of acceptance.

It had taken months of gentle coaxing to get Wolffe out of his armor. The fact that he had removed it for you that day in the bunker was a testament to how far the two of you had come.

And now?

Now it was a familiar sight.

You watch as he unclasps his codpiece and sets it on the shelf. He's already hard, the bulge obvious, and his cock is straining against the material of his blacks. You can't help but bite your lip, the sight making you squirm despite the exhaustion in your limbs.

"Like what you see?" he asks, a smirk curving his mouth.

"You know I do," you murmur.

"Well then," he replies. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his blacks and pushes the material down his hips. His cock springs free, the tip red and swollen. You can't help but lick your lips, the sight making your core clench.

"How do you want me?" you ask, the words breathles.

He lets out a rough laugh. "You'd let me do anything right now."

You swallow hard. He's not wrong. The orgasms he'd given you had left you weak and trembling. You couldn't deny him anything, and you didn’t want to.

"True," you say. "But where do you want me?"

"Right where you are."

He steps closer and grips his cock. You can't help but stare, his length impressive. Everything about him is impressive. It's almost intimidating. Almost. 

The truth is, you've never felt as safe as when Wolffe's arms are wrapped around you. As cherished as when he's between your legs. As protected as when his gaze is on you.

His hand begins to move, his fist pumping his length, and you watch, transfixed. He lets out a low groan, and the sound makes you shiver, the heat in your core flaring. His thumb brushes against the tip, spreading the precum, and he grips the base, the veins along his length prominent.

"Touch yourself," he orders.

You nod and reach between your legs. Your folds are wet and swollen, and your clit is still sensitive from the attention Wolffe had given you. You press a finger against the bundle of nerves and gasp. The contact makes you shudder, and your eyes drift shut, a ragged moan escaping you.

Wolffe watches, his gaze intent. "Good girl."

"Fuck," you hiss. "Wolffe... I need..."

"What do you need?"

"You."

"Yeah?" he whispers. "Do you think you can handle it?"

It's a tease, but you know he means it. He wants to know that you're okay, that you're not pushing yourself. You've experienced Wolffe's stamina firsthand. More than once. And while it had been incredible, the man was insatiable. It's a miracle the two of you hadn't gotten caught.

"I can take it," you say. "Come here."

He nods and steps closer. His hand grips his cock again and he gives himself a few more pumps. He's flushed, his breathing ragged, and his hair is damp, a lock of it falling over his forehead.

The sight is breathtaking.

"Come on," you urge. "I'm ready."

"You sure?"

"Positive," you murmur. "Please."

He grunts and shifts forward, climbing onto the bed. His hands find your waist, and he guides you back, the pillows cushioning your head. He moves to hover over you, his forearms braced on either side of your head, and his hips settle between yours, the length of his cock pressing against your center.

The sensation is delicious, and you can't help but roll your hips, grinding against him. Wolffe groans, the sound deep and rumbling, and he presses his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble scratching the delicate skin.

"Easy," he murmurs. "Let's take it slow."

"Why?" you breathe.

"Because we have all night."

He kisses a trail along the column of your throat and then pulls back. His hands find the backs of your knees, and he lifts, hooking your legs over his elbows. He shifts forward, the head of his cock brushing against your folds, and the contact makes you hiss.

He pushes in, the stretch almost painful. The sensation is so intense that your eyes roll back, and you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. His movements are slow and steady, his pace agonizingly unhurried.

"Fuck," you hiss.

"Yeah," he whispers. "You're doing so well."

The praise sends a thrill through you, and you can't help but moan. Wolffe’s lips quirk upward, the corners of his mouth curving into a grin, and he dips his head, kissing a trail along your collarbone. His tongue traces the curve of your shoulder before moving higher, his mouth finding the spot below your ear.

He sucks on the sensitive flesh, and the contact makes your breath catch. He continues, his teeth grazing your pulse point, and the pressure is firm, but not painful. He wouldn’t leave a mark. Not in a visible spot. That was one of the unspoken rules.

You were both careful not to leave any evidence behind after the first time. No bruise, bites, or scratches. Nothing that could raise questions. Nothing that could cause a scandal.

But the thought of being marked by him, of him leaving some sign of possession, makes your heart pound. It’s a possessiveness you reciprocate. You can’t help it. When it comes to Wolffe, you’re hopelessly drawn to him.

His mouth moves lower, his teeth scraping against the swell of your breast. He sucks on the tender flesh, and the feeling is intense, the ache making you writhe. He repeats the motion, the suction firm, and the sting makes your toes curl.

He releases your skin, and his eye flickers upwards, the color a dark grey.

"I should stop," he murmurs. "Shouldn't leave any marks."

You can't help but whine. "Please..."

"It's not a good idea."

"Just one."

He frowns, his expression conflicted. But he doesn't say no.

"Where?"

You consider the question for a moment, then your hand finds the back of his head, your fingers tangling in his hair. You guide him lower, toward the valley between your breasts. He obliges, his mouth moving over the spot, and the contact makes you shiver.

"Here," you murmur. "Please."

He pauses, and then he dips his head and bites. The feeling is sharp, the pain making your muscles tense. His tongue flicks against the skin, and then he's sucking, his mouth relentless. The pleasure is immediate, and the combination of pain and bliss makes you moan.

His mouth lingers, his tongue tracing over the mark. Then he pulls back, the look on his face almost proud.

"Good?"

You can't help but huff a laugh. "Yeah."

He leans in and presses a kiss to the spot, and you can't help but squirm, the friction making your core clench. Wolffe lets out a groan, the sound low and guttural, and his hips snap forward, his movements quickening.

The sudden change makes you gasp, the feeling almost too much. You're still sensitive, and the feeling is intense, the ache deep. You can't help but tilt your head back, your eyes squeezing shut, your chest heaving as your lungs fight for air.

"You alright?" he asks.

You nod, biting your lip. "Yes."

He kisses the hollow of your throat.

"You're taking it so well," he murmurs. "Just a little more."

"Okay."

His thrusts pick up speed, and the rhythm is steady, his pace unhurried. But the strength of his thrusts makes your eyes water, and when he moves your legs, hooking them over his shoulders the change in angle is almost unbearable.

You cry out, and your eyes fly open. The sight is devastating, and you can't look away. Wolffe's above you, his body caging yours, and his face is flushed, his mouth open, his brow furrowed.

The expression is one you've seen before.

The look in his eye is intense. Fierce. Possessive. It's a side of him that only you get to see, a vulnerability that only you get to witness. You can't help but wrap your arms around him, your hands roaming his back, his shoulders, his sides. You touch him everywhere, the feeling almost desperate.

Wolffe leans down, pressing your thighs further into your chest, and his mouth finds yours in a messy kiss, his tongue tracing over your bottom lip. His movements are sloppy, his focus on his thrusts, and the lack of coordination makes him seem vulnerable.

It's a side of him that he would never show anyone else. Only you.

You break the kiss, gasping for air, and your hands find his face, your thumbs tracing along the scarred ridge of his brow. He turns his head, kissing the palm of your hand, and then his lips find the inside of your wrist, his mouth moving along the line of your pulse.

"Wolffe," you whisper, his name a plea.

"I've got you," he says. He picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, and his hand snakes between your legs, his fingers finding the swollen bud of your clit. His touch is electric, and you let out a ragged gasp, your nails digging into his skin.

"So close," you breathe.

He nods, his breath coming in short gasps. "Come on. Let go."

You can't help but obey. You arch off the bed, your head falling back as the final orgasm rocks through you. It's the most intense of the night, the waves crashing over you and pulling you under. It feels like an eternity before the sensations subside, and when they do, you collapse back onto the mattress, the exhaustion threatening to overwhelm you.

You're dimly aware of the fact that Wolffe is still moving, his thrusts becoming frantic. It's a matter of moments before he follows you, and his whole body goes rigid, the muscles of his abdomen tensing. He lets out a low moan, the sound deep and rumbling before the warmth of his release fills you. He keeps moving, drawing the pleasure out until the last of his release has been spent, and it's a few moments before he finally stills.

Wolffe lets out a long exhale and leans forward, his weight settling on top of you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You wrap your arms around him, and your hands find the nape of his neck, your fingers threading through his hair.

The two of you lie there for a while, neither one of you speaking. Your limbs are heavy, the ache in your core pulsing. It's a struggle to keep your eyes open, and you can't help but sigh, the exhaustion catching up with you.

Eventually, Wolffe shifts, his head turning to press a kiss to the underside of your jaw.

"I'll be right back," he murmurs.

You nod, and he pushes himself up, his body moving away from yours. You miss the contact immediately, the warmth of his skin, the smell of him, and you can't help but reach for him.

"Wolffe..."

He chuckles. "I'll be back."

He slides off the bed and stands, the mattress shifting. His body is silhouetted by the light from the candles, and he moves across the room, disappearing into the refresher. He returns a few minutes later with a damp cloth.

"Up," he murmurs, and his hands find the back of your knees, the touch firm. You let him move you, the cloth warm as he wipes away the remnants of the two of you. When he's done, he tosses the cloth aside and moves around the room, extinguishing the candles and grabbing a clean shirt from the shelf.

You sit up, wincing at the twinge in your muscles. Wolffe turns, holding the shirt in his hands.

"Here," he says.

You accept the garment and slip it over your head. The fabric is worn, the collar loose, and the sleeves hang over your hands. It's comfortable, and the scent of him surrounds you, making your heart clench.

"Better?" he asks, his mouth curved into a smirk.

"Much," you reply as a yawn escapes you.

He reaches for the sheets, pulling them up.

"Get in," he says, and you slip under the covers. He does the same, the mattress dipping under his weight. Wolffe rolls onto his side and pulls you close, his arm draped over your waist. The two of you trade soft kisses, and he brushes the hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

"Sleep," he whispers.

"Don't want to," you murmur. "Not yet."

He pulls your head to rest on his shoulder, his fingers threading through your hair.

"You need to rest."

You let out a soft sigh and bury your face in the crook of his neck, his pulse beating beneath the thin skin. "Don't like the dreams."

Wolffe stiffens, his body tensing, and he's quiet for a long moment. The silence is deafening, and you wonder if you've said too much. You hadn't meant to. Not tonight.

"I don't like them either," he says, his voice hoarse.

You know what they are, how vivid and real they can be. You'd heard him wake more than once, watched him gasp for air, his eyes wide, his expression terrified. And he'd comforted you more than once when the strange visions found you in your sleep, the two of you laying in the dark, clinging to each other, afraid to let go.

You'd tried not to think about what it might mean. How it had gotten to this point. Whether the nightmares would ever end.

If you could survive the war.

"Sorry," you mumble, your voice barely audible, the words muffled against his skin.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Still."

"No," he says firmly. There’s a beat, and then he sighs, the sound weary. "I hate watching you struggle. Hate not being able to do anything."

"You are doing something,” you whisper. You pull back, propping yourself up on your elbow, and the two of you look at each other. He reaches up, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

"Doesn't feel like it," he murmurs. "Sometimes I worry..."

He trails off, and the look in his eye makes your heart clench. You can't help but lean down and press a soft kiss to his lips. He reciprocates, his hand moving to cup the back of your head, and you kiss him again. And again.

"You have no idea how important this is," he says as the two of you break apart.

"What is?"

"Being here," he replies. "Holding you."

Your throat tightens. "Wolffe..."

He gives you a small smile, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "I've always been good at taking orders. Even before I met you. Before the war."

"Is that right?"

He hums, his gaze focused on his thumb.

"It's what I'm trained to do," he says. "It's what I was bred for. It's why they created us."

"I don't think they planned for this," you murmur, and it's an effort to keep the bitterness out of your voice. 

He frowns. "What?"

You reach up, your fingers trailing along his temple, his scars soft. The sight of him in his armor had been intimidating at first. Terrifying, even. The way he held himself, his expression hard, his jaw set, his demeanor unreadable. But now?

Now, the thought of him putting it on was heartbreaking.

"For you to want more,” you whisper.

He's quiet for a long moment, and then he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss is gentle, and he cups the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. You return the pressure, trying to convey what you're feeling. What you've always felt.

Wolffe's the most incredible man you've ever met. He's strong and brave and kind. Loyal and fierce and protective. And you would give anything to give him the life he deserves. The life he should have.

When he pulls back, the look in his eye is fierce.

"This is the only order I've ever disobeyed," he murmurs. "The only thing I've ever wanted to break the rules for. To rebel. To choose for myself."

And he doesn't have to elaborate.

Your heart skips a beat, the words making your chest ache. The first night you'd spent together had changed everything. The two of you had known the risk, you'd known what would happen if you got caught. But neither of you had cared. You'd been helpless to resist, the tension finally becoming too much.

It had been an act of defiance.

A way to rebel against the orders you'd both been given and the path your lives had taken.

You'd done it again and again. The two of you had fallen into bed more times than you could count, and every encounter had been the same. And now, with the war coming to a close, with the fighting reaching a fever pitch, the two of you were running out of time.

"Wolffe..."

"And I'd do it again," he whispers. "In a heartbeat. And I'm not sorry."

The words make you shiver. They're so similar to what he'd said when the two of you had first laid together. When the two of you had surrendered to the connection between you, unable to resist the pull.

You can feel tears start to prick your eyes, and it’s a struggle not to let them fall.

"Me neither," you whisper, your voice thick.

He reaches up and brushes the stray tear that had escaped away, his thumb leaving a trail of warmth against your skin. You swallow hard, and he pulls you closer, his hand moving to the back of your head.

"You need to sleep," he murmurs. "We're leaving early tomorrow."

You nod, and the two of you adjust, shifting into a more comfortable position. He curls around you, his body solid and warm, and his arm wraps around your waist, his palm flat against your stomach. The slow, steady rhythm of his breathing begins to lull you, and your eyelids grow heavy, your vision blurring.

"Don't let go," you whisper.

He tugs you closer, his face pressed against the back of your neck.

"Never."

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[empiresmostwanted]

better late than never, but for that list of prompts you posted (great idea!): "What are you humming?" + Rex & Ahsoka : )

Thank you so much @countessofbiscuit for the request! This one was super exciting, I really appreciated the chance to write some Rexsoka – in fact, I may have got a little carried away. Oh well, hope you enjoy 😘

posted on AO3 | the prompt list | my writing

Words: 3.6k (oops) | Warnings: Mild Language, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post-Order 66, Canon Divergent (I mean, I'm really playing fast and loose with the events of the Ahsoka novel here)

Summary: 17BBY | Rex and Ahsoka are in hiding on the planet Bakura, at the edge of Wild Space. It might keep the Empire away, but the ghosts of the past are trickier to dispel.

THIS PLACE WE'VE CALLED HOME

"I know you're there, Rex. You can come in."

Once his heart slowed from the painful flutter of getting caught, staring, Rex squeezed through the faulty blast door into a makeshift storeroom, somewhat abashed. He rubbed the back of his neck as a telling flush began to creep under his skin. Had he really thought she wouldn't notice his presence? She was still a Jedi, even if she wasn't a Jedi.

"Ahsoka, I'm sorry – I didn't mean to spy. I was just curious."

Ahsoka looked up from the assortment of spare parts on the workbench in front of her, and smiled. "Rex, it's okay. And as you're wondering, I'm pilfering some supplies to modify the hilts for these lightsabers."

"The ones you took from the Inquisitor?" As soon as he said it, he could have smacked his head against the wall. Idiot. Of course that's what she meant. What other lightsabers would she be talking about?

She chuckled, as if she were privy to every thought that flashed through his mind. Maybe she was. The back of his neck grew hot.

"Yeah, those lightsabers. I couldn't leave them as they were before – too much hatred and anger had bled into the hilts, as well as the crystals. But I can't seem to get them how I want them."

"How do you want them?"

"I'm not sure," Ahsoka confessed, a frown forming between her brows. "It's more of a feeling: they have to suit my form, and usually they're made up of materials that mean something to each individual. But there's not very much to work with here."

Rex looked around the dimly-lit storeroom, his eyes falling upon the same spare and broken parts of engines and farming instruments that littered namana farms across the western hemisphere: the likes of ancient afterburners, electrostatic baffle vanes bent so out of shape as to lose their integrity, and repulsor modulators left too long in Bakura's inclement atmosphere, among other things. Very little to inspire, indeed.

But it explained the smudge of black dust on her cheek.

"Maybe I can help?" he suggested, the driving force his own curiosity, certain there was little he could offer in the way of assistance – but happy to offer it all the same. Then it occurred to him she might prefer to be left in peace. "Mind if I join you?"

He half-expected her to turn him away, but she half-surprised him when she said, "Be my guest," and gestured to the bench beside her.

After six standard rotations in a row of grueling labour on a secluded namana farm, the muscles in his legs burned as he took a seat next to her, the chill of the metal surface seeping through his boiler suit. He winced, and rubbed his sore thighs, but found he didn't really mind. The physical discomfort was grounding.

"Can't sleep?"

Rex shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, longer these days than he'd ever worn it. "Still haven't got used to these long rotations. And Wolffe's nightmares are getting worse: he's shouting and tossing and turning. I wake him and he doesn't seem to know where he is at first."

Ahsoka nodded, eyes downcast. She never enquired about the nightmares, but he suspected she didn't have to. On more than one occasion, she'd sat with Wolffe while he writhed in his sleep, sweating and stammering some variation of You brought this on yourself, or I'm sorry, I couldn't stop it; she'd touched her fingers to his temples, and focused on slowing his heart rate. It worked … for a while.

"So, how come you have your blasters with you?" she asked.

Old habits die hard. "Well, I haven't inspected them since we arrived, so I thought I'd strip them down, make sure they're still in working order. And—" He hung his head, shame clawing at his innards. He had to push the words past his teeth. "—I let down my guard on Raada – it was so quiet, I thought we were safe there. It won't happen again."

"I understand, Rex. But it's not your fault," she replied. His eyes snapped up as she placed a hand on his arm, and met her own, wide and concerned for him. Her skin was warm against his. "I should have seen it coming. I've allowed too much distance to grow between myself and the Force. It's time I changed that."

For a moment, their gazes remained locked, and Rex's pulse began to beat out an erratic rhythm at the base of his neck. But her eyes shone a little too bright, and there was something in her voice, something between the determination and the guilt, that made him frown.

Before he could speak, she was pulling away, and taking her hand with her. His skin hummed where her palm had been.

"Well, then," she said, and cleared her throat. "You dissemble your blasters, and I'll rearrange the parts for these hilts. Let's see who finishes first."

*

Their hearts weren't in it. But they worked side-by-side in an easy silence – bar the persistent pattering of rain against the high, transparisteel windows that looked across acres of pale namana trees, their delicate blossoms tinged blue with the approach of another damp dawn. Early birds sang their cheerful songs, blissed out on the flesh of the addictive fruits.

Rex had stripped his DC-17s down to their base parts, cleaning each component as he went. The blasters, along with their stun setting and his impeccable aim, had made him popular with the local farmers, who occasionally found their land inundated with the natives birds that feasted on the namana fruit. Once upon a time, their natural predators, the arboreal cratsch, had kept the population at bay; but their own declining numbers had seen whole trees picked clean in a matter of days.

Ahsoka had risen more than once to sift through the piles of parts scattered about the room. Then she would return to the workbench, each time her shoulders a little heavier. Old balance turbines and hydrovalves weren't of much use, nor were sheets upon sheets of durasteel.

Over the din of the roaring wind beyond the farming complex, and accompanying the intermittent birdsong, Rex became aware of another, more melodic sound. He turned to Ahsoka, and realised she was humming.

It wasn't like anything he'd heard before. His trips to 79's back on Coruscant, though they had been few, were characterised by the fast-paced music with a heavy bass that scrambled the brain after prolonged exposure; on Kamino, he and his brothers were taught the anthem of the Galactic Republic, martial and rousing in its very nature; he'd even heard folk songs on the planets of Ryloth and Felucia, sung by the locals in great waves of joyful reels. But this was slower, at once sweet and melancholy.

He listened for a while longer, his own task forgotten, while Ahsoka tinkered with her sabers, somewhere else entirely. Her deft fingers moved over the complicated components as if by instinct, rearranging and reevaluating as she went. The tune ceased when her lips parted to take a breath, and once or twice her eyelids fluttered closed, lost as she was to her memories.

Then she was looking at him, and Rex was caught for the second time that night, staring when he shouldn't.

"What were you humming?" he asked, even as his cheeks heated.

Was it his imagination, or did her lekku flush a little pink, too?

"It's a Kel Dor lullaby, I think. Master Plo used to sing it to me when I was a youngling in the crèche. Then he taught it to me, so when he was away from the temple, I could sing it to myself if I was sad, or scared. I used to be scared of the dark, you know. And there was something calming about that tune. Although it always worked better when he sang it, so maybe it was his voice. He has a … had a nice voice for it."

It still had a way of creeping up on them sometimes. They'd thrown themselves into manual labour on Raada, and once again when they fled to Bakura. While they needed to earn money and keep a low profile, it was just as much about evading the extending reach of the past as it was about outrunning the new Empire. But it would find them in their dreams if it couldn't catch them in the cold light of day. Would it ease, with time?

"What are you afraid of now?"

She opened her mouth as if to answer – then seemed to think better of it, and pressed her lips together with a small shake of her head.

"Ahsoka, you can talk to m—"

"What are you holding?"

He hadn't realised he'd been leaning towards her as she spoke about her old life, about a Jedi who'd been a sort of father figure. He didn't know what that felt like. Jango Fett, for all of his passing-down of wisdom and experience, hardly fit the bill, more a teacher whom a young clone might aspire to be like – until that clone came to realise what said teacher's extracurricular activities entailed. But Rex knew such a presence in one's life was desirable, and to lose it must have hurt in the same way it hurt him to lose a brother.

He leaned away again.

"Oh, this?" he said. "It's an ignition chamber, from one of my Deeces."

Ahsoka eyed it with curiosity, and Rex understood. He took the other chamber from the twin blaster, and passed them to her across the table.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

He shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. Had he misinterpreted the whole thing, after all? "I, uh, just thought you could give them a try."

Her fingers tapped a speedy rhythm into the table as she mulled it over, her eyes flickering between him and the Deece parts. At last, she said, "Are you sure?"

"I'll find others. Mine don't need to be … special." Fek, was that too presumptuous?

But still she hesitated.

"You're overthinking it. I want you to have them," he insisted. This time, he took her fidgeting hand in his own, the back of hers in the palm of his, and placed the ignition chambers right there in her grasp, closing her fingers over them.

She smiled, the corners of her eyes creasing. She wouldn't meet his gaze. "Rex, thank you."

He didn't want to let go of her hand, surprised to find that holding it felt as natural as breathing, calloused as his own and warmer still. But she was already pulling out of his grasp. "You're welcome."

*

She didn't ask him to leave when she closed her eyes and held her palms out over the lightsaber components. From the periphery of his vision, Rex watched as she slipped into a state of meditation, like sinking beneath the surface of still water. She pulled back her shoulders and dipped her chin; then her breathing slowed, chest barely rising and falling, and it seemed as if a part of her was somewhere else, even as her body remained fixed in place. Then, one by one, the parts began to rise under her guidance, and the very air seemed to come alive around them.

Rex hadn't seen Ahsoka use the Force since Raada. Between hiding and farming and running for their lives, she'd resisted the temptation to use the easy way out. Not so long ago, she'd confided in him that it felt wrong, somehow, in a way she couldn't explain, the balance skewed beyond her comprehension. It frightened her.

Did it scare her still? Was that her fear?

The novelty of it never wore off for Rex: he looked on with the same fascination now as he had almost five cycles ago, at the very start of the war. But it was rare indeed to bear witness in a moment of complete tranquility: no blaster fire, no horde of clankers, no fight instinct to harness nor flight instinct to kick. Through the Force, Ahsoka rearranged the stolen and borrowed parts of the lightsabers, each integral piece slotting into place before him, until they resembled something familiar, something powerful.

And it was done.

Ahsoka opened her eyes, and reached out to take the hilts from the air. Anticipation hung in the space between them, crackling. Then she steeled herself and ignited the sabers – pssshewww – illuminating the room with a bright, wh—

"I win."

Rex tore his gaze away, and glanced from Ahsoka – a performative smirk on her face – down to his blasters on the worktop – incomplete and forgotten – then back again. He shook his head, and laughed.

"You win. But your lightsabers are white," Rex said on an outward breath.

Ugh, she doesn't need you to tell her that, stupid.

"I don't know what it means," Ahsoka admitted, flicking the activation switch and pitching the room into semi-darkness once more. "I've never seen a lightsaber like this before. But the crystals are white when we find them in the caves on Ilum, before they bind themselves to a Jedi. At first, I thought it meant they're not bound to me, even after I cleansed them. But they called out to me for a reason, I'm sure of it. Maybe they just know, somehow, that I'm not a Jedi anymore."

"Perhaps," he began, "it's not about bonding, but bringing the crystals back to their purest form."

He'd be the first to admit that he didn't know as much as he'd like about the mechanics of lightsabers, on a corporeal level as much as a spiritual one; he could have been talking absolute banthashit for all he knew. But he wasn't going to sit there while she tore herself to shreds from the inside out. He could see the words turning over in her mind, before a small, tentative smile began to form on her lips.

"Rex, you might have just given me an idea," she said as, with a sort of reverence, she returned the deactivated lightsabers back to the worktop.

"What's that?"

"I'll tell you when you're older," Ahsoka teased, flashing him a wink.

"Har-har."

"I'll tell you soon. It's only really half an idea right now."

"But when it's fully formed?"

"You'll be the first to know."

"I like it already."

"Rex …"

His name on her lips, spoken just like that – barely above a whisper, loud enough to ring in his ears and the cavity of his chest – was enough to make him ache. Within the space of a breath, the gap between them lessened, their fingertips brushing on the tabletop, noses almost touching. In the low light, her pupils were oddly dilated, blue irises roaming between his and down to his mouth. He could have kissed her then, as her eyelids fluttered closed and she spoke his name again.

But in the next heartbeat, she was gone.

"Rex, I have to tell you something."

He blinked, all lethargy and confusion, as if waking from a deep sleep. He had to be quick to school his expression into something neutral before his disappointment could show itself.

The tone of her voice was agitated, nervous, her brows high and pinched.

"Ahsoka, what's wrong?" he asked.

In one swift movement, she'd risen from the bench and paced towards the high viewport, looking up at the pale foliage bowing under the weight of the rain. She crossed her arms over her chest, and beneath the whispering and rustling of the wind, he heard a sigh.

"Rex, I'm leaving."

Had she doused him with a bucket of icy water, she could not have done a more thorough job of dragging him back to reality. A peculiar reality, where everything he'd struggled to make sense of for the past cycle suddenly made no sense at all.

"I don't … I don't understand."

Ahsoka's head drooped, the line of her shoulders taut. "I told myself that sticking together and keeping low was the right call: we could watch each other's backs, and look for your brothers without drawing too much attention to ourselves. But that Inquisitor found us on Raada because of me."

"You don't know that. What if the whole thing was just a coincidence?"

"We both know it wasn't," said Ahsoka, turning back to him. She sounded tired. "They've been trained to hunt down Jedi, and I'm worried that the longer I stay here, the more I'm putting you at risk – and Wolffe, and Gregor. We've only just got them back, I can't jeopardise that. But if I leave, soon, you'll be safe and I'll know you're not alone."

Rex scoffed, and climbed to his feet. "Was that the plan all along?" he said, a bitter taste at the back of his mouth. "Find me someone else to play with, so you don't have to feel guilty about leaving?"

He regretted the words even before the shock and the hurt registered on her face.

Idiot, idiot, idiot!

"Of course not, Rex. We've been through so much together, through things that no one else could understand. Everyone I've ever cared about, everyone I've ever loved, is gone. Except you." He looked at her then, and her eyes were so soft. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? "I don't want to leave you. But I can't stay. Those sabers found me for a reason, I'm sure of it. Just like the Force brought you and Wolffe and Gregor back together. My duty isn't finished. But yours can be. I know you, Rex – and I know you don't want to fight anymore. Nor are you obliged to."

It was true enough. They'd given everything, he and his brothers. Everything for a cause they were told was a righteous one, the path of heroism and selflessness. But its conclusion had erased all of that. The freedom and peace they'd fought for was nowhere to be seen. So what had been the point of it all? His brothers were dead, or brainwashed. The Republic that had commissioned them was gone, the Jedi along with it. And the galaxy was unrecognisable, his place in it murky at best. Truth be told, there was no fight left in him.

And she'd made her decision. He could see it in the set of her jaw, her proud posture. A rumble of thunder shook the foundations of the complex.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking anywhere but at her. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"It's okay. I kind of sprung it on you."

Rex sighed. "Where will you go?"

Her relief was palpable, and she stepped towards him. "I have an appointment to keep," she replied. "On Alderaan."

He frowned. "What's on Alderaan?"

"A spark."

None the wiser, and sensing she was determined to be vague, he nodded. "When?"

"Not yet. I'll need more credits to get off-planet. But soon."

Soon. Not yet.

She edged closer, until she was right before him; her eyes were almost level with his these days. And then she was throwing her arms about his neck, pulling him into a fierce hug. Caught off guard, he froze, elbows locked by his sides and heart stuttering against his ribcage.

"I'll keep in touch this time," she whispered. "Any way I can."

He shivered at the ghost of the breath on the shell of his ear, and gave himself over to her embrace. With his arms around her, and his hands pressed to the small of her back, he pulled her closer, until their bodies were flush. He let his head drop to her shoulder, cheek against soft lekku, and her skin was redolent of the sweet namana fruit.

When they'd first arrived on Bakura, one of the farmhands had told Rex all about the tree their livelihoods depended on: from the tips of the pale leaves to the properties of the nectarous fruit – it all had a purpose. But the most peculiar part of all, he'd said, could be found beneath the roots themselves: a network that ran far below the ground, invisible to the humanoid eye, connected each tree. Resources could be shared, and a signal of mourning sent out if one succumbed to disease; those nearest would shed their leaves, and bear no fruit for several years.

After the Tribunal's crash, Rex had found himself privy to Ahsoka's dreams on more than one occasion, to her emotions, the beat of her heart – and she to his. If he closed his eyes and focused, he could sense a cord stretched between them both, invisible to the humanoid eye. With her in his arms, it seemed to thrum.

She squeezed him tight, then pulled back to meet his eyes.

"We'll see each other again, Rex. I know we will."

These days, Rex knew if she was lying or not, and smiled. He brought a hand to her cheek, and with the pad of his thumb, gently brushed away the trail of black dust she'd smeared across her face.

He'd look back on that moment, and wouldn't remember who'd kissed who.

Don't leave, he thought. Don't leave again.

Perhaps she really could read his mind, for she pressed closer and kissed him harder, her lips tender beneath his, fingers entwined in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Kamino had been his home, once. He couldn't say when that had shifted, when it had become a person instead of a place. For a moment, Rex and Ahsoka inhabited some liminal world, at the precipice of their past and their future, a place and time in which the rest of the galaxy held its breath.

Thank you so much for reading to the end! Do let me know what you thought, and feel free to send me any prompts/requests you may have 💜

Were it not for the taste of salt water on his tongue, Rex might have thought it was just another one of his dreams.

[disneydreamlights]

Anidala Fic Recs

I got asked for fic recs for these. NSFW will be in a private post (that I’ll make later GOING THROUGH YOUR AO3 HISTORY IS TEDIOUS) for easy DMing purposes. All recs under a read more.

So first for authors:

Just about anything by SkywalkersAmidala and Gemma’s Writing (@gemmaswriting​)

Everything I’ve read by them is absolutely fantastic, and believe me, I’ve read pretty much everything from them. Multiple times in some cases. They’re just very good. SkywalkersAmidala in most cases writes more silly lighthearted AUs and Gemma’s Writing does a bit of everything, all of which are good.

Padme Lives/Anakin Doesn’t Fall:

(Anything on my Vaderdala fic recs list, you need Padme alive for Vaderdala)

Precipice by Shadowsong26

An AU in which Anakin Skywalker does not follow Mace Windu and the others to Palpatine’s office after they leave to arrest the Chancellor. As a result, he doesn’t get that final push over the edge, and doesn’t Fall.

(Padme returns to the Senate with Luke, Anakin to lead the Rebels with Leia. Things get better is the absolute best way to summary this one.)

To These Memories by KatieRoseFun

After Darth Sidious is defeated, everything changes. Some for the better, others not so much. Mostly better though. (Or: Anakin becomes a dad. Rex rehabilitates clone troopers who no longer want to be a part of the army. Ahsoka gets a call from an old friend. And maybe Obi-Wan finds out it’s not just his enemies who don’t stay dead. Basically, everyone gets the happy ending they deserve.)

Pocket Full of Sand Verse by Philthestone

Anakin goes missing, Padme is captured, and this causes Leia Skywalker and Luke Amidala to meet.

Clash of Fates by AliceBDS (In Progress) 

Sometimes, the course of life is changed with one decision.

When Ahsoka Tano requests the help of her former master in liberating Mandalore, a twist of destiny sends them to Coruscant to rescue Chancellor Palpatine instead, altering the course of galactic history forever.

When Dead Men Walk by Ellapromachos

Anakin hesitates just a few minutes longer, and the entire galaxy is better for it.

or; Anakin is at the Temple for Order 66, but not as Darth Vader. And when Palpatine comes for him, he plays his cards just a little bit better. He digs his heels in, and prepares for the long con.

My Loyalties Lie by Stranestelle (In Progress)

When Anakin initially rejects Palpatine's offer to 'help' him, the Sith Lord, in a rare moment of hastiness, ships him off to Kamino to have a control chip implanted.

Nobody Needs to Know by Elizaham8957

The twins are born in the middle of the Clone Wars, and Anakin and Padmé try to continue hiding the fact that they're married and now have two children.

Nobody buys it. Like, seriously, nobody.

Hunter by Zinoviev

Leia is offered a chance to escape Bespin when Boba Fett enlists her help to prevent Luke from falling into Vader's clutches. She has plenty of questions, however. Who is this mysterious bounty hunter, and what does he want with her friend?

The Bantha in the Room by Estrangedlestrange

concept: anakin sitting in the council room bouncing baby luke on his knees as he adamantly denies having children or attachments

Time Travel:

Stand the Hazard of the Die by KeelieThompson1

Baby Luke is sent back in time by Obi-Wan to the prequel era. Needless to say, things change.

Just One Wish by LadyVader23

On a trip to Dathomir, Anakin Skywalker finds a spell that will grant him one wish. Anxious to return home, he wishes for a way to end the war. As a result, he ends up accidentally kidnapping his future children...moments after they've escaped Bespin. Luke is quite done dealing with his mess of a father, and Leia is convinced telling the future Darth Vader about the future will only make it worse. Desperate, Anakin calls in the only person they might listen to: Padme Amidala. Too bad Padme has a surprise of her own...

Temper With the Stars by Pipionem

After being pulled through the World between Worlds, Ahsoka finds herself in the final days of the Clone Wars, on a Separatist ship holding the recently kidnapped Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. Saving the galaxy from the horrors to come is a lot to get done in a week, but Ahsoka has lost everything before - this time, she won't let that happen. Of course, that doesn't mean it's going to be easy.

Skywalker Family Fics:

Skywalker Family Values by Ariel_Sojourner

Camp Chippewa is proud to be the Empire’s foremost camp resort for privileged young adults. Located on the picturesque forest moon of Endor, your child will have the opportunity to participate in wholesome outdoor activities and socialize appropriately with their peers. We invite your offspring to join us for the experience of a lifetime and a bright future in service of the greater glory of the Empire.

On opposite sides of the galaxy, on opposite sides of a civil war, Darth Vader and Padme Amidala unwittingly send Luke and Leia to the same camp during school break. Chaos naturally ensues.

Mild AU:

Desideratum by Sithanakin (In Progress)

As a young Initiate in the midst of a childish crush, Padmé had always dreamt of Anakin Skywalker becoming her Master. But she was to turn thirteen too early for that to be possible.

Then, at sixteen, she loses her Master in the battle of Geonosis. In the confusion of all her grief, she does not expect newly-knighted Anakin Skywalker to offer to take her on as his Padawan.

The Wise Thing by Stranestelle

Warning: Very dark, not happy ending.

Padmé Amidala may not be all she seems. Anakin Skywalker wears his heart on his sleeve. People have crushes every day, it’s not the end of the world. Is it?

or, if you will, a sith!Padmé AU

Bonded by Betts

(Okay I’ll out myself slightly with smut but just one on my mostly SFW recs.)

Padmé had always been better at the mental half of the Jedi code—coercion, manipulation, meditation. Anakin had always been better at the physical half—beating shit up with his lightsaber.

Heirs to the Empire by Aldojlc

Alternate Universe. En route to Endor, Luke, Leia, and Han during the events of ROTJ find themselves transported into a different universe and a different Empire, with a different Vader.

Heavy AUs:

(it’s not so bad) being dead like me by Estrangedlestrange

Recently deceased Anakin Skywalker (killed in an taco truck explosion) finds himself not in the after life but recruited as the newest member of the undead, he’s become a grim reaper. He’s told that it’s his destiny but really he thinks it’s just rotten luck. Rotten except for the fact that one of his fellow reapers is Padmé Amidala, the most beautiful woman Anakin’s has seen, dead or alive. As he struggles to come to grips with his death and his new role in the universe, Anakin finds that taking souls isn’t the easiest job out there, he also finds himself falling in love.

Skyborn by Silverdaye

Senator Padmé Amidala enjoys spending her time in a bookstore, one made of real flimsi books where each one costs a small fortune. It is there she meets a strange man, Anakin Skywalker, who is searching for long forgotten planet, Kesh. 4,500 years ago a ship crashed on Kesh. The survivors told the natives they were their gods, the Skyborn. Anakin is one of them.

For Even the Very Wise Cannot See All Ends by UncorrectGrammar

When people think of Anakin Skywalker, they think of the Chosen One, the Hero With No Fear. They think of an accomplished duelist, of the best flyer in Hogwarts, of the prophesized savior of the wizarding world.

They don’t think of gardens diligently kept or dirt under fingernails.

Or: Anakin Skywalker and his legacy. Hogwarts AU.

General Prequel Era (Non Anidala Centric, but still contain Anidala)

Like Fire In Our Bones by AcuteNeurosis

With all of the most important things in the galaxy literally exploding around her, Leia is given the chance to go back and help keep a promise she never personally made.

But then, for Skywalkers, saving the galaxy was always a family matter.

Well It Goes Like This by Corde_and_Dorme

At the end of it all, the thing is: Palpatine breaks his heart.

(or the one where Anakin makes the hard choice, the right choice, the other choice. Then he keeps making it.)

Vode An by Epsiloneridani

There are millions of lives on the line, clone and Jedi alike. Every second brings them one step closer to the chip's activation - one step closer to the endgame. The truth is shrouded in secrecy and clouded by doubt. The clock's ticking down.

It's a race against time.

Fives is gone. Echo finds the courage to ask why.

Bonus: ObiAnidala

For We Are A Woven Thread; Find the Strand by Shadowsong26

The night before Obi-Wan was to leave for Utapau, he and Anakin and Padme agreed that, regardless of the Council's orders, Anakin should go as well. They split up over the course of the battle--and when Order 66 is given, they cannot find one another in the chaos; Padme, on Coruscant, is left with the knowledge that neither of them is coming back.

This story covers the next four years in their lives; how they survived and coped with the loss; how they began to fight back--and how they found their way home.

[adorablekatsuki]

Bakugou and I welcome you, to the 800+ followers event! It is finally upon us!!

NOW! What does this event have in store for all you amazing people who like and reblog the content I upload every day? That is what the poll was for. I decided I would give you all a choice to vote on what you’d like me to do, in order for us all to have a good time and celebrate all of you! 

I had the poll open for a few days, and received 66 votes! While that might not seem like a lot compared to the follower count, it is certainly enough for me. ;v; And I thank each and every one of you who voted, and helped to decide! 

So, without further ado, this is what we’ll be doing for this round of followers celebration: 

22 ART REQUESTS CENTERED AROUND OUR HOMEBOY, BAKUGOU KATSUKI!! 

I will be writing numbers in my bio to help you all keep track of how many request spots are left. Why will I only do 22? Because only 22 people voted for it, of course! Which means that if you voted for this, and you’re reading this post, I hope you get a spot in the batch! As for the rest of you, feel free to request as well!

Before, however, PLEASE READ THESE RULES. 

Yes, there are going to be rules to this. There are sadly some things i need to address, both concerning what I will and will not draw. 

So first of all, I need to get this out of the way: This blog was created about 3 or so weeks ago, during a time I was physically sick. And it’s really terrible to say the least, but I’m currently rolling into my fourth week of sickness. It’s a combination of some nasty fever, coughing, and headaches. This means I will be slow as fuck, and I highly apologize in advance. Yes I am taking medicine, but has it worked? Eh... Not really? I am doing my best to recover though. I will do my best and pull through with each request!

The next thing I need to tell you, is that I am not very confident in my digital art skills, so what you’re seeing right now is me being brave enough to post the art above. I usually do things traditionally, with markers. And the requests will be done like so! whether they are just sketches, lined work, or fully colored, will be up to me. I’m sorry, but it’s just to make things easier for me. I hope you understand!

NOW, let’s get into what you can and cannot request. 

WHAT I WILL DRAW:

- the fantasy AU

- a standalone Bakugou (meaning nothing but him)

- Bakugou with another character (platonic or romantically. pls specify)

- outlaws AU/ the wild west AU (RDR 2 ppl where ya at?)

- Bakugou as an animal, or a furry/anthro 

- Kiribaku

- Bakugou WITH an animal 

- Bakugou with a pro hero (that isn’t mentioned in my NOPE list below)

WHAT I WILL NOT DRAW:

- something that isn’t Bakugou centric. (aka a request that doesn’t contain Bakugou in it)

- Bakugou as any type of nekomeme (like a human with cat ears and tail. I don’t do that stuff.)

- Any type of NSFW. this blog will be minor friendly!

- Kacchako and Katsudeku. (they make me highly uncomfortable. sorry.)

- Bakugou with an oc 

- fic fanart requests

- Anything involving Best Jeanist, Endeavor, Mineta, And anyone in the dekusquad. (This is mostly personal preference but I think most of you will understand.)

- anything involving alcohol, drugs, smoking, etc. While i am allowed to drink and smoke in my country, I am not comfortable with any of it. So please leave it out of your requests!

- Anything above 3 characters. you can request Bakugou, Bakugou and 1 other character, or Bakugou and 2 other characters. That’s it. 

ABOUT SHIPS:

I am only going to be accepting Kiribaku, if you wish to request a romantic ship. I have other Bakugou ships that I don’t mind, but I wouldn’t draw something unless I was 100% committed to it. And Kiribaku makes me happy. So I’m willing to draw that!

As for Kacchako and Katsudeku... I’m sorry. If you ship this, go ahead, do your thing. Each to their own, right? I only have 3 notps in the BNHA fandom, and this is just the two of them. (The last one is kirimina, but that’s not relevant) and so please please please do NOT put them in my inbox. If you want to know why i really don’t like these ships, you can always ask, and I’ll give you the most respectful answer I can. But just don’t request it. Thank you. 

DETALED REQUESTS:

Please don’t be afraid to request something like “Bakugou, in an emo outfit, drinking bubble tea, while looking at something that makes him angry” instead of “draw Bakugou in his hero uniform.” Please be specific! ALSO PLEASE BE POLITE!! That is the least you could do!

Uh... If there’s anything you want to request but isn’t mentioned here, ask! I’ll be tagging it under “follower celebration q&a” so block that tag if you so desire. Anything else, please ask too!

Thank you for your patience, And let’s get drawing!!

[zoldyckangel]

Can we see a list of requests in ur inbox rn if that’s ok? I’m super interested

Yeah sure! Note that some of the requests on the list take longer than the others but they’re being worked on. The list is also out of order. There also might be some duplicates for requests because different people want the same things.  I will put a keep reading line because of the sheer number of requests in my inbox. (Which is over 100 btw 😅) 

1: Can I request an NSFW scenario with Illumi trying to impregnate his S/O?

2: Since you told me you were looking forward to the extra kinky scenario with fei the bae, here it is: make it as kinky as you can fam. (If u don’t feel like it rn just like do it later or smth I don’t mind)

3: What would Illumi do if he had a younger sister , almost his age and he treated/favored like killua, that ran away from home at a young age and tried to go into hiding

4: Hey ! Can I get a uvogin Nsfw scenario . Helping his fem s/o to relieve stress . Doggie, oral , and riding would be great

5: Can you do an illumi NSFW scenario where his s/o is all like, “I don’t love you anymore.” And he gets all possessive?

6: Phinks nsfw scenario with a virgin s/o pleaseeeeee?

7: chrollo trying to get sex but his s/o denies just to piss him off

8: “Shh, stop fussing I’m just braiding your hair” for hisoka, please??

9: “If you steal the blanket, I’ll put my cold feet to you” for Fei♡

10: “You’re my new pillow” for hisoka please??

11: “How about a kiss” for Chrollo!

12: You are my new pillow, with Illumi

13: Will you let me rub your back?” + “Ssh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.+“I might have slept with your robe when you were gone.” for Chrollo please?

14: Hc of the main four having a tiny s/o (like 5"1 or something) and how they would act around them? Killua and Gon are aged up of course!

15: “You are my new pillow” with Hisoka? ;D Thanks, you’re awesome!!

16: Omg can you do a scenario with feitan refuses to kiss his s/o on New Years so she gets back at him?

17: Can you do “your comfy” and “youre my new pillow” with illumi

18: If you’re still doing requests, please write a scenario for “How about a kiss?” with Kite please! (If the ask box is closed, then just delete this! sorry~)

19: If you’re taking requests, could you do Hisoka with “But I want to hear you sing.”? (Finding this blog made my day-)

20: SCENARIO NSFW KITE

21: I.COULDNT.HELP.IT. “Will you let me rub your back?” AND “Care to give me a back scratch?” WITH KURAPIKA. PLEASE. ILYSM

22: Would you please write 3 short scenario s between my oc and Feitan, Chrollo, and Uvogin? The genre doesn’t really matter. My oc is named Sabine. She is 4'10 and chubby. She’s an pansexual otaku who loves food, cats, and is basically juat a huge dork. Most of the time she’s pretty calm and always happy, but she acts like a child when excited. She has silent anger and can hold a grudge. Generally just a happy person. Thank you!~

23: What would happen if hisoka met a girl who was more powerful than him but refused to fight him? (Done) 

24: Okay, so I saw the ask about Gon and Killua having a weak S/O…what would happen if this S/O suddenly disappeared, without Killua or Gon noticing, and like one day later they discover they were murdered brutally by a killer? How would they feel? How focused would they be on revenge? Also, would they ever regret being with someone so weak, since it ultimately caused them pain?

25: Yooo I’m glad you’re back fam!! I’m sure ur pretty busy with all the requests but if you have time— I just recently read one of ur older nsfw feitan scenarios where you said it was kinky but it could definitely be kinkier, well you know what I’m gonna ask of you my dude. Pls write the kinkiest scenario ever for Fei the bae and I will love you till the day I die

26:  I’m thirsty for a NSFW Hisoka one shot where his crush is brushing off his advances but that just makes him try harder. 😏

27: I know you’ve done something similar but can I get a scenario for Hisoka relentlessly trying to get down with his crush but they’re onto him and brushing off his advances. You can either end it NSFW or have the crush unfazed by his seduction. I’m thirsty for more trash clown.

28:  Could you do a NSFW Shalnark scenario please?

29: Adult trio with shy s/o headcanon? ☺️

30: Kite oral scenarios with s/o plssss ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

31: Could i request headcanons for kurapika having a s/o who is sarcastic af but also a pretty sharp fella with deduction skills of sherlock? And for killua a s/o who loves books and readings and is even a writer themself who has a habit of putting people they know in real life in theur stories? :3 thank you!~

32: I just would like to say, I absolutely love your writing and I was wondering if requests were open. If so, could I request an Adult Gon NSFW scenario? Pretty please with a cherry on top and thank you!

33: may i request a scenario of killua having a crush on fem!reader whos a bit older than he is and hes having a hard time acknowledging his feelings so Gon gives him advice?

34: Turn ons and turn offs for Morel, Pariston, Kite, Knuckle, and Razor!

35: oh my god i loved your response to my request last time so i’ll just ask ONE LAST TIME i promise: can you do HCs for Kura and a fem s/o living as Kurtans? Like if the clan was never massacred and he grew up properly within the clan and got married and had kids and stuff. again, any NSFW is appreciated :3

36: Adult trio and main four kissing headcanons? Thank you!

37: Jealous Hisoka scenario?

38: HC on some things the adult trio finds cute in a person?

39: Hey! I love your work sm, thank you for being active again, it makes my school time less worse tbh My request is how Chrollo would react if he found out, that his s/o used to have something romantically with Kurapika before with him. (NSFW included) :,)

40: HC on how a crush accidentally turns on the adult trio?

41: How would the adultrio and the main four (or just the adultrio if it’s too much ^^) deal with their drunk s/o?

42: Favorite/least favorite music genres for the phantom crew and the adult trio?

43: Can I get headcannons for phinks with a thicc S/O (NSFW is appreciated too) ps LOVE YOUR BLOG ❤️❤️❤️

44: Adult trio with shy s/o HC. ☺️

45: I see you don’t write much about Razor, so how about a HC on Razors turn ons and turn offs?

46: Pariston scenario where he fails at wooing his crush because she realizes what kind of person he is but he isn’t letting up.

47: May I request fluffy head cannons for Older Killua with a soft-spoken, shy fem s/o? Your head cannons are so wonderful and I thank you for taking the time to write them!

48: 💢🔪💍🍼 for Chrollo please?

49: Hey! I really love your blog and i was wondering if i could make a headcanon request?? .////. I was wondering if you guys could write a scenario/headcanon (whichever you feel like ^^ i cant decide ^^;) kurapika having a s/o who’s really sassy and witty(loves self depricating jokes and lame puns XD) but overall a sharp minded person? Thank you!♡

50: tbh i just want like a rough NSFW scenario w Kura. pls and thx k bye

51: Could you pwease write some sfw/nsfw relationship headcanons for razor? (Gender neutral pronouns if thats not too much trouble)

52: I’d the adult trio had a big crush on someone, how far would they go to get them? Like, would they stalk them or constantly flirt with them or break into their apartment or buy them loads of gifts…? Let’s assume their crush is strong just cause I see them trying harder if they’re powerful.

53:  🍼💍💋💘 for Feitan please?

54: Are requests open? If so, I would like to request some headcanons for Colt but I can’t do those emoji thingies…… Great blog by the way!

55: HC on when the main four and adult trio realize they’ve fallen in love 😍 (or caught the feels for someone)

56: Heeelloooo there✨✨✨ I’d like to ask 😈, 💘,💋 and 🍆 for Gon and Killua ohohohohoho ✨💞 Kisses!!!!

57: How does the trouble trio + Chrollo feel if they found out that their female s/o lives together with their best male friend? Due to circumstances and stuff? Not because they cheated on him.

58:  Can I get a headcanon how the adult trio and main four would react if they were separated from their crush for a while? Would they mope, stalk them, distract themselves…?

59: Hello Admin Shy! I was wondering if you could do yandere/possessive HC for the adult trio? Thank you!!

60: Main four with s/o that has trust issues, because she/he has had so many fake friends who have only used her/him to get expensive gifts and good grades. And very bad self esteem, because she/he thinks that she/he isn’t good enough to be their real friend. If you don’t want to write this, you don’t have to. Actually this has happened to me a lot :,).

61: Can I request the reactions of the adult trio to a nuzzling crush? Idk if they’d like it or not.

62: Hello there! Is the ask box open? If so, can I request a fluff scenario for Kalluto and an innocent and cheerful oc who is also a spider??

63: Sfw/Nsfw headcanons for illumi with a yandere s/o??? *wink wink, nudge nudge*

64: I saw you did jealous chrollo HC so can you do some for Illumi and Hisoka to round out the adult trio?

65: Can you do first kiss/kissing headcanons for Morel, Kite, Razor, Pariston, and Knuckle please? Thanks Admin 👩🏻‍💼

66: Heya! Glad to see you posting again. Could the nice people of tumblr request some spicy Chrollo New Year’s headcanons, sfw and nsfw?

67: Hello Admin! Ok so Pariston is a total enigma for me and I wanted your opinion on what this dude looks for in both a worthy opponent and a crush. Like, he obviously admires Ging and respects him the most from anyone I’ve seen but he also loathes him for being a worthy opponent. As for who he is attracted to, could any personality be good for him and any power level as long as they interested him in some fashion? Sorry this is long! 😅

68: Headcanon for kurapika and a sassy af s/o? :3

69: Hey can you do Hisoka headcannons with a s/o that is super fragile and shy in the begining but once she opens up she’s super fun pervy and op she is so strong she can actually beat him and Chrollo~ ty!

70: Jealousy headcanons for Leorio, Hisoka, Pariston, Knuckle, and Gon please! I feel like they’d give a variety of reactions. :)

71: I know it’s still early but do you think you could do same pariston Valentine’s day headcanons (sfw and nsfw)?? And yes I’m the same anon who asked for the new years too lol, I just really like him for some strange reason Thanks I’m advance!

72: How do you think what kind of person would Killua like? Thank you ^^

73: Some Adult trio first time HCs. Like when it happened (age) how it happened who (female or male) what happened

74: Your two hisoka one shots were absolutely AMAZING!!! AaaAAaaahhhhh youre such a good writter!!!!!!! (＞ｙ＜) Could I please request a third one shot? Its ok if you dont feel like writting it, the other two were fantastic, so I bet they took some time. But, for me and others who enjoyed them, could you? ヽ(*≧ω≦)ﾉ

75: Hello! I apologize if you are busy but may I have Kurapika Valentines Day SFW/NSFW headcanons with his s/o? Thank you and I apologize that it’s two days after Valentines Day.

76: Hey! Can you do a scenario with kikyo and silva fluff !

77: A HXH scenario! Some NSFW scenario with older Killua and his gf ( collar/ pet kink)? Love your work!

78: “this position is.. making me turned on…” said Kurapika softly, completely flustered with his fem s/o sitting on his lap.

79: Kurapika in a normal high school Romance HC n scenario?????

80: Can you write another BDSM scenario with Feitan? Thank you so much :)))

81: Can you please write another Vampire!Feitan scenario? Thank you ;))

82: Ok I got an angsty HC ask: how would the adult trio react to seeing their crush get physically or verbally abused?

83: Can we get general fluffy sfw hcs and nsfw hcs for Chrollo? Tysm! ❤️

84: Can I… Can I have some yandere Chrollo headcannons please :o Your blog is one of my top favorites by the way

85: How would Chrollo act if he knew that Kurapika was in love with his s/o?

86: How would Phinks go about recruiting (my means of seduction) a potential troupe affiliate. Like a spy or an informant or something. (I know it’s specific but I need some inspiration for a fic I have planned.)

87: Type of dates chrollo would take his s/o on? (S/o is a strong nen user and is aware that he is a part of the phantom troupe)

88: Please yandere chrollo scenario

89: Hi! I really like your page and I was just wondering if requests are currently open? It’s not exactly clear, but if they are open; could you please do a fluffy scenario with fem reader x hisoka where they join him in a grassy clearing & he just randomly starts doing handstands & pushups while they’re lying down beneath him & he kisses them each time he goes down; getting more heated each time until they are both playfully rolling around kissing one another? Thnx 4 reading either way! ^^

90: Hey! Love this page! I was wondering how do you think Feitan, Hisoka, Phinks and Shalnark would react to a gentle, surprise kiss from their s/o? Please and thank you!

91: Hey! Could you plz do a fluffy scenario of hisoka, illumi sharing moments with their s/o’s where they make each other giggle and laugh; just something really cute and sweet for each of them but that still suits their personalities? Thank you so much!

92: Spider boi needs more love. How about a scenario for Chrollo meeting his s/o during a PT mission?

93: Hello may I get headcannons of the adult trio with a fem s/o who looks like a bad ass bitch with tattoo and colorful hair but is very calm and sweet when not working. Something like she gives them a safe mental space where they can let their gaurd down when it’s just the two of them please? Sorry if this is too specific ( ^_^U)

94: Ohh how about the crush walking in on the guys halfnaked? 😄 Gif reactions for the adult trio and main four

95: Can you do a nsfw scenary with Adult Killua and fem s/o please?

96: Aaaaahhh the flirting hc were so good thank you so much admin!!! I’d like to request another HC if you don’t mind! What are some turn ons for the adult trio and how do they react when they’re horny? 😜

97: Mun, can you please do a headcanons for the adult trio on things they find cute in their crush? Like their laugh, if they are naive about something, if they pout, play with hair, talk cutesy to animals, etc. I like fluff. ☁️ Thanks a million!

98: Personal thoughts: how would Hisoka react to genuine affection? He’s a creep and no one puts up with his behavior but what if someone has the patience of a saint and was able to actually enjoy his company and care about his well being? What do u think, I’d love to know

99: Is it time for that Yandere chrollo from a few asks back?? 😉😉 if it is, general yandere hcs please! (You can do a continuation of that ask if u want ?)

100: Uvogin NSFW with female reader or s/o

101: Adult trio with shy s/o HC please?

102: Ok so I’m a lover of people who are gluttons for punishment. Naturally, I’d like to request a HC of Hisoka having a crush on one of the most powerful hunters he has ever met but they refuse to fight him. He tries to annoy them but they have the patience of a saint. He tries to flirt with them but they laugh off his advances or tease him before walking off. He begs them for a battle but they are a pacifist when it concerns fighting Hisoka. 😂

103: Hello! May I ask a scenario where Chrollo’s s/o wearing a sexy lingerie and she’s waiting for him? Thank you very much! ^^

104: Can you please do first kiss HC for Hisoka, Knuckle, and Pariston please? Would it be spur of the moment and sexy or planned out and sweet?

105: Scenarios of the adult rio and feitan. When they cheat on there s/o

106: Kurapika’s S/O got pregnant and is reluctant to tell him (he is a busy man) but he found out anyway albeit not from her. How would he feel not knowing it from her? Also, thank you for all these wonderful headcanons ^-^!

107: A bit of angst here: how would Hisoka, Knuckle, and Pariston react to seeing their crush get physically or verbally abused?

108: These are my three favs so I gotta keep asking for them! Can you please do HC on how Hisoka, Knuckle, and Pariston would ask their crush out on a date? Thank you Admin!

109: Who do you HC to actually care about having a virgin as a partner when they first have sex? Which characters would be understanding, feel turned on, honored, don’t care, find it off putting, etc.

110: Headcanons for Chrollo and his s/o who, as he finds out, is one of his favourite authors?

111: Headcanons (possible romance?) for Hisoka meeting someone who used to take care of him as a kid?

112: A scenario for Hisoka being stuck in bed, ill, and his s/o taking care of him? Your pick for SFW/NSFW. (apologies if this gets double posted!)

113: Oh gosh I hope I made it in time. Can I request something with a protective kurapika? Anything is fine. I want this dude to be loved :’)

114: Can I pleeeeease have some headcanons for Chrollo if he had an s/o who had a huge erogenous zone on their ear (they like it when it gets nibbled and such) but they’re super shy about it? Tankee

115: Love your blog! If yiu still do requests quests then I suppose this one should be interesting: one with our lill smol Feitan having a younger teenage sister who’s taller than him (but weaker lol), how would their life be like?

116: Can I have some general sfw and nsfw relationship headcanons for Machi and for Pakunoda?

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Elecraft Frequency Memory Editor

Elecraft Frequency Memory Editor Download

Elecraft Frequency Memory Editor Windows 10

Elecraft Frequency Memory Editor Mac

Elecraft Frequency Memory Editor Reviews

Elecraft Frequency Memory Editor Review

Elecraft’s state-of-the-art K3S transceiver offers a unique combination of ultra-high performance and affordability. (plus a free memory editor utility for use on your computer). Redesigned filter extends Very Low Frequency (VLF) operation down to 100 kHz.

Purchase at softcows.com for $19.95. Elecraft Frequency Memory. Maintain frequency memories using a spreadsheet format.

Elecraft mailing list Home: Help: Post: mailto:Elecraft@mailman.qth.net This.

Elecraft K3 Frequency Memory Editor

#67557

I find this memory Editor from Elecraft to have limited capability. Apparently it is not possible to insert a new memory location into an already established sequence, nor is it possible to move a memory 'up' or 'down' in the sequence. Can anyone let me know if a more 'capable' memory editor exists for the KX line of Transceivers ? Gordon VE3JSJ (Proud owner of KX1, KX2, KX3, KXPA100)

#67558

You can select an entire line by right clicking on the memory 'number' and then cut and paste it.

You should be able to move a 'block' of entries in that manner.

Hank

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From: Gordon (g@..) Date: 09/30/20 10:03 To: Elecraft-KX@groups.io Subject: (Elecraft-KX) Elecraft K3 Frequency Memory Editor

I find this memory Editor from Elecraft to have limited capability. Apparently it is not possible to insert a new memory location into an already established sequence, nor is it possible to move a memory 'up' or 'down' in the sequence. Can anyone let me know if a more 'capable' memory editor exists for the KX line of Transceivers ? Gordon VE3JSJ (Proud owner of KX1, KX2, KX3, KXPA100)

#67559

Thanks Hank, Yes, that is true, but it overwrites those memories, which is less than desirable Gordon VE3JSJ

#67560

Flash memory is written in blocks not in individual memory locations. Data is buffered in RAM then written to flash memory in blocks. It is how flash was designed.

Kevin. KD5ONS

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Thanks Hank, Yes, that is true, but it overwrites those memories, which is less than desirable Gordon VE3JSJ

#67562

Flash memory is written in blocks not in individual memory locations. Data is buffered in RAM then written to flash memory in blocks. It is how flash was designed.

Kevin. KD5ONS

True, but how the data is written to flash does not have to dictate how it is displayed to the user of the memory editor. With a little more complexity, the app could allow the user to arrange the memories any way they like on the user interface. Including allowing memories to be inserted and not overwritten. Then at write time the app could assemble the information in the specified order into one RAM buffer that then gets written to flash in blocks.

Helicopter computer game. We collected 34 of the best free online helicopter games. These games include browser games for both your computer and mobile devices, as well as apps for your Android and iOS phones and tablets. They include new helicopter games such as Get to the Choppa and top helicopter games such as Free Rally: Vice, Free Rally 2, and Free Rally: Lost Angeles.

Richard - K4KRW

#67563

I haven't had any issues but I do not change memories around much. Write elecraft about it if you haven't already. Enough people with the same request may spark enough interest for them to take a look. Never hurts to ask. Kevin KR6AI

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On Oct 2, 2020 12:32, Richard Dodd <richard.k4krw@..> wrote:

Flash memory is written in blocks not in individual memory locations. Data is buffered in RAM then written to flash memory in blocks. It is how flash was designed.

Kevin. KD5ONS

True, but how the data is written to flash does not have to dictate how it is displayed to the user of the memory editor. With a little more complexity, the app could allow the user to arrange the memories any way they like on the user interface. Including allowing memories to be inserted and not overwritten. Then at write time the app could assemble the information in the specified order into one RAM buffer that then gets written to flash in blocks.

Richard - K4KRW

#67564

My bad your talking about K3 which I have little experience with. I use a kx2. Do not know if memory editors are similar or not. KR6AI

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On Oct 2, 2020 17:44, kevinandpatty@.. wrote:

I haven't had any issues but I do not change memories around much. Write elecraft about it if you haven't already. Enough people with the same request may spark enough interest for them to take a look. Never hurts to ask. Kevin KR6AI

On Oct 2, 2020 12:32, Richard Dodd <richard.k4krw@..> wrote:

Flash memory is written in blocks not in individual memory locations. Data is buffered in RAM then written to flash memory in blocks. It is how flash was designed.

Kevin. KD5ONS

True, but how the data is written to flash does not have to dictate how it is displayed to the user of the memory editor. With a little more complexity, the app could allow the user to arrange the memories any way they like on the user interface. Including allowing memories to be inserted and not overwritten. Then at write time the app could assemble the information in the specified order into one RAM buffer that then gets written to flash in blocks.

Richard - K4KRW

#67565

I have heard that the Elecraft commands are similar to Kenwood. If so, it might not be too hard to make Chirp work with Elecraft rigs.

There has been an open request for that with Chirp for eight years. Of course, that is an open source, volunteer project, so someone needs to step up and actually do it.

wunder K6WRU Walter Underwood CM87wj http://observer.wunderwood.org/ (my blog)

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On Oct 2, 2020, at 5:44 PM, Kevin Burgess <kevinandpatty@..> wrote:

I haven't had any issues but I do not change memories around much. Write elecraft about it if you haven't already. Enough people with the same request may spark enough interest for them to take a look. Never hurts to ask. Kevin KR6AI

On Oct 2, 2020 12:32, Richard Dodd <richard.k4krw@..> wrote:

Flash memory is written in blocks not in individual memory locations. Data is buffered in RAM then written to flash memory in blocks. It is how flash was designed.

Kevin. KD5ONS

True, but how the data is written to flash does not have to dictate how it is displayed to the user of the memory editor. With a little more complexity, the app could allow the user to arrange the memories any way they like on the user interface. Including allowing memories to be inserted and not overwritten. Then at write time the app could assemble the information in the specified order into one RAM buffer that then gets written to flash in blocks.

Richard - K4KRW

#67566

AKIK there's only one memory editor and it works for K3/K3S, KX3 and KX2. I don't know if it will work with the K4.

I use it with my K3 and KX2 and find it to be perfectly adequate, although I don't make frequent changes.

73,

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On Oct 2, 2020, at 17:49, Kevin Burgess <kevinandpatty@..> wrote:

My bad your talking about K3 which I have little experience with. I use a kx2. Do not know if memory editors are similar or not. KR6AI

#67581

Much like rows in Excel, you can move multiple rows around in the Elecraft Frequency Memory Editor. You can even have two or more instances open in case you want move a large number of rows around. I find it very handy and use the editor almost weekly. I place the weekend's QSO parties suggested frequencies into a block of rows, one column each for CW and SSB. I use the '60' series for 60m and the M1-M4 memories for different modes on each band. A little forethought goes a long way in planning a useful series of memories for each user. Additionally, the Editor makes it easy to 'transfer' memories from one Elecraft HF rig to another. The built-in Help file is, well, helpful. --

ARRL - The national association for Amateur Radio™

Duke City Hamfest BoD Vice-Chairman www.dukecityhamfest.org 17-19 Sep 2021

Secretary and Past President, Albuquerque DX Association W6H NM Coordinator, Route 66 On-the-Air 12-20 Sep 2020

NEW HF OPERATORS - THINGS TO DO

Aloha! This weekend will be a wonderful opportunity to get Hawaii into your logbook, as the Hawai`i QSO Party happens then. Kansas and Ohio will also have their events. If you're chasing NPOTA stations, all ten Kansas NPOTA sites will be on the air! If RTTY is more your style, the Slovenia Contest Club's RTTY Championship runs for 24 hours. The KCJ contest is potentially a good place to find the less common Japanese prefectures. If you work all 47 of them, you can apply for the WAJA award from the Japanese Amateur Radio League.

During Labor Day weekend, there are Colorado and Tennessee QSO parties, and if you're working on your CW skills the CWops CW OPEN provides three separate sessions of four hours each over the weekend. Especially on the west coast, there will be plenty of stations involved in the All Asia DX Contest, phone. The three-day weekend could also be a good time to get outside antenna work done for the upcoming contest 'season'.

BULLETINS

Attention Bay Area Amateurs: The San Francisco Radio Club (SFRC) is holding the 2nd annual San Francisco 2M FM QSO party on Saturday August 27, 2016, from 10AM to 2PM Pacific Time (1700z - 2100z). ZIP codes are like grid squares and are multipliers. There are categories for mobile and fixed stations just like the ARRL UHF/VHF contests. Even with a handheld, you can participate in a fun contest. More info can be found on the club website. If you have any questions, please contact Robert, AD6I.

BUSTED QSOS

IARU Region 2 encompasses the Americas, as Ramon, XE1KK, kindly pointed out.

CONTEST SUMMARY

Complete information for all contests follows the Conversation section

August 25

August 26

August 27

August 28

August 31

September 1

September 2

September 3

September 4

September 5

September 6

September 7

NEWS, PRESS RELEASES, AND GENERAL INTEREST

There's a new release of the Win4K3Suite, software dedicated to the control of your K3 series of transceivers from your Microsoft Windows computer. Win4K3Suite provides a software panadapter using SDRPlay (showing up to 1.8 MHz bandwidth), LP-PAN, or a video capture board for the P3. This new release has improved SDRPlay performance and fixes an issue with the Elecraft Frequency Memory Editor files.

During the recent NAQP Phone contest on August 20th and 21st, you likely heard members of the Florida Contest group using 'Ron' as part of the exchange, in memory and honor of Ron Weitjen, WD4AHZ, who succumbed to cancer earlier this year. Ron was known to many in the WCF section and beyond as a friend and worthy competitor.

The W3LPL 10-meter tower after EF0 tornado damage in June. (Photo courtesy of Frank, W3LPL)

On June 21st, an EF0 tornado cut a twelve-mile path across western Howard County. One of the casualties of the storm was the tower for the ten meter antenna at W3LPL. Frank Donovan reports that thanks to very generous volunteer help by dozens of members of the Potomac Valley Radio Club and The Columbia Amateur Radio Association, a new 200 foot tower has gone up in its place. The new tower will be the home of an 8-element ten meter Optimum Wideband Array (OWA) Yagi designed by W8WWV, it itself a refinement of previous designs by K3LR, WA3FET, and NW3Z. The antenna is expected to be up by September, just in time for the upcoming contest season.

W3LPL's new 200 foot tower, ready for a ten meter antenna to be installed in September. (Photo courtesy of Frank, W3LPL)

Contact with the STEREO-B (Solar Terrestrial Relations Observatories) satellite, which NASA used in the past to obtain greater insight into our sun's behavior, has been re-established after nearly two years of silence. STEREO-B and it's twin, STEREO-A, provide insight on CMEs (Coronal Mass Ejections) and other sun phenomena which are important to radio propagation. NASA's Deep Space Network was used to reach the spacecraft.

A new Yahoo group dedicated to QSO parties has been in existence since April 2015. With the numbers of members currently near one hundred, the group includes those that are interested in participating, as well as many state QSO party administrators and team members. Dave, WN4AFP, who is the Team Leader of the South Carolina QSO Party, values 'the opportunity to share ideas with active QPers. For state QSO party leaders, this is an excellent way to obtain feedback following your event, exchange new rule ideas and more. You can find out what works and what needs to be re-tooled. It's also a great way to build relationships in this contest niche.'

WORD TO THE WISE

Prosign - Accepted as short for 'Procedural Signal': In CW, a sequence of dots and dashes that are used to convey a particular meaning about the communication itself, such as end of transmission, 'SK', over, 'K', or wait, 'AS'. They are written as the concatenation of one or more regular characters, sent or received with no intervening spaces. In contests, you might hear the 'AS' prosign being sent by an operator when she can't yet log a contact due to a rebooting computer or other problem.

The Shack Shine doorknob hanger appeard on my front door last month. It's found a new home hanging off of various knobs in my shack.

Last weekend, while driving to a Multi/2 for the NAQP Phone contest and listening to the radio, I happened on this week's Ted Radio Hour episode, 'Why We Lie', which provided some insights into why people can be dishonest. Dan Ariely, a speaker in the show, has suggested some techniques that could be adapted to the contesting context to discourage cheating: before starting to operate, have the logging program ask the contester to explicitly promise that they will operate within the bounds the rules, and then before they submit their log, promise that their log follows all of the rules.

Elecraft Frequency Memory Editor Download

The WRTC 2018 qualification standings have been updated to reflect the 2016 ARRL DX Phone and CW final scores, the EU HF 2016 claimed scores, and 2016 IARU Region 1 Field Day final scores.

OPERATING TIP - Call Again Later

Dennis, N6KI, suggests that when running, when you can't copy a station despite multiple attempts, do not just abandon them by just calling CQ. Dennis suggests saying 'I can't copy you well right now, please call again later, or if my signal fades up.' He wants that station to know they are very important to him and not just dismiss them with a 'Sorry, no copy..CQ Contest!' He finds that most will come back due to that courtesy. 'This technique could really pay off when you are winning contests by a small margin of QSOs.'

TECHNICAL TOPICS AND INFORMATION

Elecraft Frequency Memory Editor Windows 10

Jim, KA2RVO, via the Elecraft mailing list, suggested the free online bookSignal Processing For Communications. I skimmed the introductory chapters, and it is interesting enough to add to my reading list, in my case as a potential good review of the mathematical underpinnings for DSP, and how they relate to practical real-world characteristics of communications channels. The book builds on the theory introduced in early chapters to ultimately discuss the design of a modem that provides 2400 baud communications over a telephone-grade channel.

Back in February, AMSAT announced it is seeking volunteers to assist with the technical details and development of Phase 4 'Five and Dime' ground terminals. The satellite will be using the 5 and 10 GHz bands, with an underlying digital transmission transport layer. The technical details are to be 'open source,' and the project's source files are kept on Github. It's interesting to read the weekly progress reports in that portion of the repository, and some of the source code for various DSP receivers that will eventually be posted may find crossover application for controlling skimmer hardware.

Orbital Angular Momentum (OAM) is a characteristic of electromagnetic waves that is starting to garner interest as a means to increase the number of signals using a single frequency. Individual signals with different OAM values can be distinguished and apparently do not interfere with one another, according to an article in IEEE Spectrum. (Ward, N0AX)

If you'd like maximum life from your lithium ion batteries, charge them slowly, and try not to continually charge them, according to this article in the New York Times.

VE7BQH maintains UHF/VHF antenna comparison spreadsheets. Recently they've been updated, and uploaded to W7GJ's website. They are also available with an HTML view via dxmaps.com. The tables include information on expected gain figures when stacking them in different common configurations.

Steve, K6OIK, as part of a presentation to the Foothills Amateur Radio Society, has prepared a paper entitled 'Amateur Radio Resources that Save Space'. His secret is to store radio-related books, articles, papers, and so on electronically, or take advantage of resources available online. He also updated a list of radio-useful software on the club's website.

CONVERSATION

Learning Opportunity

Dennis, N6KI, and Levi, KK6NON, operating as NX6T during the August NAQP Phone contest.

After I drove with my daughter from Seattle to San Diego late last week in advance of her junior year of college, I had the opportunity to participate in the NAQP contest as part of the M/2 effort of NX6T. Dennis, N6KI, coordinated the operators from the San Diego Contest Club (SDCC). The station location was on a hilltop, and originally the QTH of Nash, W6HCD (SK). Like many in our hobby, and especially those in southern California, Nash was an engineer, involved in the defense and aircraft industry and even space launches as the Launch Logistics Specialist for NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory. He was consistently generous to the SDCC.

Nash, W6HCD (SK), standing in front of an Atlas launch vehicle, fourth from left. His hilltop QTH location is used by the SDCC. (Photo courtesy of Dennis, N6KI)

Over the years the noise floor at his location increased, making it increasingly difficult to pick out the weak ones on the low bands. Small lot sizes and development of adjacent properties make low-noise receiving antennas a challenge.

The subject of 'How to be a Good Guest Operator' has been covered in past presentations at Contest University and beyond, and to me it boils down to using guest etiquette, with particular attention to operating as the host desires. I arrived on time, with everything I needed for self-maintenance: water and a sandwich. Dennis provided operator introductions, and a tour of the grounds, and a rundown of the equipment and antenna topology. While the Elecraft K3s were familiar to me, the logging software, Wintest, was not. Thankfully, most logging programs are similar in concept, and my N1MM skills translated well enough. I even learned the hand signals I needed to make or recognize when a new multiplier needs to be worked.

Elecraft Frequency Memory Editor Mac

Dennis expressed disappointment in the band conditions - ten meters wasn't opening, and fifteen was marginal. He put me on the 20 meter run station, where I thought the band was great, compared to recent not-as-great conditions in the Pacific Northwest.

Later in the day, the rate went down, and I was moved to the multiplier station. Dennis took the run position. There was time to have snippets of discussion between the contacts, and for us to pay more attention to one another's operating as we had to coordinate to get multipliers.

The exchange for NAQP is name and the state. At one point, I received the name 'Victor' as the name of the other operator, and I asked for a phonetic spelling, as I have friends who are named Victor and others named Viktor. After I completed the contact, Dennis told me to log what the name sounded like for phone, and to not waste time getting the exact spelling - the SSB log scoring process would accept alternative spellings. Between contacts, I expressed my incredulity that this would actually occur. Dennis was 'staunch in his conviction.' I didn't ask for any more spellings of names that had alternatives.

After the contest, I followed up with Bill, AC0W, NAQP SSB Contest Manager, with this particular example. His response was thoughtful, detailed, and insightful. I'll summarize, and any mistakes are mine, and mine alone. Note that this absolutely does NOT apply to the CW and RTTY NAQP contests, because in those events, you are copying the actual letters of the names in the exchange.

FOR PHONE NAQP ONLY, it turns out that for many common names, the log checking software will accept alternative spellings. For example, 'Brian' could be the operators name, but the receiving operator could log 'Bryan' and still be credited with the QSO.

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The alternate-name database is likely not exhaustive, and probably only covers common names. So if someone gives you a name that is uncommon, it's best to ask for a phonetic spelling.

Note that this only works for sound-alike alternatives. For example, if you know the other operator by their call, and their real name is 'Richard' but they're sending 'Dick,' you have to log 'Dick' to be credited for the contact. Log what is sent!

Sometimes in a contest, an operator will start out with one name, realize it's too long or too difficult to communicate, and then change their exchange in the middle of the contest. The log checking software can detect this situation, and QSOs made with the fickle station both before and after the change will be credited.

Remember, these are the guidelines for PHONE NAQP only, as I think understand them. Wow! Here's another example of the care, dedication, and thoroughness that a contest sponsor employs when scoring your logs. And, while Dennis was right, I was also a little right in the case of 'Victor' as it's likely not a common name.

That's all for this time. Remember to send contesting related stories, book reviews, tips, techniques, press releases, errata, schematics, club information, pictures, stories of improvements to your contest station, and blog links to contest-update@arrl.org

73, Brian N9ADG

25 Aug - 7 Sep

An expanded, downloadable version of QST's Contest Corral in PDF format is available. Check the sponsor's Web site for information on operating time restrictions and other instructions.

HF CONTESTS

CWops Mini-CWT Test, Aug 24, 1300z to Aug 24, 1400z, Aug 24, 1900z to Aug 24, 2000z, Aug 25, 0300z to Aug 25, 0400z; CW; Bands: 160, 80, 40, 20, 15, 10m; Member: Name + Member No., non-Member: Name + (state/province/country); Logs due: August 27. RSGB 80m Club Sprint, SSB, Aug 25, 1900z to Aug 25, 2000z; SSB; Bands: 80m Only; (other station's call) + (your call) + (serial no.) + (your name); Logs due: September 1. QRP Fox Hunt, Aug 26, 0100z to Aug 26, 0230z; CW; Bands: 20m Only; RST + (state/province/country) + name + power output; Logs due: August 27. NCCC RTTY Sprint, Aug 26, 0145z to Aug 26, 0215z; RTTY; Bands: (see rules); Serial No. + Name + QTH; Logs due: August 28. NCCC Sprint, Aug 26, 0230z to Aug 26, 0300z; CW; Bands: (see rules); Serial No. + Name + QTH; Logs due: August 28. Hawai`i QSO Party, Aug 27, 0400z to Aug 29, 0400z; CW, Phone, RTTY, PSK; Bands: 160, 80, 40, 20, 15, 10m; HI: RS(T) + QTH ID, non-HI W/VE: RS(T) + (state/province), DX: RS(T); Logs due: September 30. ALARA Contest, Aug 27, 0600z to Aug 28, 0559z; CW, Phone; Bands: 80, 40, 20m; ALARA: RS(T) + Serial No. + ALARA member + Name, non-ALARA: RS(T) + Serial No. + Name + (whether YL/OM/club station); Logs due: September 30. YO DX HF Contest, Aug 27, 1200z to Aug 28, 1200z; CW, SSB; Bands: 80, 40, 20, 15, 10m; YO: RS(T) + county, non-YO: RS(T) + Serial No.; Logs due: September 27. W/VE Islands QSO Party, Aug 27, 1200z to Aug 28, 0300z; CW, Phone, Digital; Bands: 160, 80, 40, 20, 15, 10, 6m; Islands: RS(T) + USI/CISA Island Designation, Non-Islands: RS(T) + (state/province/country); Logs due: September 15. SCC RTTY Championship, Aug 27, 1200z to Aug 28, 1159z; RTTY; Bands: 80, 40, 20, 15, 10m; RST + 4-digit year license first issued; Logs due: September 5. Keyman's Club of Japan Contest, Aug 27, 1200z to Aug 28, 1200z; CW; Bands: 160, 80, 40, 20, 15, 10, 6m; JA: RST + prefecture/district code, non-JA: RST + continent code; Logs due: September 29. Kansas QSO Party, Aug 27, 1400z to Aug 28, 0200z, Aug 28, 1400z to Aug 28, 2000z; CW, SSB, Digital; Bands: 80, 40, 20, 15, 10, 6m; KS: RS(T) + county, non-KS: RS(T) + (state/VE section/'DX'); Logs due: October 1. Ohio QSO Party, Aug 27, 1600z to Aug 28, 0400z; CW, SSB; Bands: 80, 40, 20, 15, 10m; OH: RS(T) + county, non-OH: RS(T) + (state/province/'DX'); Logs due: September 26. CVA DX Contest, SSB, Aug 27, 2100z to Aug 28, 2100z; SSB; Bands: 80, 40, 20, 15, 10m; RS + type/UF(see rules); Logs due: September 15. SARL HF CW Contest, Aug 28, 1300z to Aug 28, 1630z; CW; Bands: 80, 40, 20m; RST + Serial No.; Logs due: September 4. Phone Fray, Aug 31, 0230z to Aug 31, 0300z; SSB; Bands: 160, 80, 40, 20, 15m; NA: Name + (state/province/country), non-NA: Name; Logs due: September 2. CWops Mini-CWT Test, Aug 31, 1300z to Aug 31, 1400z, Aug 31, 1900z to Aug 31, 2000z, Sep 1, 0300z to Sep 1, 0400z; CW; Bands: 160, 80, 40, 20, 15, 10m; Member: Name + Member No., non-Member: Name + (state/province/country); Logs due: September 3. NRAU 10m Activity Contest, Sep 1, 1700z to Sep 1, 1800z (CW), Sep 1, 1800z to Sep 1, 1900z (SSB), Sep 1, 1900z to Sep 1, 2000z (FM), Sep 1, 2000z to Sep 1, 2100z (Dig); CW, SSB, FM, Digital; Bands: 10m Only; RS(T) + 6-character grid square; Logs due: September 15. QRP Fox Hunt, Sep 2, 0100z to Sep 2, 0230z; CW; Bands: 20m Only; RST + (state/province/country) + name + power output; Logs due: September 3. NCCC RTTY Sprint, Sep 2, 0145z to Sep 2, 0215z; RTTY; Bands: (see rules); Serial No. + Name + QTH; Logs due: September 4. NCCC Sprint, Sep 2, 0230z to Sep 2, 0300z; CW; Bands: (see rules); Serial No. + Name + QTH; Logs due: September 4. G3ZQS Memorial Straight Key Contest, Sep 2, 2300z to Sep 4, 2300z; CW; Bands: 80, 40, 20, 15, 10m; FISTS: RST + (state/province/country) + name + FISTS No., non-FISTS: RST + (state/province/country) + name + power; Logs due: October 4. Russian RTTY WW Contest, Sep 3, 0000z to Sep 3, 2359z; RTTY; Bands: 80, 40, 20, 15, 10m; RU: RST + 2-letter oblast, non-RU: RST + CQ Zone; Logs due: September 18. CWOps CW Open, Sep 3, 0000z to Sep 3, 0359z, Sep 3, 1200z to Sep 3, 1559z, Sep 3, 2000z to Sep 3, 2359z; CW; Bands: 160, 80, 40, 20, 15, 10m; Serial No. + Name; Logs due: September 17. All Asian DX Contest, Phone, Sep 3, 0000z to Sep 5, 0000z; Phone; Bands: 80, 40, 20, 15, 10m; RS + 2-digit age; Logs due: October 5. Wake-Up! QRP Sprint, Sep 3, 0600z to Sep 3, 0629z, Sep 3, 0630z to Sep 3, 0659z, Sep 3, 0700z to Sep 3, 0729z, Sep 3, 0730z to Sep 3, 0800z; CW; Bands: 40, 20m; RST + Serial No. + suffix of previous QSO ('QRP' for 1st QSO); Logs due: September 10. RSGB SSB Field Day, Sep 3, 1300z to Sep 4, 1300z; SSB; Bands: 80, 40, 20, 15, 10m; RS + Serial No.; Logs due: September 12. IARU Region 1 Field Day, SSB, Sep 3, 1300z to Sep 4, 1259z; SSB; Bands: 160, 80, 40, 20, 15, 10m; RST + Serial No.; Logs due: September 30. AGCW Straight Key Party, Sep 3, 1300z to Sep 3, 1600z; CW; Bands: 40m Only; AGCW: RST + Serial No. + '/' + Class + '/' + Name + '/' + Age; Logs due: September 30. Colorado QSO Party, Sep 3, 1300z to Sep 4, 0400z; CW, Phone, Digital; Bands: 160, 80, 40, 20, 15, 10, VHF/UHF; CO: Name + county, W/VE: Name + (state/province), DX: Name + DXCC prefix; Logs due: October 1. PODXS 070 Club Jay Hudak Memorial 80m Sprint, Sep 3, 2000z to Sep 4, 2000z; PSK31; Bands: 80m Only; RST + (state/province/country); Logs due: September 17. DARC 10-Meter Digital Contest, Sep 4, 1100z to Sep 4, 1700z; RTTY, Amtor, Clover, PSK31, Pactor; Bands: 10m Only; RST + Serial No.; Logs due: September 19. Tennessee QSO Party, Sep 4, 1800z to Sep 5, 0300z; CW, Phone, Digital; Bands: 160, 80, 40, 20, 15, 10, VHF/UHF; TN: RS(T) + county, non-TN: RS(T) + (state/province/country); Logs due: October 5. MI QRP Labor Day CW Sprint, Sep 5, 2300z to Sep 6, 0300z; CW; Bands: 160, 80, 40, 20, 15, 10, 6m; RST + (state/province/country) + (member no./power output); Logs due: September 19. ARS Spartan Sprint, Sep 6, 0100z to Sep 6, 0300z; CW; Bands: 80, 40, 20, 15, 10m; RST + (state/province/country) + Power; Logs due: September 8. Phone Fray, Sep 7, 0230z to Sep 7, 0300z; SSB; Bands: 160, 80, 40, 20, 15m; NA: Name + (state/province/country), non-NA: Name; Logs due: September 9. CWops Mini-CWT Test, Sep 7, 1300z to Sep 7, 1400z, Sep 7, 1900z to Sep 7, 2000z, Sep 8, 0300z to Sep 8, 0400z; CW; Bands: 160, 80, 40, 20, 15, 10m; Member: Name + Member No., non-Member: Name + (state/province/country); Logs due: September 10. UKEICC 80m Contest, Sep 7, 2000z to Sep 7, 2100z; CW; Bands: 80m Only; 4-Character grid square; Logs due: September 7.

VHF+ CONTESTS

WAB 144 MHz QRO Phone, Sep 4, 1000z to Sep 4, 1400z; SSB; Bands: 2m Only; British Isles: RS + serial no. + WAB square, Other: RS + serial no. + country; Logs due: September 25.

See W/VE Islands QSO Party, Keyman's Club of Japan Contest, Kansas QSO Party, Colorado QSO Party, Tennessee QSO Party, MI QRP Labor Day CW Sprint above.

LOG DUE DATES

Elecraft Frequency Memory Editor Reviews

August 26, 2016

August 27, 2016

August 28, 2016

August 29, 2016

August 31, 2016

September 1, 2016

September 3, 2016

September 5, 2016

September 6, 2016

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[anthonyisright]

Rolling Stones Albums, Rated, pt. 1

Aggressively subjective rating scale explained here. I’m only reviewing the American discography, as I’m more likely to wander across these track orders in a used record bin.

England’s Newest Hitmakers (1964) 8 12X5 (1964) 7 The Rolling Stones, Now! (1965) 8 Out Of Our Heads (1965) 7 December’s Children (And Everybody’s) (1965) 7 Big Hits (High Tide And Green Grass) (1966) 8 Aftermath (1966) 7 Got Live If You Want It! (1966) 5 Between The Buttons (1967) 6 Flowers (1967) 7 Their Satanic Majesties Request (1967) 7 Beggars Banquet (1968) 9 Through The Past, Darkly (Big Hits, Vol. 2) (1969) 8 Let It Bleed (1969) 9 Get Yer Ya-Ya’s Out! (1970) 6 Sticky Fingers (1971) 6 Hot Rocks 1964-1971 (1971) 6 More Hot Rocks (Big Hits & Fazed Cookies) (1972) 6 Exile On Main St (1972) 9 Goats Head Soup (1973) 5

The Rolling Stones were five kids from outside London who would mail-order albums from Chicago, play the songs at clubs, get paid and buy more. Though hard-R&B purists compared to those four kids from Liverpool, they still had cute outfits, cute haircuts and you could still dance to them. Mick Jagger, singer, was hammier and more openly erotic than any of the Beatles. Keith Richards, rhythm guitarist, was cooler. Brian Jones, lead guitarist, was also cooler (and blond). England’s Newest Hitmakers! captures their early enthusiasm, save for “Tell Me,” a juvenile original attempt at balladry that’s an eye-rolling minute longer than everything else on here (it was also their first US Top 40). 12x5 features covers both more definitive (“Time Is On My Side,” “It’s All Over Now”) and less (“Under The Boardwalk”). Now! is the party band’s last stand, as scathing, self-penned singles like “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction” and “Get Off Of My Cloud” began to critically & commercially outshine their co-opts from the black hit parade. Big Hits (High Tides And Green Grass) pulls together their most potent early originals and covers, “Tell Me” buried at the bottom of side one.

Aftermath is considered a major breakthrough due to Mick & Keith writing all the material and Brian experimenting with sitars & marimbas and shit. Maybe if Mick wasn’t curious to see how much shit he could talk about women without cutting into his sex life (answer: a LOT), I might be more forgiving of the filler and trend-hopping. Got Live If You Want It! is indeed a live album if you want it. The high-strung Between The Buttons announces that they’ve heard Bob Dylan and taken LSD, but the best song is one of two jagged hops about words that rhyme with “shun.” Flowers, a grab-bag of UK album tracks and outtakes, is about as (in)consistent as anything else from this time, flinging from acoustic explorations of post-adolescent ennui like “Sittin On A Fence” to a humiliating cover of “My Girl.” The psychedelic carnival Their Satanic Majesty’s Request isn’t particularly worse than the preceding albums, but between the mounds of mellotron, insipid jams and bassist Bill Wyman getting past security for a song of his own, it was undeniable that the Stones were now following rather than leading.

Fixing that were producer/groove pocket enthusiast Jimmy Miller and Keith Richards, multi-tracking his strums and slides to new heights as Brian Jones slowly marimbas off the scene (and soon the planet). Mick Jagger is still a self-impressed shithead on Beggars Banquet, but the fuller sound inspires richer fantasies; his meta-Dylan epics, hillbilly jokes and cocksman crowing achieve a grandeur both Dionysian and well-read. Through The Past, Darkly (Big Hits Vol. 2) culls the better moments building up to this breakthrough and adds “Jumpin Jack Flash,” the droning strut of a single that announced their de-flowering. I wish the chronology wasn’t so muddled (the ’68 lightbulb keeps flicking on and off), but the US version at least sticks to ’66 and later, cutting the UK’s ’64 Arthur Alexander cover. If I have to hear “Ruby Tuesday” - a moony pixie dream mourning that makes me respect “Sweet Caroline” by default (no flute!) - this is where I’ll do it.

Let It Bleed confirms the Beggars sound as the new normal. Mick preens over the twang and chug, throwing doomsday and decadence in our faces with a giddy confidence that shook Don McLean and anyone else who remembered the Crickets. Flaunting their racial & sexual privilege, reveling in roots that weren’t really theirs, Bleed is blues-based “rock” at its best and worst, demanding you give them their due or dismiss the genre entirely. I’m docking it a point because life could still lead me to the latter option (Trump plays this shit at rallies, after all). Get Yer Ya-Yas Out!, released after the tragic shitshow that was the Altamont free festival and initially loaded with related import, is now another live album if you want it.

Everyone has their own bridge too far with these jerks - I won’t pretend to know objectively when the irony and indulgence goes from audaciously gauche to merely gross. But Mick J’s slavedriver metaphors cross my personal line on Sticky Fingers’ opening song, and new hire Mick T’s Santana-esque soloing crosses it on the longest. The rest is good-to-great blues-based arena rock, the weathered stars determined to push forth despite the horrors of Altamont and Allan Klein (the ex-manager who somehow got the rights to their entire sixties catalog as a parting gift). Toss the jam and change the “Brown Sugar” lyrics - as Mick does live - and it’s *all* good-to-great blues-based arena rock. But even without those bummers, it’d be hard for me to get too excited about the Stones pushing forth with blues-based arena rock - that’s a cheap commodity today. I wish the languid anthem “Sway” was an A-side compilation staple, though.

(Speaking of compilations, Hot Rocks is a popular sum-up of the era they accidentally sold to Klein, too succinct at 21 songs. More Hot Rocks tries to fill in the cracks with two dozen or so more, including a side’s worth of early obscurities. It’s more charming but still superfluous.)

Sticky Fingers set a template they could follow until…well, we’re still waiting to find out. Thankfully, they were initially too zonked to stick to it. Instead, these nodding tax evaders and their pals jammed and tracked and jammed and tracked in a French castle, each song’s line-up depending on who could make it in that day, with yet more overdubs thrown atop in LA. Exile On Main St. is a mix of diamond and rough they’d never be able to recreate - not the least because Jagger doesn’t get what the big deal is with this samey-sounding jamboree. I too prefer my classics short, hit-packed and sweet, but this is four luxurious sides of the Stonesiest Stones that ever Stoned: a shining swamp of sound, rich lyrical detail peeking out under the groove. Long, low on hits, but it’s hard to beat in the sweet department. 

Despite the relative anti-hype, Goats Head Soup isn’t a rebuke of the Exile aesthetic so much as an attempt by Mick to give its jammy warmth a little focus (plus a hit ballad about another girl they’re gonna miss). The subtly banal outcome doesn’t throw the baby out with the bathwater, so much as make one ponder the magic in that bathwater. Plenty of Americans went crazy for the ballad, and some fans still get excited about the album’s coda, where they finally say “fuck” a lot. Coming up in pt. 2: I decide whether I can give an 8 to an album with “Far Away Eyes” on it.

[deepseacritter]

Dueling Commanders

Characters: CC-3636 | Wolffe, CC-2224 | Cody, Plo Koon, Obi-wan Kenobi, Mace Windu (brief mention)

Summary: AU where the Clone War is over, no Order 66. Two commanders face off in a *friendly* lightsaber duel. Even the Jedi have bets going on this fight.

Warning: Violence and some bloody injuries

 **I do not write action scenes, so this was…fun? Sure, fun. This was based off of a post I wrote a few weeks about about my Clone AU headcanons. 

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Jedi temple grounds hadn’t been this loud since the end of the war, and they definitely had never been so busy. The gardens had been temporarily transformed into an arena, with an ever-growing crowd filling up the stadium seating.  Even stranger still was the fact that the majority of the crowd was made up of clones. A few members of the council had wanted the event to remain a private Jedi affair and argued that allowing non-Jedi, allowing clones, onto temple grounds amounted to yet another scandal, but they had been soundly outvoted. Those who maintained close ties to their former soldiers wanted them here, watching as two former clone commanders battled it out for pride and glory.

----------

There had been a huge uproar in the order when Plo “Jedi council be damned” Koon actually adopted Wolffe; legally made the clone his son and heir. There was some disagreement in the council when Plo announced he was teaching his son how to wield a lightsaber, but since no one was making a fuss about Kenobi training Cody, Plo ignored the naysayers. Giving preferential treatment to one clone commander over another was not acceptable. If his son wanted to learn, he would teach him.

Wolffe had proven to be an adept student, as proficient with the lightsaber as he had been with any other weapon. Before he had always used blasters to channel his energy, utterly destroying targets on bad days. Now Wolffe was learning to channel that anger into a different form of combat.  He excelled in form VII, which made use of the strength and aggression. It was actually quite fun for Plo, who had not been able to train much with form VII himself due to its darker nature. A Jedi could be turned to the dark side by form VII, but an angry clone commander? No that was a perfect match.

Meanwhile, Kenobi had been training with Cody, and the commander had been quick to master lightsaber basic combat forms. Master Yoda had requested Cody begin teaching the younglings about form basics, if that was something he wanted. Having such an important role gave Cody a second purpose in life, and one that was finally of his choosing.

Similar to his former general, Cody was adept at fast and defensive movements.  Everything was about finesse, and a bit of flair. The downside to all of this was that Kenobi’s high level of sass and bravado had clearly transferred over to Cody, which was both endearing and entertaining. Cody joked that he might not have the same glorious locks as his former general, but at least he had the same sense of style…which usually involved gracefully throwing off his robe whenever possible.

Wolffe was not impressed. Cody, Kenobi’s golden boy, was the same little shit that he had always been, now just louder and even more annoying. All that attention was overinflating Cody’s ego, and Wolffe had enough. He hadn’t set out to challenge Cody to a duel, but it happened. In the heat of the moment, all Wolffe wanted was to knock that smug smile off of Cody’s face. There was absolutely no backing down, and they were both too stubborn to refuse anyway. So here they both were, in front of their men and the Jedi, ready to test their new-found skills.

----------

Gambling typically was frowned upon in the order, but almost everyone seemed to have at least a few credits down on this fight. Odds were definitely in Cody’s favor. He had been training with Kenobi and sparring with Skywalker, and had been deemed proficient enough to introduce lightsaber combat to future generations of Jedi. Wolffe, on the other hand, had been training in seclusion with Plo. No one really knew what to expect of the 104th commander, so it just didn’t seem like a wise move to bet on him.

Among the clones, Wolffe was the hands-down favorite to win. They all liked Cody, but Wolffe…Wolffe had torn the heads off of more battle droids than any of them could count. Most of them wouldn’t face Wolffe if he was armed with a toothpick…but a lightsaber? Cody should have considered himself lucky the fight wasn’t to the death.

---------

A hush fell over the crowd as the two combatants entered the fighting arena. They walked to a designated center point, and faced each other. Cody had dressed in robes he must have gotten from Obi-wan, of course. Wolffe simply wore his blacks. They were comfortable, and he had spent most of his life wearing them, so it was only fitting he wear them now.

Mater Windu met them, giving them the rules of the fight. The goal was to disarm your opponent, dismemberment was frowned upon. They were now trained swordsmen, so there was no excuse for uncivilized behavior. The arena grounds could be utilized as needed, but it would be preferable if they could stay out of the spectator seating area. No aid could be given by others. First man to disarm his opponent will be the winner. Both commanders nodded in agreement to the terms, and stepped apart to prepare for the fight.

Cody fell back into the classic Soresu opening stance Kenobi had taught him, body turned sideways with his lightsaber held high and left arm outstretched, hand pointing at Wolffe. The 104th commander took a small step back on his right leg, stable with just enough of a base to be mobile in a hurry if needed. Two hands gripped the hilt of his lightsaber, which he held slightly right of center. Both men stared, waiting for the signal to begin. Not that Cody needed a signal to start running his mouth…

“You know Wolffe, you should put that thing down before you get hurt. It would be shame if you lost your good eye.”

Wolffe stayed silent.

“What’s wrong? Normally you’re all bark and no bite, but right now you’re not even barking.” Cody was trying to get a rise out of him.

“I guess Plo’s been taking you to obedience classes. When you graduate, and you’ve been a good boy, do you get a little medal to hang on your collar?”

Wolffe rocked his head side-to-side, trying to ease the tension in his neck. Yes, he was getting angry…but now he had a way to channel that anger.

WIndu signaled the start of the fight. There was a three second hesitation before Cody and Wolffe both jumped forward at each other. Cody swung down at Wolffe’s left leg, causing the clone to have to quickly lunge low to the block the attack. The move was a fake out, and Cody quickly brought the lightsaber up from the block and slashed downward on top of Wolffe, who had dropped on one knee on Cody’s first swing. Wolffe reacted quickly enough, bring his lightsaber a scant inch or two above his head to stop the attack.

With their lightsabers locked overhead, Wolffe was at a disadvantage and had few options to escape the increasing pressure from above. His arms started to bend backwards, bringing the blades dangerously close to his scalp. With a sudden burst of strength, he leapt to his feet, catching Cody off guard and sending him fumbling back several steps. Wolfe continued his forward momentum and charged. Cody defended with three quick swings –right low, left high, right high—which Wolffe parried as he attempted to sidestep around to the left of the commander. Cody had anticipated a different move, and turned in the wrong direction and now had his back to Wolffe. Quickly the 212th commander spun around. As he did so, Wolffe popped him in the face with the pommel of his lightsaber. Definitely what could be classified as an “uncivilized” move, but it felt good to Wolffe.

A collective gasp arose from the crowd as Cody raised his head, with what was clearly a very broken nose and split lip. He cursed as he tried to wipe away the blood dripping from his face and took a wild swing at Wolffe. The blade made contact with Wolffe’s left shoulder, burning away the fabric of his blacks and biting into his skin. Twisting his torso, and moving his lightsaber perpendicular to Cody’s, Wolffe tied to push back to create space and force the blade out from the meat of his shoulder. Feeling the resistance, Cody changed up and took a second swing at Wolffe’s right side. The sudden change forced Wolffe to go down and roll quickly on his newly injured left shoulder to escape the blow. Cody followed with a couple swings, successfully hitting Wolffe in the leg with one as he tried to roll. Once again, the blade sliced deep into Wolffe’s flesh, and he hobbled as he got up and tried to put pressure on his leg. That last move had the 104th commander seething.

So much for the disarming only rule.

It was one thing to take a punch (or pommel) to the face -- that was a normal tactic for them -- but it was something else to strike an opponent when he was down in what was supposed to be a mostly fair fight. Cody was honestly trying to injure Wolffe now. All that fancy lightsaber training and here they were, just beating the crap out of each other like usual. He found sure footing and faced Cody.

The pair once again paused to stare each other down. Both men were breathing heavily and sweating, Wolffe more so in his blacks and from having to roll around on the dirt-covered floor. His shoulder and leg bled freely, and he could feel blood soak into his clothing. He had never wanted to hurt Cody so much as he did right now. Looking into the eyes of his opponent, he could tell Cody felt the same. Wolffe knew he had to end the fight and soon, if he didn’t one of them was going to end up missing a limb or two.

Channel your anger into something you can control. Make it your strength. Let it pass from you to your weapon. With each swing, let the anger leave you. That’s what Plo had told him. It sounded odd, coming from a Jedi, but it had helped Wolffe before. He was not a Jedi, he wasn’t light side or dark side. He was just a man, a clone…he was a kriffing commander who deserved some damn respect, Cody!

With that thought, Wolffe made his final charge. He used every bit of his strength to launch a furious barrage of swings at Cody, each with as much force and power as the last. There was no pause, no time to rest, as Cody desperately fought to hold his ground. He was being soundly beaten back, and had to keep taking defensive steps backwards as Wolffe mercilessly hacked away at him. A murmur ran through the crowd as Cody kept retreating.

The 212th commander was…losing?

The assault ended when Wolffe’s blade connected with the emitter of Cody’s lightsaber, destroying the other commander’s blade. The force knocked the broken saber out of his hand, and Cody fell back hard onto the ground. Wolffe held him down with a foot to the chest, and leaned over, bringing his lightsaber to Cody’s throat.

“I win, vod.” The words came out as a deep growl, and they were the first words Wolffe had actually spoken that day. The look of surprised defeat on Cody’s face melted into laughter.

----------

Plo Koon had jumped up immediately when Wolffe had knocked down his opponent, and was now gleefully clapping as he shouted out, “Well done, my son!”  Obi-wan sat in stunned silence, along with most of the other Jedi. On the arena floor, spattered with blood and sweat, Cody was laughing like a fool and Wolfe was genuinely smiling.  The rest of the crowd, every single clone trooper, erupted into a deafening roar as Wolffe held out a hand to his brother and helped Cody to his feet.  

[awhilesince]

Saturday, 6 December 1828

5 1/2

11 3/4

at my desk at 6 1/2, and reading Miller’s gardener’s dictionary Till 8 10/60 articles Luereus, Castanea Land, Gramen ploughing, Sorbus, Luick, Osculus, – Breakfast at 8 10/60 – 

went out at 9 – from then to 4 (came home while the men were at dinner) in the Cunnery plantation – found William Keighley junior just come – had him cutting down the upper Cunnery plantation hedge felling a few firs at the other end of the plantation, and the old black Italian poplar and valuing the 13 sycamores Mosey felled in the Clough Till about 4 1/2 about 66 feet of the sycamores at 1/4 per foot about 10 feet of wood in the poplar at 1/6, but a little hollow at the bottom so called it 14/. George Naylor came to me to me in the morning to ask to buy a few larches – found out they were for Womersley to build a shed of some sort at his stone quarry for 2 delvers soon afterwards came and chose out 6 larches at 1/3 = 716 and 2 ditto at 5/. = 10/. William K– (Keighley) to get me 2 bushes of acorns from Studley near Ripon – my intention to plant them around the young trees in the Coneyry wood – the 2 gardeners planting and helping to clear away – John and William and the horses charging away and snigging trees for Mosey and his man to saw up into railing –said William K– (Keighley) they reckon 18 feet of wood to yield a pack of bark – the allowance made for bark in measuring wood mentioned in Hoppus, it is not the Custom to make in Yorkshire – George Naylor appointed surveyor of the high ways in Southowram – 

I am brought me about 10 a letter 3 pages and the ends from Mrs Barlow (Paris) – is she besides herself 

‘anything relating to you brings on the fever ….. I think it right to say that I think it is more than my life is worth for me to remain here and to see you …. it would be very material to my health if you could remain away until I could be clear off in the spring …. for me to be seeking a new place of abode at this sseason of the year is more than I can undertake perhaps in my delicate state and yet in it better I should do so than witness your return here I shall tell Mrs S Barlow not to come and I can leave the field open to you early in the spring ….. if without too much inconvenience to yourself you could lengthen your absence it is the last favour I shall ever ask of you and an early answer would afford great relief to a suffering invalid   your poor aunt with tears begs to me to remain to triumph over Madame de Rosny alas she little knows the pearl beyond all price is gone lost forever she little knows that Madame de Rosny could say of her niece Miss Lister of Shibden that she feared from the character given her by Madame de Boive (Boyve) that her being under her roof might increase the ill fame her own character already possessed   good god and is it to such a none you have fallen from the path ….. am I to believe her statements true   and is your fall complete   oh how I have struggled to avert this believe me on my word I regret nothing for myself the agony is to have seen and perhaps again to see your degradation I feel no jealousy no malice no selfish motive as far as I am concerned it must be the same to me to whom you prostrate yourself’   then anxiety for my return to the paths of virtue invokes the blessings of heaven upon me and hopes I may never have one days bitterness as the many I am doomed to endure but I shall ever pray for you Anne my own dear lost one  oh good god support me in this ssevere trial oh how I loved honour and virtue and wished to see you enshrined in them I have still one consolation that if your good uncle could see the passing here below that he could never condemn me in any advice I have ventured to give you’  when well goes to see my aunt for her own sake   ‘she says you are going to remain in Paris two years Madame de Rosny had private conversations with Madame de Boive (Boyve) before I went to England they related to you the countess said she so pressingly asked her to call she could not refuse her   I did not mention any this gout of malice Anne but I think it my duty to point out that your new favorite is not blessed with much discretion and that I think it right to warn you to it cut of this I ssupose you have begun to be sensible that you will teach her to be more so for your own sake   a young Englishman  she tried for after you were gone and it quite turned her head because he was richer but he has cut her   she told Ferdinande her husband was much better with the Marquis Nicolai than with you who were not she thought ‘‘riche’’ 

the woman wont go to her when Mrs B- (Barlow) goes – Dr Tupper has not yet made up his mind about the apartment – the Senés anxious to keep such good tenants, and have carpeted my bedroom, Mrs B– (Barlow) thinking Miss MacL– (MacLean) would like it better –

(left margin: all emphasis dashes, marked in the original are always dotted, by me instead of lines under matter)

plenty of money to supply my aunt with – kept her bed since last week, and has not seen her ‘nor does she know I am writing; but I thought the fever might abate after this letter was written, and which hung upon my mind – would willingly die but for Jane 

‘but I must stay and endure all that my beloved god ordains do not be afraid that I shall be at or ment to you or trouble you in future   no doubt this is the last request I shall ever make you and it is to enable Jane to remain here this winter who very unwillingly gives up Paris oh Anne how happily we could have remained together if …. But it was decreed we should part   you love eclat to court the attention of the stranger and the far away (quoted from my last) and I shall soon be for gotten oh that I could as easily forget you   but I have been forgotten and put aside since last ….. this time twelve month you were still all you all to be  and I gloried in you  we took sacrament together on the twenty eighth of this month and I thought it would render our friendship still more sacred Anne are you happier now if you wish me to burn your next letter trust me to do it if it so requested oh I remember how you looked after your residence in Rue Matignon when you made believe to be in your sore throat   oh horror of horrors I rave again    I bear you no ill will my wound is too deep for that filled with poignant and deep sorrow bless you may the almighty bless you may I never see you again and may you find one as faithfully devoted as’ …. I cannot make it out – ‘how much I could tell you but will not plague you any more nor am I able to go through the horrible task    I should have been glad to have been spared the asking you to prolong your stay and at any other time I should have been off without saying a word    excuse this letter if I have said aught to offend you I intended it not cut my peace is gone and I know not what I write   

M. Touchon’s apparatus for extracting the human calculus, much approved by Sir Astley Cooper – was to have operated (was sent for) upon a Mr Jordan ‘but by the time  he arrived Mr J– (Jordan) was too ill to submit to it’ – ‘the countess says you delighted in such conversations as I blush to hear – teach her discretion if you can and not to boast so much of your favours sso publicly’ – It seems my ‘aunt is remarably well’ – is she be sides herself  mused a few minutes as I stood by William Keighley cutting down the upper Cunnery plantation hedge but soon turned to him and occupied myself with what I was about just saying within myself is she mad   to quarrel with the little countess now would never do true or not as this I must be wary and mind what I am about my heart is not interested my head will have fairer play but shall I leave Paris and thus get out of it all would Dijon do for us for my aunt may indeed live these dozen years  came home when the men went to dinner and from one to two and a quarter no from    

from 12 50/60 to 2 10/60 at my desk – and wrote what I thought of writing and sending in the evening to Mrs B– (Barlow) in answer to her tirade – at 2 10/60 went back to the plantation staid there perhaps near 1/2 hour after William K– (Keighley) went then went down to the bottom of the walk – their ashes partly washed away by a flush of water from Charles Howarth’s – must this stopt – then measuring to see how much railing it would take to rail off the whole of Lower brook ing wood and the walk above (in Lower brook Ing) anew – about 200 yards in length – 

came in at 5 20/60 – dressed – Dinner at 6 1/4 – came upstairs at 6 55/60 (had my wine afterwards) and from then to 7 55/60 wrote and sent by John to

‘Madame Madame Barlow, Rue des Champs Elysées No. 6, Paris’ the following 2 pages with 4 or 5 lines on the end of the other side to my aunt – Shibden Saturday evening 6 December 1828. Maria! I have been out all day, and have just got your letter – my heart aches more than perhaps you think, but would ache still more were it not supported by a conscience comparatively void of offence – I have neither time nor spirit to enter into detail – my letter, to save the next mail, must be in the posting - office in an hour; and I have ordered the servant to have his horse standing ready in the stable – at all rates, I lose not a moment in complying with your request to write as soon as I can – you have always found me at least ready to oblige you to the utmost of my poor ability; and on this, surely, not when scandal can shake your faith – if after your receipt of these few hurried lines, you still wish me not to return, I will do all I can to oblige you in this, also – But I give you my word of honour, you are mistaken –Madame G– (Galvani) is, at this moment, forcibly recalled to my mind, whom I have heard more than once observe, that the French not only tell all they know, but much more – not only count over what they have received, but  boast of what they have not – to me considered individually and singly, all this is unimportant: – to me considered collectively and in connection with others, it has an importance exactly equal to the credit given to it by those whose good opinion and regard I value – Perhaps, Maria, I might  justly complain to find myself so precipitately condemned unheard – Presumptive evidence, however plausible, should always be received with caution; and even the positive assertion of those whose veracity we have in any instance been known to doubt, should be well examined, and well weighed, before we attempt to fix on it the stamp of truth – But if you continue to do me the injustice you do me at present, I shall not blame your heart for it; and this at least, will shed one little beam of light along the darksome cloud that you have thrown around me – If you still desire my not returning to Paris till you are gone, (and may I entreat you to spare me, as soon as you can, at least the misery of suspense) I will do my utmost to manage it, and will take all the care in my power never to intrude upon you more – my constant prayer will be for your happiness – and may you live to discover that your esteem has not been deservedly forfeited by your ever steadily and sincerely affectionate friend AL (Anne Lister) – will you be good enough to send the 3 or 4 following lines to my aunt – Shibden Saturday evening 6 December 1828. my dear aunt   I am in a hurry to send off my letter to Mrs B– (Barlow) I find Dr T– Tupper can still give no decided answer – without further hesitation, lose no time in taking our present apartment for 3 months longer – It delights us to hear such continued good accounts of you – very busy – I shall stay over the rent-day, at all rates – all quite well – ever most affectionately yours AL (Anne Lister) – my father and Marian send their love’ – 

went downstairs at 7 55/60 and had my wine – then asleep on the sofa above an hour, till 10 – then talking about my aunt’s return to Shibden (my father always wishes it and will see no objection – no difficulties in the way), the difference it would make to all parties, servants etc. etc. and came upstairs at 10 40/60 – then till 11 wrote (all but the 2 first lines) of the first 13 lines of today, etc. Highish wind now at 11 p.m. – Very fine day –

(SH:7/ML/E/11/0102) (SH:7/ML/E/11/0103) (SH:7/ML/E/11/0104)

https://www.catalogue.wyjs.org.uk/CalmView/Record.aspx?src=CalmView.Catalog&id=CC00001%2f7%2f9%2f6%2f11%2f102&pos=1

https://www.catalogue.wyjs.org.uk/CalmView/Record.aspx?src=CalmView.Catalog&id=CC00001%2f7%2f9%2f6%2f11%2f103&pos=1

https://www.catalogue.wyjs.org.uk/CalmView/Record.aspx?src=CalmView.Catalog&id=CC00001%2f7%2f9%2f6%2f11%2f105&pos=1

[svtmafia]

Tag Game ☕☕

Rules: answer these 85 statements and tag 20 people

I was really contemplating on doing this but it couldn’t hurt, right? Thank you @jhopehasmyheart for tagging me/liking my blog! I enjoy yours as well^^

That being said I don’t really have anyone to tag because idonttalktoanyone. So I’m just gonna say if you wanna do this, go for it; I officially tag you!

Just before I start, I might be taking a small break soon, since I’m out of requests and my fics have been getting bad. I wanna come back better so I’m sorry for whenever that happens;;

Here we go:

1) drink: strawberry & banana smoothie


2) phone call: my grandma ;’)

3) text message: thanking someone for liking my art

4) song you listened to: Red Flavor by Red Velvet


5) time you cried: today bc of exo’s beauty

6) dated someone twice: ,yes

7) kissed someone and regretted it: lol a kiss, what is that?


8) been cheated on: never happened to me luckily

9) lost someone special: mmmm no


10) been depressed: I'm always trying to stay positive^^

11) gotten drunk and thrown up: no alcohol here

3 FAVORITE COLORS (not in any order)

12) pink


13) red


14) orange

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU

15) made new friends: no, I'm afraid of speaking to people

16) fallen out of love: maybe kinda

17) laughed until you cried: like one a week


18) found out someone was talking about you: of course

19) met someone who changed you: not yet : )

20) found out who your friends are: I hope so

21) kissed someone on your Facebook list: still, what’s a kiss? :’)

GENERAL

22) how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: almost all of them

23) do you have any pets: currently no

24) do you want to change your name: definitely


25) what did you do for your last birthday: went roller-skating with friends

26) what time did you wake up: around 8

27) what were you doing at midnight last night: writing a terrible Jeonghan fic!


28) name something you can’t wait for: cutting my hair

29) when was the last time you saw your mom: ten minutes a go

31) what are you listening to right now: Signal by Twice

32) have you ever talked to a person named tom: yeah he was in my class in primary and actually lives behind me


33) something that is getting on your nerves: people who can’t get along

34) most visited website: tumblr/youtube

35) hair colour: well- brown, red, orange, blonde, and purple bc of a bad dye job.

36) long or short hair: long but it’ll be real short soon!


37) do you have a crush on someone: I don't have anyone to have a crush on oops


38) what do you like about yourself: somedays I like everything, other days I like nothing

40) blood type: dunno

41) nickname: tater tot


42) relationship status: Sexy, Free, and Single (sorry I love suju too much)


43) zodiac: aquarius

44) pronouns: she/her 


45) favourite tv show: I'm basic so grey’s anatomy


46) tattoos: I’ll have some soon ;)

47) right or left handed: right


48) surgery: none yet

50) sport: soccer or softball

51) vacation: I don’t go on vacations but I wanna go to s o many places

52) pair of trainers: I only wear converse and flip flops whoops

MORE GENERAL

53) eating: nothinggg

54) drinking: water 


55) I’m about to: post a fanfic then write more


56) waiting for: nct dream’s comeback

57) want: super junior’s comeback


58) get married: probably I don't know

59) career: no idea and it’s stressing me out

WHICH IS BETTER

60) hugs or kisses: I'm awkward for both^^

61) lips or eyes: eyes

62) shorter or taller: taller

63) older or younger: usually older but I don't care much

64) nice arms or nice stomach: stomach


65) hook up or relationship: relationship

66) troublemaker or hesitant: a troublemaker to counter my hesitant-ness

HAVE YOU EVER

67) kissed a stranger: nope


68) drank hard liquor: neverr


69) lost glasses/contact lenses: quite often


70) turned someone down: it hurts me to do so but yes

71) sex on the first date: my dates usually consist of other people being there so n o

72) broken someone’s heart: probably oops

73) had your heart broken: I used to say I did but not really


74) been arrested: haha no


75) cried when someone died: every time

76) fallen for a friend: h a ha ye a h

DO YOU BELIEVE IN

77) yourself: mostly

78) miracles: I try

79) love at first sight: in fanfics, yes.

80) santa claus: -no


81) kiss on the first date: it wouldn't hurt ;)


82) angels: ye

OTHER

84) eye colour: green

85) favourite movie: Grease!!

[pherryt]

Omg I asked u on the wrong blog haha Well if u didn't already see it 4, 12, 18

LOL! that’s okay - the original post i made went to the wrong blog this morning and then i linked directly TO that one so, makes sense to me :D

4 How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

Okay, I had to list them out to count them because my concentration is still crap. OOPS!

Order of Protection and Route 66 (the only 2 in public right now) 

DCBB, CBB Sequel, ABO Fic, Saving Benny, Ice and Snow, Expansion of my Destiel Sci fi ficlet (these are the ones highest up on the food chain and most already have a signficant amount of work done on them compared to the rest of the list)

SPN/Scooby crossover, Cop!Dean/Emt!Cas, some timestamps for Scared to Act, Spirk or McKirk (all ideas i'd like to get around to eventually. All in various stages)

SPN Prank Wars, Team Free Will meets itself - aka boy versions meets girl versions,  ElfQuest/Valdemar Crossover, Third Installment of the Power Pack/Doctor Who Crossover (this time, SPN joins in) - All of these (and Saving Benny from above actually) are from my kids own headcanons and ideas and are on the request list.

Ah... I think that makes 16? This doesn't count any vague, short ficlets i've been thinking of doing, or the expansion of one of the short stories i made a while ago...

12 Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

Um...y'know, i don't think so? I have FAVORITE episodes, and I like to draw from a bunch of them - even when working on AU's if I can manage a reference and it makes sense - but I don't think i have a specific one that influences or inspires me in any way.

18 Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

I don't formally use any tools. Most of my short stories i wing it, and a lot of my bigger stories had the same thing happen.

i get in a groove and i just let it go. when the groove dies down and i might have trouble with moving on, then i'll list out a bunch of milestones as bullet points i wanna hit. if i'm still having trouble, then i'll pose myself a bunch of questions till i work my way through the problem. (at work, we call it the 5 Why's. I can't show off the process cause I only had to resort to it once, for the DCBB ending, but i showed it to my Beta for the story and @braezenkitty thought it was awesome) - then as i hit those milestones, i delete them. like a dwindling to do list.

I do also fully support writing scenes out of order. it's particularly useful if i'm at work and i think of something and i just work on it and expand on it and then i can bring it home and plug it in and because it's a FUTURE scene, the amount i have to change because i didn’t accidentally rewrite a section i already wrote lessens. it also helps give me a goal point. I've got 3 future scenes written out for Order of Protection right now, for example. I might not know how long it'll take to get there, but i have given myself a roadmap.

[unidentifiedanonfics]

Bucky Barnes 100th Birthday

100 is a pretty big deal, right? So how can I NOT celebrate my best fella’s big 1-0-0? I decided to start the celebration on Bucky’s birthday again this year, but instead of a mere weekend I’ve decided to extend it to the end of March!

Just like last year, this means I’ll be posting, liking, and reblogging Bucky and only Bucky for the rest of the month (with the exception of holiday/special posts) - from today (FRIDAY, MARCH 10TH) to the end of March (FRIDAY, MARCH 31ST).

This year, instead of doing a set list of fics, I made a list of prompts (100 in total for obvious reasons). Feel free to mix and match prompts as you like, then submit whichever one (s) to my ASK and I'll answer with a drabble/short! Also, please let me know if you’d like smut or not =)

THE LIST:

1. “How do you go out to adopt one dog and end up coming home with three?!”

2. “Are you jealous?” “No, jealousy implies I want something that isn’t already mine.”

3. “I can’t believe you talked me into this couples costume.”

4. “So if I were a pony, what do you think my cutie mark would be?”

5. “I can’t believe you managed to get us arrested for jaywalking.”

6. “Okay, Satan, slow your ass down.”

7. “You are not cutting my hair! No one is cutting my hair! Nobody even look at my hair!”

8. “You’re despicable.” “Ooh! I love it when you talk dirty to me!”

9. “I can’t believe our mascot is a chihuahua.”

10. “You look cute with your glasses on.”

11. “Did you write fan fiction about me?”

12. “Tumblr? What the hell is this? And where is the E?”

13. “A trash can lid is not a suitable substitute for a shield!”

14. “How do you accidentally kidnap someone?!”

15. “I’m just an awkward penguin, okay?”

16. “Well if I’m gonna die, at least I’m going out looking fabulous.”

17. “Are you trying to get us killed or do you just like near death experiences?”

18. “Are you insane?” “Yes, but that’s not exactly a new development.”

19. “Do not call me that. Only he/she gets to call me that.”

20. “You are a highly trained assassin. You have thousands of moves at your disposal. And you choose to BITE me?!”

21. “How is it that after 100 years you still suck at poker?”

22. “Baby, we’re married. You won. You can stop with the pickup lines.”

23. “You’re the best sniper in the entire world, how can you not make a free throw?”

24. “We’re having a spa day.”

25. “It’s sooooo fllllluuuuuuuuffffffyyyyyyy.”

26. “I watch WWE, I can do this!” 

27. “I was wrong.”

28. “Put that thing back where it came from!”

29. “He/She/They are like our children.”

30. “I’m not the mom/dad friend and he/she is not the mom/dad friend!” “Yeah! If anything we’re the cool aunt and uncle!”

31. “And it didn’t occur to either of you that using a car to parasail in downtown New York might be a bad idea?”

32. “Did you seriously just rage-quit checkers?”

33. “Looks like all that Tetris paid off.”

34. “Don’t talk about my panties!”

35. “Stop recording this!”

36. “I’m stuck and I’m not wearing any underwear.”

37. “You can have it/them back when you learn how to use it/them properly!”

38. “Clark Kent wouldn’t treat me like this.”

39. “No spoilers!”

40. “Stan Lee.”

41. “I didn’t mean to be late but _______ was on in the car and you can’t just turn that off!”

42. “It’s like a Slytherin fell in love with a Hufflepuff.”

43. “They’re the Galactic Empire, we’re the Rebel Alliance. That’s literally the only way I can describe it.”

44. “If we end up in space jail I’m blaming you.”

45. “Well this isn’t the WORST vacation we’ve ever had.”

46. “Stop suggestively thrusting your pelvis at me.”

47. “Dancing has definitely changed since back then.”

48. “What am I? 1800BODYDISPOSAL?”

49. “Why are you naked?”

50. “This is going to sound really suggestive but I’m gonna say it anyway…”

51. “You are formally invited to go fuck yourself with a cactus.”

52. “That’s mine! Give it back!”

53. We disagree on nearly everything except for our mutual hate of _______.

54. “Don’t get on the plane.”

55. “Don’t leave me.”

56. We’re fans of rivaling sports teams, lets make things interesting; what do you wanna bet my team beats yours?

57. We got into a twitter war, you found out that we live in the same area and now you want to meet up so you can “teach me a lesson”.

58. You’re my new anti-social neighbor that I’ve never met. You never turn your music down, it’s 3 AM and I’m pounding on your door in an angry, sleep-deprived haze.

59. “Teach me.”

60. You decided to do everyones laundry and ended up keeping my (article of clothing).

61. “Because of reasons.”

62. “I’m keeping you.”

63. “You’re stuck with me now.”

64. “Don’t be ridiculous, of course I like you! We’re married, it’s kinda implied at this point.”

65. “Your voice is like like sex for my ears.”

  66. “I want to do morally compromising things to you.”

67. “Let me love you damnit!”

68. “I love you. And that means all of you.”

67. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

68. “Wipe that smirk off your face before I kiss it off.”

69. “Would you PLEASE stop trying to kill me?”

70. “We’re on the same side!”

71. “You just had to steal the most obvious car, didn’t you?”

72. “Did you steal this?”

73. “We are not watching this.”

74. I sprained my ankle and you’ve been ordered to tend to my every whim.

75. “GET YOUR FILTHY HAND OFF OF HIS/HER/MY ASS!”

76. Your body runs ridiculously hot and mine runs ridiculously cold, maybe we can help each other out.

77. “Cute panties/underwear.”

78. “Why are you wearing a tutu?”

79. “Do not backflip off of that- DAMN IT!”

80. “Stop it! We’re in a church!”

81. We hate-fuck everytime we get into an argument but I’m actually in love with you and I don’t know how to say it.

82. “Don’t you judge me!”

83. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

84. “We are not watching THAT.”

85. I’ve been in love with you since we met but I’m shit at expressing my feelings and now you think I hate you when its really the opposite. 

86. We switched jobs for a day as a training exercise and let’s never do that again.

87. “I’m only apologizing because ____ threatened to take away my _____ if I didn’t.”

88. I hired you to be my sugar-baby but its been six months and you haven’t asked for anything but my time and affection.

89. You made me dinner and its the best thing I’ve tasted in my entire life.

90. “Stop trying to save the world with paperclips!”

91. “I’ve been alive for a long time. But I didn’t start living until I met you.”

92. “Surprise!”

93. We started playing (party game) and it got very sexual very fast.

94. I forced you into having a movie marathon so I had an excuse to cuddle with you.

95. Its the first time we’ve met and instead of shaking my hand you hug me. Now I won’t let go and everyone’s looking at us awkwardly.

96. “You’re my soulmate.”

97. We’ve been dating for years and I just found out that you and my best friend used to date before we even met.

98. “I don’t want to celebrate.”

99. “Dermatologists hate him!”

100.“Happy birthday.”

Along with prompts, I'll also be taking headcannon requests! Including:

-Dating

-Being Friends

-Being Roommates

-Sex

-What Bucky's Like As A Dad

-Domestic

-Kissing

-Kinks

-Anything you want a headcannon for

Headcannons and Prompts will be open until March 31st as well!

I’ll be tagging all of my posts #JBB100 for easier access for you.

Happy Birthday Bucky, can’t wait to see what you do in the next 100 years!

[marcusssanderson]

Funny Inspirational Quotes Celebrating Life, Love, & Struggles

Looking for funny inspirational quotes and sayings for when you just need a laugh?

We all need to laugh more.

As they say, “laughter is the best form of medicine”.

While the doctor might not prescribe it, the ability to find humor in our situation is key for maintaining of sanity, patience, and peace of mind.

Believing in our future doesn’t have to be scary, and change doesn’t have to be painful.

You are allowed to have fun along the way!

Don’t hesitate to take it easy at times.

Smile at strangers, laugh at yourself, and know that you’re free to start over.

I received a request to post some funny inspirational quotes, so I went for it.

These funny inspirational quotes are pretty tame (around 5 – 10 schools have made me aware that they use my blog as a quote resource), but they will surely make you smile!

On our journey towards personal greatness, it’s important that we laugh at our setbacks, slip-ups, and blunders.

Why? That’s because plenty more are on the way.

To help you stay focused and stay loose, below is our collection of funny inspirational quotes, collected from a variety of sources over the years.

Have fun reading!

Funny inspirational quotes for work and life

1.) “I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realize I should have been more specific.” – Lily Tomlin

2.) “If at first you don’t succeed, then skydiving definitely isn’t for you.” – Steven Wright

3.) “I find television very educational. Every time someone turns it on, I go in the other room and read a book.” – Groucho Marx

4.) “All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence, and then success is sure.” – Mark Twain

5.) “If you don’t know where you are going, you might wind up someplace else.” – Yogi Berra 

6.) “There never was a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him asleep.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

7.) “It took me fifteen years to discover I had no talent for writing, but I couldn’t give it up because by then I was too famous.” – Robert Benchley

8.) “Luck is what you have left over after you give 100 percent.” – Langston Coleman

9.) “Opportunity does not knock, it presents itself when you beat down the door.” – Kyle Chandler

10.) “Don’t worry about the world coming to an end today. It is already tomorrow in Australia.” – Charles Schulz

Funny inspirational quotes about life that will motivate you

11.) “I didn’t fail the test. I just found 100 ways to do it wrong.” – Benjamin Franklin

12.) “Life is a shipwreck but we must not forget tossing in the lifeboats.” – Voltaire

13.) “When I hear somebody sigh, Life is hard, I am always tempted to ask, ‘Compared to what?'” – Sydney Harris

14.) “The elevator to success is out of order. You’ll have to use the stairs… one step at a time.” – Joe Girard

15.) “The brain is a wonderful organ; it starts working the moment you get up in the morning, and does not stop until you get into the office.” – Robert Frost

16.) “We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.” – George Bernard Shaw

17.) “The best way to cheer yourself up is to try to cheer somebody else up.” – Mark Twain

18.) “Age is of no importance unless you’re a cheese.” – Billie Burke

19.) “The minute you settle for less than you deserve, you get even less than you settled for.” – Maureen Dowd

20.) “It takes less time to do things right than to explain why you did it wrong.” – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Funny inspirational quotes about life and career

21.) “The key to success is not through achievement but through enthusiasm.” – Malcolm Forbes

22.) “I cannot afford to waste my time making money.” – Louis Agassiz

23.) “Friendship is like peeing on yourself: everyone can see it, but only you get the warm feeling that it brings.” – Robert Bloch

24.) “If you think you are too small to be effective, you have never been in the dark with a mosquito.” – Betty Reese

25.) “The difference between genius and stupidity is; genius has its limits.” – Albert Einstein

26.) “Always borrow money from a pessimist. He won’t expect it back.”  – Oscar Wilde

27.) “When you do not know what you are doing and what you are doing is the best – that is inspiration.” – Robert Bresson

28.) “My therapist told me the way to achieve true inner peace is to finish what I start. So far I’ve finished two bags of M&Ms and a chocolate cake. I feel better already.”  – Dave Barry

29.) “People say nothing is impossible, but I do nothing every day.” – A.A. Milne

30.) “It is not the answer that enlightens, but the question.” – Eugene Ionesco Decouvertes

Funny Inspirational quotes for life

31.) “Too much of a good thing can be wonderful.” – Mae West

32.) “Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.” – Thomas Edison

33.) “You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.” – Jack London

34.) “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go.” – Dr. Seuss

35.) “A diamond is merely a lump of coal that did well under pressure.” – Unknown

36.) “Never put off until tomorrow what you can do the day after tomorrow.” – Mark Twain

37.) “Life is like a sewer – what you get out of it depends on what you put into it.” – Tom Lehrer

38.) “Never let your sense of morals prevent you from doing what is right.” – Isaac Asimov

39.) “Failure is the condiment that gives success its flavor.” – Truman Capote

40.) “People often say that motivation doesn’t last. Well, neither does bathing; that’s why we recommend it daily.” – Zig Ziglar

Short funny quotes and sayings about work

41.) “If you’re going to be able to look back on something and laugh about it, you might as well laugh about it now.” – Marie Osmond

42.) “I have a simple philosophy: Fill what is empty. Empty what is full. Scratch where it itches.” – Alice Roosevelt Longworth

43.) “Even a stopped clock is right twice every day. After some years, it can boast of a long series of successes.” – Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach

44.) “You must learn from the mistakes of others. You can’t possibly live long enough to make them all yourself.” – Sam Levenson

45.) “Honest criticism is hard to take, particularly from a relative, a friend, an acquaintance, or a stranger.” – Franklin P. Jones

46.) “You can live to be a hundred if you give up all the things that make you want to live to be a hundred.” –  Woody Allen

47.) “The more you weigh, the harder you are to kidnap. Stay safe. Eat cake.”

48.) “Dear life, when I said: ‘Can my day get any worse?’ It was rhetorical, not a challenge.”

49.) “Cleaning up is just putting stuff in less obvious places.”

50.) “It amazes me how much exercise and extra fires sound alike.”

More funny inspirational quotes and sayings

51.) “I want to be like a caterpillar. Eat a lot. Sleep for a while. Wake up beautiful.”

52.) “In m defense, I was left unsupervised.”

53.) “Taking naps sounds so childish. I prefer to call them horizontal life pauses.”

54.) I walk around like everything is fine. But deep down, inside my show, my sock is sliding off.”

55.) “It’s called Karma, and it’s pronounced, ‘Haha, f*** you ‘.”

56.) “If we’re not meant to have midnight snacks, why is there a light in the fridge?”

57.) “I think my guardian angel drinks.”

58.) “So it turns out that being an adult is really just Googling how to do stuff.”

59.) “I don’t think there will be enough coffee or middle fingers for this Monday.”

60.) “Don’t give up on your dreams. Keep sleeping!”

Funny inspirational quotes to motivate you

61.) Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work. – Thomas Eddison

62.) If you try to fail, and succeed, which have you done? – George Carli

63.) If you’re going to be thinking, you may as well think big. – Donald Trump

64.) My fake plants died because I did not pretend to water them. – Mitch Hedberg

65.) “You must pay for your sins. If you have already paid, please ignore this notice.” — Sam Levenson

66.) “It’s okay to look at the past and the future. Just don’t stare.” — Lisa Lieberman-Wang

67.) Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please. – Mark Twain

68.) “I have to be successful because I like expensive things.” — Lisa Lieberman-Wang

69.) “Hating people is like burning down your own home to get rid of a rat.” — Harry Emerson Fosdick

70.) I am blessed with a funny gene that makes me enjoy life. – Karan Patel

Funny inspirational quotes for everyone

71.) “Listen, smile, agree, and then do whatever you were gonna do anyway.“ – Robert Downey Jr.

72.) “Wisdom comes from experience. Experience is often a result of lack of wisdom.” – Terry Pratchett

73.) “The reason I talk to myself is because I’m the only one whose answers I accept.” – George Carlin

74.) “Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds.” – Albert Einstein

75.) “I figured something out. The future is unpredictable.” – John Green

[stardust9905]

I LOVE THIS OMG, THE WHOLE THING IS JUST INCREDIBLE!! 😭😭❤️‍🔥🫶🫶✨️

Until Morning

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

Words: 12,758

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, forbidden relationship, smut, soft dom!Wolffe, orgasm denial, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, marking (in both ways), the beginning is filthy but he's actually so sweet in this, well ok it's all filthy, they are in looovvve

Summary: After confessing your feelings for each other, you and Wolffe carry on. During the day, you're nothing but professional, but what happens behind closed doors is something else entirely.

Prompts: 67. “It’s taking all my self control not to bend you over the table and fuck you right here.” & 92. “Fuck, knowing that you’re walking around filled with my cum has me so hard.”

A/N: I spilled angst all over the smut again, sorry! Hope sweet, affectionate Wolffe makes up for the bits of sad. I'd recommend reading For One Night first if you haven't already. Thanks @aynavaano for the inspo I needed to write this sequel and for inspiring the original!

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

Waking up next to someone was a feeling you had yet to get used to, but it was certainly not something you would complain about. The warm, firm body beside you, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the sound of his breathing — it's a balm on your weary soul, and a reminder that for a little while, at least, you aren't alone.

You open your eyes and watch him, his features soft and peaceful. In sleep, the lines of stress and worry are gone, the scar stretching across his eye less harsh, and Wolffe looks almost boyish, his expression open and vulnerable. Your heart clenches at the sight, and you resist the urge to reach out and stroke his cheek.

In the early hours of the morning, it's easy to forget what awaits you both outside this room. To imagine a world where you could stay like this forever, the two of you lost in each other. You'll take what few moments you can get, though, and treasure them.

Wolffe stirs beside you, his face scrunching up in annoyance, and he lets out a grunt. That was something you were used to — how grumpy and irritable he could be in the mornings. It's endearing, and you stifle a smile, knowing he would grumble even more if he saw it.

"I can hear you thinking," he mutters, his eyes still squeezed shut. "Go back to sleep."

"Good morning," you reply, amused.

"No, it's not."

He turns his face, burrowing deeper under the covers, and you bite your lip hard to keep from laughing. He's a notorious grump in the mornings, and you'd learned the best way to deal with it is to leave him alone and let him wake up at his own pace, but when you try to get up, his arm snakes out, pulling you back against him.

"Wolffe!"

"Where do you think you're going?" he rumbles, his voice husky.

"To start the day," you tell him. "Some of us have a meeting to get to."

"No," he protests, his arm tightening around your waist. "Canceled."

"It's not canceled," you huff, but the protest is half-hearted, and when his hand slides down to your hip, squeezing the flesh, you can't help but lean back into him, a soft sigh escaping you.

"Not yet," he murmurs as his fingers trace circles on your skin. "Stay here a little longer."

"Plo is expecting you," you say, the reminder more for yourself than him. "You have a lot of work to do."

"I'm sure the General will understand," he says.

You know you should be the responsible one here, but it's hard to resist him. Especially when his lips are ghosting along the sensitive spot beneath your ear, his breath hot against your skin. It's tempting, too tempting, and your resolve crumbles.

"Fine," you relent. "But not too long."

Wolffe smirks, triumphant, and his lips find yours, capturing them in a deep kiss. You melt into him, your body sinking against his, and you lose yourself in the sensation, the feel of him surrounding you. His hand drifts down, tracing the curve of your waist, and he tugs you closer, his hardness pressing into your hip.

"Wolffe," you mumble, breaking the kiss. "We shouldn't. I need to report to Plo, and you—"

"Are busy," he interrupts. "Very, very busy. Right now."

"You're impossible," you groan.

"Mm," he hums, his lips trailing down your throat. "Don't worry, jet'ika. I'll make it quick."

Before you can protest, his hand is slipping between your legs, his fingers seeking out the wet heat of your core. He finds your clit, his thumb rubbing lazy circles on the bud, and you gasp, the sound lost in the kiss.

He's insistent, his touch firm and purposeful, and he wastes no time in delving deeper, dipping into your wetness. Two fingers slide inside of you with little resistance, and the stretch is just shy of too much, his thick digits filling you in a way that has you trembling.

"Kriff, you're so wet already," he growls, his mouth pressed against the hollow of your throat. He nips at the sensitive flesh, his stubble scraping against your skin. "Tell me, jet'ika, does the thought of sneaking around turn you on?"

"No," you gasp, even as your hips buck against his hand.

"Liar," he chides.

Wolffe pulls his fingers out, and before you can whine in protest, he flips you over, pinning you beneath him. His gaze is dark, pupil blown in his single gold eye, and the predatory look on his face makes your toes curl. He leans down, his mouth pressing against the shell of your ear.

"Do you know what I'm going to do?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "I'm going to fuck you. And I'm going to make it quick, just like you asked. But I'm not going to let you come."

"Wolffe—"

"You're going to walk around today with my cum dripping out of you, and every time you see me, you're going to remember how good it felt. You're going to be thinking about how hard you came on my cock last night, and how badly you want to do it again. And you're not going to get to,” he continues. "You're going to have to wait, like a good girl, until we can sneak away again. Until I can fuck you properly."

The words make a wave of heat wash over you, and your cunt clenches around nothing, a desperate ache forming between your legs. You arch against him, seeking friction, but his hands pin your hips to the bed, preventing any movement.

"Understand?"

"Yes," you breathe, your voice shaky, and he rewards you with a sharp nip to the neck.

"That's my girl," he murmurs. He moves to straddle your thighs, and the sudden shift of his weight makes you gasp. You can feel his length, hot and heavy against the curve of your ass, and you can't help but push back, teasing him.

He chuckles, the sound rough.

"Oh, I see how it is," he says, and he pushes you flat, his palm splayed on your lower back. "You're not very good at being patient, are you?"

"You're taking too long," you grumble.

"I told you I was going to make this quick," he says. "So be a good girl and keep still."

He grips your hips, pulling you up, and then he's pushing into you, his length sliding in easily. The stretch is delicious, and you bite your lip, the ache settling low in your belly. He fills you perfectly, the angle allowing him to sink deeper than before, and you moan, the sensation of being full almost too much. Your head drops down, resting on the pillow, and he gives an experimental thrust, the motion slow and deliberate.

"Maker," he hisses, his hands digging into the flesh of your hips. "You feel so fucking good."

He sets a punishing pace, his thrusts hard and fast. He fucks you like a man possessed, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing in the room. He's not gentle, not sweet, and the contrast of his tenderness the night before and his roughness now has you panting, your fingers twisting in the sheets.

He leans forward, his chest pressing against your back, and the change of position has him hitting a spot deep inside of you, the friction sending sparks dancing across your vision. You whine, and he shushes you, his breath hot against your skin.

"Shh," he whispers. "Gotta keep quiet. Wouldn't want anyone to hear you, would we?"

The thought makes you tremble, and he huffs a laugh.

"Yeah," he says, "you'd like that, wouldn't you? For everyone to hear how good I'm fucking you."

He punctuates his statement with a sharp thrust, the head of his cock hitting the spot again. You clamp a hand over your mouth, muffling the moan that threatens to slip out.

"So good," he growls, his voice low and ragged. "You're so fucking good for me."

His pace becomes frantic, his thrusts losing their rhythm. You can tell he's getting close, his breathing heavy and labored, and you can feel the tension coiling in his muscles, the anticipation of his release making your cunt clench around him. Wolffe hisses, his grip tightening on your hips, and he slams into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt.

The sensation is enough to make your eyes roll back, and you feel him twitch inside you, his cock pulsing. His release is hot and sticky, coating your inner walls, and the knowledge that he's filling you up, marking you as his, sends a rush of arousal through you. The idea is depraved, filthy, and it's only your hand covering your mouth that keeps you from crying out.

You can't help but grind back against him, the pressure inside you almost too much. His hands grip your hips, holding you still, and he chuckles, his lips trailing along the shell of your ear.

"Ah, ah," he chides, "be a good girl and take it."

You bite your lip, trying to ignore the desperate need building inside you, but the friction is almost too much, the sound of his voice whispering in your ear making the ache worse. You're trembling, the tension in your body coiled tight, and the only thing you can focus on is the feel of him inside you, his cock stretching you wide.

And then he's pulling out, his length sliding free. The sudden emptiness inside you is a shock, and you can't help the small whimper that escapes. He shushes you, his fingers stroking the curve of your hip.

"What did I say?"

"Wolffe," you gasp, your voice hoarse. "Please, I need—"

"No."

He moves off you, the mattress shifting, and the loss of his warmth is almost enough to make you sob. He runs his hand along your spine, the touch soothing.

"Turn over."

You do as he asks, rolling onto your back, and the sight of him, his pupils blown and his chest flushed, is almost enough to undo you. He leans over, his hand coming up to cradle the side of your face, and his thumb traces the curve of your cheek.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he murmurs, his eyes burning. Your cheeks flush, the compliment making your heart skip a beat, and he gives you a soft, almost sad, smile.

"You really are, you know," he says, his voice thick. "Beautiful."

His other hand trails down, brushing against your thigh, and he grips your leg, his fingers digging into the flesh.

"I want to see you."

You open your mouth to ask him what he means, but the words die in your throat as he pushes your legs apart, his gaze zeroing in on the spot between your thighs. The action is intimate, almost obscene, and you can't help the flush that spreads across your cheeks, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Perfect," he mutters. "Kriff, you're perfect."

His fingers move, his knuckles brushing against the wetness that's gathered between your folds. You whimper, the touch almost painful, and he lets out a rough sound before sliding his fingers into you. You can feel him pushing his cum back inside you, the action somehow more erotic than anything else he's done, and the thought makes you blush even more.

"That's it," he murmurs. "There you go.”

You can't help but push back, grinding yourself against his palm, and his fingers press against the spot deep inside of you, the pleasure making your vision blur.

"Oh, fuck," you breathe.

He leans forward, his breath hot against your ear.

"If you can make it through the day," he says, his voice low and rough, "I promise I'll make it worth your while. I'll take my time. I'll taste every inch of you. I'll lick my cum out of you, and then I'll fuck you until you can't walk."

The promise makes your toes curl, and you whimper, the ache inside of you almost too much.

"Wolffe, please—"

"Commander?"

There's a knock at the door, and the sound of a voice just outside is enough to make your heart drop through your stomach. Wolffe's head snaps up, and he curses, his expression shifting from lust to irritation in an instant.

"What?" he calls out.

"Sir, it's Sinker," the trooper replies. "General Plo wanted me to remind you of your meeting with him. You're late."

"I'm aware," Wolffe grits out.

He glares at the door, jaw clenched, and then he turns back to you, his expression softening. He runs his fingers through your hair, smoothing down the messy strands, and the touch is so tender, the look on his face so vulnerable, that it almost makes your heart stop.

"We'll finish this later," he promises. He glances down, his gaze taking in the sight of his fingers buried inside you. "Fuck."

You look at him, and his expression is torn, the desire to stay, to continue where the two of you left off, clear. You bite your lip, trying not to whimper, and he closes his eyes, his nostrils flaring.

"I wish I could just—"

He cuts himself off, and then he's pulling his fingers out, leaving you empty and wanting. You watch, mesmerized, as he brings them to his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste the slickness that coats them.

"Fuck, I can't wait to have you on my tongue," he says.

You whine, the image of his face buried between your thighs making the ache in your core flare, and he smirks.

"I know, cyare," he murmurs. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you."

"Okay," you whisper.

"Get dressed," he says. "I'll see you at the meeting."

"Right."

He gets up, moving away from you, and the sudden loss of him is enough to make the knot in your chest tighten. The room feels empty, colder, and you swallow hard, the feeling of him still lingering on your skin even as he pulls on his blacks and starts to clip his armor back into place.

"Wolffe," you say softly.

He pauses, turning to look at you, and the tenderness in his expression makes your heart skip a beat. Wolffe was not a soft man, and the thought of him looking at you like this, like you were something precious, was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

"I love you."

He smiles, a real smile, the kind you don't see often. The kind that reaches his eyes.

"I love you too," he says. "I'll clear the way. You wait five minutes and then follow. Don't make eye contact."

You nod, and he hesitates, the look on his face making it clear that he's just as reluctant to leave as you are. His hand hovers over the control panel, his fingers trembling, and then he lets out a sigh, pressing the button that slides the door open.

"Five minutes," he says.

"Five minutes."

And then he's gone, the door sliding shut behind him. You stare at it, your chest aching, and then you bury your face in your hands, pressing hard against your eyes. You take a few deep breaths, trying to get yourself under control, before you climb out of bed, searching for your discarded robes.

The next few hours are going to be difficult, if not downright painful. You had no idea how you were going to get through them, how you were going to look at him and not see the man who'd held you, touched you, whispered the sweetest things in your ear.

It's a cruel trick, one the universe is playing on both of you, and you know it. But despite the pain, the longing, you would choose him. It's been months since the two of you started sneaking around, stealing moments here and there, and while it's far from ideal, you can't bring yourself to regret any of it.

Despite everything, you're happy. Happier than you've been in a long time. And if the price for that happiness is the constant ache, the longing, the knowledge that you'll never truly be together, then so be it.

Because in the end, it's worth it. He's worth it.

So you dress, ignoring the way the fabric brushes against the sensitive skin between your thighs, clinging to the dampness of your skin, and you steel yourself for what's to come. The rest of the day is going to be miserable, the hours dragging on as the two of you struggle to keep up appearances, but when the night falls and the lights dim, he'll be waiting.

And that is the promise that keeps you going.

"Five minutes," you say to yourself.

You count down the final seconds, the minutes passing agonizingly slowly. When the timer finally hits zero, you let out a shaky breath and push the button, the door sliding open with a hiss.

You step into the hallway, closing the door behind you, and then you square your shoulders, the resolve in your gut steeling you for the hours ahead.

It's going to be a long day.

But the promise of the night to come makes it a little easier to bear.

It's a familiar routine now, the two of you sneaking around.

Hiding in the shadows, finding quiet places where no one will find you. Kissing him, touching him, and letting him do the same. Whispering promises, sweet nothings, and holding him close. The stolen moments, the brief seconds when it's just the two of you and the rest of the galaxy fades away.

It's a dance, a game, and it's one you and Wolffe have been playing for months now.

And yet, there's something new about today. Something different.

This time, there's a hunger, an intensity, to his gaze that wasn't there before. Wolffe has been watching you all day, and each time your eyes meet, it's like a current running between the two of you, an awareness, an acknowledgement.

You know, and he knows, that when the two of you are alone, nothing will stop him from taking you. From claiming every inch of your body. From showing you exactly how much he needs you, how badly he wants you.

The knowledge makes you ache, and the hours crawl by, each second feeling like an eternity. The two of you haven't had the chance to be alone since this morning, and the anticipation is making you tremble. It's a cruel thing, this game, and you've spent the better part of the day trying to keep yourself from looking at him.

It's hard, though.

Wolffe is an imposing figure, his presence commanding. And even with his armor, even when he's not touching you, the pull between the two of you is electric, magnetic.

It's almost painful, this dance the two of you are doing.

He's standing at the front of the command center, his hands clasped behind his back. His shoulders are tense, his expression stoic, and his gaze is trained on the holotable. You know he's only half paying attention, his thoughts no doubt elsewhere.

On you, you think.

You try not to fidget, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, but the longer you stand here, the more aware of him you become. His scent, the way his breath hitches every time someone gets too close. The heat of his body, the way his eyes track your every move.

It's maddening.

You've spent the past few hours working in silence, the two of you trying to avoid raising suspicion, but now, with the day almost done, the tension between you is palpable. You're wound tight, your body thrumming with nervous energy, and the thought of spending another second in this room is making you antsy.

Your gaze flickers to Wolffe, just for a second, and his eyes find yours, the intensity of his stare sending a thrill through you. His expression doesn't change beyond the working of his jaw, but the gold of his iris burns bright, the color shifting as his pupil dilates.

It's a simple gesture, but it's enough.

And it's enough to make the ache between your thighs throb.

He looks away, his focus returning to the hologram in front of him, and the moment passes. But it lingers, the ghost of his gaze, the weight of his attention, settling on you like a physical touch. You're trembling, and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to glance over at him again.

Wolffe is a patient man, a trait that had served him well as a soldier, but when it came to you, that patience was a thin thread. A single strand that could snap at any moment.

And if the look in his eyes is anything to go by, it won't be long before that thread breaks.

"You've done well, Commander," Plo Koon says, his deep voice cutting through the silence.

Wolffe inclines his head, his expression neutral.

"Thank you, General," he replies.

"I appreciate the hard work you've put in. As well as your dedication. It hasn't gone unnoticed."

"It's my duty, sir," Wolffe says stiffly.

"I'm aware that these have been... difficult times."

Wolffe's jaw clenches, but he doesn't respond.

Plo turns, his gaze sweeping the room, and his eyes linger on you, the corners of his mask shifting in what you've come to recognize as a smile. You struggle to return it, and his expression softens. You have a sinking feeling that your former master is aware of more than you'd like, but he doesn't seem upset. If anything, he looks understanding, perhaps even a little sad.

"These are trying times for us all," he says, his voice soft. "I understand that this mission has been particularly difficult for the two of you."

You glance at Wolffe, and the look in his eyes is enough to make your breath catch. The raw hunger, the naked need, is enough to make your knees buckle. He doesn't look away, and his gaze is intense, searing.

"Yes," he rasps. "It has."

"Then perhaps we should call it a night," Plo says. "The both of you have earned a rest."

"I—" Wolffe clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from you. "Sir, with all due respect, I'm fine. I don't need a break."

"Commander," Plo says, his voice gentle but firm, "I insist.”

Wolffe's nostrils flare, but he doesn't argue.

"Sir," he grunts.

Plo Koon gives a dismissive wave, and the others shuffle out, their chatter filling the air. Wolffe remains at the front, his hands still clasped behind his back. His posture is rigid, his shoulders tense. The only movement is the subtle clenching and unclenching of his fists.

He's waiting.

You watch him, trying to hide your own nervousness.

"You've done good work, Commander," Plo says. "Both of you."

"Thank you, General."

"I'll leave you to your evening."

He turns, walking toward the exit, and you can't help but stare after him. There's a sense of finality in his words, and you feel a stab of guilt. Plo has been a father to you, a mentor, and a friend. And the idea of deceiving him, of sneaking around behind his back, is something you've wrestled with for months.

The truth is, though, that there's no other choice. Not really.

It's a cruel game, and the rules are set.

The door slides shut behind him, leaving the two of you alone, and you can't help but hold your breath. Wolffe doesn't move, and the room is filled with silence, the tension between the two of you thickening. You can feel his gaze on you, his stare burning, and you swallow hard.

"Sir, a word," he says to you, loud enough for anyone who's still lingering to hear. "I'd like your opinion on the reports."

"Of course, Commander," you reply, swallowing hard, and Wolffe waits until the room is completely clear before turning his gaze on you, his eye burning.

"You," he growls.

"Me?"

"Are you trying to kill me?"

It takes you a moment to realize what he's referring to, and when you do, a flush spreads across your cheeks. You bite your lip, trying not to grin.

"I don't know what you mean," you say innocently.

"All fucking day," he mutters, stalking toward you. The sound of his footsteps echo, the click of his boots against the floor loud in the otherwise silent room. His stride is steady, his pace even, and the tension between the two of you builds with every step he takes.

Wolffe stands in front of you, his body towering over yours, and the proximity, the way he's looking at you, is enough to make the blood rush in your ears. He places a hand on the console, leaning towards you, and his eyes are dark, his pupils blown.

"You've been watching me," you whisper, and his eye darkens.

"Do you blame me?" he murmurs. "You're a sight, jet'ika. Standing there, pretending like nothing's going on. Fuck, knowing that you’re walking around filled with my cum has been driving me crazy.”

His hand moves, the tips of his fingers brushing against your cheek, and the touch sends a shiver down your spine.

"Did you like it, cyare?" he asks, his voice low. "The idea of me watching you all day, knowing what we did? How much I wanted to fuck you?"

You let out a shaky breath, your body aching for his touch.

"Yes," you whisper.

"Maker," he breathes. "What you do to me."

His hand moves, tracing the line of your jaw, and his gaze is fierce, possessive. You can feel the weight of his attention, the heat of his skin. His hand comes to rest under your chin, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“It’s taking all my self control not to bend you over the table and fuck you right here, right now," he says.

The words send a jolt through you, and you bite your lip, trying not to moan. You've been aching for him all day, the memory of this morning leaving you wanting. You want to touch him, feel his skin against yours, and the hunger in his eyes, the need in his voice, is enough to make you lose any remaining shred of self control.

"You're not the only one," you whisper.

He lets out a rough sound, his other hand moving to grip your hip.

"Is that so, jet'ika?" he murmurs. His lips brush against the shell of your ear, and you can feel his hot breath, his stubble scraping against your skin. You whine, arching into his touch, and he huffs a laugh, the sound making your toes curl.

"I can't wait to get you alone," he says.

"You won't have to."

His hands tighten, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, and he pulls you close. The press of his armor against your body is sharp, the cool plastoid making you shiver. He leans down, and his lips brushing against the hollow of your throat.

"We should stop," he murmurs, his breath fanning across your skin. "I should walk away."

"Probably," you agree, even as your fingers trail along the curve of his cheek.

"I don't think I can."

"Neither can I."

His teeth scrape against your neck, his stubble scratching the sensitive flesh, and you can't help but tilt your head back, exposing more of yourself to him.

"Kriff," he mutters. "I've been thinking about this all day."

You sigh and close your eyes. "Me too."

He lets out a sound that's half growl, half sigh, and his lips move along the column of your throat. His fingers trace circles on your waist, the touch making you tremble. He's close, his body pressing against yours, and the feel of him, the scent of him, is almost too much.

You've waited all day for this, the promise of being with him, touching him, the only thing keeping you from falling apart. And now that the moment is here, it's hard to breathe, hard to think. Harder still, to think about the consequences of this.

But you can't bring yourself to care. Not with his hands on you, his mouth on you.

You need this, and he needs you.

It's the only thought in your mind.

Wolffe presses a kiss to your pulse point, the sensation sending a spark of electricity through you, and his hands are roaming, tracing the curve of your waist. One wanders higher, skimming your side until it cups your breast. His thumb brushes over the stiff peak, and the friction makes your toes curl, a jolt of pleasure shooting down your spine.

"Wolffe..."

"Yeah?"

"We need to leave."

"Right," he murmurs. He pulls back, his hands gripping your waist. His gaze is heavy, his iris dark, and his pupils are blown wide, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

"Right," he repeats, and you can't help but smirk at the reluctance in his tone. The heat in his gaze softens, his expression shifting into something that looks a lot like adoration.

"Fuck, I love you."

You bite your lip, trying not to grin like an idiot.

"I love you, too," you tell him.

He huffs a laugh, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face, and he leans in, his lips brushing against yours. The kiss is soft, gentle, but there's a hint of urgency, a tension, to the way he's holding you.

"Come on," he murmurs. "Let's get out of here."

You nod, and he lets go, his hands dropping away from you. The sudden loss of him is painful, and you have to force yourself not to grab him and kiss him again. Instead, you step away, moving toward the exit, and he follows, his pace slow.

As you approach the door, his fingers brush against the small of your back. The touch is light, the barest hint of contact, but it's a promise. A reminder.

A reassurance.

"Come on," he whispers, his breath ghosting across your ear. "I have plans for you."

The promise makes your cheeks flush, a thrill of anticipation running through you. Wolffe was not a man who did things by halves, and when he set his mind to something, he was relentless. You've seen that same dedication, that single-minded focus, in battle, and the idea of it being turned on you is almost too much.

"Oh?"

Wolffe grins, and the sight is almost predatory.

"Oh yes," he murmurs. "So hurry up. Unless you want me to take you here."

You let out a shaky breath, a rush of arousal making your core throb. The hand on your back urges you forward, guiding you until the door slides open. As soon as you step into the hall, his touch retreats, and he clasps his hands behind his back, the picture of professionalism.

But the look in his eyes is anything but.

"After you, General," he says.

Despite yourself, you can't help but smirk. "As you wish, Commander."

He falls into step beside you, the sound of his boots loud in the empty corridor, and the two of you make your way toward the turbolift. The silence is heavy, the air charged with anticipation. Every part of your body is acutely aware of him, the heat of his gaze, the sound of his breathing.

"So," he says, his voice casual. "How have you been enjoying your time back with the 104th?"

You frown and glance at him over your shoulder. His expression is smooth, the line of his mouth even, but his eyes are burning.

"What do you mean?"

"Just making conversation."

You study him for a moment longer, and then shrug, turning back to the hallway.

"It’s been fine," you reply, unable to keep the confusion out of your voice.

"Fine, huh? No problems? No difficulties adjusting?"

You hesitate, your brow furrowing before you realize what he's doing. You give a friendly nod to a group of troopers walking past, and they greet you in return, oblivious to the tension between the two of you.

"No, Commander," you say evenly. "Nothing I can't handle."

"That's good to hear," Wolffe replies. "We're all happy to have you back."

"It's nice to be back."

"I'm glad."

The two of you enter the turbolift, the doors sliding shut behind you, and Wolffe turns to you, the look in his eyes sending a thrill down your spine.

"I think we should talk about these 'difficulties adjusting,'" he says, and his tone is almost teasing. "Maybe come up with some solutions."

"Maybe."

The lift begins to descend, the floor numbers flashing above the doors, and the air crackles with anticipation. You're acutely aware of his proximity, his body so close to yours, and it takes all your self-control not to touch him. Not to run your fingers over the ridges of his armor, the smooth plates glinting in the dim light.

Not to kiss him.

He glances at you, his eye burning, and he reaches out, his fingers brushing against the curve of your shoulder. It's a simple touch, barely a caress, but the gesture is deliberate. He's making a point, and you can't help but smile, your chest aching with fondness.

"You seem tense, General," he says, and there's a hint of amusement in his tone. "Is everything alright?"

"You're insufferable," you murmur.

"I'm not the one who's been distracting me all day," he retorts, his voice low.

You can't help but roll your eyes. "You started it."

"Did I?"

"Yes."

"And how do you figure that?"

"You know very well what you did this morning," you hiss, and you can't keep the smile off your face. "Don't think I've forgotten."

"Remind me," he murmurs. He steps closer, and his hand drifts lower, his fingers skimming along your arm.

"Wolffe—"

"Please," he whispers. "Remind me."

You can't stop yourself. You reach up, your fingers cupping the side of his face, and the gesture is tender, affectionate. You brush a lock of his hair behind his ear, and he leans into the touch, his eyelids fluttering closed.

"You were very naughty," you murmur, and the word, so unlike you, makes him smirk. You can't help but grin in return.

"Is that right?" he whispers.

"Very," you continue. "Teasing me like that. Filling me up. Making me wait."

He lets out a low groan, his eyes opening.

"It's been torture, Wolffe. Thinking about you. Thinking about this."

His hand comes up, his fingers curling around your wrist, and he presses a kiss to the palm of your hand. His breath is warm, his lips soft. He doesn't break eye contact, his gaze fixed on yours, and you can't help but lean into him, your body pressed against his armor.

"It's been hard for me too," Wolffe whispers.

The admission is almost painful, and you bite your lip, trying to fight the swell of emotion in your chest. The two of you have been sneaking around for months now, finding stolen moments here and there. You've made the most of it, but the fact is that this is dangerous, the risk of being caught too high.

"I hate this," you say. "Having to hide."

"Me too," he says. His expression is raw, vulnerable. "But it's worth it. Being with you. Seeing you."

You blink back tears, and he cups the side of your face, his thumb brushing against the curve of your jaw. He presses your palm against his lips again, and his gaze is fierce, unwavering.

"Worth every moment," he whispers. "Even if it kills me."

"I know," you reply. "I know."

The lift slows, the doors sliding open, and the spell between the two of you is broken. Wolffe steps back, his expression neutral, and he gestures for you to step out.

"After you, General," he says, polite and detached.

"Thank you, Commander," you murmur. Your hands fist at your sides, your body aching for his.

Wolffe follows you, the two of you stepping into the empty hallway. It's late, the corridors abandoned, and the silence is almost deafening. The only sound is the hum of the ship's engines and the pounding of your heart. You walk slowly, deliberately, and the tension between the two of you builds, the ache in your core growing stronger.

"Your quarters or mine?" he asks.

"Yours," you reply.

"Why?"

"Because they're closer."

Wolffe lets out a rough laugh, the sound making your heart skip a beat, and he falls in step beside you. His arm brushes against yours, the contact sending a jolt through you, and he looks down, the corners of his mouth curving into a smirk.

"So eager," he murmurs.

"You're one to talk," you reply.

"Fair point."

He grins, his eyes twinkling, and the sight is almost too much. He's breathtaking, his expression bright and playful. It's rare to see him so open, so free, and the realization that you're the only one who gets to see him like this is humbling.

You smile back, the warmth in your chest spreading, and he bumps your arm, his gaze fixed on yours.

"It's nice, though," he says softly.

"What is?"

"This," he replies. "Being with you."

You can't help but bite your lip.

"It is," you agree.

"Even if we're not... able to..." He trails off, and the look on his face is almost bashful. It's adorable, and it makes your chest ache. You reach out, placing a hand on his arm, and his eyes drift to the spot, a sigh escaping him.

"I'm happy," he murmurs.

"Yeah," you whisper. "Me too."

He huffs a laugh and gives you a sheepish grin.

"Sorry," he says. "This isn't exactly how I planned to start the evening."

"I don't mind," you say.

"I know," he replies. "But we have time for all that later."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," he murmurs, and the promise in his tone sends a shiver down your spine. You bite back a smile, trying not to squirm, and he gives you a mischievous look in return. He's teasing you, and you can't help but feel a stab of affection. 

There was a time, not so long ago, that Wolffe had been wary of you, reluctant to trust you. But now? Now, there was a level of familiarity between the two of you that you had never experienced with another person. An ease, a comfort. And while you knew the risks, the thought of walking away, of ending this, was unbearable. 

Whatever it was that was happening between the two of you... it was real. It was important. And it was worth the risk.

You turn to him and smirk.

"What are you going to do to me?" you ask. "Gonna tie me up?"

Wolffe groans. "You'd like that."

"I would," you agree, unabashed.

"Not tonight," he murmurs. "Tonight is about you."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm," he says, and the low rumble of his voice makes your toes curl. He looks down, his gaze darkening, and he smirks. “To make up for this morning."

You try not to groan. Wolffe's dedication to your pleasure was both a blessing and a curse. While the man was nothing if not determined, his focus was intense. And when he set his mind to something... well. You could hardly complain. 

But it was difficult to accept his attention without offering anything in return. It was hard not to want to give as good as you got, and even harder to relinquish control. But when it came to Wolffe, the urge to surrender, to submit, was overpowering. He made it easy. Made it tempting. Made it feel right. 

You let out a shaky breath, trying not to tremble. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you."

"You're going to let me take care of you."

The words make your stomach twist. It's hard to believe that a man as powerful and intimidating as Wolffe is capable of such gentleness. That he can be so soft and tender. You don't deserve it, and yet, he seems content to give it.

"If you say so," you murmur.

"I do."

His tone is firm, almost stern, and the sound makes your heart skip a beat. He glances at you, and the look in his eye is tender, his expression filled with warmth.

Wolffe stops in front of his door, and you stand a distance back, your hands tucked in your robes. He places his hand on the scanner, and the door slides open, revealing his darkened room.

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment.

Then he steps aside, gesturing for you to enter.

"After you," he says, his voice a low rumble. You look around the empty hallway before stepping inside, and the door slides shut behind you, the room darkening.

There's a faint click, and then the light flares, illuminating the space.

The sight makes your breath catch.

The sheets are rumpled, the same as you left them this morning, but there's a vase of flowers on the nightstand, the petals a vivid red. Next to it is a bottle of wine, and two glasses sit beside it. There are candles lit around the room, their flames dancing, and the smell of spice and clove fills the air.

He's been busy.

He's been planning.

The thought of Wolffe standing here, arranging flowers, lighting candles, setting everything up for you, makes your heart ache. The gesture is so unexpected, so sweet, that you feel the breath leave your lungs. You don't deserve him.

He moves around the room, extinguishing the lights until only the candles remain, casting everything in a warm glow. His movements are precise, careful, and the look on his face is almost nervous.

"You did all this?" you whisper.

"Well," he says, his tone hesitant. "It's not much. But... yes."

"What would you have done if I said I wanted to go back to my quarters?" you ask, your voice hoarse.

He steps closer, his body looming over yours.

"I would've convinced you," he murmurs, his breath fanning across the side of your face. "I can be very persuasive."

You glance up at him and are startled to find his gaze already on you. His eyes are dark, his pupil blown wide. His mouth is set in a firm line, and there's a flush spreading across his cheeks. Your lips part, your throat suddenly dry, and you swallow hard.

He smiles, and it's a small, hesitant thing. "Too much?"

"No," you whisper, shaking your head. "Not at all."

He lets out a low sound that might be relief and reaches out, his hands coming to rest on your hips. His grip is light, and the heat of his skin seeps through the fabric of your robes, warming your flesh. You can't help but sway closer, leaning into his touch.

"So," he starts. "Would you like a drink? Or should we get started?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Started?"

"We have a lot to cover," Wolffe says with a wicked grin. "A lot of lost time to make up for."

Your eyes widen, and a shiver runs down your spine.

"How long were you planning this?" you ask.

He shrugs, his gaze flickering across your face.

"A while," he says, his voice a low rumble. "Would have done it last night, but someone was feeling feisty."

You can't help but grin, remembering how you had teased him. How you had teased each other. The way his mouth had felt against yours, his hands gripping your hips. How you had ridden him, his body trembling beneath you. The look in his eye as he'd watched you.

"Sorry," you murmur. "But the view was incredible."

"It's always a show with you," he murmurs, his smile wry.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," he says. "Every time you walk into a room."

You blush, and he chuckles, the sound low and throaty.

"Don't deny it," he says. "I've seen the way you move. The way you hold yourself. Like you know people are watching. Like you're aware of every eye on you."

You swallow hard, your cheeks hot. He's not wrong. There had been a time when you'd enjoyed the attention. But that was before. Before the war. Before your world had changed. Before Wolffe. Now, his gaze was the only one you craved. His opinion the only one that mattered. And the idea of disappointing him, of letting him down, was unbearable.

"You do that," he murmurs. "Get people looking at you."

"You're the only one I care about," you whisper. "I've always had eyes for you."

Wolffe blinks, startled, and a slow smile spreads across his face. The sight is devastating, the softness of his expression making your chest ache. You can't help but lean into him, drawn to him like a magnet. 

The way he looks at you... It's the same way he's always looked at you. Fierce and gentle. Aching and longing. Hungry and hesitant. You've never met anyone who can convey so much emotion with a single look. And you've never felt as seen as when he looks at you. You've never felt as loved as when he holds you.

Wolffe's hands slide along the curve of your waist, and he pulls you against him, the press of his armor against your chest making you shiver. He leans in, his nose brushing against yours, and you tilt your head back, trying to capture his lips. But he avoids the contact, his mouth hovering just out of reach.

You huff a laugh. "Kiss me already."

He hums and brushes his lips against yours. It's barely a kiss, the touch a featherlight tease. But it's still electric, the contact making your skin tingle. He does it again, the pressure lingering, and your eyes flutter closed, a soft moan escaping you. 

The two of you trade soft kisses, and it's torturous, the pace so slow and gentle. It's almost maddening, and your core throbs, the ache becoming more persistent. 

He breaks the kiss and pulls back, his gaze burning. You can't help but reach up and cup the side of his face, your fingers brushing against his cheek. The skin is smooth, and you trail a finger down the line of his scar, the raised tissue warm.

"What is it?" you ask.

"I can't decide where I want to start," he says, his voice low. "And how much I can fit in."

"You have all night," you murmur, trying not to smile.

He raises an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge, General?"

You bite your lip. "Maybe."

"Mm," he hums. "Well, we'll see how you feel after I've had my way with you."

"Promises, promises," you say, a smirk curving your mouth. You gasp as his hands tighten on your waist, the touch making your skin burn. He's not hurting you, not even close, but the pressure is a reminder of his strength, the raw power he has over you.

"Do I ever disappoint you?" he asks, his voice soft.

"Never," you whisper.

His mouth curves into a smile.

"Good," he murmurs. He dips his head, his lips brushing against the curve of your ear, and his breath is warm, his stubble scraping against your skin. "Take your robe off."

You nod and fumble with the clasp, your hands clumsy. He waits patiently as you tug the garment off and toss it to the side. As soon as the fabric falls to the ground, his hands move to the collar of your tunic, and he begins to undo the ties, his fingers working slowly.

"You have no idea how much I want you," he whispers. "No idea how badly I need you."

You shiver, a moan escaping you, and his hands slide down, tugging the shirt free from the waistband of your trousers. He pulls it over your head and tosses it aside. It lands in a heap next to the discarded robe, and your boots quickly follow

He leans down and presses a kiss to your bare shoulder as his hands find the clasp of your bra. He unhooks it with ease and lets it fall to the floor before straightening up and pulling you flush against him. His mouth finds yours, and his lips are soft, the kiss gentle.

He breaks the contact, and his gaze is burning.

"Take the rest off," he says, and his tone is soft, but the command is clear.

You reach down and push your pants off along with your underwear, and his hands move, gripping your hips. He lifts you effortlessly and sets you down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under your weight. You shift, the sheets cool against your skin, and he kneels down, his hands trailing along the length of your leg.

His fingers brush against the inside of your ankle and begin to trail upwards. The touch is light, almost ticklish, and his mouth follows, his lips leaving a burning trail along the inside of your calf. He reaches the sensitive flesh behind your knee and presses a kiss to the spot before continuing upwards.

"Wolffe..."

His lips find the inside of your thigh and continue upwards. His breath is warm, and his stubble scratches the delicate skin, making you gasp. It's agonizingly slow, the pace unhurried, and your toes curl, your muscles clenching. He reaches the crease of your hip, and his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin.

"Wolffe..."

He chuckles and continues higher, his mouth moving toward your center. His lips brush against your folds, and you shiver, the sensation making you tremble. He pauses and looks up at you, his gaze burning.

"I've been thinking about doing this all day," he murmurs. "My mouth on you."

You can't help but squirm, his words sending a thrill down your spine. He presses a kiss to the hollow of your hip, and then, without warning, his mouth is on you, his tongue tracing along the length of your slit. You let out a ragged gasp and fall back onto your elbows, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through you.

"Oh," you whimper, your voice shaking. "Oh fuck."

His mouth is relentless, and the pleasure is immediate and intense. The sensations are almost too much, and you can't stop the moan that escapes you. You're wet, embarrassingly so, Wolffe's release still leaking from your core.

The thought makes you blush, but Wolffe doesn't seem to mind. His hands slide along the length of your thighs, and his thumbs part the swollen flesh of your folds. He dips his head lower and licks a long stripe up your slit before sucking on your clit. The pressure is unrelenting, and you writhe under his attention, your legs trembling.

"Fuck," you hiss, trying to keep still. "Fuck."

His mouth is everywhere, his tongue licking and teasing and tasting. It's too much, the pleasure building, and you can't help but arch your back, your eyes squeezing shut. Your breath comes in short gasps as he laps at your folds, his hands gripping your thighs. You can't help but thrust upward, grinding against his mouth.

"That's it," he whispers. "Good girl."

The praise sends a shiver down your spine, and the orgasm hits you like a bolt of lightning. Your eyes fly open, and the room blurs, everything fading away except for the sensation of his mouth on you. Your body tenses, your muscles contracting, and your head falls back, a ragged gasp escaping you.

The waves of pleasure roll over you, and it's several moments before the feeling subsides, the tension in your body finally releasing. You've barely relaxed against the sheets when Wolffe slides a finger inside of you, his movements slow and gentle. The sensation is almost painful, the friction making you hiss. 

He pauses, his mouth pulling away from you, and he studies you, his brow furrowed. "Alright?"

You can't help but nod. "Yes."

His eyes dart to the scar that bisects the inside of your thigh, his gaze lingering.

"Does it hurt?" he asks softly.

"Not anymore," you reply. "Just sensitive."

"Are you sure? I don't want to—"

"Please," you whisper. "Please don't stop."

Wolffe nods and continues, his movements slow and steady. You watch as his finger moves in and out of you, the sight making your skin flush. His thumb brushes against your clit and begins to move in small circles. The contact is almost too much, and a whimper escapes you.

"Oh," you gasp, biting your lip. "Fuck, Wolffe..."

He dips his head and his tongue joins his thumb, the two of them working in tandem. His mouth is warm and soft, and the sensations are almost too much, the pleasure making your eyes roll back. He adds a second finger and his movements become faster. Harder. You can't help but buck against him, grinding into his hand.

"More," you beg. "More. Please."

He doesn't hesitate. His mouth closes around your clit, his tongue flicking over the swollen bud, and your core pulses. It's almost too much, and you writhe beneath him, trying to get away from the pleasure.

But he doesn't stop.

His fingers continue moving inside of you, his mouth relentless. He adds a third finger, the stretch almost painful. Your core clenches, the tension building, and it's a matter of moments before another orgasm crashes through you, more intense than the first.

Your back arches off the bed as your muscles tense and then go limp. Your limbs feel like lead, and you collapse back onto the mattress, gasping for air. Your vision is blurry, the room spinning. You can feel sweat beading on your forehead, and it takes a moment for your senses to return.

Wolffe's kneeling between your legs, his hand resting on the inside of your thigh. His expression is smug, his eyes twinkling, and there's a hint of mischief in his gaze.

"Want another?" he asks.

"Fuck," you groan. "You're going to kill me."

He smirks and leans forward, pressing a kiss to your stomach. "You said that last time."

"Did I?"

"And the time before that," he murmurs.

"It's a good way to go."

"Hm," he says. He kisses a line across your abdomen, and his hands wander, sliding along the curve of your waist. "I can think of a few other ways."

His mouth travels lower, his lips brushing against the hollow of your hip. You can't help but tense, a moan escaping you.

"Relax," he whispers. "I've got you."

"Please," you beg.

"Please what?"

"More."

"More of this?"

"Yes," you gasp.

Wolffe smirks, and his tongue licks a long line up the inside of your thigh. His stubble is rough against your sensitive flesh, and you can't help but squirm, trying to get away. But his hands grip your legs, his hold firm, and he continues, his mouth traveling up the inside of your thigh.

The contact is teasing, his movements slow and deliberate, and his tongue is hot and wet against your skin. You can't help but buck your hips, grinding against his mouth. He groans, and the sound makes your eyes roll back.

"Don't stop," you beg.

"No?"

"Please."

"Beg me," he murmurs, and he nips at the inside of your thigh, the sharp pain making you gasp.

"Please," you gasp. "Don't stop. I need you. Please."

He chuckles, his breath fanning across your slick folds.

"Good girl," he whispers.

You shudder at the praise, a shiver running down your spine. His mouth returns to your center, and his tongue traces along your folds, lapping at the sensitive flesh. The contact is electric, and you writhe, your head falling back.

"Wolffe," you moan, trying to pull away. But his grip is too tight, and his tongue continues to move, licking and teasing and tasting. It isn’t long before you're trembling, the tension in your body reaching its breaking point. Your hands fist in the sheets, and you arch off the bed, crying out as the third orgasm rocks through you.

You collapse back against the mattress, panting.

"Fuck," you hiss, trying to catch your breath. "Wolffe."

He doesn't respond, his mouth still on you. His tongue flicks over your clit, and he sucks the swollen bud between his lips, drawing another cry from you. He doesn't stop, and the pleasure builds, the sensations becoming almost unbearable.

"Wait," you gasp. "Wait, I—"

But it's too late. The fourth orgasm is even more intense than the others, and the intensity makes you see stars. Your whole body goes rigid, and you can't stop yourself from thrashing. Your back arches off the bed, and your fists twist in the sheets as your mouth clamps shut, a high-pitched whine escaping you.

It feels like an eternity before the pleasure finally subsides, and you slump against the mattress, trying to catch your breath. Wolffe pulls away, his mouth shining, and he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Okay?" he asks, his tone amused.

"I'm... I'm..." You swallow hard, unable to form a coherent thought. "Yeah."

"Good," he murmurs, and his voice is a low rumble. He pushes himself up and sits back on his heels. His eye is dark, his pupil blown wide, and his hands come to rest on your waist, the pressure firm.

"Up," he murmurs. "Knees."

You nod, and your limbs move slowly, the exhaustion from earlier creeping up on you. Your body is still trembling, and it takes a moment for you to settle into position, your knees digging into the mattress. 

You watch as Wolffe stands, and he strips off his armor in quick succession, the movements smooth and efficient. The sight is always a surprise. You're not used to seeing him bare.

When the war first started, the clones had been reluctant to undress around you. Their uniforms were a source of comfort. Of safety. It was only later that you realized how vulnerable it made them feel. How naked they were without their armor. It was a show of trust. A sign of acceptance.

It had taken months of gentle coaxing to get Wolffe out of his armor. The fact that he had removed it for you that day in the bunker was a testament to how far the two of you had come.

And now?

Now it was a familiar sight.

You watch as he unclasps his codpiece and sets it on the shelf. He's already hard, the bulge obvious, and his cock is straining against the material of his blacks. You can't help but bite your lip, the sight making you squirm despite the exhaustion in your limbs.

"Like what you see?" he asks, a smirk curving his mouth.

"You know I do," you murmur.

"Well then," he replies. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his blacks and pushes the material down his hips. His cock springs free, the tip red and swollen. You can't help but lick your lips, the sight making your core clench.

"How do you want me?" you ask, the words breathles.

He lets out a rough laugh. "You'd let me do anything right now."

You swallow hard. He's not wrong. The orgasms he'd given you had left you weak and trembling. You couldn't deny him anything, and you didn’t want to.

"True," you say. "But where do you want me?"

"Right where you are."

He steps closer and grips his cock. You can't help but stare, his length impressive. Everything about him is impressive. It's almost intimidating. Almost. 

The truth is, you've never felt as safe as when Wolffe's arms are wrapped around you. As cherished as when he's between your legs. As protected as when his gaze is on you.

His hand begins to move, his fist pumping his length, and you watch, transfixed. He lets out a low groan, and the sound makes you shiver, the heat in your core flaring. His thumb brushes against the tip, spreading the precum, and he grips the base, the veins along his length prominent.

"Touch yourself," he orders.

You nod and reach between your legs. Your folds are wet and swollen, and your clit is still sensitive from the attention Wolffe had given you. You press a finger against the bundle of nerves and gasp. The contact makes you shudder, and your eyes drift shut, a ragged moan escaping you.

Wolffe watches, his gaze intent. "Good girl."

"Fuck," you hiss. "Wolffe... I need..."

"What do you need?"

"You."

"Yeah?" he whispers. "Do you think you can handle it?"

It's a tease, but you know he means it. He wants to know that you're okay, that you're not pushing yourself. You've experienced Wolffe's stamina firsthand. More than once. And while it had been incredible, the man was insatiable. It's a miracle the two of you hadn't gotten caught.

"I can take it," you say. "Come here."

He nods and steps closer. His hand grips his cock again and he gives himself a few more pumps. He's flushed, his breathing ragged, and his hair is damp, a lock of it falling over his forehead.

The sight is breathtaking.

"Come on," you urge. "I'm ready."

"You sure?"

"Positive," you murmur. "Please."

He grunts and shifts forward, climbing onto the bed. His hands find your waist, and he guides you back, the pillows cushioning your head. He moves to hover over you, his forearms braced on either side of your head, and his hips settle between yours, the length of his cock pressing against your center.

The sensation is delicious, and you can't help but roll your hips, grinding against him. Wolffe groans, the sound deep and rumbling, and he presses his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble scratching the delicate skin.

"Easy," he murmurs. "Let's take it slow."

"Why?" you breathe.

"Because we have all night."

He kisses a trail along the column of your throat and then pulls back. His hands find the backs of your knees, and he lifts, hooking your legs over his elbows. He shifts forward, the head of his cock brushing against your folds, and the contact makes you hiss.

He pushes in, the stretch almost painful. The sensation is so intense that your eyes roll back, and you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. His movements are slow and steady, his pace agonizingly unhurried.

"Fuck," you hiss.

"Yeah," he whispers. "You're doing so well."

The praise sends a thrill through you, and you can't help but moan. Wolffe’s lips quirk upward, the corners of his mouth curving into a grin, and he dips his head, kissing a trail along your collarbone. His tongue traces the curve of your shoulder before moving higher, his mouth finding the spot below your ear.

He sucks on the sensitive flesh, and the contact makes your breath catch. He continues, his teeth grazing your pulse point, and the pressure is firm, but not painful. He wouldn’t leave a mark. Not in a visible spot. That was one of the unspoken rules.

You were both careful not to leave any evidence behind after the first time. No bruise, bites, or scratches. Nothing that could raise questions. Nothing that could cause a scandal.

But the thought of being marked by him, of him leaving some sign of possession, makes your heart pound. It’s a possessiveness you reciprocate. You can’t help it. When it comes to Wolffe, you’re hopelessly drawn to him.

His mouth moves lower, his teeth scraping against the swell of your breast. He sucks on the tender flesh, and the feeling is intense, the ache making you writhe. He repeats the motion, the suction firm, and the sting makes your toes curl.

He releases your skin, and his eye flickers upwards, the color a dark grey.

"I should stop," he murmurs. "Shouldn't leave any marks."

You can't help but whine. "Please..."

"It's not a good idea."

"Just one."

He frowns, his expression conflicted. But he doesn't say no.

"Where?"

You consider the question for a moment, then your hand finds the back of his head, your fingers tangling in his hair. You guide him lower, toward the valley between your breasts. He obliges, his mouth moving over the spot, and the contact makes you shiver.

"Here," you murmur. "Please."

He pauses, and then he dips his head and bites. The feeling is sharp, the pain making your muscles tense. His tongue flicks against the skin, and then he's sucking, his mouth relentless. The pleasure is immediate, and the combination of pain and bliss makes you moan.

His mouth lingers, his tongue tracing over the mark. Then he pulls back, the look on his face almost proud.

"Good?"

You can't help but huff a laugh. "Yeah."

He leans in and presses a kiss to the spot, and you can't help but squirm, the friction making your core clench. Wolffe lets out a groan, the sound low and guttural, and his hips snap forward, his movements quickening.

The sudden change makes you gasp, the feeling almost too much. You're still sensitive, and the feeling is intense, the ache deep. You can't help but tilt your head back, your eyes squeezing shut, your chest heaving as your lungs fight for air.

"You alright?" he asks.

You nod, biting your lip. "Yes."

He kisses the hollow of your throat.

"You're taking it so well," he murmurs. "Just a little more."

"Okay."

His thrusts pick up speed, and the rhythm is steady, his pace unhurried. But the strength of his thrusts makes your eyes water, and when he moves your legs, hooking them over his shoulders the change in angle is almost unbearable.

You cry out, and your eyes fly open. The sight is devastating, and you can't look away. Wolffe's above you, his body caging yours, and his face is flushed, his mouth open, his brow furrowed.

The expression is one you've seen before.

The look in his eye is intense. Fierce. Possessive. It's a side of him that only you get to see, a vulnerability that only you get to witness. You can't help but wrap your arms around him, your hands roaming his back, his shoulders, his sides. You touch him everywhere, the feeling almost desperate.

Wolffe leans down, pressing your thighs further into your chest, and his mouth finds yours in a messy kiss, his tongue tracing over your bottom lip. His movements are sloppy, his focus on his thrusts, and the lack of coordination makes him seem vulnerable.

It's a side of him that he would never show anyone else. Only you.

You break the kiss, gasping for air, and your hands find his face, your thumbs tracing along the scarred ridge of his brow. He turns his head, kissing the palm of your hand, and then his lips find the inside of your wrist, his mouth moving along the line of your pulse.

"Wolffe," you whisper, his name a plea.

"I've got you," he says. He picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, and his hand snakes between your legs, his fingers finding the swollen bud of your clit. His touch is electric, and you let out a ragged gasp, your nails digging into his skin.

"So close," you breathe.

He nods, his breath coming in short gasps. "Come on. Let go."

You can't help but obey. You arch off the bed, your head falling back as the final orgasm rocks through you. It's the most intense of the night, the waves crashing over you and pulling you under. It feels like an eternity before the sensations subside, and when they do, you collapse back onto the mattress, the exhaustion threatening to overwhelm you.

You're dimly aware of the fact that Wolffe is still moving, his thrusts becoming frantic. It's a matter of moments before he follows you, and his whole body goes rigid, the muscles of his abdomen tensing. He lets out a low moan, the sound deep and rumbling before the warmth of his release fills you. He keeps moving, drawing the pleasure out until the last of his release has been spent, and it's a few moments before he finally stills.

Wolffe lets out a long exhale and leans forward, his weight settling on top of you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You wrap your arms around him, and your hands find the nape of his neck, your fingers threading through his hair.

The two of you lie there for a while, neither one of you speaking. Your limbs are heavy, the ache in your core pulsing. It's a struggle to keep your eyes open, and you can't help but sigh, the exhaustion catching up with you.

Eventually, Wolffe shifts, his head turning to press a kiss to the underside of your jaw.

"I'll be right back," he murmurs.

You nod, and he pushes himself up, his body moving away from yours. You miss the contact immediately, the warmth of his skin, the smell of him, and you can't help but reach for him.

"Wolffe..."

He chuckles. "I'll be back."

He slides off the bed and stands, the mattress shifting. His body is silhouetted by the light from the candles, and he moves across the room, disappearing into the refresher. He returns a few minutes later with a damp cloth.

"Up," he murmurs, and his hands find the back of your knees, the touch firm. You let him move you, the cloth warm as he wipes away the remnants of the two of you. When he's done, he tosses the cloth aside and moves around the room, extinguishing the candles and grabbing a clean shirt from the shelf.

You sit up, wincing at the twinge in your muscles. Wolffe turns, holding the shirt in his hands.

"Here," he says.

You accept the garment and slip it over your head. The fabric is worn, the collar loose, and the sleeves hang over your hands. It's comfortable, and the scent of him surrounds you, making your heart clench.

"Better?" he asks, his mouth curved into a smirk.

"Much," you reply as a yawn escapes you.

He reaches for the sheets, pulling them up.

"Get in," he says, and you slip under the covers. He does the same, the mattress dipping under his weight. Wolffe rolls onto his side and pulls you close, his arm draped over your waist. The two of you trade soft kisses, and he brushes the hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

"Sleep," he whispers.

"Don't want to," you murmur. "Not yet."

He pulls your head to rest on his shoulder, his fingers threading through your hair.

"You need to rest."

You let out a soft sigh and bury your face in the crook of his neck, his pulse beating beneath the thin skin. "Don't like the dreams."

Wolffe stiffens, his body tensing, and he's quiet for a long moment. The silence is deafening, and you wonder if you've said too much. You hadn't meant to. Not tonight.

"I don't like them either," he says, his voice hoarse.

You know what they are, how vivid and real they can be. You'd heard him wake more than once, watched him gasp for air, his eyes wide, his expression terrified. And he'd comforted you more than once when the strange visions found you in your sleep, the two of you laying in the dark, clinging to each other, afraid to let go.

You'd tried not to think about what it might mean. How it had gotten to this point. Whether the nightmares would ever end.

If you could survive the war.

"Sorry," you mumble, your voice barely audible, the words muffled against his skin.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Still."

"No," he says firmly. There’s a beat, and then he sighs, the sound weary. "I hate watching you struggle. Hate not being able to do anything."

"You are doing something,” you whisper. You pull back, propping yourself up on your elbow, and the two of you look at each other. He reaches up, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

"Doesn't feel like it," he murmurs. "Sometimes I worry..."

He trails off, and the look in his eye makes your heart clench. You can't help but lean down and press a soft kiss to his lips. He reciprocates, his hand moving to cup the back of your head, and you kiss him again. And again.

"You have no idea how important this is," he says as the two of you break apart.

"What is?"

"Being here," he replies. "Holding you."

Your throat tightens. "Wolffe..."

He gives you a small smile, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "I've always been good at taking orders. Even before I met you. Before the war."

"Is that right?"

He hums, his gaze focused on his thumb.

"It's what I'm trained to do," he says. "It's what I was bred for. It's why they created us."

"I don't think they planned for this," you murmur, and it's an effort to keep the bitterness out of your voice. 

He frowns. "What?"

You reach up, your fingers trailing along his temple, his scars soft. The sight of him in his armor had been intimidating at first. Terrifying, even. The way he held himself, his expression hard, his jaw set, his demeanor unreadable. But now?

Now, the thought of him putting it on was heartbreaking.

"For you to want more,” you whisper.

He's quiet for a long moment, and then he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss is gentle, and he cups the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. You return the pressure, trying to convey what you're feeling. What you've always felt.

Wolffe's the most incredible man you've ever met. He's strong and brave and kind. Loyal and fierce and protective. And you would give anything to give him the life he deserves. The life he should have.

When he pulls back, the look in his eye is fierce.

"This is the only order I've ever disobeyed," he murmurs. "The only thing I've ever wanted to break the rules for. To rebel. To choose for myself."

And he doesn't have to elaborate.

Your heart skips a beat, the words making your chest ache. The first night you'd spent together had changed everything. The two of you had known the risk, you'd known what would happen if you got caught. But neither of you had cared. You'd been helpless to resist, the tension finally becoming too much.

It had been an act of defiance.

A way to rebel against the orders you'd both been given and the path your lives had taken.

You'd done it again and again. The two of you had fallen into bed more times than you could count, and every encounter had been the same. And now, with the war coming to a close, with the fighting reaching a fever pitch, the two of you were running out of time.

"Wolffe..."

"And I'd do it again," he whispers. "In a heartbeat. And I'm not sorry."

The words make you shiver. They're so similar to what he'd said when the two of you had first laid together. When the two of you had surrendered to the connection between you, unable to resist the pull.

You can feel tears start to prick your eyes, and it’s a struggle not to let them fall.

"Me neither," you whisper, your voice thick.

He reaches up and brushes the stray tear that had escaped away, his thumb leaving a trail of warmth against your skin. You swallow hard, and he pulls you closer, his hand moving to the back of your head.

"You need to sleep," he murmurs. "We're leaving early tomorrow."

You nod, and the two of you adjust, shifting into a more comfortable position. He curls around you, his body solid and warm, and his arm wraps around your waist, his palm flat against your stomach. The slow, steady rhythm of his breathing begins to lull you, and your eyelids grow heavy, your vision blurring.

"Don't let go," you whisper.

He tugs you closer, his face pressed against the back of your neck.

"Never."

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[marcusssanderson]

Funny inspirational quotes about life, love, and struggles

Looking for funny inspirational quotes and sayings when you just need a laugh?

We all need to laugh more.

As they say, “laughter is the best form of medicine”.

While the doctor might not prescribe it, the ability to find humor in our situation is key for maintaining of sanity, patience, and peace of mind.

Believing in our future doesn’t have to be scary, and change doesn’t have to be painful.

You are allowed to have fun along the way!

Don’t hesitate to take it easy at times.

Smile at strangers, laugh at yourself, and know that you’re free to start over.

I received a request to post some funny inspirational quotes, so I went for it.

These funny inspirational quotes are pretty tame (around 5 – 10 schools have made me aware that they use my blog as a quote resource), but they will surely make you smile!

On our journey towards personal greatness, it’s important that we laugh at our setbacks, slip-ups, and blunders.

Why? That’s because plenty more are on the way.

Hopefully, these funny inspirational quotes help us stay focused and stay loose.

Keep them close to help make your journey through life more pleasurable.

Have fun reading!

Funny inspirational quotes for work and life

1.) “I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realize I should have been more specific.” – Lily Tomlin

2.) “If at first you don’t succeed, then skydiving definitely isn’t for you.” – Steven Wright

3.) “I find television very educational. Every time someone turns it on, I go in the other room and read a book.” – Groucho Marx

4.) “All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence, and then success is sure.” – Mark Twain

5.) “If you don’t know where you are going, you might wind up someplace else.” – Yogi Berra 

6.) “There never was a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him asleep.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

7.) “It took me fifteen years to discover I had no talent for writing, but I couldn’t give it up because by then I was too famous.” – Robert Benchley

8.) “Luck is what you have left over after you give 100 percent.” ��� Langston Coleman

9.) “Opportunity does not knock, it presents itself when you beat down the door.” – Kyle Chandler

10.) “Don’t worry about the world coming to an end today. It is already tomorrow in Australia.” – Charles Schulz

Funny inspirational quotes about life that will motivate you

11.) “I didn’t fail the test. I just found 100 ways to do it wrong.” – Benjamin Franklin

12.) “Life is a shipwreck but we must not forget tossing in the lifeboats.” – Voltaire

13.) “When I hear somebody sigh, Life is hard, I am always tempted to ask, ‘Compared to what?'” – Sydney Harris

14.) “The elevator to success is out of order. You’ll have to use the stairs… one step at a time.” – Joe Girard

15.) “The brain is a wonderful organ; it starts working the moment you get up in the morning, and does not stop until you get into the office.” – Robert Frost

16.) “We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.” – George Bernard Shaw

17.) “The best way to cheer yourself up is to try to cheer somebody else up.” – Mark Twain

18.) “Age is of no importance unless you’re a cheese.” – Billie Burke

19.) “The minute you settle for less than you deserve, you get even less than you settled for.” – Maureen Dowd

20.) “It takes less time to do things right than to explain why you did it wrong.” – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Funny inspirational quotes about life and career

21.) “The key to success is not through achievement but through enthusiasm.” – Malcolm Forbes

22.) “I cannot afford to waste my time making money.” – Louis Agassiz

23.) “Friendship is like peeing on yourself: everyone can see it, but only you get the warm feeling that it brings.” – Robert Bloch

24.) “If you think you are too small to be effective, you have never been in the dark with a mosquito.” – Betty Reese

25.) “The difference between genius and stupidity is; genius has its limits.” – Albert Einstein

26.) “Always borrow money from a pessimist. He won’t expect it back.”  – Oscar Wilde

27.) “When you do not know what you are doing and what you are doing is the best – that is inspiration.” – Robert Bresson

28.) “My therapist told me the way to achieve true inner peace is to finish what I start. So far I’ve finished two bags of M&Ms and a chocolate cake. I feel better already.”  – Dave Barry

29.) “People say nothing is impossible, but I do nothing every day.” – A.A. Milne

30.) “It is not the answer that enlightens, but the question.” – Eugene Ionesco Decouvertes

Funny Inspirational quotes for life

31.) “Too much of a good thing can be wonderful.” – Mae West

32.) “Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.” – Thomas Edison

33.) “You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.” – Jack London

34.) “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go.” – Dr. Seuss

35.) “A diamond is merely a lump of coal that did well under pressure.” – Unknown

36.) “Never put off until tomorrow what you can do the day after tomorrow.” – Mark Twain

37.) “Life is like a sewer – what you get out of it depends on what you put into it.” – Tom Lehrer

38.) “Never let your sense of morals prevent you from doing what is right.” – Isaac Asimov

39.) “Failure is the condiment that gives success its flavor.” – Truman Capote

40.) “People often say that motivation doesn’t last. Well, neither does bathing; that’s why we recommend it daily.” – Zig Ziglar

Short funny quotes and sayings about work

41.) “If you’re going to be able to look back on something and laugh about it, you might as well laugh about it now.” – Marie Osmond

42.) “I have a simple philosophy: Fill what is empty. Empty what is full. Scratch where it itches.” – Alice Roosevelt Longworth

43.) “Even a stopped clock is right twice every day. After some years, it can boast of a long series of successes.” – Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach

44.) “You must learn from the mistakes of others. You can’t possibly live long enough to make them all yourself.” – Sam Levenson

45.) “Honest criticism is hard to take, particularly from a relative, a friend, an acquaintance, or a stranger.” – Franklin P. Jones

46.) “You can live to be a hundred if you give up all the things that make you want to live to be a hundred.” –  Woody Allen

47.) “The more you weigh, the harder you are to kidnap. Stay safe. Eat cake.”

48.) “Dear life, when I said: ‘Can my day get any worse?’ It was rhetorical, not a challenge.”

49.) “Cleaning up is just putting stuff in less obvious places.”

50.) “It amazes me how much exercise and extra fires sound alike.”

More funny inspirational quotes and sayings

51.) “I want to be like a caterpillar. Eat a lot. Sleep for a while. Wake up beautiful.”

52.) “In m defense, I was left unsupervised.”

53.) “Taking naps sounds so childish. I prefer to call them horizontal life pauses.”

54.) I walk around like everything is fine. But deep down, inside my show, my sock is sliding off.”

55.) “It’s called Karma, and it’s pronounced, ‘Haha, f*** you ‘.”

56.) “If we’re not meant to have midnight snacks, why is there a light in the fridge?”

57.) “I think my guardian angel drinks.”

58.) “So it turns out that being an adult is really just Googling how to do stuff.”

59.) “I don’t think there will be enough coffee or middle fingers for this Monday.”

60.) “Don’t give up on your dreams. Keep sleeping!”

Funny inspirational quotes to motivate you

61.) Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work. – Thomas Eddison

62.) If you try to fail, and succeed, which have you done? – George Carli

63.) If you’re going to be thinking, you may as well think big. – Donald Trump

64.) My fake plants died because I did not pretend to water them. – Mitch Hedberg

65.) “You must pay for your sins. If you have already paid, please ignore this notice.” — Sam Levenson

66.) “It’s okay to look at the past and the future. Just don’t stare.” — Lisa Lieberman-Wang

67.) Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please. – Mark Twain

68.) “I have to be successful because I like expensive things.” — Lisa Lieberman-Wang

69.) “Hating people is like burning down your own home to get rid of a rat.” — Harry Emerson Fosdick

70.) I am blessed with a funny gene that makes me enjoy life. – Karan Patel

Funny inspirational quotes for everyone

71.) “Listen, smile, agree, and then do whatever you were gonna do anyway.“ – Robert Downey Jr.

72.) “Wisdom comes from experience. Experience is often a result of lack of wisdom.” – Terry Pratchett

73.) “The reason I talk to myself is because I’m the only one whose answers I accept.” – George Carlin

74.) “Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds.” – Albert Einstein

75.) “I figured something out. The future is unpredictable.” – John Green

76.) “To succeed in life,

[lorilane33]

Oh my god I had all the feels reading this! The smut was perfection! So was the feels 🫠 oof this man will be the death of me

Until Morning

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

Words: 12,758

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, forbidden relationship, smut, soft dom!Wolffe, orgasm denial, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, marking (in both ways), the beginning is filthy but he's actually so sweet in this, well ok it's all filthy, they are in looovvve

Summary: After confessing your feelings for each other, you and Wolffe carry on. During the day, you're nothing but professional, but what happens behind closed doors is something else entirely.

Prompts: 67. “It’s taking all my self control not to bend you over the table and fuck you right here.” & 92. “Fuck, knowing that you’re walking around filled with my cum has me so hard.”

A/N: I spilled angst all over the smut again, sorry! Hope sweet, affectionate Wolffe makes up for the bits of sad. I'd recommend reading For One Night first if you haven't already. Thanks @aynavaano for the inspo I needed to write this sequel and for inspiring the original!

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

Waking up next to someone was a feeling you had yet to get used to, but it was certainly not something you would complain about. The warm, firm body beside you, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the sound of his breathing — it's a balm on your weary soul, and a reminder that for a little while, at least, you aren't alone.

You open your eyes and watch him, his features soft and peaceful. In sleep, the lines of stress and worry are gone, the scar stretching across his eye less harsh, and Wolffe looks almost boyish, his expression open and vulnerable. Your heart clenches at the sight, and you resist the urge to reach out and stroke his cheek.

In the early hours of the morning, it's easy to forget what awaits you both outside this room. To imagine a world where you could stay like this forever, the two of you lost in each other. You'll take what few moments you can get, though, and treasure them.

Wolffe stirs beside you, his face scrunching up in annoyance, and he lets out a grunt. That was something you were used to — how grumpy and irritable he could be in the mornings. It's endearing, and you stifle a smile, knowing he would grumble even more if he saw it.

"I can hear you thinking," he mutters, his eyes still squeezed shut. "Go back to sleep."

"Good morning," you reply, amused.

"No, it's not."

He turns his face, burrowing deeper under the covers, and you bite your lip hard to keep from laughing. He's a notorious grump in the mornings, and you'd learned the best way to deal with it is to leave him alone and let him wake up at his own pace, but when you try to get up, his arm snakes out, pulling you back against him.

"Wolffe!"

"Where do you think you're going?" he rumbles, his voice husky.

"To start the day," you tell him. "Some of us have a meeting to get to."

"No," he protests, his arm tightening around your waist. "Canceled."

"It's not canceled," you huff, but the protest is half-hearted, and when his hand slides down to your hip, squeezing the flesh, you can't help but lean back into him, a soft sigh escaping you.

"Not yet," he murmurs as his fingers trace circles on your skin. "Stay here a little longer."

"Plo is expecting you," you say, the reminder more for yourself than him. "You have a lot of work to do."

"I'm sure the General will understand," he says.

You know you should be the responsible one here, but it's hard to resist him. Especially when his lips are ghosting along the sensitive spot beneath your ear, his breath hot against your skin. It's tempting, too tempting, and your resolve crumbles.

"Fine," you relent. "But not too long."

Wolffe smirks, triumphant, and his lips find yours, capturing them in a deep kiss. You melt into him, your body sinking against his, and you lose yourself in the sensation, the feel of him surrounding you. His hand drifts down, tracing the curve of your waist, and he tugs you closer, his hardness pressing into your hip.

"Wolffe," you mumble, breaking the kiss. "We shouldn't. I need to report to Plo, and you—"

"Are busy," he interrupts. "Very, very busy. Right now."

"You're impossible," you groan.

"Mm," he hums, his lips trailing down your throat. "Don't worry, jet'ika. I'll make it quick."

Before you can protest, his hand is slipping between your legs, his fingers seeking out the wet heat of your core. He finds your clit, his thumb rubbing lazy circles on the bud, and you gasp, the sound lost in the kiss.

He's insistent, his touch firm and purposeful, and he wastes no time in delving deeper, dipping into your wetness. Two fingers slide inside of you with little resistance, and the stretch is just shy of too much, his thick digits filling you in a way that has you trembling.

"Kriff, you're so wet already," he growls, his mouth pressed against the hollow of your throat. He nips at the sensitive flesh, his stubble scraping against your skin. "Tell me, jet'ika, does the thought of sneaking around turn you on?"

"No," you gasp, even as your hips buck against his hand.

"Liar," he chides.

Wolffe pulls his fingers out, and before you can whine in protest, he flips you over, pinning you beneath him. His gaze is dark, pupil blown in his single gold eye, and the predatory look on his face makes your toes curl. He leans down, his mouth pressing against the shell of your ear.

"Do you know what I'm going to do?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "I'm going to fuck you. And I'm going to make it quick, just like you asked. But I'm not going to let you come."

"Wolffe—"

"You're going to walk around today with my cum dripping out of you, and every time you see me, you're going to remember how good it felt. You're going to be thinking about how hard you came on my cock last night, and how badly you want to do it again. And you're not going to get to,” he continues. "You're going to have to wait, like a good girl, until we can sneak away again. Until I can fuck you properly."

The words make a wave of heat wash over you, and your cunt clenches around nothing, a desperate ache forming between your legs. You arch against him, seeking friction, but his hands pin your hips to the bed, preventing any movement.

"Understand?"

"Yes," you breathe, your voice shaky, and he rewards you with a sharp nip to the neck.

"That's my girl," he murmurs. He moves to straddle your thighs, and the sudden shift of his weight makes you gasp. You can feel his length, hot and heavy against the curve of your ass, and you can't help but push back, teasing him.

He chuckles, the sound rough.

"Oh, I see how it is," he says, and he pushes you flat, his palm splayed on your lower back. "You're not very good at being patient, are you?"

"You're taking too long," you grumble.

"I told you I was going to make this quick," he says. "So be a good girl and keep still."

He grips your hips, pulling you up, and then he's pushing into you, his length sliding in easily. The stretch is delicious, and you bite your lip, the ache settling low in your belly. He fills you perfectly, the angle allowing him to sink deeper than before, and you moan, the sensation of being full almost too much. Your head drops down, resting on the pillow, and he gives an experimental thrust, the motion slow and deliberate.

"Maker," he hisses, his hands digging into the flesh of your hips. "You feel so fucking good."

He sets a punishing pace, his thrusts hard and fast. He fucks you like a man possessed, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing in the room. He's not gentle, not sweet, and the contrast of his tenderness the night before and his roughness now has you panting, your fingers twisting in the sheets.

He leans forward, his chest pressing against your back, and the change of position has him hitting a spot deep inside of you, the friction sending sparks dancing across your vision. You whine, and he shushes you, his breath hot against your skin.

"Shh," he whispers. "Gotta keep quiet. Wouldn't want anyone to hear you, would we?"

The thought makes you tremble, and he huffs a laugh.

"Yeah," he says, "you'd like that, wouldn't you? For everyone to hear how good I'm fucking you."

He punctuates his statement with a sharp thrust, the head of his cock hitting the spot again. You clamp a hand over your mouth, muffling the moan that threatens to slip out.

"So good," he growls, his voice low and ragged. "You're so fucking good for me."

His pace becomes frantic, his thrusts losing their rhythm. You can tell he's getting close, his breathing heavy and labored, and you can feel the tension coiling in his muscles, the anticipation of his release making your cunt clench around him. Wolffe hisses, his grip tightening on your hips, and he slams into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt.

The sensation is enough to make your eyes roll back, and you feel him twitch inside you, his cock pulsing. His release is hot and sticky, coating your inner walls, and the knowledge that he's filling you up, marking you as his, sends a rush of arousal through you. The idea is depraved, filthy, and it's only your hand covering your mouth that keeps you from crying out.

You can't help but grind back against him, the pressure inside you almost too much. His hands grip your hips, holding you still, and he chuckles, his lips trailing along the shell of your ear.

"Ah, ah," he chides, "be a good girl and take it."

You bite your lip, trying to ignore the desperate need building inside you, but the friction is almost too much, the sound of his voice whispering in your ear making the ache worse. You're trembling, the tension in your body coiled tight, and the only thing you can focus on is the feel of him inside you, his cock stretching you wide.

And then he's pulling out, his length sliding free. The sudden emptiness inside you is a shock, and you can't help the small whimper that escapes. He shushes you, his fingers stroking the curve of your hip.

"What did I say?"

"Wolffe," you gasp, your voice hoarse. "Please, I need—"

"No."

He moves off you, the mattress shifting, and the loss of his warmth is almost enough to make you sob. He runs his hand along your spine, the touch soothing.

"Turn over."

You do as he asks, rolling onto your back, and the sight of him, his pupils blown and his chest flushed, is almost enough to undo you. He leans over, his hand coming up to cradle the side of your face, and his thumb traces the curve of your cheek.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he murmurs, his eyes burning. Your cheeks flush, the compliment making your heart skip a beat, and he gives you a soft, almost sad, smile.

"You really are, you know," he says, his voice thick. "Beautiful."

His other hand trails down, brushing against your thigh, and he grips your leg, his fingers digging into the flesh.

"I want to see you."

You open your mouth to ask him what he means, but the words die in your throat as he pushes your legs apart, his gaze zeroing in on the spot between your thighs. The action is intimate, almost obscene, and you can't help the flush that spreads across your cheeks, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Perfect," he mutters. "Kriff, you're perfect."

His fingers move, his knuckles brushing against the wetness that's gathered between your folds. You whimper, the touch almost painful, and he lets out a rough sound before sliding his fingers into you. You can feel him pushing his cum back inside you, the action somehow more erotic than anything else he's done, and the thought makes you blush even more.

"That's it," he murmurs. "There you go.”

You can't help but push back, grinding yourself against his palm, and his fingers press against the spot deep inside of you, the pleasure making your vision blur.

"Oh, fuck," you breathe.

He leans forward, his breath hot against your ear.

"If you can make it through the day," he says, his voice low and rough, "I promise I'll make it worth your while. I'll take my time. I'll taste every inch of you. I'll lick my cum out of you, and then I'll fuck you until you can't walk."

The promise makes your toes curl, and you whimper, the ache inside of you almost too much.

"Wolffe, please—"

"Commander?"

There's a knock at the door, and the sound of a voice just outside is enough to make your heart drop through your stomach. Wolffe's head snaps up, and he curses, his expression shifting from lust to irritation in an instant.

"What?" he calls out.

"Sir, it's Sinker," the trooper replies. "General Plo wanted me to remind you of your meeting with him. You're late."

"I'm aware," Wolffe grits out.

He glares at the door, jaw clenched, and then he turns back to you, his expression softening. He runs his fingers through your hair, smoothing down the messy strands, and the touch is so tender, the look on his face so vulnerable, that it almost makes your heart stop.

"We'll finish this later," he promises. He glances down, his gaze taking in the sight of his fingers buried inside you. "Fuck."

You look at him, and his expression is torn, the desire to stay, to continue where the two of you left off, clear. You bite your lip, trying not to whimper, and he closes his eyes, his nostrils flaring.

"I wish I could just—"

He cuts himself off, and then he's pulling his fingers out, leaving you empty and wanting. You watch, mesmerized, as he brings them to his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste the slickness that coats them.

"Fuck, I can't wait to have you on my tongue," he says.

You whine, the image of his face buried between your thighs making the ache in your core flare, and he smirks.

"I know, cyare," he murmurs. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you."

"Okay," you whisper.

"Get dressed," he says. "I'll see you at the meeting."

"Right."

He gets up, moving away from you, and the sudden loss of him is enough to make the knot in your chest tighten. The room feels empty, colder, and you swallow hard, the feeling of him still lingering on your skin even as he pulls on his blacks and starts to clip his armor back into place.

"Wolffe," you say softly.

He pauses, turning to look at you, and the tenderness in his expression makes your heart skip a beat. Wolffe was not a soft man, and the thought of him looking at you like this, like you were something precious, was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

"I love you."

He smiles, a real smile, the kind you don't see often. The kind that reaches his eyes.

"I love you too," he says. "I'll clear the way. You wait five minutes and then follow. Don't make eye contact."

You nod, and he hesitates, the look on his face making it clear that he's just as reluctant to leave as you are. His hand hovers over the control panel, his fingers trembling, and then he lets out a sigh, pressing the button that slides the door open.

"Five minutes," he says.

"Five minutes."

And then he's gone, the door sliding shut behind him. You stare at it, your chest aching, and then you bury your face in your hands, pressing hard against your eyes. You take a few deep breaths, trying to get yourself under control, before you climb out of bed, searching for your discarded robes.

The next few hours are going to be difficult, if not downright painful. You had no idea how you were going to get through them, how you were going to look at him and not see the man who'd held you, touched you, whispered the sweetest things in your ear.

It's a cruel trick, one the universe is playing on both of you, and you know it. But despite the pain, the longing, you would choose him. It's been months since the two of you started sneaking around, stealing moments here and there, and while it's far from ideal, you can't bring yourself to regret any of it.

Despite everything, you're happy. Happier than you've been in a long time. And if the price for that happiness is the constant ache, the longing, the knowledge that you'll never truly be together, then so be it.

Because in the end, it's worth it. He's worth it.

So you dress, ignoring the way the fabric brushes against the sensitive skin between your thighs, clinging to the dampness of your skin, and you steel yourself for what's to come. The rest of the day is going to be miserable, the hours dragging on as the two of you struggle to keep up appearances, but when the night falls and the lights dim, he'll be waiting.

And that is the promise that keeps you going.

"Five minutes," you say to yourself.

You count down the final seconds, the minutes passing agonizingly slowly. When the timer finally hits zero, you let out a shaky breath and push the button, the door sliding open with a hiss.

You step into the hallway, closing the door behind you, and then you square your shoulders, the resolve in your gut steeling you for the hours ahead.

It's going to be a long day.

But the promise of the night to come makes it a little easier to bear.

It's a familiar routine now, the two of you sneaking around.

Hiding in the shadows, finding quiet places where no one will find you. Kissing him, touching him, and letting him do the same. Whispering promises, sweet nothings, and holding him close. The stolen moments, the brief seconds when it's just the two of you and the rest of the galaxy fades away.

It's a dance, a game, and it's one you and Wolffe have been playing for months now.

And yet, there's something new about today. Something different.

This time, there's a hunger, an intensity, to his gaze that wasn't there before. Wolffe has been watching you all day, and each time your eyes meet, it's like a current running between the two of you, an awareness, an acknowledgement.

You know, and he knows, that when the two of you are alone, nothing will stop him from taking you. From claiming every inch of your body. From showing you exactly how much he needs you, how badly he wants you.

The knowledge makes you ache, and the hours crawl by, each second feeling like an eternity. The two of you haven't had the chance to be alone since this morning, and the anticipation is making you tremble. It's a cruel thing, this game, and you've spent the better part of the day trying to keep yourself from looking at him.

It's hard, though.

Wolffe is an imposing figure, his presence commanding. And even with his armor, even when he's not touching you, the pull between the two of you is electric, magnetic.

It's almost painful, this dance the two of you are doing.

He's standing at the front of the command center, his hands clasped behind his back. His shoulders are tense, his expression stoic, and his gaze is trained on the holotable. You know he's only half paying attention, his thoughts no doubt elsewhere.

On you, you think.

You try not to fidget, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, but the longer you stand here, the more aware of him you become. His scent, the way his breath hitches every time someone gets too close. The heat of his body, the way his eyes track your every move.

It's maddening.

You've spent the past few hours working in silence, the two of you trying to avoid raising suspicion, but now, with the day almost done, the tension between you is palpable. You're wound tight, your body thrumming with nervous energy, and the thought of spending another second in this room is making you antsy.

Your gaze flickers to Wolffe, just for a second, and his eyes find yours, the intensity of his stare sending a thrill through you. His expression doesn't change beyond the working of his jaw, but the gold of his iris burns bright, the color shifting as his pupil dilates.

It's a simple gesture, but it's enough.

And it's enough to make the ache between your thighs throb.

He looks away, his focus returning to the hologram in front of him, and the moment passes. But it lingers, the ghost of his gaze, the weight of his attention, settling on you like a physical touch. You're trembling, and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to glance over at him again.

Wolffe is a patient man, a trait that had served him well as a soldier, but when it came to you, that patience was a thin thread. A single strand that could snap at any moment.

And if the look in his eyes is anything to go by, it won't be long before that thread breaks.

"You've done well, Commander," Plo Koon says, his deep voice cutting through the silence.

Wolffe inclines his head, his expression neutral.

"Thank you, General," he replies.

"I appreciate the hard work you've put in. As well as your dedication. It hasn't gone unnoticed."

"It's my duty, sir," Wolffe says stiffly.

"I'm aware that these have been... difficult times."

Wolffe's jaw clenches, but he doesn't respond.

Plo turns, his gaze sweeping the room, and his eyes linger on you, the corners of his mask shifting in what you've come to recognize as a smile. You struggle to return it, and his expression softens. You have a sinking feeling that your former master is aware of more than you'd like, but he doesn't seem upset. If anything, he looks understanding, perhaps even a little sad.

"These are trying times for us all," he says, his voice soft. "I understand that this mission has been particularly difficult for the two of you."

You glance at Wolffe, and the look in his eyes is enough to make your breath catch. The raw hunger, the naked need, is enough to make your knees buckle. He doesn't look away, and his gaze is intense, searing.

"Yes," he rasps. "It has."

"Then perhaps we should call it a night," Plo says. "The both of you have earned a rest."

"I—" Wolffe clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from you. "Sir, with all due respect, I'm fine. I don't need a break."

"Commander," Plo says, his voice gentle but firm, "I insist.”

Wolffe's nostrils flare, but he doesn't argue.

"Sir," he grunts.

Plo Koon gives a dismissive wave, and the others shuffle out, their chatter filling the air. Wolffe remains at the front, his hands still clasped behind his back. His posture is rigid, his shoulders tense. The only movement is the subtle clenching and unclenching of his fists.

He's waiting.

You watch him, trying to hide your own nervousness.

"You've done good work, Commander," Plo says. "Both of you."

"Thank you, General."

"I'll leave you to your evening."

He turns, walking toward the exit, and you can't help but stare after him. There's a sense of finality in his words, and you feel a stab of guilt. Plo has been a father to you, a mentor, and a friend. And the idea of deceiving him, of sneaking around behind his back, is something you've wrestled with for months.

The truth is, though, that there's no other choice. Not really.

It's a cruel game, and the rules are set.

The door slides shut behind him, leaving the two of you alone, and you can't help but hold your breath. Wolffe doesn't move, and the room is filled with silence, the tension between the two of you thickening. You can feel his gaze on you, his stare burning, and you swallow hard.

"Sir, a word," he says to you, loud enough for anyone who's still lingering to hear. "I'd like your opinion on the reports."

"Of course, Commander," you reply, swallowing hard, and Wolffe waits until the room is completely clear before turning his gaze on you, his eye burning.

"You," he growls.

"Me?"

"Are you trying to kill me?"

It takes you a moment to realize what he's referring to, and when you do, a flush spreads across your cheeks. You bite your lip, trying not to grin.

"I don't know what you mean," you say innocently.

"All fucking day," he mutters, stalking toward you. The sound of his footsteps echo, the click of his boots against the floor loud in the otherwise silent room. His stride is steady, his pace even, and the tension between the two of you builds with every step he takes.

Wolffe stands in front of you, his body towering over yours, and the proximity, the way he's looking at you, is enough to make the blood rush in your ears. He places a hand on the console, leaning towards you, and his eyes are dark, his pupils blown.

"You've been watching me," you whisper, and his eye darkens.

"Do you blame me?" he murmurs. "You're a sight, jet'ika. Standing there, pretending like nothing's going on. Fuck, knowing that you’re walking around filled with my cum has been driving me crazy.”

His hand moves, the tips of his fingers brushing against your cheek, and the touch sends a shiver down your spine.

"Did you like it, cyare?" he asks, his voice low. "The idea of me watching you all day, knowing what we did? How much I wanted to fuck you?"

You let out a shaky breath, your body aching for his touch.

"Yes," you whisper.

"Maker," he breathes. "What you do to me."

His hand moves, tracing the line of your jaw, and his gaze is fierce, possessive. You can feel the weight of his attention, the heat of his skin. His hand comes to rest under your chin, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“It’s taking all my self control not to bend you over the table and fuck you right here, right now," he says.

The words send a jolt through you, and you bite your lip, trying not to moan. You've been aching for him all day, the memory of this morning leaving you wanting. You want to touch him, feel his skin against yours, and the hunger in his eyes, the need in his voice, is enough to make you lose any remaining shred of self control.

"You're not the only one," you whisper.

He lets out a rough sound, his other hand moving to grip your hip.

"Is that so, jet'ika?" he murmurs. His lips brush against the shell of your ear, and you can feel his hot breath, his stubble scraping against your skin. You whine, arching into his touch, and he huffs a laugh, the sound making your toes curl.

"I can't wait to get you alone," he says.

"You won't have to."

His hands tighten, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, and he pulls you close. The press of his armor against your body is sharp, the cool plastoid making you shiver. He leans down, and his lips brushing against the hollow of your throat.

"We should stop," he murmurs, his breath fanning across your skin. "I should walk away."

"Probably," you agree, even as your fingers trail along the curve of his cheek.

"I don't think I can."

"Neither can I."

His teeth scrape against your neck, his stubble scratching the sensitive flesh, and you can't help but tilt your head back, exposing more of yourself to him.

"Kriff," he mutters. "I've been thinking about this all day."

You sigh and close your eyes. "Me too."

He lets out a sound that's half growl, half sigh, and his lips move along the column of your throat. His fingers trace circles on your waist, the touch making you tremble. He's close, his body pressing against yours, and the feel of him, the scent of him, is almost too much.

You've waited all day for this, the promise of being with him, touching him, the only thing keeping you from falling apart. And now that the moment is here, it's hard to breathe, hard to think. Harder still, to think about the consequences of this.

But you can't bring yourself to care. Not with his hands on you, his mouth on you.

You need this, and he needs you.

It's the only thought in your mind.

Wolffe presses a kiss to your pulse point, the sensation sending a spark of electricity through you, and his hands are roaming, tracing the curve of your waist. One wanders higher, skimming your side until it cups your breast. His thumb brushes over the stiff peak, and the friction makes your toes curl, a jolt of pleasure shooting down your spine.

"Wolffe..."

"Yeah?"

"We need to leave."

"Right," he murmurs. He pulls back, his hands gripping your waist. His gaze is heavy, his iris dark, and his pupils are blown wide, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

"Right," he repeats, and you can't help but smirk at the reluctance in his tone. The heat in his gaze softens, his expression shifting into something that looks a lot like adoration.

"Fuck, I love you."

You bite your lip, trying not to grin like an idiot.

"I love you, too," you tell him.

He huffs a laugh, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face, and he leans in, his lips brushing against yours. The kiss is soft, gentle, but there's a hint of urgency, a tension, to the way he's holding you.

"Come on," he murmurs. "Let's get out of here."

You nod, and he lets go, his hands dropping away from you. The sudden loss of him is painful, and you have to force yourself not to grab him and kiss him again. Instead, you step away, moving toward the exit, and he follows, his pace slow.

As you approach the door, his fingers brush against the small of your back. The touch is light, the barest hint of contact, but it's a promise. A reminder.

A reassurance.

"Come on," he whispers, his breath ghosting across your ear. "I have plans for you."

The promise makes your cheeks flush, a thrill of anticipation running through you. Wolffe was not a man who did things by halves, and when he set his mind to something, he was relentless. You've seen that same dedication, that single-minded focus, in battle, and the idea of it being turned on you is almost too much.

"Oh?"

Wolffe grins, and the sight is almost predatory.

"Oh yes," he murmurs. "So hurry up. Unless you want me to take you here."

You let out a shaky breath, a rush of arousal making your core throb. The hand on your back urges you forward, guiding you until the door slides open. As soon as you step into the hall, his touch retreats, and he clasps his hands behind his back, the picture of professionalism.

But the look in his eyes is anything but.

"After you, General," he says.

Despite yourself, you can't help but smirk. "As you wish, Commander."

He falls into step beside you, the sound of his boots loud in the empty corridor, and the two of you make your way toward the turbolift. The silence is heavy, the air charged with anticipation. Every part of your body is acutely aware of him, the heat of his gaze, the sound of his breathing.

"So," he says, his voice casual. "How have you been enjoying your time back with the 104th?"

You frown and glance at him over your shoulder. His expression is smooth, the line of his mouth even, but his eyes are burning.

"What do you mean?"

"Just making conversation."

You study him for a moment longer, and then shrug, turning back to the hallway.

"It’s been fine," you reply, unable to keep the confusion out of your voice.

"Fine, huh? No problems? No difficulties adjusting?"

You hesitate, your brow furrowing before you realize what he's doing. You give a friendly nod to a group of troopers walking past, and they greet you in return, oblivious to the tension between the two of you.

"No, Commander," you say evenly. "Nothing I can't handle."

"That's good to hear," Wolffe replies. "We're all happy to have you back."

"It's nice to be back."

"I'm glad."

The two of you enter the turbolift, the doors sliding shut behind you, and Wolffe turns to you, the look in his eyes sending a thrill down your spine.

"I think we should talk about these 'difficulties adjusting,'" he says, and his tone is almost teasing. "Maybe come up with some solutions."

"Maybe."

The lift begins to descend, the floor numbers flashing above the doors, and the air crackles with anticipation. You're acutely aware of his proximity, his body so close to yours, and it takes all your self-control not to touch him. Not to run your fingers over the ridges of his armor, the smooth plates glinting in the dim light.

Not to kiss him.

He glances at you, his eye burning, and he reaches out, his fingers brushing against the curve of your shoulder. It's a simple touch, barely a caress, but the gesture is deliberate. He's making a point, and you can't help but smile, your chest aching with fondness.

"You seem tense, General," he says, and there's a hint of amusement in his tone. "Is everything alright?"

"You're insufferable," you murmur.

"I'm not the one who's been distracting me all day," he retorts, his voice low.

You can't help but roll your eyes. "You started it."

"Did I?"

"Yes."

"And how do you figure that?"

"You know very well what you did this morning," you hiss, and you can't keep the smile off your face. "Don't think I've forgotten."

"Remind me," he murmurs. He steps closer, and his hand drifts lower, his fingers skimming along your arm.

"Wolffe—"

"Please," he whispers. "Remind me."

You can't stop yourself. You reach up, your fingers cupping the side of his face, and the gesture is tender, affectionate. You brush a lock of his hair behind his ear, and he leans into the touch, his eyelids fluttering closed.

"You were very naughty," you murmur, and the word, so unlike you, makes him smirk. You can't help but grin in return.

"Is that right?" he whispers.

"Very," you continue. "Teasing me like that. Filling me up. Making me wait."

He lets out a low groan, his eyes opening.

"It's been torture, Wolffe. Thinking about you. Thinking about this."

His hand comes up, his fingers curling around your wrist, and he presses a kiss to the palm of your hand. His breath is warm, his lips soft. He doesn't break eye contact, his gaze fixed on yours, and you can't help but lean into him, your body pressed against his armor.

"It's been hard for me too," Wolffe whispers.

The admission is almost painful, and you bite your lip, trying to fight the swell of emotion in your chest. The two of you have been sneaking around for months now, finding stolen moments here and there. You've made the most of it, but the fact is that this is dangerous, the risk of being caught too high.

"I hate this," you say. "Having to hide."

"Me too," he says. His expression is raw, vulnerable. "But it's worth it. Being with you. Seeing you."

You blink back tears, and he cups the side of your face, his thumb brushing against the curve of your jaw. He presses your palm against his lips again, and his gaze is fierce, unwavering.

"Worth every moment," he whispers. "Even if it kills me."

"I know," you reply. "I know."

The lift slows, the doors sliding open, and the spell between the two of you is broken. Wolffe steps back, his expression neutral, and he gestures for you to step out.

"After you, General," he says, polite and detached.

"Thank you, Commander," you murmur. Your hands fist at your sides, your body aching for his.

Wolffe follows you, the two of you stepping into the empty hallway. It's late, the corridors abandoned, and the silence is almost deafening. The only sound is the hum of the ship's engines and the pounding of your heart. You walk slowly, deliberately, and the tension between the two of you builds, the ache in your core growing stronger.

"Your quarters or mine?" he asks.

"Yours," you reply.

"Why?"

"Because they're closer."

Wolffe lets out a rough laugh, the sound making your heart skip a beat, and he falls in step beside you. His arm brushes against yours, the contact sending a jolt through you, and he looks down, the corners of his mouth curving into a smirk.

"So eager," he murmurs.

"You're one to talk," you reply.

"Fair point."

He grins, his eyes twinkling, and the sight is almost too much. He's breathtaking, his expression bright and playful. It's rare to see him so open, so free, and the realization that you're the only one who gets to see him like this is humbling.

You smile back, the warmth in your chest spreading, and he bumps your arm, his gaze fixed on yours.

"It's nice, though," he says softly.

"What is?"

"This," he replies. "Being with you."

You can't help but bite your lip.

"It is," you agree.

"Even if we're not... able to..." He trails off, and the look on his face is almost bashful. It's adorable, and it makes your chest ache. You reach out, placing a hand on his arm, and his eyes drift to the spot, a sigh escaping him.

"I'm happy," he murmurs.

"Yeah," you whisper. "Me too."

He huffs a laugh and gives you a sheepish grin.

"Sorry," he says. "This isn't exactly how I planned to start the evening."

"I don't mind," you say.

"I know," he replies. "But we have time for all that later."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," he murmurs, and the promise in his tone sends a shiver down your spine. You bite back a smile, trying not to squirm, and he gives you a mischievous look in return. He's teasing you, and you can't help but feel a stab of affection. 

There was a time, not so long ago, that Wolffe had been wary of you, reluctant to trust you. But now? Now, there was a level of familiarity between the two of you that you had never experienced with another person. An ease, a comfort. And while you knew the risks, the thought of walking away, of ending this, was unbearable. 

Whatever it was that was happening between the two of you... it was real. It was important. And it was worth the risk.

You turn to him and smirk.

"What are you going to do to me?" you ask. "Gonna tie me up?"

Wolffe groans. "You'd like that."

"I would," you agree, unabashed.

"Not tonight," he murmurs. "Tonight is about you."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm," he says, and the low rumble of his voice makes your toes curl. He looks down, his gaze darkening, and he smirks. “To make up for this morning."

You try not to groan. Wolffe's dedication to your pleasure was both a blessing and a curse. While the man was nothing if not determined, his focus was intense. And when he set his mind to something... well. You could hardly complain. 

But it was difficult to accept his attention without offering anything in return. It was hard not to want to give as good as you got, and even harder to relinquish control. But when it came to Wolffe, the urge to surrender, to submit, was overpowering. He made it easy. Made it tempting. Made it feel right. 

You let out a shaky breath, trying not to tremble. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you."

"You're going to let me take care of you."

The words make your stomach twist. It's hard to believe that a man as powerful and intimidating as Wolffe is capable of such gentleness. That he can be so soft and tender. You don't deserve it, and yet, he seems content to give it.

"If you say so," you murmur.

"I do."

His tone is firm, almost stern, and the sound makes your heart skip a beat. He glances at you, and the look in his eye is tender, his expression filled with warmth.

Wolffe stops in front of his door, and you stand a distance back, your hands tucked in your robes. He places his hand on the scanner, and the door slides open, revealing his darkened room.

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment.

Then he steps aside, gesturing for you to enter.

"After you," he says, his voice a low rumble. You look around the empty hallway before stepping inside, and the door slides shut behind you, the room darkening.

There's a faint click, and then the light flares, illuminating the space.

The sight makes your breath catch.

The sheets are rumpled, the same as you left them this morning, but there's a vase of flowers on the nightstand, the petals a vivid red. Next to it is a bottle of wine, and two glasses sit beside it. There are candles lit around the room, their flames dancing, and the smell of spice and clove fills the air.

He's been busy.

He's been planning.

The thought of Wolffe standing here, arranging flowers, lighting candles, setting everything up for you, makes your heart ache. The gesture is so unexpected, so sweet, that you feel the breath leave your lungs. You don't deserve him.

He moves around the room, extinguishing the lights until only the candles remain, casting everything in a warm glow. His movements are precise, careful, and the look on his face is almost nervous.

"You did all this?" you whisper.

"Well," he says, his tone hesitant. "It's not much. But... yes."

"What would you have done if I said I wanted to go back to my quarters?" you ask, your voice hoarse.

He steps closer, his body looming over yours.

"I would've convinced you," he murmurs, his breath fanning across the side of your face. "I can be very persuasive."

You glance up at him and are startled to find his gaze already on you. His eyes are dark, his pupil blown wide. His mouth is set in a firm line, and there's a flush spreading across his cheeks. Your lips part, your throat suddenly dry, and you swallow hard.

He smiles, and it's a small, hesitant thing. "Too much?"

"No," you whisper, shaking your head. "Not at all."

He lets out a low sound that might be relief and reaches out, his hands coming to rest on your hips. His grip is light, and the heat of his skin seeps through the fabric of your robes, warming your flesh. You can't help but sway closer, leaning into his touch.

"So," he starts. "Would you like a drink? Or should we get started?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Started?"

"We have a lot to cover," Wolffe says with a wicked grin. "A lot of lost time to make up for."

Your eyes widen, and a shiver runs down your spine.

"How long were you planning this?" you ask.

He shrugs, his gaze flickering across your face.

"A while," he says, his voice a low rumble. "Would have done it last night, but someone was feeling feisty."

You can't help but grin, remembering how you had teased him. How you had teased each other. The way his mouth had felt against yours, his hands gripping your hips. How you had ridden him, his body trembling beneath you. The look in his eye as he'd watched you.

"Sorry," you murmur. "But the view was incredible."

"It's always a show with you," he murmurs, his smile wry.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," he says. "Every time you walk into a room."

You blush, and he chuckles, the sound low and throaty.

"Don't deny it," he says. "I've seen the way you move. The way you hold yourself. Like you know people are watching. Like you're aware of every eye on you."

You swallow hard, your cheeks hot. He's not wrong. There had been a time when you'd enjoyed the attention. But that was before. Before the war. Before your world had changed. Before Wolffe. Now, his gaze was the only one you craved. His opinion the only one that mattered. And the idea of disappointing him, of letting him down, was unbearable.

"You do that," he murmurs. "Get people looking at you."

"You're the only one I care about," you whisper. "I've always had eyes for you."

Wolffe blinks, startled, and a slow smile spreads across his face. The sight is devastating, the softness of his expression making your chest ache. You can't help but lean into him, drawn to him like a magnet. 

The way he looks at you... It's the same way he's always looked at you. Fierce and gentle. Aching and longing. Hungry and hesitant. You've never met anyone who can convey so much emotion with a single look. And you've never felt as seen as when he looks at you. You've never felt as loved as when he holds you.

Wolffe's hands slide along the curve of your waist, and he pulls you against him, the press of his armor against your chest making you shiver. He leans in, his nose brushing against yours, and you tilt your head back, trying to capture his lips. But he avoids the contact, his mouth hovering just out of reach.

You huff a laugh. "Kiss me already."

He hums and brushes his lips against yours. It's barely a kiss, the touch a featherlight tease. But it's still electric, the contact making your skin tingle. He does it again, the pressure lingering, and your eyes flutter closed, a soft moan escaping you. 

The two of you trade soft kisses, and it's torturous, the pace so slow and gentle. It's almost maddening, and your core throbs, the ache becoming more persistent. 

He breaks the kiss and pulls back, his gaze burning. You can't help but reach up and cup the side of his face, your fingers brushing against his cheek. The skin is smooth, and you trail a finger down the line of his scar, the raised tissue warm.

"What is it?" you ask.

"I can't decide where I want to start," he says, his voice low. "And how much I can fit in."

"You have all night," you murmur, trying not to smile.

He raises an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge, General?"

You bite your lip. "Maybe."

"Mm," he hums. "Well, we'll see how you feel after I've had my way with you."

"Promises, promises," you say, a smirk curving your mouth. You gasp as his hands tighten on your waist, the touch making your skin burn. He's not hurting you, not even close, but the pressure is a reminder of his strength, the raw power he has over you.

"Do I ever disappoint you?" he asks, his voice soft.

"Never," you whisper.

His mouth curves into a smile.

"Good," he murmurs. He dips his head, his lips brushing against the curve of your ear, and his breath is warm, his stubble scraping against your skin. "Take your robe off."

You nod and fumble with the clasp, your hands clumsy. He waits patiently as you tug the garment off and toss it to the side. As soon as the fabric falls to the ground, his hands move to the collar of your tunic, and he begins to undo the ties, his fingers working slowly.

"You have no idea how much I want you," he whispers. "No idea how badly I need you."

You shiver, a moan escaping you, and his hands slide down, tugging the shirt free from the waistband of your trousers. He pulls it over your head and tosses it aside. It lands in a heap next to the discarded robe, and your boots quickly follow

He leans down and presses a kiss to your bare shoulder as his hands find the clasp of your bra. He unhooks it with ease and lets it fall to the floor before straightening up and pulling you flush against him. His mouth finds yours, and his lips are soft, the kiss gentle.

He breaks the contact, and his gaze is burning.

"Take the rest off," he says, and his tone is soft, but the command is clear.

You reach down and push your pants off along with your underwear, and his hands move, gripping your hips. He lifts you effortlessly and sets you down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under your weight. You shift, the sheets cool against your skin, and he kneels down, his hands trailing along the length of your leg.

His fingers brush against the inside of your ankle and begin to trail upwards. The touch is light, almost ticklish, and his mouth follows, his lips leaving a burning trail along the inside of your calf. He reaches the sensitive flesh behind your knee and presses a kiss to the spot before continuing upwards.

"Wolffe..."

His lips find the inside of your thigh and continue upwards. His breath is warm, and his stubble scratches the delicate skin, making you gasp. It's agonizingly slow, the pace unhurried, and your toes curl, your muscles clenching. He reaches the crease of your hip, and his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin.

"Wolffe..."

He chuckles and continues higher, his mouth moving toward your center. His lips brush against your folds, and you shiver, the sensation making you tremble. He pauses and looks up at you, his gaze burning.

"I've been thinking about doing this all day," he murmurs. "My mouth on you."

You can't help but squirm, his words sending a thrill down your spine. He presses a kiss to the hollow of your hip, and then, without warning, his mouth is on you, his tongue tracing along the length of your slit. You let out a ragged gasp and fall back onto your elbows, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through you.

"Oh," you whimper, your voice shaking. "Oh fuck."

His mouth is relentless, and the pleasure is immediate and intense. The sensations are almost too much, and you can't stop the moan that escapes you. You're wet, embarrassingly so, Wolffe's release still leaking from your core.

The thought makes you blush, but Wolffe doesn't seem to mind. His hands slide along the length of your thighs, and his thumbs part the swollen flesh of your folds. He dips his head lower and licks a long stripe up your slit before sucking on your clit. The pressure is unrelenting, and you writhe under his attention, your legs trembling.

"Fuck," you hiss, trying to keep still. "Fuck."

His mouth is everywhere, his tongue licking and teasing and tasting. It's too much, the pleasure building, and you can't help but arch your back, your eyes squeezing shut. Your breath comes in short gasps as he laps at your folds, his hands gripping your thighs. You can't help but thrust upward, grinding against his mouth.

"That's it," he whispers. "Good girl."

The praise sends a shiver down your spine, and the orgasm hits you like a bolt of lightning. Your eyes fly open, and the room blurs, everything fading away except for the sensation of his mouth on you. Your body tenses, your muscles contracting, and your head falls back, a ragged gasp escaping you.

The waves of pleasure roll over you, and it's several moments before the feeling subsides, the tension in your body finally releasing. You've barely relaxed against the sheets when Wolffe slides a finger inside of you, his movements slow and gentle. The sensation is almost painful, the friction making you hiss. 

He pauses, his mouth pulling away from you, and he studies you, his brow furrowed. "Alright?"

You can't help but nod. "Yes."

His eyes dart to the scar that bisects the inside of your thigh, his gaze lingering.

"Does it hurt?" he asks softly.

"Not anymore," you reply. "Just sensitive."

"Are you sure? I don't want to—"

"Please," you whisper. "Please don't stop."

Wolffe nods and continues, his movements slow and steady. You watch as his finger moves in and out of you, the sight making your skin flush. His thumb brushes against your clit and begins to move in small circles. The contact is almost too much, and a whimper escapes you.

"Oh," you gasp, biting your lip. "Fuck, Wolffe..."

He dips his head and his tongue joins his thumb, the two of them working in tandem. His mouth is warm and soft, and the sensations are almost too much, the pleasure making your eyes roll back. He adds a second finger and his movements become faster. Harder. You can't help but buck against him, grinding into his hand.

"More," you beg. "More. Please."

He doesn't hesitate. His mouth closes around your clit, his tongue flicking over the swollen bud, and your core pulses. It's almost too much, and you writhe beneath him, trying to get away from the pleasure.

But he doesn't stop.

His fingers continue moving inside of you, his mouth relentless. He adds a third finger, the stretch almost painful. Your core clenches, the tension building, and it's a matter of moments before another orgasm crashes through you, more intense than the first.

Your back arches off the bed as your muscles tense and then go limp. Your limbs feel like lead, and you collapse back onto the mattress, gasping for air. Your vision is blurry, the room spinning. You can feel sweat beading on your forehead, and it takes a moment for your senses to return.

Wolffe's kneeling between your legs, his hand resting on the inside of your thigh. His expression is smug, his eyes twinkling, and there's a hint of mischief in his gaze.

"Want another?" he asks.

"Fuck," you groan. "You're going to kill me."

He smirks and leans forward, pressing a kiss to your stomach. "You said that last time."

"Did I?"

"And the time before that," he murmurs.

"It's a good way to go."

"Hm," he says. He kisses a line across your abdomen, and his hands wander, sliding along the curve of your waist. "I can think of a few other ways."

His mouth travels lower, his lips brushing against the hollow of your hip. You can't help but tense, a moan escaping you.

"Relax," he whispers. "I've got you."

"Please," you beg.

"Please what?"

"More."

"More of this?"

"Yes," you gasp.

Wolffe smirks, and his tongue licks a long line up the inside of your thigh. His stubble is rough against your sensitive flesh, and you can't help but squirm, trying to get away. But his hands grip your legs, his hold firm, and he continues, his mouth traveling up the inside of your thigh.

The contact is teasing, his movements slow and deliberate, and his tongue is hot and wet against your skin. You can't help but buck your hips, grinding against his mouth. He groans, and the sound makes your eyes roll back.

"Don't stop," you beg.

"No?"

"Please."

"Beg me," he murmurs, and he nips at the inside of your thigh, the sharp pain making you gasp.

"Please," you gasp. "Don't stop. I need you. Please."

He chuckles, his breath fanning across your slick folds.

"Good girl," he whispers.

You shudder at the praise, a shiver running down your spine. His mouth returns to your center, and his tongue traces along your folds, lapping at the sensitive flesh. The contact is electric, and you writhe, your head falling back.

"Wolffe," you moan, trying to pull away. But his grip is too tight, and his tongue continues to move, licking and teasing and tasting. It isn’t long before you're trembling, the tension in your body reaching its breaking point. Your hands fist in the sheets, and you arch off the bed, crying out as the third orgasm rocks through you.

You collapse back against the mattress, panting.

"Fuck," you hiss, trying to catch your breath. "Wolffe."

He doesn't respond, his mouth still on you. His tongue flicks over your clit, and he sucks the swollen bud between his lips, drawing another cry from you. He doesn't stop, and the pleasure builds, the sensations becoming almost unbearable.

"Wait," you gasp. "Wait, I—"

But it's too late. The fourth orgasm is even more intense than the others, and the intensity makes you see stars. Your whole body goes rigid, and you can't stop yourself from thrashing. Your back arches off the bed, and your fists twist in the sheets as your mouth clamps shut, a high-pitched whine escaping you.

It feels like an eternity before the pleasure finally subsides, and you slump against the mattress, trying to catch your breath. Wolffe pulls away, his mouth shining, and he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Okay?" he asks, his tone amused.

"I'm... I'm..." You swallow hard, unable to form a coherent thought. "Yeah."

"Good," he murmurs, and his voice is a low rumble. He pushes himself up and sits back on his heels. His eye is dark, his pupil blown wide, and his hands come to rest on your waist, the pressure firm.

"Up," he murmurs. "Knees."

You nod, and your limbs move slowly, the exhaustion from earlier creeping up on you. Your body is still trembling, and it takes a moment for you to settle into position, your knees digging into the mattress. 

You watch as Wolffe stands, and he strips off his armor in quick succession, the movements smooth and efficient. The sight is always a surprise. You're not used to seeing him bare.

When the war first started, the clones had been reluctant to undress around you. Their uniforms were a source of comfort. Of safety. It was only later that you realized how vulnerable it made them feel. How naked they were without their armor. It was a show of trust. A sign of acceptance.

It had taken months of gentle coaxing to get Wolffe out of his armor. The fact that he had removed it for you that day in the bunker was a testament to how far the two of you had come.

And now?

Now it was a familiar sight.

You watch as he unclasps his codpiece and sets it on the shelf. He's already hard, the bulge obvious, and his cock is straining against the material of his blacks. You can't help but bite your lip, the sight making you squirm despite the exhaustion in your limbs.

"Like what you see?" he asks, a smirk curving his mouth.

"You know I do," you murmur.

"Well then," he replies. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his blacks and pushes the material down his hips. His cock springs free, the tip red and swollen. You can't help but lick your lips, the sight making your core clench.

"How do you want me?" you ask, the words breathles.

He lets out a rough laugh. "You'd let me do anything right now."

You swallow hard. He's not wrong. The orgasms he'd given you had left you weak and trembling. You couldn't deny him anything, and you didn’t want to.

"True," you say. "But where do you want me?"

"Right where you are."

He steps closer and grips his cock. You can't help but stare, his length impressive. Everything about him is impressive. It's almost intimidating. Almost. 

The truth is, you've never felt as safe as when Wolffe's arms are wrapped around you. As cherished as when he's between your legs. As protected as when his gaze is on you.

His hand begins to move, his fist pumping his length, and you watch, transfixed. He lets out a low groan, and the sound makes you shiver, the heat in your core flaring. His thumb brushes against the tip, spreading the precum, and he grips the base, the veins along his length prominent.

"Touch yourself," he orders.

You nod and reach between your legs. Your folds are wet and swollen, and your clit is still sensitive from the attention Wolffe had given you. You press a finger against the bundle of nerves and gasp. The contact makes you shudder, and your eyes drift shut, a ragged moan escaping you.

Wolffe watches, his gaze intent. "Good girl."

"Fuck," you hiss. "Wolffe... I need..."

"What do you need?"

"You."

"Yeah?" he whispers. "Do you think you can handle it?"

It's a tease, but you know he means it. He wants to know that you're okay, that you're not pushing yourself. You've experienced Wolffe's stamina firsthand. More than once. And while it had been incredible, the man was insatiable. It's a miracle the two of you hadn't gotten caught.

"I can take it," you say. "Come here."

He nods and steps closer. His hand grips his cock again and he gives himself a few more pumps. He's flushed, his breathing ragged, and his hair is damp, a lock of it falling over his forehead.

The sight is breathtaking.

"Come on," you urge. "I'm ready."

"You sure?"

"Positive," you murmur. "Please."

He grunts and shifts forward, climbing onto the bed. His hands find your waist, and he guides you back, the pillows cushioning your head. He moves to hover over you, his forearms braced on either side of your head, and his hips settle between yours, the length of his cock pressing against your center.

The sensation is delicious, and you can't help but roll your hips, grinding against him. Wolffe groans, the sound deep and rumbling, and he presses his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble scratching the delicate skin.

"Easy," he murmurs. "Let's take it slow."

"Why?" you breathe.

"Because we have all night."

He kisses a trail along the column of your throat and then pulls back. His hands find the backs of your knees, and he lifts, hooking your legs over his elbows. He shifts forward, the head of his cock brushing against your folds, and the contact makes you hiss.

He pushes in, the stretch almost painful. The sensation is so intense that your eyes roll back, and you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. His movements are slow and steady, his pace agonizingly unhurried.

"Fuck," you hiss.

"Yeah," he whispers. "You're doing so well."

The praise sends a thrill through you, and you can't help but moan. Wolffe’s lips quirk upward, the corners of his mouth curving into a grin, and he dips his head, kissing a trail along your collarbone. His tongue traces the curve of your shoulder before moving higher, his mouth finding the spot below your ear.

He sucks on the sensitive flesh, and the contact makes your breath catch. He continues, his teeth grazing your pulse point, and the pressure is firm, but not painful. He wouldn’t leave a mark. Not in a visible spot. That was one of the unspoken rules.

You were both careful not to leave any evidence behind after the first time. No bruise, bites, or scratches. Nothing that could raise questions. Nothing that could cause a scandal.

But the thought of being marked by him, of him leaving some sign of possession, makes your heart pound. It’s a possessiveness you reciprocate. You can’t help it. When it comes to Wolffe, you’re hopelessly drawn to him.

His mouth moves lower, his teeth scraping against the swell of your breast. He sucks on the tender flesh, and the feeling is intense, the ache making you writhe. He repeats the motion, the suction firm, and the sting makes your toes curl.

He releases your skin, and his eye flickers upwards, the color a dark grey.

"I should stop," he murmurs. "Shouldn't leave any marks."

You can't help but whine. "Please..."

"It's not a good idea."

"Just one."

He frowns, his expression conflicted. But he doesn't say no.

"Where?"

You consider the question for a moment, then your hand finds the back of his head, your fingers tangling in his hair. You guide him lower, toward the valley between your breasts. He obliges, his mouth moving over the spot, and the contact makes you shiver.

"Here," you murmur. "Please."

He pauses, and then he dips his head and bites. The feeling is sharp, the pain making your muscles tense. His tongue flicks against the skin, and then he's sucking, his mouth relentless. The pleasure is immediate, and the combination of pain and bliss makes you moan.

His mouth lingers, his tongue tracing over the mark. Then he pulls back, the look on his face almost proud.

"Good?"

You can't help but huff a laugh. "Yeah."

He leans in and presses a kiss to the spot, and you can't help but squirm, the friction making your core clench. Wolffe lets out a groan, the sound low and guttural, and his hips snap forward, his movements quickening.

The sudden change makes you gasp, the feeling almost too much. You're still sensitive, and the feeling is intense, the ache deep. You can't help but tilt your head back, your eyes squeezing shut, your chest heaving as your lungs fight for air.

"You alright?" he asks.

You nod, biting your lip. "Yes."

He kisses the hollow of your throat.

"You're taking it so well," he murmurs. "Just a little more."

"Okay."

His thrusts pick up speed, and the rhythm is steady, his pace unhurried. But the strength of his thrusts makes your eyes water, and when he moves your legs, hooking them over his shoulders the change in angle is almost unbearable.

You cry out, and your eyes fly open. The sight is devastating, and you can't look away. Wolffe's above you, his body caging yours, and his face is flushed, his mouth open, his brow furrowed.

The expression is one you've seen before.

The look in his eye is intense. Fierce. Possessive. It's a side of him that only you get to see, a vulnerability that only you get to witness. You can't help but wrap your arms around him, your hands roaming his back, his shoulders, his sides. You touch him everywhere, the feeling almost desperate.

Wolffe leans down, pressing your thighs further into your chest, and his mouth finds yours in a messy kiss, his tongue tracing over your bottom lip. His movements are sloppy, his focus on his thrusts, and the lack of coordination makes him seem vulnerable.

It's a side of him that he would never show anyone else. Only you.

You break the kiss, gasping for air, and your hands find his face, your thumbs tracing along the scarred ridge of his brow. He turns his head, kissing the palm of your hand, and then his lips find the inside of your wrist, his mouth moving along the line of your pulse.

"Wolffe," you whisper, his name a plea.

"I've got you," he says. He picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, and his hand snakes between your legs, his fingers finding the swollen bud of your clit. His touch is electric, and you let out a ragged gasp, your nails digging into his skin.

"So close," you breathe.

He nods, his breath coming in short gasps. "Come on. Let go."

You can't help but obey. You arch off the bed, your head falling back as the final orgasm rocks through you. It's the most intense of the night, the waves crashing over you and pulling you under. It feels like an eternity before the sensations subside, and when they do, you collapse back onto the mattress, the exhaustion threatening to overwhelm you.

You're dimly aware of the fact that Wolffe is still moving, his thrusts becoming frantic. It's a matter of moments before he follows you, and his whole body goes rigid, the muscles of his abdomen tensing. He lets out a low moan, the sound deep and rumbling before the warmth of his release fills you. He keeps moving, drawing the pleasure out until the last of his release has been spent, and it's a few moments before he finally stills.

Wolffe lets out a long exhale and leans forward, his weight settling on top of you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You wrap your arms around him, and your hands find the nape of his neck, your fingers threading through his hair.

The two of you lie there for a while, neither one of you speaking. Your limbs are heavy, the ache in your core pulsing. It's a struggle to keep your eyes open, and you can't help but sigh, the exhaustion catching up with you.

Eventually, Wolffe shifts, his head turning to press a kiss to the underside of your jaw.

"I'll be right back," he murmurs.

You nod, and he pushes himself up, his body moving away from yours. You miss the contact immediately, the warmth of his skin, the smell of him, and you can't help but reach for him.

"Wolffe..."

He chuckles. "I'll be back."

He slides off the bed and stands, the mattress shifting. His body is silhouetted by the light from the candles, and he moves across the room, disappearing into the refresher. He returns a few minutes later with a damp cloth.

"Up," he murmurs, and his hands find the back of your knees, the touch firm. You let him move you, the cloth warm as he wipes away the remnants of the two of you. When he's done, he tosses the cloth aside and moves around the room, extinguishing the candles and grabbing a clean shirt from the shelf.

You sit up, wincing at the twinge in your muscles. Wolffe turns, holding the shirt in his hands.

"Here," he says.

You accept the garment and slip it over your head. The fabric is worn, the collar loose, and the sleeves hang over your hands. It's comfortable, and the scent of him surrounds you, making your heart clench.

"Better?" he asks, his mouth curved into a smirk.

"Much," you reply as a yawn escapes you.

He reaches for the sheets, pulling them up.

"Get in," he says, and you slip under the covers. He does the same, the mattress dipping under his weight. Wolffe rolls onto his side and pulls you close, his arm draped over your waist. The two of you trade soft kisses, and he brushes the hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

"Sleep," he whispers.

"Don't want to," you murmur. "Not yet."

He pulls your head to rest on his shoulder, his fingers threading through your hair.

"You need to rest."

You let out a soft sigh and bury your face in the crook of his neck, his pulse beating beneath the thin skin. "Don't like the dreams."

Wolffe stiffens, his body tensing, and he's quiet for a long moment. The silence is deafening, and you wonder if you've said too much. You hadn't meant to. Not tonight.

"I don't like them either," he says, his voice hoarse.

You know what they are, how vivid and real they can be. You'd heard him wake more than once, watched him gasp for air, his eyes wide, his expression terrified. And he'd comforted you more than once when the strange visions found you in your sleep, the two of you laying in the dark, clinging to each other, afraid to let go.

You'd tried not to think about what it might mean. How it had gotten to this point. Whether the nightmares would ever end.

If you could survive the war.

"Sorry," you mumble, your voice barely audible, the words muffled against his skin.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Still."

"No," he says firmly. There’s a beat, and then he sighs, the sound weary. "I hate watching you struggle. Hate not being able to do anything."

"You are doing something,” you whisper. You pull back, propping yourself up on your elbow, and the two of you look at each other. He reaches up, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

"Doesn't feel like it," he murmurs. "Sometimes I worry..."

He trails off, and the look in his eye makes your heart clench. You can't help but lean down and press a soft kiss to his lips. He reciprocates, his hand moving to cup the back of your head, and you kiss him again. And again.

"You have no idea how important this is," he says as the two of you break apart.

"What is?"

"Being here," he replies. "Holding you."

Your throat tightens. "Wolffe..."

He gives you a small smile, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "I've always been good at taking orders. Even before I met you. Before the war."

"Is that right?"

He hums, his gaze focused on his thumb.

"It's what I'm trained to do," he says. "It's what I was bred for. It's why they created us."

"I don't think they planned for this," you murmur, and it's an effort to keep the bitterness out of your voice. 

He frowns. "What?"

You reach up, your fingers trailing along his temple, his scars soft. The sight of him in his armor had been intimidating at first. Terrifying, even. The way he held himself, his expression hard, his jaw set, his demeanor unreadable. But now?

Now, the thought of him putting it on was heartbreaking.

"For you to want more,” you whisper.

He's quiet for a long moment, and then he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss is gentle, and he cups the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. You return the pressure, trying to convey what you're feeling. What you've always felt.

Wolffe's the most incredible man you've ever met. He's strong and brave and kind. Loyal and fierce and protective. And you would give anything to give him the life he deserves. The life he should have.

When he pulls back, the look in his eye is fierce.

"This is the only order I've ever disobeyed," he murmurs. "The only thing I've ever wanted to break the rules for. To rebel. To choose for myself."

And he doesn't have to elaborate.

Your heart skips a beat, the words making your chest ache. The first night you'd spent together had changed everything. The two of you had known the risk, you'd known what would happen if you got caught. But neither of you had cared. You'd been helpless to resist, the tension finally becoming too much.

It had been an act of defiance.

A way to rebel against the orders you'd both been given and the path your lives had taken.

You'd done it again and again. The two of you had fallen into bed more times than you could count, and every encounter had been the same. And now, with the war coming to a close, with the fighting reaching a fever pitch, the two of you were running out of time.

"Wolffe..."

"And I'd do it again," he whispers. "In a heartbeat. And I'm not sorry."

The words make you shiver. They're so similar to what he'd said when the two of you had first laid together. When the two of you had surrendered to the connection between you, unable to resist the pull.

You can feel tears start to prick your eyes, and it’s a struggle not to let them fall.

"Me neither," you whisper, your voice thick.

He reaches up and brushes the stray tear that had escaped away, his thumb leaving a trail of warmth against your skin. You swallow hard, and he pulls you closer, his hand moving to the back of your head.

"You need to sleep," he murmurs. "We're leaving early tomorrow."

You nod, and the two of you adjust, shifting into a more comfortable position. He curls around you, his body solid and warm, and his arm wraps around your waist, his palm flat against your stomach. The slow, steady rhythm of his breathing begins to lull you, and your eyelids grow heavy, your vision blurring.

"Don't let go," you whisper.

He tugs you closer, his face pressed against the back of your neck.

"Never."

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