#oh kriff moment in that fall

[isagrimorie]

#absolutely never admitting it to Huyang if anything does ever go wrong with that manoeuvre lol (via @fulcrum-art-fox)

The way she just tumbles out of frame is so funny to me. I like to think that the landing did in fact hurt but she refuses to show it because she doesn't wanna hear what Huyang has to say

[ddejavvu]

okay but mei, touchy bestie anakin with no boundaries??

like pls that man just brush against me and i’d become goo on the spot

we've expanded a lot on bff!james with no boundaries but I'd love more on anakin :)

--

It's not uncommon to see pairs of padawans looking as though their brief sparring session has resulted in the destruction of all of their bones. It's so common, in fact, that salles have a cooldown area, separated from the main floor and paved with tile so that the floors produce a chilling effect when exhausted padawans flop down onto them.

It's an odd hour of the evening and classes resume tomorrow, so you and Anakin had the salles to yourselves. You're sprawled out over the tile emitting intermittent groans here and there- perhaps Anakin is brushing up on his Shyriiwook.

When the sun no longer stretches to the door, now receding over the windowsill, you know you'll need to be back in your respective quarters soon to avoid 2 nagging masters lecturing on school nights and proper nighttime conduct which, apparently, does not include sparring.

You nudge your hand against the back of Anakin's own, "Let's go."

Another groan that speaks deeply to the exhaustion inside of you.

You peel yourself off of the tile first, but Anakin's quick to catch your arm, and a flick of his forearm means you're falling back against the floor once more. The angle that he pulls you at, however, lands you more on him.

You fall halfway on top of his chest, and your elbow hits his stomach. He lets out yet another grunt, this time of sharp pain instead of a dull ache, "Oh- kriff."

"Sorry!" You press your palm flat against him to get up, and it hits his chest, rock-hard and damp beneath his sweat-soaked tunic. You try pushing up and off of him but he catches your wrists, weakening your grip and holding you semi-upright above him.

"Easy," He soothes, folding upright himself with a heavy sigh and righting you in the process. He blinks languidly, and one his hands lingers on your own, "I don't think I can walk back to my quarters."

"I can't carry you," You try wriggling your wrist out of his grip, but he tightens his hold and pulls you in to smear his sweaty brow against your shoulder- too close to your chest for your stomach not to twist.

You feel a huff of his breath leak beneath the outer layer of your tunics and he draws back having left a stain on your clothes, eyes narrowed at it in sadistic pride.

"There," He nods once, using a great deal of effort to rise to his feet, "I think you should carry me. I won, after all."

"You always win," You grumble, taking the hand that he offers you and letting him haul you off of the ground, "Besides, I can barely walk myself."

Quite contrary to his beleaguered complaints, he merely rolls his eyes, stepping in front of you and offering you his back, his legs bending partway to lower him into a squat.

You stand frozen, half-indignant at being cut off, and half bewildered by the offer you think he might be making.

And he is making it, though his patience is waning as he urges you forwards with his hands, "Come on! If I keep squatting like this my knees are gonna give out."

You rush to scramble up into his grip, his hands winding around your thighs, fingers squeezing places you weren't aware were integral to your support.

"You're lugging me through the Temple on your back," You point out, but your arms tighten around his shoulders just in case he decides to rescind his offer, "Your knees are gonna give out no matter what."

His jaw tightens as you murmur in his ear- you know it by the way a muscle beneath his cheek jumps. You wonder if he can feel it- if he can sense it when you swallow the little saliva that's pooled in your mouth upon such close contact with Anakin, and he calls his abandoned lightsaber to his hand after that uncharacteristic moment of hesitation with a flick of his fingers.

"Hold this," He orders, stuffing the cold hilt into your hands that are crossed over his chest, dangling there over his broad shoulders. You don't ask why he can't just clip it to his belt- you're too busy focusing on the way that his hand comes back to grip awfully close to your core when he braces it back on your thigh.

Hand warmed by your skin, fingers inches away from your now-aching core, the muscle of his back pressed to your chest, Anakin marches through the halls of the Temple, palming your thighs to readjust your position on his back far too often.

[thesassypadawan]

Debriefing *part 3* (Knight Anakin x PadawanFemReader x Master Obi-Wan)

Summary: Due to the level of severity for his most recent mission, you’ve been forced to remain behind. Leaving you aching for him in the worse way possible and in desperate need of a private ‘meeting’…just between the three of you.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut. Some holo calling mutual fun and…Ani and Obi’s big dicks. Padawan reader is of age.

Notes: Thanks all you lovelies for taking the time out to read part 3!  I hoped you enjoyed it and look forward to part 4!  And I also hope you enjoy part 1, part 2, and part 4!

‘Stupid mission.’ Due to the level of severity for his most recent escapade, you had been forced to remain behind. While he and his ever-faithful partner in crime were off saving the galaxy…yet again.

Leaving you aching for him. Longing to see him. Yearning to have his hands all over your body. Needing to have him split… You couldn’t take it anymore.

So after sending off a short message, requesting to have a private ‘meeting’. You had quickly made your way back to your shared quarters. Where you quickly shimmied out of those stifling robes and sprawled yourself out on your sleep couch. Waiting ‘patiently’ for him to call,

When the holo disc lit up, you eagerly answered. A sultry smile spreading across your face as the miniature, blue version of him flickered into existence. “That was fast.”

Sporting his own excited expression, along with a ‘little’ something else. He parted his lips to speak, except no words came out…only silence.

“Kriff, your signal is bad. I can see, but can’t hear you.” You pouted, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Oh, well; guess you’ll just have to relax and enjoy the show.”

Leaning back against the pillow, your legs spread teasingly. Hands trailing up your body. Cupping and squeezing your breasts. Fingers toying and tugging at your nipples. A soft coo escaping you, pretending it was his calloused ones doing the work instead. “Mmm…”

You watched his long digits wrap around his length, beginning to pump. Gaze fixed on you and your other hand. Following its decent; dipping between your wet folds, rubbing softly at your clit.

“Do you see this?” You whined sweetly, slipping a finger into your aching core. Moving it in time with his own slow pace. “Do you see what you do to me?”

Sinking a second inside, you speed up. Letting out a low, breathy moan when you saw him doing the same. Fat cock twitching in his grip, beads of pre oozing from his tip. “Got me carving you, wanting you all day long.”

Swirling a thumb around your sensitive bud, your hips bucked wildly. Trying to mimic the way he would pound you so perfectly, split you open so deliciously. “Wish you were here…you fill me up much better,”

His big hand stuttered for a moment before resuming. Head tipping slightly to the side, his jerks quickening. Teeth biting his bottom lip, chest rising and falling rapidly.

Adding a third finger, your started to match his rhythm. An audible wet sound filling the air of your quarters mixed with your needy gasps. “So close…going to…”

Desperately, you chased your release. Writhing on the sleep couch, the pleasure within rose up in a haze. The knot in your stomach growing unbearably tight…and it was clear that he was fairing no better. “Nngh, cum…cum with me… Want to see you paint yourself in white…”

That’s all it had taken… A wave of ecstasy came flooding through your bond. Followed by the sight of thick rope after thick rope spewing forth. Dripping down his fist, covering his stomach. Some even splashed up onto his chest and chin.

Which then, in turn, sent you crashing over the edge. Walls fluttering and clenching, whole body tensing as your orgasm overtook you. Leaving you a babbling and panting mess.

Shifting your eyes side to side, you pulled out your digits. Licking each clean individually. Imagining that you could taste his salty, sweet release mingled with your juices. “Miss you… General… Master…”

Popping the last out of your mouth, you reached forward to unmute the twin devices. Smirking in satisfaction at the shocked looks they wore, the horrified tones in their voices.

“Angel, what the…?!”

“Darling, explain your…?!”

“Hope you two liked my ‘debriefing’,” you said sickeningly, sweetly. “May the force be with you both.”

And with a tap, you ended the calls.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @cacti5539, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen

[threepandas]

The Vod's List: Part 3

The Separatist Army tries invade the Techganic homeworld and DIES SCREAMING.

I... I am cackling like a broken laugh 'track, in a low Senatorial staff seating area. Pretty sure everyone thinks I've lost my chips. But... BUT THEY DON'T GET IT! It's so FUNNY!? Oh Bones and Blood! Oh karking STARS!!! Of all the kriffing PLANETS to PHYSICALLY INVADE with DROIDS!!!

DROIDS!

I am wheezing. Gasping for air. Slowly tipping out of my chair as I all but seize silently in spasms of sheer, incredulous, amusement. Oh Stars, I'm gonna die. My gut is on fire and I DONT CARE. Droids! Just... just DROPPED UM right into the capitals like "here ya go! Surrender flesh bags!"

Pfffahahahahaha!

I finally slip, only for a gloved hand to catch my shoulder gently, keeping me from crashing to the floor. A calculated step and lift, brings my shoulder to brace against the side of familiar armor. A guard. I manage to glance up through my incoherent laughing fit. I know that armor!

"Fox!" I grin, glad I am starting to be able to tell the gaurds apart. It always felt rude to have to keep asking their names, even when I by all rights SHOULD already know them. "Good morning."

"Ma'am." He nods. I still don't get why people think they're 'emotionless'. Even through the voicecoder, his voice is warm. "Funny joke?"

"The Separatists invaded my planet." I laugh. At his questioning head tilt, I grin MEANLY from behind my mask. "Remember how we met? And you got infected? EVERYONE on my planet is some version of carrier, either Organic or Technological. Depending on where those droids land? They are either FOOD or free scrap metal. The Collective will EAT them. And folks back home?"

I glanced around, trying to find the room's cameras. Fox casually pointed before stepping between it's line of sight and me. Kriff he was so cool. I grabbed one of the old datapads I was supposed to dump in the recycler after my break. No one would miss if I threw one in the biohazard shoot instead... probably.

I turned it on. Showing it worked. A perfectly functioning, if old, datapad. Then? I listened to that old, old, OLD instinct in the back of my head that karking HATED technology. That honestly would be happier living in a stone shack on a distant moon, surrounded by growth. That could, at a glance, pick apart any given peice of technology's weak points.

Not to slice it. Or IMPROVE it. But to BREAK it. Irreparably.

My eyes found the weak point in the screen almost immediately. A point where fingers had worn it thin. Smack! I cracked it against the table, like an animal trying to open trying to open a nut. It cracked. And that was all I needed. All ANY of us would ever need, really.

Just One Little Crack.

I pulled off my mask, knowing my face was probably doing that... THING. That "super intent Murder Hunter" thing that we all do, when our instincts engage. But I wanted to show Fox. I trusted him. So I flexed my jaw and thought of the lift, of how me met, the STRESS. Just enough to get a bit of drool.

Then... I let it drop onto the screen.

The reaction, was of course, IMMEDIATE.

The datapad hissed and squealed, screen glitching violently. I carefully put it down, familiar with what was about to happen. Fox... was not. He watched. Frozen. Entranced. As the datapad burned and melted from within. Was CONSUMED. As my nanites wrecked hell in their final moments before dying, no longer supported by my body. Some of course, simply falling dormant.

Those were the lethal ones. The trap for future Collective members trying to reclaim tech. It's why all infected materials had to be treated as a biohazard. Those nanites stayed viable for upwards of a century AT LEAST. Several, in the right condition.

So droids? Ha! We were BIOENGINEERED to fight "droids"! We WERE the original GAR. What was that Human saying? "Nothing new in the Galaxy?" That.

Fox was taking even, measured, breaths. Clenching and unclenching his hand. His voice sounded... strained, as he agreed. That, yes. We WERE very, VERY alike. And that that was FASCINATING. Could his spit do that now too?

I... didn't know. Huh.

I blinked. First up at him. Then down at the 'pad. I hadn't considered that. Kriff. Well THAT was irresponsible of me. Yeah, yeah we should probably schedule some Techganic 101 lessons, shouldn't we? Since... you know, assuming you SURVIVE infection and first "heal"? It's kinda a one and done sort of thing.

You can't get... double infected? It very much IS a you ARE or you AREN'T a carrier. And even THEN... one of two kinds, which CAN NOT peacefully coexist.

Plus... since it's adapted to the Guards biology, a spread would be SUPER easy?

.........I..... I SHOULD tell someone.

But what would happen to Fox? I'm not blind. People aren't exactly... KIND to Clones. Would they decide its just easier to get rid of him? My gut say probably. Experience says likely. I've barely even STARTED working at the Senate and... well...

Maybe I should keep my mouth shut. WE should keep our mouth shut.

"This time, I'll be the one looking out for YOU, kay Fox?"

"Of course. I'll leave my self in your capable hands. I have no doubt... I'll learn A LOT."

There is something intent about the way he stands, the way he's bracketing me into my chair. The almost soft, warm but cloying quality to his voice. Like he's trying not to make it obvious he's handling me. Like I'm some import dignitary he wants to avoid upsetting. But one he LIKES. It's strange... I'm certain I'm missing something...

At least I have plenty of other Guards around to ask.

[nimue44]

something something loose lips sink ships

Whether it was a prod from the Force or simply the comlink’s incessant beeping, Obi-Wan was roused to half consciousness in the darkness of his quarters. While he would have preferred to remain asleep, snugly pinned in place by the arm his commander had wrapped around him, calls in the middle of the sleep cycle during a galactic war were unlikely to be ones he could willfully ignore. 

To preserve the only benefit of his newfound wakefulness — being able to indulge in the steady breathing and radiating warmth at his back — Obi-Wan pulled the comlink to him so as not to disturb what were sure to be the last few moments of Cody’s sleep. 

“This is Kenobi,” he said quietly.

(431 more words below the cut)

There was a longer pause than Obi-Wan would have expected given the urgency of a middle of the night call. 

“Of course, sir,” Crys replied through the comm. “Only, I was trying to reach Commander Cody.”

Oh. Kriff. Surely he could come up with some explanation for answering the wrong comlink. But then Cody stirred behind him, sliding his hand farther down Obi-Wan’s torso and tucking his head into Obi-Wan’s nape. Momentarily overwhelmed by sensation, all he could muster was, “I see, very odd.” 

“My apologies, sir, I must have entered the wrong code.” 

Obi-Wan silently cursed himself for making Crys feel he was in the wrong when it had been Obi-Wan’s mistake to pick up the wrong comlink. “It’s not a problem—” 

“What’s the message, Crys?” Cody grumbled, cutting off his apology and assuredly necessitating an even more elaborate explanation on Obi-Wan’s part. 

“Uh,” Crys said, hopefully not too distracted by trying to piece together what was happening on their end. “That special ops unit is on approach from Kashyyyk with, um, they said a pet? But it really sounds more like a large bug, sir.”   

Immediately, Obi-Wan’s interest outweighed any desire for decorum. “Like an insect?” he asked, perking up.

Not nearly as amused, Cody sighed, the warm burst of air tickling Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I’ll meet them in the hangar bay. Send a couple nightwatch teams, too. And Crys?” 

“Yessir?” 

“Good soldiers keep their mouths shut.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

With the comm delivered, duty called. Like most mornings, Obi-Wan maneuvered in practiced coordination with Cody as they extracted themselves from the small bed. 

“Firm but fair,” Obi-Wan observed. Certainly a swifter approach to handling his misstep than whatever Obi-Wan was working towards have come up with. 

“I’m glad you approve of my leadership methods,” Cody wryly replied, pulling on his blacks. 

Obi-Wan snorted and, while picking up his own tunic, retrieved a hand guard that had ended up across the room. “Always, my dear,” he said, taking Cody’s palm in his and pressing the armor over the back of his gloved hand. 

Cody’s free hand rose to softly cup Obi-Wan’s cheek, drawing Obi-Wan’s attention. In one of their moments of shared understanding and purpose, both were drawn together for a soft press of lips and a kiss of foreheads before parting. 

“Now, would you like to go see this bug in our hangar?” Cody asked, flipping his helmet onto his head with a flourish.

“How do you always know exactly what to say to woo me, Cody?” Obi-Wan said, falling into step at Cody’s side as they began another day. 

[vodika-vibes]

Hello there!

Wdyt about Obiwans f!reader padawan is secretly in a relationship with our beloved Cody? What would master Jedi think? And how will he find out?

Thanks for your work tho! U r the best

Forbidden

Summary: You and Cody have been in a secret relationship for what seems like ages, and finally your Master finds out.

Pairing: Commander Cody x Jedi!F!Reader

Word Count: 1350

Warnings: Uh...Cody's a bit handsy

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So to make this work, it's set in an AU. Obi-Wan was disavowed by Qui-Gon in favor of Anakin, so Qui-Gon is alive and Anakin is his Padawan. Obi-Wan's training was finished by Master Plo Koon, and he took his padawan a year after he was Knighted, she's the same age as Anakin. Obi-Wan has never hidden how Qui-Gon treated him, and so his Padawan has issues with her could-have-been Grandmaster.

“I should-,” A soft gasp cuts your sentence off, as Cody’s warm, far too tempting, lips trace a path up your neck to stop just under your ear.

“You should?” He prompts, his voice low and breathy as his hands drag down your body.

“Should leave,” You whisper, as you move your head so your lips are hovering just over his, “I’ve been here too long already, if anyone comes looking for you-”

“My brother’s won’t rat us out,” Cody murmurs, as his lips brush against yours, “Not unless they want to see what I’m like when I’m properly irritated at them.”

You laugh, and he crashes his lips against yours, swallowing your laughter, and then your moans as he nips your lower lip and then soothes the spot with his tongue.

He breaks the kiss and you lean into him trying to continue it, pulling a breathless laugh from him, “Kriff, could kiss you for hours.” He says softly, before he attaches his lips to a spot just low enough that your robes will cover any mark that he leaves.

“If my master comes looking for you-” You trail off with a near silent moan as Cody nips on the sensitive spot on your neck.

“Strategy meeting.” Cody replies.

“Oh? And what kind of strategy meetings involve you sliding your hands up my shirt?” You ask, shivering as you feel his warm hands on your stomach, and sliding up.

“Very…traditional types.” He says as he nips the red mark he just left on your skin, “He wouldn’t understand.”

“Cody,” His name is little more than a sigh as he kisses you deeply and presses you firmly against the wall of his office, his knee sliding between your thighs.

“Keep saying my name like that, cyar’ika.” He murmurs against your skin, “And you’re definitely not leaving my office.”

You open your mouth to reply to him, only to get interrupted by the sound of your comm chiming. Neither of you move for a moment, and then Cody sighs and presses his face against your neck, while you dig your comm out of your pocket.

Your free hand plays with the hair at the back of his neck, while you read the message on your comm, and you sigh, “I have to go.”

“Is something wrong?” Cody asks, his voice muffled by how he’s pressed against you.

“I doubt it. But he did say that it was an emergency.” You put your comm back in your pocket and slowly, grudgingly, untangle yourself from Cody. He gently helps you fix your robes so you’re presentable, and you favor him with a softest smile you can muster, “I’ll see you later?”

“I’m sure you will.” He presses the gentlest kiss against your lips, and then he takes a step back and then another one so he’s sitting on the edge of his desk.

You take a moment to make sure that you look presentable, and then you hurry out of Cody’s office, lingering just long enough to see his head tilt back and hear a low curse fall from his lips, before you hurry through the halls to your Master’s office.

You key in the door code and step into the room, only to pause when you see your Master pacing from one side of the room to the other, “What happened?” You ask.

“The 501st is calling for backup.” Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi says to you as he continues his pacing.

“...And you’re telling me and not the helm because-?” You ask slowly.

“Qui-Gon Jinn doesn’t ask for help.” Your Master says, his voice bitter, as he paces even faster. “And he definitely doesn’t ask for help from me.”

“Well, maybe it’s not Qui-Gon asking. Maybe it’s Anakin.” You offer as you hold out your hands to try and stop your Master from pacing, “We still like Anakin, right?”

Obi-Wan pauses, and he shoots you a look, “We have no problem with Qui-Gon Jinn, Padawan.”

“Sure. Aside from the fact that he disavowed you…just like he did to Feemor and Xanatos-”

“Padawan.”

“Shutting up.”

Obi-Wan smiles at you soothingly, “You’re not wrong, it’s just a sore subject.”

“Right. Which is why we won’t spit on Qui-Gon Jinn if he’s on fire, but Anakin’s innocent in all of this. And so are the men of the 501st.” You point out.

“Padawan,” Obi-Wan says with a sigh.

“Fine! I suppose we can spit on him if he’s on fire. But I will do so under duress.” You fold your arms, “Anyway, are we not going?”

“I think it’s a trap.”

“Well, obviously. It almost always is in these kinds of situations.” You point out logically. “So what’s the play?”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes, “I’ll contact the council and see what some of the others have to say.” He finally decides, “But, we do have something else we need to talk about.”

“Oh?”

Master Obi-Wan walks over to you and carefully plucks your robe away from your neck, “Spending time with Commander Cody, were you?”

Your face heats, “We’re friends.”

“Oh? I have a lot of friends and none of them give me hickies.” Obi-Wan says pointedly.

You hesitate, “It’s not his fault,” You finally say, “If anyone should be punished it should be me.”

“Padawan-”

“It’s not his fault. I didn’t pressure him into anything, but I started it, so it’s my fault-”

“Padawan!” Obi-Wan sets his hand on your shoulder, “I’m not going to punish you…or Commander Cody.”

“You…you’re not?”

“No.”

“...that’s super, but why?”

He smiles at you softly, “A question for a question, Padawan. Would you ever put Commander Cody’s life ahead of anyone else?”

You sniff, “Of course not! Not anymore than Cody would put me ahead of anyone else.”

“And that, Padawan mine, is why I don’t have a problem with it. Love without attachment.”

You pout at him slightly, “How’d you find out?”

“You and Cody aren’t half as subtle as you probably think you are.” Obi-Wan replies dryly, and then he pauses, “Also, Waxer let it slip.”

You stare at him, “You had no idea until Waxer let it slip.”

“I’m not going to admit to that.”

“You absolutely didn’t.” You say with a grin. “Cody and I aren’t Anakin and Padme, after all.”

“Padawan, a brick to the face is more subtle than Anakin and Padme.” Obi-Wan pushes his hand through his hair, “Alright. I need to comm the council, you need to go and tell Cody what’s going on.”

“Gotcha.” You turn to leave the room, and are halfway into the hall with your Master hot on your heels.

“Oh, right. Padawan,” Obi-Wan says cheerfully, “No multiplication.”

You sputter and your face burns, “I have an implant Master, remember.”

“I know. I just want to make sure that you remember.”

“Ugh. You’re the worst.” And then you turn to dart back down the hall with your master’s laughter echoing in your ears.

You reach Cody’s office and key in the door code, and step back into the room, “Waxer’s a snitch,” You announce to Cody, who looks slightly bemused to see you so soon, “Also, we might be going to help the 501st.”

“...We’re always flying to help the 501st, but what’s this about Waxer being a snitch?”

“He slipped and told Master about us.” You say with a sigh, “We’re not in trouble, Master doesn’t mind, but still. Waxer ratted us out.”

Cody’s expression becomes very even, “I suppose since you didn’t get in trouble it’s fine. But I will be putting him through the wringer tomorrow.”

“Not today?”

There’s a glimmer of mischief on his handsome face, “Lock the door, cyar’ika. Now that your Master knows, then I’m definitely going to take advantage.”

You giggle and press the button to lock the door, before you cross the room to his side. Cody immediately pulls you onto his lap and crashes his lips against yours, his hands sliding back under your top.

This probably isn’t what your Master had in mind when he sent you back to Cody, but you’re not going to complain.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

well it's love, make it hurt - chapter four

well it’s love, make it hurt series

four: some place we can be ourselves

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: The Mandalorian buys you a present.

Warnings: BDSM, Dom/sub dynamics, Dom!Din and sub!reader, soft Dom!Din, pain play, nipple play, p in v sex, oral (m receiving), collaring (collar in the moodboard is not completely what I wanted. tell me not to have it commissioned just for the purpose of a photo lol), some feelings

Originally written for Kinktober 2023 - Day 6: Collar, inspired by @absurdthirst's wonderful prompt list, without which I probably would not have written anything.

also on ao3

3 ABY - Fall

Neither of you were squeamish; you couldn’t be. Injuries were inevitable in your line of work. You had seen Mando burn his skin back together. He had seen you stitch up a gash on your leg.

So why was the slowly fading ring of bruises around your neck so hard for him to look at? Was he still mad about the botched job and your behavior that night? Or did it simply disgust him to see marks on you made by any other hand?

Whatever it was, he needed to get over it. The worst damage had been healed by the bacta spray on the first night, and you refused to waste more over bruising.

You were starting to get mad, now that you thought about it. You had just been examining the wounds in the mirror of the fresher. You had just gotten out, dried off, and dressed when you caught sight of your reflection.

You were up on your toes, neck craned to see around the sides. It was healing up nicely. You ran your fingers over the delicate skin, and it was far less tender. It was almost pleasant, the dull ache when you pressed on them.

Mando chose that moment to walk past. He stopped, staring at you for a half second, and hit the button to close the fresher door on you.

“Hey!” you smacked the door with your hand. “What was that for?”

But when it slid back open, the hull was empty.

You were heading out in the morning for a hunt, one that promised a challenge. As glad as you were for an interesting job, it also meant you and Mando were essentially hands-off until there was a new carbonite slab on the ship.

So really, he was going to have to get over it or live without getting his dick wet for another week. Given the voracity of his libido so far, the latter seemed unlikely.

While Mando putters around in the hull eating his dinner, you curl up in your seat in the cockpit with a book on the datapad. Your routine had settled quietly into this rhythm—he could eat without rushing, you could read without him groping at you, and you both got time alone. For two people who had been mostly solitary before, it was invaluable.

“I’m running into town,” he calls up the ladder.

“What? What for?” you yell back, but it's drowned by the pneumatics of the ramp. “What the fuck?” you say to the empty ship.

By the time he returned, the suns had set, and the moss-dripping trees outside were thick and dark. You had dozed off in your seat, feet tucked under you and head resting on your folded arms. The datapad had slipped down between your knee and the seat.

He shook your shoulder, and you stirred. Not for the first time, you marveled at how deep you could sleep here. How you had stopped flinching for your blaster. You blink up at him, a smile breaking out, until you remember why you had fallen asleep there.

“Hey, what the kriff was that? You just took off, like—” You helpfully demonstrate with a little wave of your hand and a whoosh.

He stares down at you, head cocked, hand still on your shoulder. “What’s with the outfit?” He waves a hand at you in what you're sure is a rude mockery of your previous gesture.

Oh, right. The outfit. It didn’t seem so clever now. You had wrapped yourself in an elaborate headscarf that hung over you like a hood with a tasseled cowl. And, well, nothing else. Your blanket had slipped when you sat up.

You were supposed to be waiting for him bare. Accessible. Ready. And to the little bratty voice in the back of your head that was so mad at him earlier, this was compliant. He didn’t say you couldn’t accessorize. It wasn’t denying him access to your body.

Right now, though, as he put a hand on one hip and glared down at you, it felt like maybe you were in trouble.

“I, um.” Stars, why did you think this was a good idea? You thought you could confront him about the bruises and maybe get a little roughed up in the process. And you would have enjoyed it earlier, but now, suddenly, it feels like you might cry if he yells at you.

He hasn’t moved, hasn’t spoken. You know when you’re being given a second chance, so you swallow hard and look back up at him.

“I’m sorry. I was kind of trying to push you, it seemed like a good idea, but I don’t want to anymore, I promise.”

“Why?”

“Why what? Why did I want to, or why do I not want to?”

He sighs heavily. “Why did you want to?”

You look down at where the datapad is lodged, picking at the edge of the cushion with your nail. “I was trying to make you mad,” you mumble.

He tilts your chin up with a bare hand. You hadn’t even noticed him take the gloves off, but it feels so nice that you almost forget you're trying to talk your way out of trouble.

“Sweetheart. Why would you want me to be mad at you? If you want me to hurt you, all you have to do is ask nicely.”

At the low rumble of his wicked words, you no longer feel the cold of the cockpit. Your mouth waters, and you’re hyper-aware of how hard your nipples are, how exposed.

“I—kind of? No, I mean—” You can’t concentrate anymore. His finger that was stroking your cheek brushes across your bottom lip, and you open automatically, waiting. Begging. He pulls it away, and you whine.

“Hmm. Not yet. I want you to finish explaining yourself.”

“I had hurt feelings.” It punches out of you, and you’re mortified to realize it's the truth. You had been telling yourself you were mad, and maybe you were, but you had been lashing out like a hurt massiff.

Mando squats down beside the chair, and you turn, crossing your legs so you can face him. “What did I do that hurt your feelings, pretty girl?”

“It’s stupid, I’m being stupid. I’m—”

His hand snaps out, and unlike the gentle touch earlier, he grips your jaw tight before slapping you sharply across the face with his other hand. You yelp, more from surprise than pain.

“What have I said about that? Are you allowed to talk about yourself that way?”

“No, sir,” you whisper.

“And why not?”

“Because I’m yours, and if I’m disrespecting myself, it means I’m disrespecting you.” It was a lesson you had learned over his knee on more than one occasion.

“Good girl. Now tell me why you’re upset.”

“It’s like you can’t even look at me anymore, when you can see my neck. I’m sorry I fucked up; I’m sorry it’s ugly. I thought if I covered it up, maybe, maybe…”

Your words die in your throat as he stands up off the floor, rubbing a tired hand over his helmet. He snaps his fingers, jerking a thumb toward the pilot seat. “Get up, c’mon, I’m not doing this here.”

You scramble to your feet, confused and a little scared. Doing what? Oh, kriff, what had you gotten yourself into?

“Grab your pillow, baby,” he called from across the room without looking.

You double back for it. He was settled in his chair when you reached him, so you let it fall with a soft thwomp before lowering yourself to your knees.

“Look at me,” he orders. “And take that off.”

Fuck. Someday you’d get it through your head and stop giving in to the urge to hide. He hated it, but it was one of the few holdups you still had.

When you obey, tossing the scarf out of sight, he reaches down and wraps his hand around the side of your neck, avoiding most of the bruising. “I didn’t look because I didn’t want you to be disgusted by me.”

You furrow your brow, opening your mouth to speak, but thinking better of it.

“You were so upset about what happened on that hunt. And I hate that it was someone else who put those there. But stars, baby, do you look beautiful all marked up. I want to sink my hands in until you’re wearing my fingerprints all the time.”

Your mouth falls open, throat dry, and you shift around on your knees. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What, no. Just. Fuck, that’s so hot.”

He leans back, studying you. “You know, I never want you to try something you’re not comfortable with just because it’ll please me.”

“I’m not, I swear. I couldn’t stop looking at them in the mirror and wishing it had been you.”

He swears darkly, leaning forward so suddenly you flinch back a little. His hand cups your cunt between your spread legs, and he swipes a finger through your folds and holds it up. It’s soaked. He chuckles. “Good girl,” and shoves the finger between your lips with no pretense.

You close your lips around the digit, sucking and watching him through wide eyes. You whine when he pulls it out.

“As much as I would like to mark you up, cyar’ika, it’s not safe. But I did have an idea for something almost as good.” He reaches into a pouch on his belt and holds up a strip of leather.

It doesn’t register right away. You stare at it and then at him. He holds it out to you flat on both hands, and you gasp. You've never seen one outside of the holos he's shown you, but you recognize it all the same.

The leather is soft and supple in the same brown as his bandolier. It has a simple double-loop closure. You run your fingers over it for a moment before he snatches it back to dangle it just out of your reach.

“I take it you like it.”

You hold your hands in your lap, biting your bottom lip and whining. He laughs and runs a hand through your hair.

“You want it, sweetheart? Want to wear my collar so everyone knows you’re mine?”

“Please,” you beg over and over.

“You are mine, right? My sweet, obedient girl.”

“Yes, sir, please. I’ll be so good for you.”

He laughs. “Of course you will, needy thing. You’re already all mine. Look at you, trying so hard to please me.”

Your face goes hot. After the last few months of him talking to you like this, you thought you’d stop being embarrassed, but it only seems to get worse.

“C’mere,” he says, voice softer as he leans back. “Want you up here so I can see.”

You scramble onto his lap, straddling him. He pulls you closer so your wet cunt smears where he strains against the flight suit, and you moan.

“Can I put it on you?”

You’re already whispering a litany of pleas before he finishes the sentence.

You stop breathing when he reaches around you, holding as still as you can. You want to feel every second of it. He gently lifts your hair out of the way to settle the strap behind your neck before pulling the ends to meet in the front. He slides it into place, tucking two fingers between the collar and your neck.

“How’s it feel, ner cyare?”

You don’t ask about the new Mando’a. He’s never told you what cyar’ika means, either. Not that you’ve asked. He says it with enough fondness that you trust it’s not mean, and this sounds the same. Not that you aren’t curious. But the only things you know about Mandalorians are things he’s told you of his own volition, and you’re afraid to push.

Your eyes are watering. You trace your fingers over the collar with shaky hands. You’re terrified, actually, because this feels like something heavier than the other ways you play. “I love it,” you whisper.

He tugs on it, yanking you closer to him, before pulling it back, grinning at the way you let your body be moved at his will. “I think I like this a lot.” He holds you in place with it, pinching and tugging on your nipples. He gives your tits a few sharp smacks to feel the way you jerk in his lap.

“Ready for me, baby?” he teases.

You know it’s rhetorical, especially given that he’s already pulled his cock out, but you moan a “yes, please, sir,” just to see the way it makes him twitch. He smacks your clit twice with the head of his cock and then just shoves it all the way in.

He tugs the collar, pulling you to bend forward at an awkward angle.

“Watch, pretty girl. Look how greedy your little pussy is. Look how well you take me.”

You can’t look away. He’s splitting you in half, the pressure sharp and incredible, but you’d never know it from the way your walls and lips are hugging his shaft, beckoning him in. He flicks your clit while you’re watching, but you still jerk back at the sting. You’re stopped short by the collar, and he laughs and does it again.

He pinches and twists at it while you make broken little sounds, moans and cries, and you squirm to get out of range of his cruel fingers. But you can’t. He’s got you pinned so well between the cage of his thighs, bent up behind you, and the grip on your collar.

He only takes pity on you when he moves his attention back to your swollen nipples.

“S’it hurt?” he pants.

You whimper.

“Really? 'Cause you’re fucking soaked, cyar’ika, and your cunt keeps squeezing me so tight. I think you like it.” He flicks your nipple to punctuate his words.

“I do, I do like it, please. Like anything you do to me.”

“Those are dangerous words, sweetheart.”

“Nuh-uh,” you grunt, face twisting as he tugs hard before switching back to your clit. “Nnn. Trust you.”

He pinches a little harder than he means to, struck by the sweet way you bare yourself to him. His fingers dip down to gather some of the slick you’re leaking around his cock, and he brings them back up to your clit, rubbing firm, tight circles.

He drops your collar and grabs your jaw, pistoning his hips up harder so the wet slap of your bodies echoes in the cockpit. “Whose cunt is this?”

“Yours, sir,” you gasp.

“Yeah? Whose beautiful, perfect slut is this?”

“Yours, sir.”

“Cum for me, cyar’ika.” He presses down hard on your clit, and his hips stutter when you immediately clench down, body jerking. He grabs you by the collar and holds you upright so you don’t fall as you twitch and scream.

He doesn’t ease up, rubbing hard at your clit. “Another one. Now.”

You don’t know how he does it. You never have to force it. He knows your body like his armory, knows how much pressure it takes to pull the trigger, knows right when to fire. You’ve never not cum when he commanded.

“Down,” he snaps after you’ve come apart on him a few more times over.

You slide off immediately, sinking down onto the pillow, mouth open and tongue out. Your hands lay in your lap, palms up, and you even remember to keep your eyes open.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me,” he groans, stroking himself furiously before shoving into your throat as he spills. You take it all, eyes on him as you watch him fall apart for once. His shaky hand strokes through your hair as he comes down before settling around your neck just below the collar.

He pulls you back up into his lap, askew so your legs dangle over one side of the chair, and he can tuck your head against his chest. You’re shaking and softly crying as he wraps you up in your forgotten blanket.

“Thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. “And cyar'ika?”

You look up at him, sniffling and trying to blink back the last of your tears.

“You did so good telling me when you were upset.”

You bury your face in his unforgiving chest plate, and he allows you the moment to hide. Someday, he thinks, maybe you’ll believe him.

*Title from "Beat Up Car" by Taking Back Sunday. (what is the Razor Crest if not a beat up car persevering?)

[winniethewife]

Kinktober day 18

Day Eighteen: Masturbation (Poe Dameron x reader)

Warnings: smut under the cut, nsfw, 18+, FemBodied, Masturbation (Woah on masturbation day? Crazy…), mutual Masturbation (insanity), fingering

Minors DNI

Words: 987

Poe was finally done with the paperwork from the last disaster of a mission that had cost the Resistance way too much time, man power and resources for it to go that badly, He was just about ready to fall face first in his bed in his quarters and sleep for ten rotations when he hears something very interesting coming from a certain captains quarters. He and this particular captain had gone toe to toe more than once over tactics on a mission or for some other probably stupid reason, they definitely weren’t close. In fact she had rejected his advances on multiple occasions. So it definitely was not what he expected to hear her moaning his name with her fingers shoved up her wet cunt. It looks like the door to her quarters coincidentally ended up not closing all the way left slightly ajar. He stops outside his back against the door as he takes a peak, listening to her pathetic mewls.

“Ngh…Damn it…Poe…Please.” She groans as her fingers move rapidly unsuccessfully satiating her needs. Her bottoms around her ankles as she hikes her hips up seeking any release, any at all with her shirt between her teeth slightly distorting her speech. But not enough so that Poe would believe she was calling any other name in distress. As he watched her moving in desperation he felt his own bulge hardening and put his hand over it pressing down. Just as he was leaning on the door trying to get a better view, his droid BB-8 comes rolling up at top speeds knocking into Poe causing him to fall into the room and the door to successfully slide closed behind him. She looks at him. He looks at her. Both red in the face.

“Uh…this isn’t what it looks like?” He says unconvincingly

“Uh-huh… Right I believe you” She says sarcastically as she looks at him unsurprised.

“Look…I Um... I’ll just go...” Poe says as he stands up and makes a mad dash for the door, only to find that it’s stuck. He broke the door. Poe stands for a minute staring at the door, a hundred things in his mind.

“Damn it Dameron. What did you do?” She pulls up her underwear to come see the damage done to the door.

“Wha- I didn’t do anything, it’s the doors fault…” He rubs the back of his neck as he looks at her.

“Oh sure yeah, you’re standing outside my room while I’m…and you just happen to fall in and break my door…likely story” She sasses him as she looks at the door.

“I mean it’s an accurate story…besides what exactly do you expect me to do when I hear my name being called out like that? Just walk away?” He tries to defend himself.

“Yes! I mean…I don’t know!” She throws her hands up in the air before falling back down on her bed in defeat. Poe sits against the stuck door and looks over at her, the wet spot on her underwear, had she been thinking about him like that for a while? The mere thought makes him hard again.

“Well, if we’re stuck in here… we could help each other out…” He says suggestively

“Ugh…of course that’s the first thing you suggest. I’m not dumb Dameron…” She sighs her hands on her face as she thinks about it for a moment.

“Fine, Hands only, nothing else okay?” she says laying down the ground rules for this circumstantial escapade. Poe is quick to agree and his pants are quickly off and on her floor. The two of them sitting on her bed as she straddles his lap. His fingers eagerly reaching for her wet cunt. She lets out a soft moan as she feels his fingers inside her, doing substantially more for her than her own as he slides his fingers expertly in and out of her, rubbing his thumb in circles on her clit as he pulls his cock out from his boxers, tugging on himself a few times as he watches her react to his actions.

“Mph…damn…Kriff…” She groans out in pleasure as he does this. She steadies herself and licks her palm before grabbing his hard cock stroking him in rhythm with his fingers inside her. Her hands moving along his length causes him to grunt at the feeling. How was she so good at this? How are they so good together? He involuntarily bucks his hips into her hand as she strokes him. He wants more…He needed more.

“Damn, Captain. That’s good shit.” He groans and continues to finger her harder, her walls tighten around his fingers. She moans in response, her mind completely blank as she moves her hand along his length running her thumb along his tip feeling the slightly sticky pre-cum run down her thumb.

“Shut up, commander.” She grumbles. As she feels the pressure building up in her lower abdomen. She can’t help but feel slightly annoyed that he could get her this close in minutes what she couldn’t manage in an hour. Her breathing becomes panting as she gets closer to her release, she looks into his dark eyes filled with lust and need. Why is he so damn attractive but so kriffing annoying? Poe chuckles slightly before groaning again as she tugs up on his cock.

“Maker… I’m close.” He says with a growl he thrusts into her hand, sliding another finger into her cunt, drawing another moan from her lips as he does so. Their foreheads touch as they move on each other finally reach their peak, panting as they lean against each other riding out their high. Their eyes meet and in a moment of weakness their lips meet, a sweet soft kiss of passion as their tongues move together in harmony.

“No one else will know what just happened right?” She murmurs against his lips

“My lips are sealed.” He chuckles

~

Kinktober Masterlist

taglist: @steven-grants-world @queerponcho @fox-with-fomo @femmeanonymelives

[stationary-cycle-in-motion]

@augusnippets day 8: reunion

tw: implied physical abuse, referenced amputation

Padmé is woken by a hand clamping down around her mouth. She jerks, heart stuttering, and for one terrible moment she thinks she’s in her own bed, and that the man she shares it with has finally snapped.

Then, Rex’s face comes into focus, illuminated by a brighter glow than the fire they’d scrounged together. Sunlight, she realizes. It’s then that she processes Obi-Wan’s head in her lap, and she forces herself to relax so as to not disturb his slumber.

Rex has one hand over her mouth and another up to his lips. He points to the cave entrance; faintly, there’s the crunch of snow underfoot. Dropping his hand, he draws a blaster, waits.

The pounding of her still-rapid heart sounds like a crescendo, like anticipation.

A familiar head pokes through the cave’s mouth. “You in here, Captain?”

Rex’s shoulders sag in relief. “Fives.”

Before he can climb to his feet, he’s tackled to the ground by two heavily armored bodies. Joyous laughter fills the cave, infectious, and Padmé doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until her cheeks begin to burn.

“I knew he survived!” Fives whoops as Rex attempts to fight his way out of the headlock he’s currently trapped in. “You owe me ten credits, Jesse.”

Rex sputters. “You bet that I died?”

“Well, not from the blizzard,” Jesse says, sly, and his gaze very pointedly pivots toward Padmé and Obi-Wan huddled in the corner. “From being in close quarters with–”

The rest of his sentence is cut off by a strangled yelp as the captain shoves his face into the snow, Rex’s face a mixture of panic and affectionate exasperation.

“Oh my!” a quiet voice exclaims.

Padmé blinks, startled. She hadn’t realized Obi-Wan was awake, but he is, and, like her, he’s watching Rex with a fond gleam in his eye, grinning from ear to ear.

“Who knew Rex could be so mischievous?” he whispers.

It’s not a criticism, Padmé’s sure; it’s just a bit surprising to see Rex drop his composure, act more like a playful brother than a levelheaded captain.

She wishes she had the opportunity to see this side of him more often. The years of wrinkles smoothing out on his face certainly suits him much better.

Slowly, Padmé and Obi-Wan make their way to their feet, Padmé supporting the brunt of Obi-Wan’s weight. As fun as this reunion is, she desperately would like to get out of this cave now.

“General!”

“Oh no,” Obi-Wan mumbles, half burying his face in Padmé’s shoulder.

Commander Cody strides into the cave, looking sternly relieved. “You’re alive.” His eyes scan his general’s form, assessing. “Thank the Force you’re still in one–”

Gaze stopping somewhere around Obi-Wan’s hands, the color drains from his face.

“Force help me,” Obi-Wan whispers.

“What the kriff happened to your fingers!”

And then Cody is fussing after his general like a mother hen, calling in medics and evac and shooing Rex’s brothers out of the cramped space.

It might be the result of the adrenaline crash, that and the overwhelming relief of safety, but Padmé feels a bit giddy watching it all. There’s so much love packed into this tiny little cave, she thinks, and it makes her heart swell.

A shadow falls, the sunlight barred by an imposing figure in the cave mouth. One look at the fury burning in Anakin’s gaze brings reality crashing back down.

[wanderneverlost]

Please forgive me... but I am in dread (and maybe denial?) and in no form am I emotionally ready for tomorrow.

Here's a short, spurr of the moment, heart destroying fic.

Crosshair's head faded in and out of black. Ringing sound shrill in his ears. What was going on? He tried to sit up, finding that he was already on the floor. His hand began to shake violently, chest tight, breathing shallow. Why am i shaking so much? Panic rose in his chest as he figured out why.

One word.

Tantis.

They came back. This time, he wasn't a prisoner. But something was still wrong. He breathed in and closed his eyes like Omega had taught him, it helped a little. He looked around to get a grip on what was happening.

Pert of the ceiling had come down, he and...

And then he remembered, he and Hunter were trying to help create a diversion so Omega could let out some creature. Thats when it happened: the beast had gone on a wild rampage and was wrecking havoc in the mountain.

Hunter? Wait. Where-?

He saw movement in the corner of his eye, a slight shift in the debris. Oh, no. Hunters lower half was under the rubble, his torso seeming to be fine. Crosshair rushed beside his brother, immediately relieved to see him still breathing. Unconscious, but breathing. He'd lost his helmet somewhere during the chaos.

"Hunter. Hunter, can you hear me?" Crosshair looked up at the damaged ceiling as the mountain groaned from the destruction. We need to get out of here.

He tried to look for a possible place to gain enough leverage to pull his brother out. When he tried to lift, the rubble shifted and Hunter groaned from the pain. Kriff.

"I hope you weren't planning on leaving." Hemlock's voice was on the intercom, "it's as I've said before," up in a vent, the familiar green gas seeped into the room, "you don't leave, unless I say."

He frantically looked from Hunter to the gas and the debris.

Minutes felt like lifetimes.

He strained and tried to lift the ceiling off of Hunter, screaming in an effort to be as strong as Wrecker, only to be left with little to no change.

No! It can't end like this.

Hunter began coughing from the toxins, and without hesitation Crosshair removed his helmet and pulled it over Hunter's head.

"Hunter," his voice faultered, "I- I'm sorry..." he began to cough, "Please, Maker, I'm-" he tried to choke back his sobs. The eerily familiar numbness was getting to his head, tingling sensation in his hands, he was kneeling next to Hunter. He went to reach for his brother's hand, feeling the world fall away, fingers just barely in Hunter's palm.

"I'm sorry..."

The next few moments were strange. Hearing his name called out in echos. His hand being firmly held. Lights in and out view. A face closely resembling Mayday. Hearing and feeling his heartbeat drum slowly. Each bteath taking ages to get.

And then.

All black.

He felt like a cadet again. Harsh nights when the regs were at their worst. Hunter would spot out a quiet, unnoticeable and dark space for him. He would tell him where it was most times, but on the worst of the worst... Crosshair would just have Hunter lead him to it. They'd hide together, and just let the emotions go. Hunter's arms bracing Crosshair as tears drenched the shoulder of his blacks.

He felt like he was there now. But the room was gone. Just empty space. This would be a good place to leave from.

Hunter was still there. He stayed for what seemed like forever. Too soon, he was gone too. Leaving Crosshair in a dark void.

He noticed, finally. He wasn't shaking anymore. He looked down at his adult hands... they weren't trembling. He placed them on his lap and bowed his head.

So, that's it, then?

And he waited there.

Waited for punishment.

For a guide.

Resolution.

Just waiting.

Strangely enough, the dark void began to shift into lighter colors. Something like a morning was around him. He began to hear familiar sounds, voices of his squad.

Family.

A sharp ache forced his eyes open. Sunlight bled throughout the room of the... ship? He wasn't certain where he was. But he knew exactly whose voice cried out his name and whose arms flew around his neck. His arms naturally embraced her back like he had done it his wgole life.

"Omega?" His voice was more hoarse than usual but no less filled with glad surprise.

She filled him in:

Tantis, destroyed.

Hemlock, dead.

Clones, free.

Children, rescued.

And at some point he stopped listening to her words and just became calmed by the sound and rhythm of her voice. When he tuned in again, she was on about somwthing Echo and Tech were working on. Hmmn, I'll let it alone. I'm probably not awake all the way.

Her voice continued, and he felt Hunter's eyes on him. He chanced a smile. Omega went quite, and he felt his heart throb. Home.

Hunter took Crosshair's hand in his, fingers firmly holding his brothers. Crosshair returned the grip, nodding. He felt tears prick his eyes.

He was home.

Sorry, that was longer and more detailed than I was expecting it to be. I was only going to go up to the first half and stop when Crosshair passed out and then my brain went, "Oh! No, that's not the end. Here just keep going!"

So ta-da!

I kinda got inspiration from one of the 9-1-1 episodes where Buck gets lost in a Sanitizer factory and gets lost and hopeless. Anyways, praying that i wont have a meltdown tomorrow! (Who am I kidding? Of course I'm gonna have a meltdown) 😂���👍

@lightwise and @andymendez2354 for helping me get out of my shell

[mandos-mind-trick]

Kinktober Day 20 - Watersports

Summary: Your boyfriend has an odd request, but with those eyes how can you say no? 

Pairing: Hardcase x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, watersports, shower sex, Hardcase is a kinky bastard. 

A/N: I’d like to formally apologize to the Hardcase stans that this is the first fic you’re getting for him from me. Also a reminder it's very easy to keep scrolling if you see something you don't like.

MASTERLIST

“Babe?” 

You hum in response, not looking up from the holofilm playing on the TV. 

“You have to go yet?” 

You do look up now, shifting away from him. “That’s the third time you’ve asked, Hardcase. Why is my needing to use the restroom so important to you?” 

He rubs the back of his head, looking a bit bashful. “I just...I had an idea...” 

You stare at him silently, waiting for him to continue. 

“I-I need your bladder full for it.” He says. 

You continue to stare at him, your brain trying to process his words. You usually don’t think much about anything he says. You’ve come to expect the unexpected with your energetic boyfriend. Odd requests, spur of the moment decisions, enthusiastic ramblings about anything he’s just discovered. Impulsive is practically his middle name. 

“And what is this...idea?” You ask hesitantly. 

“I...I want you to...piss on me.” He says slowly. “Before I fuck you senseless.” 

Your mouth drops open as you stare at him. You’re not quite sure what to say. You’ve done many things in your sexual adventures, but nothing quite like this. 

“Is...Is that why you keep refilling my caf?” You finally ask. “And why you keep asking if I need to pee?” 

He nods. “Yeah. I wanted to be sure...you were ready in case...you wanted to do it.” 

You stare up at him. He’s obviously been thinking about this for a while and planned it out. You’ve never thought about doing something like this before, but he seems like he’s interested and with the way he’s staring at you, you’re finding it hard to say no. 

What’s the harm in it anyway? 

“O-Okay.” You say, shifting in your seat. “Yeah, we can do that.” 

He breaks out in a wide grin and you’re suddenly very sure of your decision. “You’re the best babe.” He says, leaning down and kissing you. 

His arms snake around you, one hand coming to rest over your bladder. He applies gentle pressure and you find yourself clenching, suddenly aware of how full it really is. 

“Oh fuck.” You whisper against his lips. 

“You gotta go?” He asks. 

You nod. “Yeah. Worse than I thought.” 

He grins wickedly, pulling away from you to stand. He takes your hand, pulling you off the couch and down the hall to the fresher. An excited chill runs through you, and you find yourself getting wet at the thought of what’s going to happen.

Hardcase leads you to the shower, stripping out of his clothes before stepping inside. He situates himself as best he can on the floor, holding out a hand to you. You take a breath, pulling your own clothes off before you take his hand, stepping into the small shower. He pulls you down so you’re straddling his lap, his cock already half hard as you hover over him. 

You hold yourself up, staring down at him as his hands massage your sides. Your face is burning just a little at the thought of what you’re going to do. 

“Let go.” He says, his voice rough. 

You swallow thickly, trying to relax your body. It’s strange in this situation, in this position. At least you don’t have to worry about a mess. 

He really thought this all through. 

You force your body to relax, closing your eyes as you let yourself go. It begins as a small trickle, Hardcase’s eyes fluttering closed as the warm stream starts running over his stomach. You can’t stop it now, the stream coming steadily, sliding down his stomach and his hardening cock. 

“Oh kriff.” He groans. 

His head falls back against the shower wall, his arms wrapping around you and pressing you close against his chest as you continue to pee on him. You brace yourself on his shoulders, watching the pleasure morph on his face. You can feel his cock poking against your ass as you finish, his eyes cracking open to stare at you. 

“Kriff, thank you baby.” He groans, pressing his face into your neck. 

His lips press against your skin, one hand reaching around to drag through your folds. You gasp at the sensation, your folds slick and wet.

“Stand up.” He says, pulling away from you. 

You push yourself up to stand, a bit awkward in the tight space. He stands up after you, turning the water on. It sprays between you, neither of you moving until it’s warmed up, his hands pulling you against him. He leans down, pressing his lips to yours, his tongue slipping through your lips into your mouth. 

Your back meets the cool tile of the shower wall, his body pinning you in place. You wrap your arms around his neck, his cock pressing against your stomach. He grinds his hips against yours, smearing precum on your skin. 

You pull away from his lips, turning yourself so your front is pressed against the shower wall. You press your hips back, your ass pressing against his cock. 

“Kriff, baby, you’re too good to me.” He groans, one hand holding your hip while the other lines up his cock. 

“I just love you so much.” You say, turning your head to look over your shoulder as best you can. 

“Love you too, babe.” He groans, sinking into your wet pussy. 

Your lips part in a gasp, cheek resting against the cool tile as he presses into you. You brace yourself against the wall as he pulls back before snapping his hips into yours. Your entire body jolts from the force of his thrusts, your eyes rolling back at the sensation. 

He wasn’t kidding about fucking you senseless. 

He picks up the pace, fucking into you hard and fast, the sound of your skin slapping together echoing in the shower. His grip is tight on your hips, pulling your body back into his thrusts. You’re a moaning mess, every drag of his cock through your folds sending you spiraling closer and closer to your orgasm. 

“Gonna cum...kriff, Hardcase!” You cry, legs shaking as your orgasm washes over you. 

He groans, loud and shameless as he fucks you through your orgasm, his own hitting him as you milk his cock. He spills into you, hips jerking against your ass as he rides out his orgasm. 

He falls against your back, catching himself on the shower wall. You’re both breathing heavily, his face pressed against your shoulder. 

“Thank you, baby.” He groans, wrapping an arm around you to hold you up. 

“We should do that again more often.” You say, letting yourself relax in his hold. 

Taglist:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @sinfulsalutations @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink @lickylickylicky @sweetheartsnips @ghostperson69 @captain_rexs_cyare @jediknightjana @jedi-hawkins @dalu-grantkylo @cw80831

[dailyreverie]

6. calling them first when spreading some good news – with Poe and Solo!reader

Maybe they get some good news about the resistance movement so she runs to tell Poe and he’s like “what did your mom say?” and she’s like “kriff I didn’t tell her yet”

This feels like good news

Part of the Your Wish is my Command universe | Can be read as a stand-alone

A/N: I loved this request so so much!! I'm falling in love with these two idiots and this was so fun to write. Thank you so so much for requesting! [Title from song "Good news" by Bakar - give it a listen because it really captures the vibes of this blurb]

Are we friends or are we more prompt: #6. calling them first when spreading some good news

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader

Word Count: 900 words

SERIES MASTERLIST

For months on end, everyone on comms had been going insane over a distress call that kept on coming, yet when someone answered the call would disappear. There were theories beginning to sparkle around base about who could be calling: a lost Jedi, a spy, an ally, even Luke Skywalker himself, and your intel team was sure to discover who it was.

Your search had been narrowed down after tracking clues for weeks, and sleepless nights on coms had left you exhausted, until one day, after a long morning of hunting the mysterious caller, your squad finally reported to you the news. “Lieutenant, we found him!”, the words rang through your ears and at long last, they made you smile in pure joy.

You ran through halls, anxious to find and tell the news to the one person who had supported you day and night through this hideous hide-and-seek mission, keeping you company on the hard nights and bringing you caf each morning. “Poe!” You called for him when you spotted him in one of the meeting rooms, his attention focused on the screen in front of him but snapping out of whatever he was doing when he heard your voice. 

“Hey!” Poe replied, jumping into panic and meeting you halfway across the large room when he saw you were running. “You okay? What happened?” You were out of breath, your chest was heaving and he could swear you were breaking into a sweat. Poe held your arms, holding you in place when he saw your agitated state and waiting for you to keep going.

“Poe, I found it! We did it!” You spoke in between breaths.

“Found it? What did you- Wait… you found the call?”

At the lack of air in your lungs, you could only nod. “We did, the squad found it.” After a big, deep breath you were able to speak again. “We were right, it was a spy who just spilled major intel on the First Order. He gave us their plans for at least the next three months if not more, we have their major locations…” You ran out of breath again, forcing you to pause to catch it, making you look at Poe as you did. His face had transformed gradually into a giant smile, shiny eyes and dimples and all; your enthusiasm had rubbed up on him, and the way he looked at you was not helping you breathe normally again at all. “...We have an advantage now, we finally do!”

“That is amazing!” The grasp he had on your arms tightened and he pulled you in, both of you laughing in excitement and holding unto each other. Good news had been lacking on the Resistance for a while now and this, even if just a tiny step forward, felt like a ray of sun finally shining on you. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered the last words, something just for you and him, sealing his words with a kiss on your temple.

“Thank you,” you beamed, staring into his eyes that were looking at you with so much tenderness and warmth in then you could probably live in them. 

It was easy to get lost in Poe’s eyes - as it had been happening more frequently - until he spoke up again: “What did your mother say?”

“What?” You blinked slowly, his words taking you out of the excitement of the moment as if he had said something completely out of this galaxy. Poe titled his head as an answer, his eyebrows furrowing when he realized… “OH KRIFF!”

“You haven’t told her?” He chuckled, and when he saw your mouth open in surprise, surprised at yourself mostly, the chuckle transformed into a full-on laugh. “What the hell are you doing here then?”

“I- I don’t- I thought-” You stuttered, looking around you for the correct answer until you found it in front of you: you wanted to tell him, just as every boring aspect of your day and every mundane thing you share, your first thought was to go and tell Poe. “I don’t know.” Was an easier answer, one that wouldn’t make you feel dumb(er) than you already did, even if you laughed as you said it.

“Well, go tell her!” Poe’s hands turned you around to face the door as he kept chuckling, giving you a little push toward the exit.

Before you left, though, and before you were completely out of his reach, he stretched to trap your hand in his, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey,” Poe called, his thumb doing little circles on the back of your hand as you waited for him to continue talking, except that - for the Maker - he couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m glad you told me first.”

You matched his smile, squeezing his hand before letting it go to go find the General. You were more relaxed now, though, since the one person you were dying to talk to about it already knew.

Poe was left with a little grin in his lips, little did you know, one that not even Snap’s teasing could erase. The pilot had remained hidden behind the screen and would not dare speak ever since he saw the way Poe lighted up at the sound of your voice, only shipping in once you were gone: “So are you ever asking her out or-?” He earned a light punch on his arm, laughing even then when he saw the Commander’s cheeks turning pink.

🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

[sev-on-kamino]

Pressure - an In Pieces One Shot

Summary: 501st shenanigans at the bar, and you enjoy a dance with Jesse and Fives because teasing Wolffe is fun

Warnings: alcohol, betting, highly suggestive dancing, she/her pronouns used, no y/n, no physical descriptions

Word Count: 812

The song they’re dancing to: “Pressure” by Martin Garrix (of course)

Jesse finished his shot, as he watched you swaying your hips on your way to Cody’s table. No shore leave was complete without you causing a stir in some way or another.

“How long before extraction?” Fives asked, nodding in your direction.

“Until she finishes her drink, or that vein starts popping in Captain Rex’s forehead. Whichever comes first,” Jesse said after a moment.

“We don’t have long then,” Fives laughed, and turned to order another round.

Kix looked over towards you, and made a noise of surprise.

“Is she trying to pull off a requisition right now? That’s my girl,” He laughed, seeing the little presentation you were doing.

“If I was a beautiful woman, this is the place where I would ask for everything. Promotions, raises, whatever the kriff she’s about to get right now,” Fives replied.

“Fives,” Hardcase said, tapping Fives on the arm, as the shots were lined up on the bar. “I bet I could do all these shots and then balance the glasses on my nose.”

“Stakes?”

“I do it, I get that new vibroblade you’ve been flashing around.”

“He won that off of me,” Kix said incredulously.

“Okay? And now I want it,” Hardcase said shrugging.

“And if they fall, what’s in it for me?” Fives asked.

“My favorite DC-17m.”

A murmur passed through the group at that. Hardcase was practically married to that blaster.

Fives glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were still sipping on your drink before saying, “You’re on. Gotta keep the glasses up for 15 seconds.”

“Easy!” Hardcase said, downing each of their shots one by one. As he reached the last one he stacked them all together before tilting his head back and balancing them on his nose.

The boys started counting down from 15, as Hardcase kept the delicate glass tower balanced on his nose.

“5…4…3…2…1!” They all whooped and cheered as Hardcase released the breath he’d been holding.

“What the-“ Fives’s jaw dropped.

“I’ll take that knife,” He said making the motion for Fives to hand it over. The ARC trooper rolled his eyes and pulled it out, to hand it over.

“I think I should have a chance to win it back,” Kix grumbled.

“Maybe next time,” Hardcase said tucking it away.

“Sit Rep?” Fives said turning to Jesse, as he petulantly sipped at his beer.

“Drink’s not gone, Captain’s still cool.”

“I’m surprised. Usually 5 minutes being around her and the commander is plenty.”

“Uh oh, we have a development,” Jesse said nodding in your direction.

Fives turned to follow his gaze.

“Ah, the vein’s popping. We better pull her out,” Fives said downing his beer.

The pair of them make their way across the dance floor, getting just close enough to shout your name.

They watched you drain your glass, and rise from the table to strut over to them, with a mischievous sparkle in your eyes.

“I know that look,” Fives said, grinning as he took hold of your hips. You were already swirling them along to the music, as you reached for Jesse.

“It’s been awhile,” Jesse said pressing up against you, his muscular thigh pressed between yours. “Who’s the lucky trooper tonight?”

You didn’t answer, you just looked over your shoulder at Wolffe, who had his eyes trained on you.

“Oh, kriff me. Are you serious right now?” Fives asked incredulously.

“He will devour you.” Jesse laughed, his head bent low to speak into your ear.

Your giggles bubbled like champagne.

“That’s the idea,” you said tugging him closer.

“I knew you would be up to something as soon as Commander Cody invited you to his table.” Jesse shook his head.

“When is she not up to something?” Fives challenged, as you arched your back and locked eyes with Wolffe again.

“I’m surprised. I thought it would be Cody,” Jesse said spinning you to face Fives as his hips moved smoothly with yours to the beat.

“Ooh it very well might be him too…” you said, as Cody caught your eye, and beckoned you over.

“Very ambitious, doll,” Fives said grinning.

“You’re gonna be sore the rest of the week. And after that stunt you pulled on me the other day, I’m not taking it easy on you,” Jesse said, remembering how you’d finally managed to take him down. He didn’t know that you’d been training in every spare moment with Fives to pull that off.

“When have you ever?” You asked with a laugh.

As the song ended you pulled them close, pressing a soft kiss to each of their faces, “You guys are the fucking best, and I will think of you…well not during it, but afterwards with gratitude.”

The pair of them burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join them.

“Don’t wait up for me,” you said, turning to make your way to Cody’s side.

tag list: @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @iamburdened @wings-and-beskar @sunshinesdaydream @dukeoftheblackstar @rexxdjarin @wolffegirlsunite @808tsuika @sleepingsun501 @ladyzirkonia @starrylothcat (also @littlemissmanga cause I think you’ll enjoy it, lemme know if you don’t wanna be tagged in random things lol)

[singswan-springswan]

rebels mermaid au where fishman!kanan has been stuck in an aquarium for a few years but can't do anything about it so oh well. He's bored out of his mind. Misses his family :( on the bright side he never gets tired of scaring guests that come to ogle at him. Only downside is he's not allowed to kill them. He tries whenever the chance presents itself, but that's not often. So he's really bored.

Zeb's his primary caregiver. They've developed a grudging respect for each other since Zeb is usually the one saving people from Kanan during every attempt, beat Kanan up the first time Kanan went for him. Secretly Zeb is a selkie that lost his skin and got the job at the aquarium to try and get it back from that idiot oblivious bloke working the rescue & rehab branch (kallus). The condescending son of a bantha doesn't even realize his favorite trench coat to wear outside of work is not,,, technically his. Zeb's been trying for years kriff someone help him.

Hera recently transferred from another branch location of the aquarium with her apprentice Sabine, who's an intern that gained access to the merman's care and research schedule via undisclosed means. She just wants to follow in Hera's footsteps. Hera recently managed to score research access to the merman through merit, hard work, and a good measure of association with the right people. Her focus is behavioral analysis, which---surprisingly---is not a test anyone at the aquarium has yet thought to conduct (not natural behavior, at least. A few specialized tests such as range of tolerance, response to stimuli, and others cracked right off the bat).

At first Hera's given a whole shakedown by security officials "don't do this or that, log all your hours with the asset so we can assign a protection detail, yada yada" but all those rules go against the structure for her research experiments plus she's friends with Mr. Garson the chief of security and manages to sneak in at times when the cameras run on a loop and no one else is there. It's this sneaking around and deviation from routine that first catches Kanan's attention. He's curious of course, and he hasn't tried to drown this particular human before so at least it's something to soothe the boredom. But then, get this, Hera introduces herself and ohoho that ethereal voice stops Kanan right in his fishy little tracks. Then she asks for his name and it snaps him out of his goofy frozen little daze and he blurts out "Kanan" because it's the first thing that came to mind and tbh it's been a long time since he's spoken out loud much less heard his real name.

Hera is just as surprised to hear him talk, actually. She'd been told that the merman didn't exhibit signs of high intelligence (lol) and had been acting pretty bestial so don't expect much engagement. It takes him two seconds to start chatting her up and then like two more seconds to fall hopelessly in love because come on she's hera and he's kanan. Zeb and Sabine eventually catch on to the late night sessions and join in a few times. Where's Chopper in all of this? He's probably a cat that just lives at the aquarium rent free and steals fish and knocks stuff over because he's a kriffing criminal. You'd think an animal that fat would be easier to catch and get rid of but no one's ever managed to do it so they just glare at him bitterly whenever he appears because they know there's not a single thing they can do to stop him. He did primarily terrorize the campus that Hera previously worked at and she brought him with when she transferred.

Enter Ezra after a few months or so idk. Rip the poor guy. He's another mer that got snatched from the sea somewhere and dumped in the aquarium after being subjected to all the same tests and experiements that Kanan had to survive when he was first taken. He's totally out of his element, confused and disoriented and thoroughly traumatized expecting at any moment to be pulled from the enclosure again and subjected to more "scientific" torment. Kanan is very startled to see Ezra. It's been years since he's seen another mer, and this one is just a kid. He's only fifteen! How could they just throw a kid in here for guests to gawk at? It must be the money. As far as Kanan knows, he's one of few mer in the whole world living in captivity, so the rare sight is really attractive for humans and they'll pay big bucks to come and stare all day. He's gotten used to it after years waking up to their dumbstruck faces every morning, but this is all very new to poor Ezra who is fresh off torture, going through puberty, and far more alone in the world than Kanan ever was. The kid takes to tailing Kanan all over the tank, glued to his side and can barely sleep because he's afraid Kanan will get up and leave him alone. At first the clinginess annoys Kanan but he eventually caves to compassion and does his best to offer comfort to the frightened boy.

Sabine asks Ezra if he knows any siren songs, as a joke. He brightens and tells her yeah actually, a pod of his whale friends taught him one and he's not quite perfected it yet but would she want to hear him practice? Not knowing any better, she agrees. Kriff can Ezra sing. Sabine goes catatonic for an hour or so. When she wakes up in the morning she calls in sick and spends hours and hours nonstop painting in her room at Hera's apartment, tears streaming down her face. The art she creates is absolutely breathtaking and if you tilt your head just right it looks like music too. Sabine keeps it covered.

Kanan jokes that Hera must have been a siren in a past life. Instead of getting flustered she bombards him with questions about his culture's take on the afterlife and would it really be possible that she was a mer? He has to backtrack while Zeb laughs at him. No, reincarnation is not a thing as far as his people are concerned. They don't even leave their bodies behind when they die. Apparently that seafoam thing is legit. Why else do you think they never discovered mermaids existed before capturing a live one? Hera's taking notes so fast her paper is smoking.

They order pizza a lot and just hang out together eating pizza at the poolside of the mer enclosure. It's really peaceful at the dead hours of night so there's lots of deep conversation, watching of movies, general cultural exchange, etc. etc. It doesn't take Hera too long to figure out that hey um,, these mers are people too. Why are we treating them like animals and putting them on display? They should be free and stuff. She and the rest of Ghost crew free Kanan and Ezra, maybe with the help of some others. Ahsoka swings by to give them a hand because she's got crazy powerful sea magic apparently and can give herself legs whenever the kriff she wants. Her good friend Rex might make an appearance too idk he happens to be related to a number of the security detail (corries) who hate their jobs and boss and would be more than willing to stick it to the corporation by liberating the aquarium's most prized assets. Kallus got roped into their found family by this point. He still hasn't given Zeb the skin back though what the kriff man. Is Leia there? I'd like to think she's a lobbyist for marine conservation or something, mostly because she visits her dad every weekend and the water tastes like crap sometimes especially when the big corporations play loosey goosey with polluting regulations and sea magic can only do so much to prevent extensive damage to the environment. Luke is not an activist he's just friends with Ezra so he can be a part of it too "oh him? That's my friend Luke. Yeah he can shapeshift cause his mom is human" Luke waves and everyone is too tired to question him or his chaos freak terrifying twin sister.

Oh turns out Chopper is a sea sprite? Feral mercat thing dear lord. Utter terror. The twins don't miss a beat with him because their dad has a bigger one with twice the level of cunning and an even higher body count, if that's believable (Ghost crew cannot fathom a body count higher than Chopper's but they're too afraid to ask at this point).

Anyways everything works out in the end and happily ever after and stuff. I just have fun with merm aus and *technically* this is the last day of mermay innit so i'm popping off

[ninjigma]

For 'Of Honor and Force', a Royalty AU Track: 'Second Child, Restless Child' - The Oh Hellos (Spotify / YouTube)

"And here I was, thinking that fighting tooth and nail to survive would finally give me an edge against you."

"Dull your edges, more like."

Quinlan made an exaggerated offended noise, hand grasping at his chest. Fox showed as much sympathy as usual though, and Quinlan didn't have more then a second to be dramatic before he was rapidly blocking quick movements.

Sharp and swift the two danced, feet sliding silently over grass and the sharp noises of metal echoing on the long forgotten ruins. The day was joyous, and Quinlan was thankful for it. He had missed his friend, and between being thrown off a mountain as a form of training and traveling an extra two weeks to get foreign noodles, he had been gone so much longer then he ever cared to be. And he hoped the rare foods would make up for the fact that he knew this time would be even longer still. The inevitable that he would leave, that Quinlan always left.

And he wished the burning in his chest was simply his lungs trying to keep up with the fight.

"And it seems my absence has made your aim a bit…" Quinlan lunged, using his height to Force Fox back rapidly so as not to fall. "Wild."

Fox sneered, and twisted rapidly, the sun bouncing off the sheen of his bare shoulders. "You think way too much of yourself."

"I think of you a lot too." Quinlan had dodged to the side and bowed slightly, hands splayed outward and relaxed even as Fox raised his rapier between them. "My dear prince-"

Fox's angry scoff was lost to the new flurry of movements. Quinlan had pushed enough buttons that their little fight had devolved into something that took a lot more attention, something that left them both beginning to breath heavier, tips of their weapons to scrape and scratch across their exposed torso's. Hair loose and forms tight, wrists twisting and bodies swaying. The grass bent beneath them as neither gave up ground, as they moved together like the currents that carried the storms.

Until Quinlan saw red.

The drip of it as it bubbled up, bright and angry. They had been twisting past each other, and Fox had ducked when Quinlan feigned an upward cut only to then fall low as well. His rapier had pierced the skin, a slash marring across the left side of Fox's chest. A long cut. Red.

In his shock he had hesitated, had hyper focused on that slowed moment his rapier flicked away, scarlet on the tip. He had his eyes on nothing but the wound he had given Fox, the hurt he had inflicted.

And Fox stood back to stance with ne'er a blink, lunged without any time lost, fast to slice Quinlan's sword out of his hand and plant one strong foot to the sternum of his off balanced opponent, flattening him into the ground beneath him.

"What the kriff was that?"

Finally, the knock of the ground chasing his breath away, Quinlan's eyes focused back on Fox's face. On how he was breathing hard, but wore only a look of confusion and annoyance rather then victory. "What?"

Fox huffed, rapier coming to hover just over the right side of Quinlan. "You hesitated. Why did you hesitate? You haven't been going easy on me have you? I swear Vos if you-"

"No no I-," Quinlan's eyes trailed down again. "You're bleeding."

Finally Fox seemed to take notice of the cut. With the iconic raise of one eyebrow his family was know for he flickered his attention to the wound, seemingly expecting it to be a trap perhaps, a distraction. But instead of the pain or anger Quinlan thought would come, the upset at being injured or the panic at the sight, Fox actually laughed. Outright chuffed and even smiled, looking back down to a startled Quinlan.

"Do you stop every time you give an enemy an ouchie?"

"Fox-"

"It is barely even bleeding, for kark's sake. Might scar a bit but-"

"Fox stop. I-"

"No, Quinlan." The rapier's tip lowered against Quinlan's skin, Fox managing to raise his chin even as he stared down hard. "You shut your mouth for once and know that, actually, I am not your dear prince. I am not some fragile thing. I brought the rapiers for a reason, and I am more then aware of the risks, we have been through this plenty of times. I wanted the fight, and it has been so much more fun then putting up with Cody's pointers and Bly's warnings."

Eyes now boring into Quinlan, Fox tilted his head down ever so slightly. "I trust you, even if you are such a fool that I am surprised you haven't gotten yourself killed yet. Got it?"

Quinlan blinked a moment, the silence derived from Fox's tone had been clear and left him in a moment of hesitation before speaking. "Yes sir."

Then that slick smile was back, and Fox was tilting his head like the most clever being in the world. "Besides, that was a pretty good attempt."

Quinlan raised his own brow, but otherwise didn't attempt to move, watching the light through the canopy dance on Fox's face. "Oh? A compliment?"

Fox shook his head, tight lips still smiling. "Pity actually. That is the closest you are ever going to get, shadow boy, and you blew it. Now get back up so I can kick your ass properly this time"

Finally, Quinlan's own smile broke across his face, a new confidence in his friend. The friend who complained about him, sneered at his courting, huffed at his stories. The same friend who came to the ruins every week to look for him despite the months he would never be there, the same friend who would sit with him late enough in the night that his family would be angry with him when he arrived back home, the same friend that he had just cut across the heart of only to receive a smile and an insult.

The same friend that now stepped back and swung the rapier away with such a poise that Quinlan had to simply gaze up a moment in awe from where Fox had laid him so thoroughly flat. That as the prince offered his hand and that sideways smirk, Quinlan once again couldn't believe how lucky he was for any of this. That taking Fox's hand and accepting the help up made his stomach flip in a very different way before once again taking up his rapier and facing Fox squarely.

Beneath the sun and bird song, a canopy of life and story, the prince of the shadows faced the fourth son of Fett and reaffirmed that, no matter what he came against, he would fight to his last breath for just this.

Because Quinlan always came back.

It was just supposed to be a lighting test but uhhhhhh... well, you can see for yourself XD

Enjoy!

View early previews and WIPS of this piece and more on my Patreon!

[vodika-vibes]

Sharing Is Caring

Summary: When you get knocked down with the mother of all colds the night before your first date with Longshot, you’re determined to push through. Longshot, however, disagrees.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Longshot x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1002

Warnings: Reader is sick, Reader is called Sugarpop

A/N: This story is based on the time that I caught bronchitis right at the beginning of COVID and wasn't allowed to get treatment for it because I wasn't allowed to see a doctor. I did get a phone call every day to make sure I was still alive, and my husband had a list of local ERs he could bring me if I took a turn for the worse, but yeah. Do not recommend. 0/10 stars.

Click HERE to join my taglist

You feel awful.

It feels like there is a lead weight in your face, your teeth ache, and this stupid headache won’t go away no matter how much medicine you take. Add to that, you also have a cough that rattles your diaphragm and you get winded walking from the bedroom to the living room—

You’re not a doctor, but you feel pretty comfortable diagnosing yourself with bronchitis and probably a sinus infection.

It’s not fair.

You’re supposed to go on a date with Longshot in the morning, and you’ve been looking forward to it for, what seems like, weeks. Maker knows how long it’ll be before he has time to go on another date with you if you cancel for tomorrow.

You roll onto your side as a series of painful coughs wrack your body, and you grimace as you rub your chest.

It’ll be fine. Probably.

You’ll wear a mask and you’ll get your date. It might not be as perfect a first date as you pictured, but at least you’ll still be able to see him.

Still, you supposed it’ll be pretty bad of you to not warn him that you’re sick. So you grab your comm and scroll until you reach Longshot’s contact information. 

Feeling horribly guilty, and hoping that he doesn’t assume that you’re lying, you shoot him a message warning him that you’re pretty sick, but that you’re willing to wear a mask on the date.

You plan to wait for him to reply, only you don’t quite get that far as your cold medicine slams into you with all of the subtlety of a freight train, and you fall asleep on the couch, your comm slipping from your fingers and falling to the floor next to the couch.

The following morning, you start awake to the sound of your doorbell ringing incessantly.

Groggily, you roll off the couch and stumble to the door. You’re so out of it, that you don’t even bother to check the camera to see who’s standing at the door before you open the door.

Standing in the hallway, looking very anxious, is Longshot. Though the anxiety vanishes the moment you open the door, “Oh, thank kriff. I thought I was going to have to break in.”

You blink at him, blankly, “Am I late?”

A laugh falls from him, and he steps into your apartment, his free hand coming up to press against your forehead, “You’re burning up, Sugarpop.” 

His hand feels nice against your burning skin, nice enough that you don’t respond to him, choosing to lean into his hand instead.

“How are you feeling?” Longshot asks as he nudges you further into the apartment, so he’s able to shut and lock the door.

“M’okay,” You lie, just before dissolving into a coughing fit so severe that Longshot has to support you.

“You’re an awful liar, Sugarpop.” Gently, he guides you back to the couch and helps you lay back down, “I brought medicine, from Helix, and I also have some homemade soup from General Kenobi.”

“You didn’t have to go out of your way,” You reply, trying to remain upright despite Longshot’s strong hands guiding you to lay back down.

“Come on, you’re important to me, Sugarpop. Of course, I did.” He shoots you a slightly frustrated look, “Why don’t you want to lay down?”

You duck your head, “It’s hard to breathe when I’m prone, unless I have a fan blowing in my face.”

You jump when you feel Longshot’s calloused fingers against your chin, tilting your head up so you’re meeting his gaze. He looks worried, “Have you been to a doctor, cyar’ika?”

“No.”

“Do you want to call and make an appointment? I can bring you—”

“Not really,” You admit honestly, “Feels like a waste of time.”

“If you’re having a hard time breathing—”

“Longshot, please stop.”

He sighs and pushes his hand through his curls, “Alright, Sugarpop. I won’t push you.” He lightly rubs your cheek with his thumb, “Would you let me call Helix? 

“I’m sure he has better things to do—”

“He really doesn’t. ‘M pretty sure he spends all of our shore leave lurking in various medical facilities.” Longshot pulls out his comm to shoot his brother a message, “You scared me last night, Sugarpop.”

“I did?”

“You sent a message, a barely coherent message at that, saying that you’re sick and then don’t respond to my messages and don’t answer when I comm you. The only reason I didn’t show up here last night was because I was tackled before I could leave the barracks.”

“Oh.”

“I thought you had died or something.”

“...oh. Sorry.”

He shakes his head, “I’m just glad that you’re alive and not hurt.”

“I didn’t mean to make you worry,” You say, finally allowing him to guide you to lie down on your pillow.

“Yeah, well. I never had a girlfriend before, so I’m trying to do this right.”

“Girlfriend, huh?”

A tired smile crosses your face as his face darkens and he rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah, well, I mean, if you want. And it’s fine if you don’t want to, your friendship is important to me—” He rambles quickly.

You take his hand in yours and squeeze it gently, “I’d like to be your girlfriend. Though, this isn’t a very good first date.”

“We’ll have our date when you’re feeling better,” Longshot promises as he brings your hand to his lips and presses a light kiss to your knuckles, “For now, get some rest. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Everything?”

“I’ll wake you when Helix gets here, and when it’s time for lunch.” He leans in and presses a light kiss to your forehead, “Get some rest, Sugarpop. I’m not going anywhere.”

Longshot tucks you in on the couch and adjusts the fan so it’s blowing in your face. And, it might be the sickness, but as you fall asleep you can’t help but feel safe and comfortable. Longshot has you.

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