#candles are time consuming and also hell in general

[221bshrlocked]

thoughts of you consume me

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Jedi Fem!Reader

Words: 46,838 (I would apologize, but I’m not one bit sorry)

Warnings: 18+ only. Really Angsty Smut!!! Softer than usual Wolffe. Mutual Pining. Idiots in Love. Touch-Starved Characters. Lots of Kissing. Possessive Behavior/Words. Dirty/Sweet Talk. Oral Sex (male and female receiving). Rough Fingering and Overstimulation. Squirting. Penetrative, Unprotected Sex. Slight Breeding Kink. Oh and heavy implications of Order 66. I am so so sorry for that ending.

Summary: When you shut the door behind him, Wolffe turns around and reluctantly meets your gaze, finding your eyes more piercing than normal as they shone underneath the soft light of the candles scattered across the humble space. You smile gently at him, and he wishes then that you weren't a Jedi, that you weren't forced or even able to set aside your true emotions to make him feel at ease. He wanted you to be yourself with him, to be vulnerable with him. Against his better judgment, he takes a step towards you, never once daring to look anywhere else but your strikingly beautiful orbs as he finally asks the question he had a feeling he wouldn’t like the answer to. “What did you mean when you said you've seen your death a thousand times?”

A/N: I started writing this as I was watching S4 of The Clone Wars (February), got most of it done during S6 (March), became an emotional mess and started writing different oneshots for Wolffe for a while, but realized quickly that I wanted this to be the first one that I post for him so here you go. This is different, even for me, and Wolffe is “softer” than usually portrayed but you know what, bite me. This is mostly from Wolffe’s perspective but the perspectives change a bit as the fic progresses. Please please please let me know how I’m doing in the comments. Pretty please and thank you. Also, this is not beta’d and I apologize for any mistakes you will come across. 

The news that Padawan Tano was choosing to leave the Jedi Order spread like wildfire across the barracks. When it reached Commander Wolffe and his men, there was a mixture of reactions, with some hating how they may have played a part in the Jedi’s decision and others wishing they weren’t so quick to judge. Not that any of them had a choice. They were just following orders. 

Good soldiers follow orders. 

That’s what Wolffe kept on telling his boys to try and make them feel less guilty of their hunting of Ahsoka. Even if they didn’t believe the accusations, they couldn’t have disobeyed their Generals’ orders. He could tell that no one was buying his reasoning, and he hated that he knew it was because he himself didn’t believe his own words. For the first time since he became a soldier, Wolffe didn’t know what to do. He watched as his men scattered and went their separate ways, no doubt because of what was happening, perhaps of what was eventually going to happen. There was something off about the whole ordeal, and he got the sense that the Jedi Council was beginning to fall apart. But no, that was impossible. They knew what they were doing, they were going to end this war.

A strange consideration breaks his train of thoughts, and as much as Wolffe doesn’t want to carry it out, he brushes his discomfort aside and heads to the Jedi Temple. He thinks of his words, of how he was going to face Commander- no, Ahsoka. Just Ahsoka. He doesn’t want to admit it but he was going to miss her presence, her snarky comments with the other Jedi, her daring yet heroic actions when they went into battle. But above all, he was going to miss how she was the only one that managed to make you talk. He hates how selfish he’s being at that moment. One of the bravest, most selfless Jedi was leaving the Order and he is worried that he won’t get to hear your voice as much. Kriffing hell, what were you feeling right now? What must you think of him and his men? He knows Jedi didn’t form attachments, weren’t allowed to even humor such an idea, but there was no way you weren’t a little bit sad, maybe disappointed, at what he did. What he had to do.

By the time he makes it to the Temple, Wolffe braces for whatever you and Ahsoka have to say to him following his apology. He doesn’t know what to expect, and he tells himself that he would need to accept whatever harsh words would follow his confession. Then again, a part of him knows that neither you nor Ahsoka would be unkind, even though you had every right to be. He shakes his head as he prepares to walk through the gates of the Temple, but when he turns his attention to a commotion off to the side, he notices Master Skywalker getting into a heated conversation with Ahsoka. His eyebrows furrow as the expressions of both Jedi contort through a multitude of emotions, but the one that stands out the most is the sadness etched deeply on both of their features. Wolffe can’t make out what either of them is saying and he’s about to move a little closer when he feels a hand softly land on his shoulder. 

Turning to the side, he’s momentarily surprised to find your eyes piercing his gaze, and before he can relay his apologies to you, you smile at him and remove your hand away. Wolffe is distracted for a moment, and his heart begins to beat wildly against his chest when you nod towards the other end of the platform. He follows you without a word, only stopping when you come to a halt and look across Coruscant. The discomfort from earlier returns a hundredfold, and he grimaces more at himself than you when his mind wanders into a territory he’s been actively trying to avoid. Your smile should feel threatening, maybe even artificial considering the situation, but it isn’t. In fact, it’s somehow sweeter than all those times you’ve graced him with that expression. 

Focus Wolffe.

“It’s a fine day today, isn’t it Commander?” The melodic tune of your voice sends a ripple of lightning across his muscles, and he tenses beside you when you turn and stare at his rigid posture. 

“As- as fine a day as Coruscant can be, sir.” Wolffe doesn’t know how else to respond, mostly because he has expected you to feel the opposite. A deep chuckle breaks him from his reverie and he clenches his fists tightly when you turn around and look at him with a curious eyebrow. 

“And they say you don’t have a sense of humor.” He gulps down his nerves at your teasing words, and although he wants to ask you who you’ve been speaking with regarding his so-called sense of humor, he finds that he cares more about the hidden compliment in your statement. He’s not sure how long the two of you stand there keeping each other's gaze, but Wolffe finally comes to his senses and looks to the floor when he realizes that your eyes wouldn’t budge first. He studies the yellow markings across your shoes to feel grounded, hating how disarming you managed to be without even trying.

“You have news for Master Koon or myself?” The question catches him off guard, but he shakes his head and responds immediately.

“No sir, none.”

“Then to what do we owe the pleasure Commander? You’re on leave, are you not?” Wolffe can no longer hear the smile in your voice, and he clears his throat before he finally musters up the courage to look at you again. He hopes he doesn’t get too distracted by you, but one second of meeting your gorgeous eyes makes him hopeless yet again. Were they always this fiery? This daring?

“I wish to apologize to Commander Tano…and to you General.” If you’re surprised by his confession, you do a good job at masking it, and even though Wolffe shouldn’t feel this threatened by the familiar smile that graces your features, he can’t help the anxiety that flows across his back as your smirk deepens. 

“What for, if I may ask?” You tilt your head to the side and cross your arms, a stance Wolffe came to understand as you letting your companions know you’re offering them absolute, undivided attention. His eyes rake over your form for a moment, and his lips part when he notices how pronounced your curves are beneath the leather straps across your chest. He can see your lightsaber hanging loosely from the leather holster and he wonders how it manages to stay there as you move. The distraction doesn’t last for too long because you uncross your arms and let your cloak cover your chest again. Wolffe feels his face redden at the prospect of being caught and when he looks up at you, he’s happy to find you keeping that same soft expression you often hold for him. The last thing he wants to do is offend you, especially now.

“I want to apologize for my actions, for ever doubting Commander Tano’s allegiance.” Wolffe doesn’t think you need any further explanation but when you take a step towards him, he gets the sense that he should have been more detailed.

“Why do you think an apology is warranted? Ahsoka may have been one of the best Padawans in the Academy, but like all Jedi, she is prone to the dark forces in this galaxy. There was a chance she wasn’t innocent, and as the Council said, we couldn’t have taken that chance. You did the proper thing by following Master Koon and Skywalker’s orders.” Wolffe listens intently as you relay to him what he’s sure is the Jedi’s perspective on this issue, and he almost believes you. But then he remembers the way you behaved when you found out he arrested Ahsoka and he clenches his jaw tightly at the line you’re attempting to draw for him. 

“With all due respect General, you disagreed with those orders.” He doesn’t mean to be offensive, and the look that you give him makes him tense even further because he may have just done so unintentionally. 

“You’re right, I disagreed with them. I would never admit this to anyone but- well, you’re not anyone, are you Wolffe?” His name on your lips causes him to almost gasp. You rarely ever called him by his name, and when you did, it was usually preceded by his rank. The way you’re looking at him now makes him wish he could close the space between the two of you and wrap his arms around your frame comfortingly. But Wolffe knows better than to cross that line, and with a Jedi Master of all people.

“As Jedi, our emotions cannot cloud our judgment, but I must admit, my friendship with Ahsoka distracted me. I- I knew she wasn’t betraying us, I knew she would rather die than become what she fights against, but I couldn’t prove it and I also couldn’t allow my faith in her to eclipse my service to the Republic, to the Council. I know how this must sound to you, how hypocritical it is of me to tell you not to apologize when I myself almost broke my oath, but I’m sure you know by now how dear Ahsoka is to me. Unfortunately, while I had the choice of not becoming involved, you didn’t, hence my belief that you have nothing to apologize for.” Wolffe didn’t expect such an intimate response from you, and it takes all of his training to not reach out and wipe the tears rolling down your cheeks. It wasn’t an unusual sight, far from it. Everyone knew of your affectionate inclinations, and it wasn’t strange for him to see such an overt display of emotion. It was why many of his brothers preferred your company over other Jedi Masters; you never hid your feelings from them, even though it was your job to do so, to not show a modicum of sentimentality to those around you, to let them believe that you are capable of indifference even in the most difficult of times. He wants to tell you that he understands how you feel, that he would probably, unfortunately, react in a similar manner if this happened to him, to one of his brothers. But he doesn’t want to make this about himself, you trusted him with something so personal and you clearly wanted him to listen and nothing more.

“This begs me to ask, why do you think I deserve an apology?” Wolffe hates that you remember his declaration from a minute ago, and he inhales deeply before he relaxes his shoulders and holds your gaze once more.

“Sir, I- I know how important Commander- apologies, I know how important Ahsoka is to you, and I still agreed to take the mission. I should have let another Commander carry the orders.” He wishes he can turn his focus elsewhere, but something about the way you keep your eyes on him makes him refuse to ignore you. Not that he could ever ignore you, you were always there, in the forefront of his mind, even when he hasn’t seen you for a hundred rotations. You were always kriffing there. 

“Why?” If Wolffe didn’t know any better, he’d think there was a hint of hope in your tone, in the way you seemed to hold on to every word he was whispering to you. But no, that was impossible. He must have been transferring his own desires onto you. Kriff, could you feel what he was feeling for you right now? Could you sense it through the Force, how much he longed for you? It all comes crashing down on him in an instant, and he feels his mind threatening to explode when he finally accepts what his heart has been begging him to see for so long. 

He cares for you, deeply. He isn’t supposed to, but he does. You were his commanding officer, a powerful Jedi Master that was well-respected and regarded. And he, well he was just another clone. He couldn’t possibly dream of anything happening between the two of you, it couldn’t. It wouldn’t. The mere thought was offensive to you, he shouldn’t disrespect you in such a way.

“So I didn’t hu-” His confession is abruptly cut off by the angry stomping of General Skywalker as he walks past you and returns to the Temple. Wolffe clears his throat and steps away from you, needing to put some space between your body and his so he doesn't do something he’d regret later. He straightens his posture when he looks past you and sees Ahsoka approaching the two of you, and before he can say anything, Ahsoka holds out her arms and crashes into you without a single care for anyone standing around. He shifts his focus elsewhere to give you some privacy and it’s only when you break the sentimental touch that he dares to look at the young togruta. 

“Commander!” Ahsoka beams at him, the excitement in her voice making him narrow his eyes at her with anger and inquisitiveness. Why did she seem…happy to see him? Was she not, at the very least, bothered by his presence? He was the one responsible for her arrest after all. 

Kriff. Jedi were odd.

“Sir.” Wolffe says sternly, not sure if he was supposed to say anything more until he was given permission to do so.

“Oh there’s no need for that anymore,” the nonchalant behavior drives him mad because if he were in her shoes, he’s sure he would have given a beating to whoever dared question his dedication to the Republic, to his Master.

“I- uhh…”

“Remind me never to be on your bad side again,” Ahsoka chuckles as she rubs at her shoulders, and Wolffe finally catches on to what she’s trying to do when he looks at you and sees you roll your eyes at her affectionately. 

“Apologies for earlier Comm-, I mean-” Wolffe wants to say so much, in front of you too, but everything he’s practiced on his way to the Temple ceases to exist when he notices the way you’re looking at Ahsoka. 

Maker, you cared for her more than you were letting on.

“You can call me Ahsoka, you know. I’m not your commanding officer anymore.” He can tell the young Force-user is trying to diffuse the tension, and he hates how his presence was making it more difficult for her to do so. Wolffe nods at her and he’s about to finally apologize when you cut him off and take hold of Ahsoka’s hand.

“Commander Wolffe wants to apologize for the way he mistreated you, but he doesn’t know how to do so without calling you by your rank, which you keep pointing out isn’t necessary any longer.” Wolffe is sure he’s blushing hard and he swears beneath his breath when he hears Ahsoka laugh along with you.

“Well, Commander Wolffe, as much as it pains me to say this, there’s no need. I- I can’t blame you for what’s happened, you were only following orders. In fact, you’re the last person I’d ever blame for everything that’s happened.” He huffs in irritation, finally understanding why the boys were refusing to listen to him when he was offering them the same explanation not hours ago. It sounded fucking dumber now that he thought about it, even weirder when it came from the one person that shouldn’t have been trying to justify his own actions for him. 

“If- if there’s any consolation, some of us never lost faith in you.”

“And by that, he means me.” The shyness that left him moments ago returns again, and Wolffe reluctantly looks to you, a part of him hoping that you could give him a sliver of an inclination as to what you were thinking. When he finds your attention on Ahsoka, he looks to the young togruta and barely manages to hold back from coughing awkwardly when he sees the way she was studying him. Her smile widens, letting him know that she knows what he was thinking, what he was feeling towards you. Could he not catch a break?

“I will give you a moment.” Wolffe begins to walk away when you reach out and rest your hand on top of his forearm. His eyes shift to where you’re touching him instantly, and he gulps when he feels the heat radiating from your fingers. 

“There’s no need Commander.”  If he thought his name sounded beautiful on your lips, the way you call him by his rank sends a fire across his chest, and he has to remind himself of who you are to prevent himself from doing something embarrassing. 

“What’s next for you?” Wolffe distracts himself with the yellow fabric interwoven in your cloak as you speak with Ahsoka, wanting to give you some semblance of privacy as you said your farewells. He’s not sure why you didn’t let him leave, and even though he knows he shouldn’t think much of it, he can’t help but meditate on your decision for him to stay. Was there something you wanted to tell him indirectly? 

Fuck, since when did he overthink the simplest of sentiments?

He continues to admire your attire, his eyes slowly roaming across the fabric stretching deliciously against your muscles. It occurs to him then that, apart from Master Plo Koon, Wolffe has never held such a level of admiration for a Jedi. Compared to the others he’s fought alongside, he’s never seen someone with your agility or nimbleness, never seen a warrior of your caliber simultaneously exude dangerous power and unnerving serenity. 

Looking at you now, Wolffe’s mind drifts to the first time he’s gone into battle with you, how his reluctance shifted into immeasurable trust when he saw you go out of your way to protect his brothers. As a Jedi, you were irreplaceable, not meant to be expendable like him and all of the others in the battalion. Yet you helped them without a second’s thought, with no hesitation whatsoever. His heart skips a beat when he recalls watching you as you swiftly made your way ahead of everyone, ensuring a safer route for him and his battalion. Never has he been so mesmerized, and Wolffe is sure he will never feel such intense yearning for another again. 

Wolffe doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, he really doesn’t, but when he senses the distress radiating off of Ahsoka, he tunes back into the conversation just in time to hear you whisper a confession to the ex-Jedi, an admission his mind realizes too late he was never meant to hear. 

“I’ve told you before Ahsoka, I have seen my death a thousand times. I don’t fear this war. I cannot when I know what will become of me.” 

The weight of your words settles heavily in his heart, as if there was a veil of water pushing against his lungs until he couldn’t breathe anymore. Wolffe’s eyes widen in shock at the neutrality in your voice, and when he turns to look at you, he no longer sees the soft smile he’s grown so fond of. Instead, there is a somber spirit completely taking over your whole body, and Wolffe can’t help but clench his fists tightly when he realizes that he’s at the center of the severe expression, as if he was the cause of your pain. 

The thought shakes him to his core. 

“Did you tell Master Yoda about-”

“It doesn’t matter sweetheart, it- I sense a shift in the Force. And now that you’re leaving us…leaving me, you might feel it too. The only consolation I have is that you’ll be safe. Please Ahsoka, take care of yourself. For me. I- I can’t bear the thought of hearing anything’s happened to you. Please.” Wolffe has never heard you plead before. Frustration and anger rise up his throat when he meditates on your response, how you seemed to care more for the young togruta than for your own safety. He wants to ask you about your confession but he gets the sense that you might ignore him or simply tell him that it was not his business. He can’t look away from you, even though he can tell that his gaze is making you uncomfortable. 

“I promise.” 

Wolffe shakes his head to escape his spiraling thoughts and he nods once at the ex-Jedi before he watches her walk away. When she’s far enough, he turns to you and studies your features for longer than necessary. 

“Sir, what did-”

“I’m tired. This whole matter with Ahsoka has drained me. If there’s nothing else Commander, you’ll have to excuse me. I need to get some rest before we leave tomorrow.” Wolffe clenches his jaw tightly when he catches on to what you’re doing. You’re not giving him a chance to ask anything, let alone bid you a farewell. Before he can respond, you walk away and return to the Jedi Temple, leaving an extremely worried and angry Commander to ponder on what your words could possibly mean. Wolffe watches as you mask your head beneath the large cloak keeping your body warm, and as you fall out of his line of sight, he feels his chest tighten further at the prospect of something happening to you. He waits until you’re safely behind the walls of the Temple before he makes his way back to the barracks. 

It’s hours later when Wolffe realizes that he can’t stop picturing the somber look you gave him as you revealed such grave news in his presence. He’s been sporting the drink in his hand for too long, ignoring his men as they laughed and joked and went about their night as if their commanding Jedi wasn’t in any danger. He couldn’t fault them though, they didn’t know. They weren’t there when you said the news without so much as a nervous tick on your expression. He downs the last of his drink and leans over to Comet, quickly letting him know that he was returning to the barracks. He’s met with a questioning gaze but Wolffe doesn’t let him say anything in return as he heads out of 79’s. 

A cold breeze calms his nerves as he walks through the lousy streets of Coruscant. When he gazes to the sky and finds a recorded video updating the citizens on the war, he groans in annoyance and shakes his head back to reality. Had it not been for the drinks, Wolffe is sure he would have still been on edge. Well, that wasn’t true. He was still on edge, just not as tense as before. How could he relax when he knew that you were in danger? Granted, you were a trained Jedi, among the best as General Plo Koon said when he introduced you to his team. But he couldn’t not worry about you. You were…his Jedi. It was a strange sentiment, to think of one of the Force users as his own, but he felt this in every inch of his soul. What was worse for him was how unfazed you were. You looked as if you were telling him about another mission, not of how you saw your demise unfold in front of your own eyes more than once. 

Before he knows it, he’s back in the barracks unfastening his armor from his body. With each piece he loosens, he feels his heart sink further in his chest. Never in his life has he felt so useless, so hopeless. He was made for the opposite, made to offer aid wherever he can, show the citizens of the galaxy how hope and fearlessness were the keys to ending this war in favor of the Republic. Wolffe huffs angrily as he lays down on his cot, incapable of setting his thoughts aside to get some rest. He tosses and turns, praying to the maker that this issue somehow resolves itself so he doesn’t go mad with fear.  

But no matter what he does, your revelation replays in his mind for the duration of the night. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t think of anything else but the sadness in your voice as you whispered words he was sure he wasn't meant to hear. Before he can reconsider his actions, Wolffe leaves the barracks and makes his way through the hallways of the Jedi Temple. It's not until he's standing in front of your room that he realizes what he's doing is far beyond inappropriate. Not only has he lied to the guards of the Temple, but he was seeking you out at a rather suspicious hour. His presence at your door would not reflect well on you, especially after the events with Ahsoka. Maker, what was he doing?

The split second it takes him to decide to return to the barracks is disrupted when he looks up and sees you opening your door for him. One look at you is all he needs to forgo every sensical thought that’s been hammered into his conscious mind, and he steps into your quarters without another word, hands clasped at his side when he does a quick sweep of the room and finds it void of anything personal. It wasn’t as if he or any of his brothers owned anything personal in their cots but for some reason, the reality he was faced with tore at his heart. 

When you shut the door behind him, Wolffe turns around and reluctantly meets your gaze, finding your eyes more piercing than normal as they shone underneath the soft light of the candles scattered across the humble space. You smile gently at him, and he wishes then that you weren't a Jedi, that you weren't forced or even able to set aside your true emotions to make him feel at ease. He wanted you to be yourself with him, to be vulnerable with him. Against his better judgment, he takes a step towards you, never once daring to look anywhere else but your strikingly beautiful orbs as he finally asks the question he had a feeling he wouldn’t like the answer to.

“What did you mean when you said you've seen your death a thousand times?”

As he expected, your expression doesn’t change minutely, and Wolffe can do nothing else but clench his fists tightly to keep himself in check. He can sense that you’re trying to force him to stand down, and against his better judgment, he furrows his eyebrows at you in anger and hopes that you find the scar adorning his cybernetic eye more intimidating. When your smile deepens towards him, as if you were a prey trying to calm the predator hunting you, his emotions get the best of him and he breaks your gaze, turning his attention to the floor to avoid embarrassing himself any further. He almost flinches when he sees you move, not because he thinks you might attack him, but because he didn’t want to lose sight of you even in the safety of your own quarter. Without drawing too much attention to himself, Wolffe turns towards you and raises his sight a little to study you, briefly getting distracted by your firm posture as you tiptoed towards one of the candles slowly going out. You say nothing as you lick your thumb and index finger, and Wolffe can’t help but raise his hand to stop you from taking the fiery top in between your fingers to put it out. 

His jaw ticks when he looks up and sees you raising a curious, teasing eyebrow at him. Great, as if haunting him all day long wasn’t enough, you were now toying with him. 

“Good evening to you too Commander Wolffe. I must say, it is a strange hour for you to come here to ask me such a question, certainly one that could have waited until tomorrow.” You tilt your head to the side and cross your arms in defiance. Unlike earlier in the day, when Wolffe’s eyes instantly roamed down your body and took in your muscular curves, he orders his focus to remain above your chin to avoid any further awkward confrontations. He realizes he’s been ignoring your question, or comment…whatever it was, and straightens his back before he looks beyond you.

“Apologies General, I- I seemed to have had more- uhh, I lost track of the time, sir. I will report at 0500 to General Koon and yourself. Good night sir.” Wolffe salutes you and turns to face the door swiftly, thanking the maker that his muscles had a mind of their own and were now single-handedly saving him from what he’s sure would have been a rather strange conversation. When he tries to open the door, the button beeps in confirmation but the metal barrier remains locked. He growls in irritation as he pushes the button several more times, and it isn’t until he realizes you aren’t reacting to the problem at hand that he notices what’s happening. Wolffe turns around and watches as you force down a giggle before you lower your hand and take a few steps towards him. If he didn’t have a few drinks earlier in the night, he would have certainly backed away from you and pleaded for you to let him go. But he was a little looser now that he had you in his sight and he wasn’t about to back down now, not when he’s come this far. 

“I didn’t ask you to leave Commander, I was merely commenting on the odd hour you find yourself here with me.” He doesn’t know if it sets his teeth on edge or turns him on that you’re looking at his cybernetic eye, but he doesn’t humor the thought another moment as you clasp your hands behind you and look to the floor. 

“My apologies, that was a cruel joke, especially after everything with- well, you know. You are free to go, Commander, I- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you were letting your guard down with him. Wolffe wasn’t sure if you knew your anxiety was so visible but he doesn’t comment on it, afraid that you’d return the calm facade again.

“Sir.” He calls out to you to get your attention, and when you reluctantly raise your gaze to him, he silently prays to the maker that you can see he wasn’t offended by your antics. 

“Commander, I’m not sure if- I think it’s unwise if I tried to answer your question.” Wolffe didn’t expect you to address his question this quickly, and he frowns when he studies you carefully and sees the familiar sadness from earlier today return a hundredfold. 

“May I ask why?” He asks as calmly as possible, knowing that it would be difficult for him to temper his emotions if he got too comfortable with you. He doesn’t look away from you once, and he purses his lips when he sees you part your own and hesitate to respond. You say nothing, but Wolffe can tell that you’re itching to tell him everything. Against his better judgment, he takes a step towards you until he can feel the heat of your body radiate across his bodysuit. It eases his mind when you don’t try to move away or put space between him and yourself, but the comforting silence quickly evaporates when you turn around and hug yourself tightly. 

He takes a minute to get himself in check again. This close, he can see some of the fading scars across the back of your neck, and he unintentionally reaches out to trace one of them. It’s only when you turn your head to the side to eye him that he notices what he’s doing and quickly lowers his hand. 

“It would do more harm than good. I’ve learned to accept my visions, no matter how horrifying they are.” Your voice barely comes out as a whisper, and Wolffe feels the anger rise in his chest the vaguer your answers become. 

“With all due respect sir, I think you should tell General Plo Koon at the very least.” He chooses his words carefully, not wanting you to take any offense by his attempts to understand you better. When you turn around and narrow your eyes at him, Wolffe knows that you’ve already found his suggestion displeasing. 

“Don’t try to understand things you know nothing about Commander. I trust that you won’t mention this to Master Koon or anyone else. Those words were spoken in haste in your presence, words you weren’t meant to hear. Need I remind you that your obligations lie elsewhere?” In all of his time with you, he’s never seen you once snap at anyone, no matter how much they wronged you. Even in your most trying times, you always went out of your way to make sure that you were respectful to those around you, including your enemies. Wolffe is shocked by the outburst and he staggers away and holds his hands out in defeat to show you that he didn’t mean anything by what he said. He was only trying to help.

“Apologies General. I- I won’t tell anyone. You have my word.” Wolffe speaks in a hushed tone to settle you down, and it’s only when you turn away from him and face the wall that he finally notices the tear adorning your cheek. His breaths come out in haste and it takes every ounce of control in his body to not be at your side and wipe away the tear with his lips. 

“I’m sorry Wolffe, I didn’t mean to- that was unkind of me. You’re only trying to help. Thank you.” He nods at you even though you’re not looking at him. Before he can bid you a good night and leave, you slowly make your way towards him and stand much closer to him than before. He doesn’t know what to do, if he should give you space or look away from the storm rising in your eyes to give you some privacy. When you reach up and rest your hand against his chest, Wolffe forgets how to breathe for a second and focuses on the soft, warm sensation seeping through his black suit into his lungs. 

“I know this doesn’t make much sense, but now that you know this about me, I only ask you one thing.” Your voice washes over him like the sweetest melody in the galaxy and Wolffe has to remind himself that he isn’t allowed to get as familiar with you as you were getting with him now. It pains him to see you feel so sad and so alone, but he knows he can’t just take you in his arms and hide you away from the universe. No matter how much he wanted to. 

“Anything mesh’la.” The word slips by accident and he shuts his eyes in regret as soon as he sees a brief smile take over your features before you school your expression again.

“Trust me. Trust that I know what I’m doing and that I will fight to survive until my dying breath. If not for me then for y- for the 104th, and for the Republic.” Wolffe winces when he hears you refer to your death again, as if it was the most normal sentiment to ever pass from the mouth of someone who knew of their demise. He wants to fight back, to tell you that he will do everything in his power to keep you alive, to protect you, and ensure your safety. But something about the way you’re almost resting your forehead against his sternum makes him stop before any of those fiery promises leave his mouth. They wouldn’t make a difference anyway. 

If you’ve seen the moment you pass from this universe a thousand times as you claim, then it must have been after he’s tried everything to save you.

The knowledge that even he can’t stop this from happening makes him shudder in fear and he looks away from you towards the closed blinds of your window to ground himself before he answers you. Without thinking too much of what he’s doing, Wolffe lays his hand on top of yours and firmly grasps it as he replies in anguish.

“I trust you, General.” It’s the only thing he can think of now that he knew there will come a point in time when he will lose you forever. He just hopes he’s long dead by then because he can’t fathom ever living in this galaxy without you.

It’s not what he wants to say, but it’s the only appropriate response to give in such an intimate moment. He can feel your breath tickle the top of his hand and he wishes he can just grab you and feel your lips against his skin, but he reminds himself that he’s only here for the next few seconds before he’s leaving. He can’t afford to cross that line, not after everything you just said to him. He can’t take advantage of you in such a vulnerable moment. Kriffing hell, how can he still think of you so lewdly when you’re literally confiding in him about something so serious. As you step away from him, Wolffe grimaces at the loss of your heat and touch, and he bites into his cheek to try and feel something other than the desperate longing in his heart. 

“Th-thank you, Commander.” You clear your throat and take a quick look at him before you walk towards your window. Wolffe can tell that you’re purposely avoiding his gaze, and he lets himself think that it’s because he makes you nervous in a good way. Maker, he prays it’s in a good way. Seeing that you don’t say anything else to him, he assumes that the conversation is over and that you wish him to leave. As he shakes his head and moves to press on the button of the door, you break the silence and force him to stop. 

“You- you never told me why you should have let someone else lead the mission.” It’s the last thing he expects to hear from you, especially after everything you just said to him, after you’ve been so secretive with him, but he gulps down his anxiety and turns around to face you. He knows his expression is cold, almost unnerving, but he wants to show you that he doesn’t appreciate your line of inquiry when you’ve met his own with nothing but hostility.

“Sir?” Wolffe asks firmly, his gaze not wavering like before when you were practically laying your heart out for him. He notices the way you’re ringing your fingers nervously, and clenches his jaw when the previous thought returns again. 

Perhaps you were as affected by him as he was by you.

If only…

“In the morning today, I asked you why you said you should have made someone else carry out the Jedi Council’s orders instead of you. You never told me why.” Your voice breaks a little, and if Wolffe didn’t know any better, he’d think you were struggling to keep yourself in check as much as him. The way you’re looking at him now, with hope in your eyes, with a need to hear why he regretted ever going after Ahsoka, drives him mad. He wants to embrace you, to whisper reassurances in your ears as he made you lose control at his touch, to kiss every fucking inch of you until you couldn’t care about anything else but his presence. Fuck, he wants to claim you, your lips, your skin, your body, your fucking soul. But he fights back and tries to look as put together as possible. There was a chance you knew what’s been going through his mind, but he trusted you enough to know that you wouldn’t try to look into his mind. Maker, he doesn’t know what he would do with himself if you were to read his mind. 

“I- sir, I don’t think I should say what...” Wolffe hates how his own voice comes out hoarse and unsure, and he doesn’t bother to add anything else to his response, knowing that you were going to keep asking him until he caved in and gave you what you wanted to hear. What he doesn’t expect is for you to hurry towards him and clasp your hands together in front of you, as if he had some power over you and you were begging him to let you go. He takes half a step backward but regrets it immediately when he notices the way you frown at his tense, uncomfortable body language. 

“Wolffe, please. We’re past formalities at this point. I just- I need to know. Please.” He watches intently as your fingers twitch and buzz with energy. For some reason, he gets the sense that you’re trying to stop yourself from reaching out and touching him, but he brushes the thought aside because of how ridiculous it sounds. There was no way you wanted him the way he wanted you. Wolffe gulps his nerves down, and his eyes widen for a fraction of a moment when he sees your focus shift to his throat and your tongue peaks out to lick the bottom lip like you wanted to-

No. That can’t be it. Snap out of it.

“P-permission to speak freely, sir?” Wolffe asks reluctantly and takes turns looking in between both of your softening eyes. He can tell that your pupils are dilated, and he doesn’t know what to make of it. He is, however, sure that his own pupil is probably as dilated as yours from how fucking turned on he is, even though it was perhaps the most inappropriate moment for his imagination to run wild with unholy thoughts of you. 

“Have you ever spoken with me “not freely”?” Your question is meant to put him at ease but Wolffe feels offended that, to a certain degree, you thought his tone with you was disrespectful. He loses that train of thought when you smile at him and take your lower lip in between your teeth. 

What he’d give to be the one biting your lips instead of you…

Swallowing his discomfort, Wolffe doesn’t remove his attention from you as he attempts to put what he feels into words that won’t reveal his emotions too much.

“I should have had someone else hunt down Ahsoka because I- I didn’t...haar'chak-” He trips over his words when he notices the way you’re slowly leaning into his personal space. This close, he can smell the sweet scent of you, and he doesn’t know if it’s the smell of your hair or just your natural essence. He likes to think that it is your skin that he can almost taste on his tongue and not the smell of your flowery hair. Fuck, he can’t keep getting distracted by you. It was-

“Wolffe,” you whisper to him as you slowly unclasp your hands and reach for him. For the first time since he can remember, Wolffe feels like prey that’s waiting for its death, and it’s only when he feels the warm skin of your palms as you rest them across his cheeks that he realizes he’s stopped breathing sometime ago. He never thought there would come a moment where you’re willingly touching him like he was yours, like you’ve been waiting for this as long as him and couldn’t hold back anymore. He shuts his eyes and clenches his jaw to keep himself in check. You may have been touching him but he didn't know if he had the right to return the sentiment. For some reason, the only thing running through his mind is how soft your hands feel against his skin. He thought that you would have rough calluses in between your fingers from using the lightsaber every day but your skin was the opposite. It was soft, and silky, and somehow velvety to the touch. 

When he opens his eyes and looks down at you, he’s met with tear-filled eyes shining in the dim light of the candles the longer he remains quiet. Before he can apologize for whatever he made you feel, your tears roll down your cheeks like two impatient streams wanting to escape the source of their existence as quickly as possible. Without a second thought, Wolffe reaches for you and mirrors your actions, thumbing at the dampness on your skin until there was no longer any proof of sadness but in your darkening orbs. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want you to think that I could ever willingly hurt you. Mesh’la I-” Wolffe hesitates, knowing that if he were to voice that last, dark confession out loud to you, there would be no taking it back. He’s afraid you’d think less of him if he were to tell you what he’s been feeling all day long, and he shakes his head in defeat when you close the little space left between the two of you and raise yourself on your tiptoes until you are practically breathing the same air as him.

“Please,” you plead innocently, and Wolffe lowers his head and rests it against the top of your hair. He breathes in deeply and curses himself when he does finally get a hint of your scent on his tongue. This close, it would be so easy to just tilt his head to the side and take your lips in between his. It would be so easy to slip his tongue into your mouth and stake his claim on you. It would be so fucking easy to wrap his arms around you and refuse to let you go until you’ve screamed his name loud enough for the whole kriffing Temple to know who was making you feel good, who was claiming you.

Fuck, it would be so easy to just lose himself in you. 

But he doesn’t cross that line, afraid that you’d take offense in how familiar he gets with you and push him away.

“I’d rather disobey every order given to me than cause you pain.” Wolffe breathes out those last few words against the bridge of your nose, and he takes pride in the effect his confession has on you. You gasp lightly at the exclamation, and he hopes that you understand how difficult it is for him to voice such a revelation. He was the Commander of the 104th, the right-hand man to Master Plo Koon, and he would willingly go against the Republic, against the Senate, against the Jedi Order, against the reasons behind his creation, just to ensure you’re safe with him.

Wolffe shuts his eyes to commit this moment to memory. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get to feel you in such an intimate way again, and he nuzzles into your cheek when you slip your hands down to his neck and pull him closer to you. A part of him wishes you can break the silence and put him out of his misery, whether by rejecting him or by telling him that you feel the same way. He knows he shouldn’t have said anything but he wants you to see that he cares for you, that he would put up with his own discomfort just so you could know what he's willing to do for you. He needed you to know.

“W-wolffe,” you call out for him in the most sinful way, your voice shooting a zap of lightning through his muscles and making him tilt his head a fraction of an inch. There's barely any space between his mouth and yours, and he parts his lips, if only to touch the air leaving your lungs. He may not be able to kiss you but he can breathe you in. Wolffe is breathing heavily, carefully even, unsure of why you're moaning his name with such familiarity, as if you’ve been calling for him night after night in your bed. His hands falter against your cheeks and he dares to slip his fingers around your neck until he can feel the strands of your hair intertwine around his fingers. 

In all his time knowing you, he never thought you'd allow him to touch your hair, to grow near you as if you were his and he was yours. He tightens the hold he has around your hair, tugging a little if only to convince himself that he was, in fact, touching you so intimately. He doesn’t dwell too much on this thought though, afraid the air around you would break and you’d realize what you were allowing him to do and push him away. Wolffe feels his lungs threaten to go dry at the thought of you rejecting him in this instant or perhaps telling him that he should have never presumed to get this close to you, this familiar. It takes every fiber in his being to not close the space between the two of you and feel your lips surrender to him. Just as he’s about to tear himself away from you so he doesn’t deal with the difficult aftermath of whatever the two of you were doing, he watches as you part your lips and breathe a desperate plea across his jaw.

Oh to feel your tongue on his skin. Fuck, he would very much like that. 

“Commander…please.” The moan you grace him with is sweet music to his ears, the melody of which almost makes him lose his footing. Wolffe doesn’t think he’s ever heard such a beautiful sound in all of his years. He decides then and there that he would love, more than anything, to hear that sound again. 

He keeps himself grounded by focusing on your scent, your whispers, the soft strands of your hair intertwining around his fingers like vines wrapping around blossoming flowers. The proximity between the two of you is overwhelming him, and some still conscious part of his brain begs him to ask if you were keeping him close to you through the Force or if it was the sheer depth of your emotions that simply had a hold on him. It is in this moment that Wolffe finally understands what Master Koon said about the Force connecting every living being through the galaxy. He’s never felt such a connection before and he hopes that this was only unfolding because you were so willing to surrender to him that you didn’t realize your Force signature was wrapping its strings around him and pulling him in deeper. If he wasn’t Force-sensitive and he was drowning in you this much, then you must have been far worse than him. His chest rumbles at the thought of having this much of an effect on you.

Then your words register in his mind and his eyes widen in horror.

The honorific violently rips him away from you, reminding him of who he was and who you were, of what the two of you were not allowed to have. The reality of what you just offered him and what he was willing to take from you and give you in return crashes into him like a cruiser and he pulls himself away from you when your skin no longer feels warm but scorching to the touch. 

You’ve burned him with your willingness to cross that line and he doesn’t think he will ever look at you the same way now that he knew you wanted him as well.

The consequences to his rather dramatic behavior reveal themselves right away and Wolffe shakes his head when he sees betrayal and heartbreak take over your features. His throat goes dry and he’s suddenly incapable of explaining to you why he pulled away. Just as he’s about to beg for your forgiveness, to tell you that he knows his place and that he should have never tried to pretend the two of you were anything more than a General and a Commander in the Republic, you wrap your arms around yourself and back away into the wall, eyes giving away to unshed tears that Wolffe knew were begging to be freed ever since this morning. 

You don’t bother hiding your emotions, and something about how unafraid you are of presenting your heart’s secrets to Wolffe in that moment makes him clench his fists tightly in anger. He wants to yell at you, to grab you and shake you until you return to those familiar grounds you’ve established with him long ago. The storm of emotions rolling in his chest drive him further into a dangerous territory of fear and outrage because- because…

How dare you? How dare you take down all your walls now when you knew he could never stand seeing you cry, and because of him of all reasons? How dare you open yourself up to him so willingly and so freely when you knew that he would be incapable of denying you whatever you wanted? How dare you abuse his loyalty, his respect, his lo-

“I suggest y-you leave now Commander, before- before you…”

“Before I what?” He reacts instantly to the implication of your words. If he is going to leave, Wolffe wants you to know that it is because you don’t think this is wise, not because he could ever regret moving into such uncharted territory with you. 

“Before you do something you…regret.” He can tell that you’re choosing your words carefully, and it pisses him off knowing that you genuinely thought he doesn’t want you. 

“I- I shouldn’t have pushed myself on your person, Commander Wolffe. It was never my intention to use my rank to…force you to do anything. I apologize for any misconduct on my part. I will turn myself in for disciplinary action first thing tomorrow morning. Just don’t…don’t-” Wolffe purses his lips when he sees how hard you’re trying to have a semblance of control. He’ll turn back to this moment later and mentally kick himself for not using the calming techniques Master Koon taught him. But for now, he couldn’t care any less about him, and certainly not about the power dynamics between the two of you. Force, he didn’t even care about the Republic or his duty anymore. 

He just cared about you. 

Without thinking over his actions, Wolffe strides towards you and doesn’t even register the reluctance and shock on your expression until he has you planted between his heaving chest and the cold wall of your room. You’re looking at him like he is capable of overpowering you, perhaps even holding you down so you wouldn’t dream of escaping from his grasp. Wolffe doesn’t know why, but the knowledge that he has this much of an effect on you fills his chest with pride. It’s sick and twisted, but he recognizes these unresolved sentiments as base instincts and nothing more. He would kill himself before ever acting on them. 

When he returns from those spiraling feelings, he looks down and sees your eyes still shining with tears, ones that streamed down your beautiful cheeks the longer he kept his hardened gaze on you. 

“Don’t flatter yourself sweetheart. No one can force me to do anything I don’t want. If you’re going to ask me to leave, then tell me the real reason why, and don’t lie to my fucking face.” Again, this is not what he wants to say but he allows his tongue to run along. He’s already overstepped that line, he may as well keep going. The consequences won’t make much of a difference anyway. 

“But you- you’re the one who pulled away?” The way you whisper that question, with your bottom lip quivering and your eyes full of hope, makes Wolffe impossibly hard. He hates himself for letting his body get carried away but he knows he wants nothing more than to swallow those little whimpers and sobs, and make you forget about everything. 

“You have to know why…I- I’m just a Commander, another clone. I’m nothing, and you’re- you. You’re a Jedi Master, and I’m no one. If I knew the Council would not strip you of your rank, your entire life, I would be down on my knees begging you to let me worship every inch of your skin. I won’t be selfish when it comes to your position, no matter how much I wish to touch you, and kiss you, and- karking hell.” Wolffe sighs heavily as he finally comes down a little from his high, but he doesn’t step away from you once. As a matter of fact, the more he speaks, the tighter his hold on your wrists become. He drops his head in defeat, refusing to glance at you out of fear of what his body might do if he saw you looking at him as if he was your savior.

“And what about you?” You whisper against his forehead, the breath of air sending a shiver down his spine and forcing him to straighten his posture a bit, if only to create some space between the two of you so he didn’t drag you down to the floor and claim you.

“I don’t give a kriffing damn about myself, mesh’la. Not when it comes to you. If I could walk out that door and go to the Chancellor himself to tell him a fraction of what I feel for you without getting you into trouble, I would. Fuck, I would tell the whole galaxy how much I- I…”

“You what? Wolffe please, I- I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about the O-Order, or the Republic, or duty. I just want you, I always have. Please tell me.” It breaks his heart to see you pleading for something he’s given you a long time ago, and even though he knows he should keep this last secret to himself so he doesn’t end up ruining your life, he throws aside everything that’s been etched into his mind and gives in to you. Letting go of you, Wolffe takes half a step backward to clear his mind and to ensure that whatever reaction you offer him is not forced…not because he had you cornered. That thought alone is pathetic because he knows very well that if you wanted, you could have him down on his knees begging for mercy with a simple gesture of your hand. He knows that you’ll always be more powerful than him, but he doesn’t want to leave anything to chance. 

Taking in a deep breath, Wolffe turns his focus to your eyes and wets his lips before he reveals what’s been in his heart ever since he looked upon you. 

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum cyar’ika.” 

It feels like a bantha lifted one of its feet off of his chest, and Wolffe only has mere seconds to let the reality of this new relationship settle in before you’re throwing yourself into his arms and clinging onto him for dear life. He doesn’t budge, bracing himself to the best of his abilities as he wraps his arms around you tightly and holds you in his embrace. Wolffe has only a moment of clarity before he feels your lips crash into his own in a heated touch. 

In all the times he imagined kissing you, he never thought it would be so electrifying, so desperate, so fucking fulfilling. And he certainly never thought you would be the one initiating it, far from it as a matter of fact. He always thought he would be the one crawling to you and trying to prove to you that he was worthy of your time, perhaps maybe even your attention. He pictured you telling him that he didn’t deserve to touch you anywhere, let alone look at your mouth. But here you were, silently begging him to let you into his mouth so you could show him how much you wanted him. His eyes flutter shut as he parts his lips and lets you take whatever you want from him. With each little groan you push onto his tongue, and aggressive scratch you deliver to his already scarred skin, Wolffe feels as if he’s falling through the galaxy, as if a million stars are passing through his soul and leaving behind a trail of unwarranted heat.  Never in his life did he think he’d ever see you so needy for someone like him, someone so ordinary. He unintentionally digs his fingers into your muscles as you tilt your head to the side and moan into the kiss, his mind going mad with lust at the prospect of littering your skin with evidence of his possessive touch and seeing those marks the following day. 

He slowly brings his arms around your form, and as he feels your body melt into his embrace, he tightens the hold he has around you until he can feel your chest expanding with every little breath you take. As soon as you slip your tongue into his mouth, something snaps in Wolffe and he tilts his head to the side to gain control of the intimate moment. His mind goes blank the more desperate he feels you become as you seek him out, and just as he’s about to break the kiss and assure you that he was going nowhere for the night, a strange cloud showers his soul and forces his heart to stop beating before it resumes calling for you again. He breaks the kiss regardless but refuses to let go of you, choosing instead to shut his eyes to attempt and get a grip on himself so he can focus on you once more. He’s not sure what it is that’s making him feel this intense ripple of emotions but when the soft caress of your fingers outlines his furrowed eyebrows, his body relaxes instantly and his eyes flutter open to look at you. 

Wolffe seldom thought of his cybernetic eye. It became a part of him quickly due to its necessity and function. But as he stood there in your dimly-lit room, with you whimpering in his arms and silently asking him to never let you go, he wishes with every ounce of his being that he still had his other eye, not because he was self-conscious (although that often played a part in his reluctance to make eye contact whenever you spoke with him), but because he wanted to see you as you were, without the unnatural hue his cybernetic eye unfortunately created. He wanted to fill his mind’s eye with your facial expressions, with the way they changed every time he pressed his digits into your muscles and claimed you as his. He wanted to look upon you as you graced him with your touch, your attention, the mere breath that escaped your lips and fanned over his own. 

His thoughts sidetrack again and force him to loosen his grip on you when that same, strange cloud returns over him. Soon after, the unbearable, excruciating burning he felt for you simmers down to a little flame, and it’s only when he blinks a few times and traces your features that he realizes what’s happening. 

You were projecting your own emotions onto him. 

The shaky breath that leaves his lungs makes him wish he was sitting down, if only so you didn’t witness how weak he was for you, is for you. In all of his time knowing you, he never thought the moment would come where you would willingly bring down your walls and allow him to get a closer glimpse of your heart’s desires. He stands still, afraid that one wrong move might make you regret opening up to him so deeply and deny him more of…whatever this is. You smile at him then, and Wolffe shudders at the thought of you having access to his own needs as well. When your smile falters, he gets his answer and pulls you flush against him. 

“I- forgive me, I thought you’d want to...or you’d be okay if I-” Even though he knows you’re tripping over your words out of embarrassment, Wolffe smirks down at you and raises a teasing eyebrow when you look away from him and choose to fixate on the collar of his blacks. He wants nothing more than to grab the palm of your hand and kiss it, but he finds the patterns you seem to draw on the skin of his sternum relaxing so he lets you do whatever you want with him. 

“What’s the matter sweetheart? I barely touch you and you’re already so…hmm.” He wants to tell you that he can almost taste the scent of your wetness on his tongue, but he sees how shy you’re suddenly being and decides against it. Again, his chest rumbles at the thought of being the one to have such an effect on you, a Jedi Master known for her great sense of control and serenity. 

“Go on mesh’la, look all you want. But I have to warn you, the dreams I had of you are- maker, I didn’t hold back as much as I am now.” Wolffe doesn’t know when the two of you began breathing this heavily, but as he trails his eyes down your neck and sees the rise and fall of your chest as you register his words, he swears and bites into his lower lip to calm himself down, unsure of whether these spiraling feelings were his own or yours. 

Not that he cared much. 

All he knew was that he wanted to push you up against the walls of your bedroom and sink his cock so deep inside you until you forgot everything but his name. 

A gasp fills the quiet air around you and Wolffe returns his focus to your features once more, only to take notice of how shocked you are. It takes him far longer than he’d like to admit to realize that you’ve listened to him and brushed across his subconscious. The smile that adorns his face is dangerous, and he knows this because it makes you shudder as soon as you take it in. There’s a teasing comment at the tip of his tongue but it’s long forgotten when you nuzzle into his neck and let out the filthiest moan Wolffe has ever had the pleasure of witnessing in his entire life. He growls when you slowly kiss across his jaw as you scratch the nape of his neck, and before he can warn you, he gets the wind knocked out of him as his mind’s eye fill with hazy visions. 

He holds his breath as he watches images of the two of you in the most compromising positions possible, and for a second, he tries to remember when he possibly touched you with such familiarity. But then the images continue to change and he discovers that none of these filthy scenarios ever took place. No, they only unfolded in his dreams. Wolffe groans when a particularly unrestrained scene pops up, more specifically, the one recurring fantasy that plagued his mind ever since he met you. Before he can dwell on it for too long, it changes to another and makes him whine in irritation at the loss of such a vivid dream. He doesn’t take notice of the bruising grip he has on your waist until you dip your head down and bite into the space between his jaw and his neck, the sweet pain of your mark reminding him to try and take things a little slower so he doesn’t overwhelm you. 

When his eyes flutter open and look down at you, he finds your pupils dilated farther than he thought possible and all the pieces of the puzzle fall into place as he stares at your quivering lips and sees how excited they are, how they longed to mark more of him. 

Those weren’t his dreams. 

Those were your own. And fuck if that didn’t make him want to push you down to the ground and make you scream his name. 

“Fuck, is- is that what you want from me little one?” Wolffe asks playfully, wanting to see how far he can push you before you throw your embarrassment aside and tell him your innermost desires. He studies you as you battle between giving in to him and finally letting go, the shy expression on your pretty features lighting a fire across his muscles. 

And to think he had this much control over you all this time…

“Wolffe,” the whine that escapes your lips sends a shiver down his spine, and he has to maintain his composure so you don’t abuse the chokehold you have on every inch of his being, and take control. Not that he would mind you taking over of course, but he wanted to fully enjoy the effect he was having on you. 

“My dirty jetii’ika can’t stop thinking about my cock, can she? What a filthy fucking girl you are mesh’la, dreaming of me using you like a whore for my own pleasure, for my own needs.” Wolffe chuckles deeply when you hide your face in his neck and moan his name as you kiss along his skin. He shakes his head at the shy yet teasing nature you’re offering him, but another image of the two of you in the refresher plagues his mind and he hisses aggressively when he shuts his eyes and the vividness of the scene plays out as if it was a real memory. He hates that you can disarm him so easily, but he knows he wouldn’t have it any other way. His cock twitches harshly in his blacks when he sees your shaking form in his arms as he fucked you against the wall of the showers. Some still functioning bit of his brain makes a mental note to ask you later how you’re able to convey to him all of those dreams, but he ignores that question for now, choosing to focus the utmost attention on the way you melted against him with each pass of his dick into your warm cunt.

“And here I thought I w-was offending your honor with all of the ways I wanted to claim you.” Wolffe barely manages to say as he rests his head against your cheek and swallows the lump in his throat. He’s never heard his own voice sound so wrecked before, not even in battle, and while he hopes you don’t take notice of how affected he is by you, he prays that you do, if only to see what the mere presence of you does to him. 

“Commander…you can ruin me all you want, and I- I’d beg you for more.” Your own voice barely comes out as a whisper and it drives Wolffe crazy because he knew for a fact you weren’t trying to make him lose that last bit of control he had on himself and yet here he was, reminding himself that he couldn’t just do this the way he pictured a thousand times. He needed to take his time with you, coax out your pleasure until you were comfortable enough to completely give yourself to him. 

“Is that right, sweetheart?” Wolffe takes advantage of your momentary distraction, and parts his lips as he descends on your mouth. You’re surprised for a second but quickly wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself to him. A grunt of satisfaction bubbles up in his chest and threatens to break the kiss when Wolffe feels your tongue seeking his attention. He doesn’t deny you for too long, slipping his own tongue across yours and filling his senses with the taste of you. He can’t quite place the subtle sweetness he can taste the longer he kisses you, but he decides that it may just be your natural flavor. And maker, if you tasted this good now, he couldn’t wait to turn his attention elsewhere and shove his tongue inside you again. 

“Please Wolffe, I want you. I want you to take me, claim me as your own…mark every inch of my skin so even the Force knows I belong to you.” You break the kiss and leave a trail of pleas across his jaw to his ears, and if Wolffe didn’t know any better, he’d think you were doing this on purpose so he could speed this along and give you what you want. But he doesn’t give you the satisfaction of knowing that you were almost victorious in your quest to make him lose control and instead continues his teasing remarks. 

“Maker, if I’d known a simple confession was all it would take for you to beg for me so sweetly, I would have whispered my desires to you long ago.” Your nails sink into the nape of his neck instantly, and Wolffe returns the favor, fisting your robes into his hands and tugging on them until he heard the fabric tear beneath his fingers. Pushing your neck to the side with his nose, he takes in a deep breath from the space just below your ear and smiles to himself when the tempting scent of you rakes down his form and proves to him that, even though be was in charge of your body’s reactions, you still very much had a hold on him that would never evaporate. 

“Wolffe I- I’m…” He wasn’t going to interrupt you anymore, knowing that this was already a little difficult for you to come to terms with. But when you grow reluctant to continue whatever you’re about to say, Wolffe decides to have some mercy on you and stops distracting you with his mouth. 

“What is it? Tell me…I’ll give you anything you ask for cyar’ika, all you have to do is tell me. Let me make you feel good ner kar’ta.” He cooes lowly as he nips at the corner of your mouth, shutting his eyes for a moment to give you some privacy in case you wanted to avoid his piercing gaze. 

“Force help me, you’re…you’re making me nervous Wolffe.” It’s not what he expected to hear from you, mostly because you were a Jedi Master after all and he was just a Clone Commander. He’s a little offended at the exclamation but doesn’t let on of his discomfort so you don’t think you owe him any apology and refuse to tell him why he was making you nervous. 

“Whyever would you say little one?” He tries his best to ask with a calm, sincere tone, and he sighs in relief when you slowly come out of your shell, and reveal to him why you’re having a difficult time being so intimate with him. 

“I dreamt of you…every night, since I met you. Dreamt of your fingers taking me apart, your tongue caressing me until I saw stars, your eyes…maker, your eyes looking at me so intimately…the first to ever see all of me. And now that you’re here, I- I can’t…can’t-” Wolffe can’t believe what he’s hearing, and just as he’s about to ask you to keep telling him what you want him to do to you, you stop and shake your head once more before throwing your head into his chest and swear embarrassingly. His throat goes dry as he replays your words over and over again in his mind, and although he wants to pull your hair until your face is revealed to him again so he can force you to finish what you’re about to say, he doesn’t and prays to the maker that his resolve isn’t tested any further until you’re completely comfortable with him. 

“Can’t what? Can’t tell me how much you crave my touch? Can’t tell me what you want me to do to you? Go on ner jetii’ika, show me how desperate you are to feel me pleasure you.” He attempts to coax you out of your shell but his words have the opposite effect, making you tighten the hold you have around his neck even further to prevent him from trying to look into your eyes. 

“Please…wasn’t it enough that I showed you what I’ve dreamt of?” Wolffe barely hears you ask, and he smirks to himself as he roams his arms across your back and slips his hands underneath the holsters wrapped around your form. 

“Hmm,” he hums in appreciation, momentarily forgetting what you asked as he feels the muscles you’ve spent years training to form flex and shudder beneath his touch. 

“Wolffe?” Once again, as much as he hates to admit it, he enjoys how small your voice sounds in his presence when it was clear which of you had the upper hand.

“You didn’t show me anything I hadn’t already pictured a million times before tonight. Such a tease for taking them away before I…thoroughly enjoyed them.” Wolffe remarks as he tugs on the holsters, the sound of the leather stretching at his ministrations sending a zap of pleasure straight to his cock. For a moment, he pictures you in nothing but those holsters as he held onto them while he fucked you from behind until you were screaming his name. But the dream evaporates as soon as it forms when he remembers that you might see into his mind by accident and find his daydreams a little too blasphemous to your liking. After all, you only had this wrapped around you to keep your lightsaber comfortably within your reach. 

“Your whimpers and pleading words are music to my ears little one, but they won’t change my mind. Now, be a good girl and use your words. They’ve never failed you before.” Wolffe warns sternly, but he massages your back to soothe your worries when he feels your shaky breath fan over his jugular. Even though he wants to hear you tell him every bit of filthy dream you had of him, he doesn’t try to push you anymore.

“I- I can’t. I’ve never…I don’t know how to p-put into words what I want.” 

The meaning of your words hit Wolffe like a blaster to the heart, and he pushes down every bit of pride threatening to flood from his lips to make sure that he’s understood you correctly. 

“My sarad’ika…has no one touched you before?”

“N-no. To be honest, I was never really interested. And when we met, I- I didn’t think it would be right. It was either you or no one. It was always you Wolffe, I couldn’t stand the thought of giving this part of me to anyone else. You- you’re all I think about, all the time, everywhere I go…when I practice, when I fight…when I go to sleep each night. I’ve…I’ve touched myself to the mere thought of you, wondering what it would be like to feel your lips on my breasts as you made me yours, your hands on my throat as you told me all the things you wanted to do to me…your cock filling me as I begged you for more.”

Had he been a shiny, Wolffe is positive he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from violently stripping you down to nothing and shoving his cock so far deep into your pussy until the whole of Coruscant knew who was fucking you so well. He’d be lying to himself if he said that this wasn’t a turn on, and he bites into his cheek to hold himself back from saying something about owning your body, and being the first and last man to claim your cunt. There was something so toxic and disgusting about the way his chest rumbled at the mere thought of him being your first, but he couldn’t deny how fucking hard it got him knowing that you hopelessly waited for him to experience this, that you couldn’t take such a step with anyone else except him. 

“Kriffing hells, you have no idea what you do to me. Hearing you confess to me things I never thought I’d ever get the chance to do to you…fuck sweetheart, you’re making it difficult to take this slow.” His hold on you is no longer loving but desperate, needy even, and dare he say, possessive. But he can’t find it in himself to care, not when he’s received so much more from you than he thought he ever would. 

“I don’t want slow, I don’t want you to hold back. I want- no, I need you to…to-”

“You don’t know what you’re asking mesh’la,” Wolffe’s breathless, as if the mere task of listening to you as you confess to him years of desires was as extraneous as an average rotation on the battlefield. He silently prays to the Force that you can sense why he wants you to not go any further and think of the consequences that may transpire should he give into what you’re asking of him. Now that he knew you’ve never experienced such a deep connection, both physical and emotional, with anyone else, he’s certain he cannot do to you what he’s thought of doing for all the time he’s known you. 

He would still ruin you for any other, that was certain, but he now knew he’d have to go about it at a much slower rate. You deserved to be seduced, to be wooed. Properly. And without haste. 

“Believe me I do, I’ve wanted nothing more. Please, we’ve spent so long denying this,” you manage to break his spiraling thoughts, not caring for how pathetically desperate you sound as you roamed your fingers across his chest and dug your nails into his muscles to drag his attention to you. The way you yearned to touch him, move against him, mark his skin with wet kisses the same way you knew he desired to do with you. 

“Our feelings for each other, our…our need to get lost in each other. Don’t make me wait anymore Wolffe, I- I can’t bear this anymore. I want you, all of you…every part of you that you’re willing to give me. Your sweetness and your desperation, your kisses and your bruises, your softness and your har-” The way you speak about him pushes Wolffe into a frenzy. He’s not sure if what he does next is due to wanting to warn you or to prove to you that he would gladly give you his soul if you asked for it, but he doesn’t dwell too much on it. Without so much as a warning, Wolffe slithers one hand to your throat and keeps you flush against him with his other arm as he violently pushes you until your back hits the wall. Forcing his thigh in between your legs, Wolffe nudges you forward until you’re perfectly nestled against the muscles of his leg, all the while tightening his grip on your throat until he sees you throw your head back in pleasure. 

“And you say you can’t find the words huh?” He nips at your jugular, biting down harsher than he intended when he sees how inviting your skin is, how it shuddered at the mere kiss of his lips. He sucks down hard even though he knows he shouldn’t leave any visible marks on your person. It’s only when he hears you moan his name that he unlatches his teeth from the slowly bruising skin. As much as he wants the stars to know who does this to you, he reminds himself to not leave any more marks that could easily be seen in the heat of battle. 

“W-wolffe,” you sigh against him, smiling when you sense his tongue lap at the painful sting ebbing away from your throat. 

“Is this what you want? You want me to use you, have my way with you until you’re pleading for me to slow down? Because I promise you, I will not stop until I’ve marked every bit of your skin, not so everyone knows you’re mine…but so you know who you belong to.” Wolffe warns you as he continues the journey across your heated body, emphasizing each word with a slight tug to your hair or a squeeze to your waist.

“Oh maker,” you tilt your head to the side and tremble as Wolffe assaults more of the skin available to his hungry eyes. You stop trying to fight against completely losing yourself in him, and instead surrender to his commanding whispers and loving touches. Even though you know you shouldn’t open yourself up to him through the Force because of how intense he might feel, you can’t help yourself anymore and decide to throw all caution aside. 

It was only fair after all. He made you yearn for so long.

But before you can completely open those gates for him, Wolffe breaks the silence and practically growls as he forces you to meet his lips in a heated kiss. He swallows your sighs and devours you like a delicacy, not leaving room for any misunderstanding of what he wants from you as he bucks his hips against your heated core once more. 

“Tell me. Tell me who you belong to. Tell me you’re mine.” 

It’s the perfect moment you think, perfect for what you’ve wanted to do for so long. Not daring to break eye contact with him even for a second, you let all of your walls down completely and watch as he takes in each sliver of emotion you’ve reserved only for him ever since the two of you were introduced.

Wolffe is overwhelmed by the flood of sensations filling each of his senses, but he stands his ground and channels what you’re gifting him with into every bit of skin coming in contact with his own. 

“I- I’m yours Wolffe, I’ve always been yours. From the very first moment I met you, you had a hold on my very soul.”

“I won’t ever let you go cyare, not unless you ask me to.” Wolffe’s voice breaks as the feelings you’ve long hidden from the stars continue to come crashing on him. And when he’s sure he has a grip on his voice once more, he promises you again to ensure you understand the depth of his commitment to you.

“Fuck, please just- just touch me already. Make me feel good, make me feel what it’s like to be wanted, to be the object of your desires.” You whine when he doesn’t try to strip you of your clothes right away and instead leaves a slow trail of kisses across your clothed shoulders. Somehow, his lips burn you through your clothes, and although there’s something blasphemous about Wolffe marking you through your Jedi robes, you can’t help but focus more on the erotic nature of his desperation, of how he couldn’t care any less that there were clothes preventing him from leaving more permanent proof of his touches. It was equally shameful and exhilarating.

“Oh sweetheart, no matter how much I tell you or kiss you or even drive my cock in your warm cunt, I won’t ever truly prove to you the extent of my lo-” You silence him with a bruising kiss, one that would be ingrained into Wolffe’s mind for all his days. He growls his pleasure into your open mouth, biting and sucking on your tongue and lips until you were shaking in his arms from the intensity of his touches. 

“But I’ll be damned if I don’t try,” Wolffe removes his hand from around your neck and smirks when he hears you whine at the loss of it. He doesn’t offer you a moment of respite, groping you everywhere he can reach until he rests his palms on your lower back. You barely have any time to register what he’s doing, gasping and giggling when he easily lifts you up until you cross your legs behind his back. He pushes you into the wall once more, not once removing his eyes from your dazed facial expressions as he slowly rolls his hips into your heated core. You sigh as you feel him hard and ready for you between your thighs, shivering with anticipation when his thrusts increase and make you gush for him. Embarrassment washes over you and Wolffe must feel it because his smirk only deepens as he pushes his clothed cock harshly against you and whispers words of encouragement into your neck. He grunts when he notices how easily your clothes slide against him the more he presses into you and as he inhales deeply, he can’t help but squeeze your thighs as soon as the scent of your arousal seeps into his senses. 

“I can almost taste your sweet pussy on my tongue sweetheart, and I want nothing more than to have you fall apart on my mouth,” he mouths against the collar of shirt, already wishing you were naked and ready for him to do as he pleases. He’s about to bring you to your cot when he takes notice of where your hand is moving, and he instantly grabs your wrist and keeps it against his lower stomach to prevent you from touching him elsewhere. 

“Wolffe, let me worship you.” The intensity of your words almost makes him lose his hold on you, but he blinks at you a few times to collect his bearings before he shakes his head and leans over to kiss the corner of your mouth. 

“As much as I want to feel the warmth of your mouth wrapped around my cock, I- I can’t let you degrade yourself in such a way. You’re the one who should be worshiped little one…I should be on my knees begging you to let me have a taste.” A sense of insecurity slithers into Wolffe’s chest at the prospect of being denied to have you, one that he unfortunately can’t keep hidden from you for too long. You must sense where his thoughts are going because you push his hand aside and continue your journey down his form until you cup him through his blacks. Wolffe hesitates for a second, torn between wrenching your fingers away and bucking into the warmth of your palm. When you lean down and lick across his neck, Wolffe loses all coherent thought and slowly pushes his hard length into your hand. 

“Why beg for something you already have, Commander? If anything, I should be the one on my knees, bringing you pleasure for all those times you saved me. I should be kissing every bit of your skin, showing you how much I-” He’s distracted by the sweetness of your words, only to snap out of the haze you’ve put him under when he pays attention to the lewd exclamations you’re whispering across the skin of his neck. 

Pfassk. Did you really think he protected you because he was hoping you’d sleep with him?

“You- you don’t owe me anything mesh’la, certainly not for doing my job.” He tries to clear the air instantly, afraid that there was some truth to what you’re telling him in the heat of the moment. 

“And here I thought y-you’d jump at the chance to-” Wolffe can tell you’re trying to make light of the sudden change in subjects but he doesn’t let you go on, knowing that if there was even the smallest bit of you that truly thought you had to sleep with him to thank him, that you weren’t doing this because you wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to take this further. 

He’d have to leave. 

“You have to know cyar’ika, you have to know that I…I’d never expect this from you. All those missions we went on, I did what I did because I wanted to, because I had to make sure you’re safe, not so you could- kriff, this isn’t what-” Much to his dislike, words escaped him now that he wanted to ensure you understood the true reason behind his watchful eyes. The last thing Wolffe needed was for you to think him capable of being this unethical. As he’s about to try and voice those concerns to you, he hears you giggle sweetly as you let go of his hair and rest your palm softly against his cheek. The whirlpool of emotions he finds storming in your eyes are too familiar to his liking, and when he tries to avoid your gaze, you keep your hold on his jaw, silently asking him to not turn away from you. 

“Sweet Commander, I know. I can feel your loyalty, can sense your lo- hmm, can sense how much you care for me through the Force. It’s always been there in the back of my mind, this flickering, warm flame that always made me feel safe whenever I thought we wouldn’t make it out alive. I know you Wolffe, and I wouldn’t dream of thinking you’d expect something like this from me.” Wolffe shouldn’t be this shocked by your revelation. This was nothing compared to what you confessed to him so far. Yet he couldn’t help the strong adoration that bubbled in his chest at the mention of his Force signature and how it was a source of protection to you. He was never one to ask about the Force or Jedi abilities, and it came as a surprise to him that throughout the time he’s known you, fought alongside you, you were aware of this need he had deep within his heart. The need to protect you at all costs. 

He didn’t know whether this new-found knowledge meant that you also know of his feelings towards you, and as much as he wanted to ask if you've known all along, he holds back out of fear of breaking this moment. 

“Cyar’ika, I’d die before I let anything happen to you, I swear it.” 

Wolffe takes notice of the strange look which crosses through your features as soon as his words float in between the two of you. It’s eerily similar to the one you gave him not too long ago when he tried to ask you what your words could possibly mean, and before he can put you down and ask if he should slow down, you smile down at him and slowly rest your forehead against his own. The gesture drives him mad with lust, and he thinks it might be even more intense because he can still feel the warmth of your hand atop his clothed cock. He lets out a shaky breath, one that he hopes you understand is due to the further shift in the dynamic between the two of you and not because he was nervous of taking this a step further. 

“I know...ner al’verde.”

His heart ceases to beat as soon as those two words leave your lips, and for a moment, Wolffe is filled with anxiety at the thought of you understanding what he said to you before. He’d assumed you knew what he tried to convey to you to some degree, but now that you were responding to him in Mando’a, Wolffe had the sense that you knew for certain what he confessed to you. 

If only he was brave enough to say it to you in Basic, without the need to hide behind his native tongue. 

He wants to say so much, offer you everything that belongs to him, whisper to you his undying love and adoration, but as he looks upon you now and notices the sliver of sadness swimming in your eyes, he decides that it would be best to just show you. 

Stepping away from the wall, Wolffe trails his eyes across your face slowly as he walks towards your cot, not once removing his gaze from you if only to commit this moment to memory. He gulps nervously as he nudges your nose softly before he molds his lips with your own. The sigh you grace him with calms him down and he loses himself into the kiss as he sits down on your cot with you in his lap. He stays there for a while, knowing that as soon as one of you breaks the kiss, the intensity of what’s transpiring between the two of you will have reached its zenith, and he won’t be able to hold back,

There would be no going back. 

You must sense why he’s prolonging the inevitable because as Wolffe busies himself with memorizing the softness and warmth of your lips against his skin, you slowly descend your hand down his form and cup him through his blacks again. Wolffe groans as he deepens the kiss, no longer reluctant to have you touch him in such a way now that he knew how much you craved him. His breathing is erratic, but he doesn’t shy away from the lack of control he displays as you ease yourself against him further. When the need for air becomes too much, you break the kiss and rest your forehead against his own. 

“You feel so- so hard, so thick.” 

Wolffe is sure you’re not actively trying to give him a heart attack but merely voicing your observations of new sensations. That doesn’t make your words any less lethal, however, and the more you squeeze around his hard dick, the tighter his chest contracts at the prospect of finally experiencing what he’s dreamt of for so long. 

“You do this to me mesh’la. One look at you and I- karking hell sweetheart, I lose my sanity.” He barely manages to respond, voice breaking at the last few syllables when he feels you slip down from his lap and onto the floor. His eyes widen, no longer in shock but anticipation, at the silent promise you’re giving him. He fists his hands tightly into the soft covers beneath him, finding your own orbs more fiery than when you’re leading whole battalions in battle. 

“Let me show you what you do to me Commander, please.” Unlike before, when embarrassment prevented you from telling him everything you’ve wanted to do with him, you’re a little more composed now, and Wolffe hopes it’s only a facade because some part of him wants you to be as wrecked as him, as maddingly turned-on as him. 

He’s snapped out of the haze you’ve put him under when he feels a warm, wet sensation spread across his crotch. Blinking away from the momentary distraction, Wolffe chokes on his breath when he looks down and sees you licking across his clothed cock. You’re looking straight into his eyes, nails digging into his thighs as you mouth and kiss at his length through his blacks, leaving a damp trail of lava behind each caress. It’s positively filthy, and the saliva collecting on your tongue and falling onto the fabric of his uniform unintentionally causes him to thrust up against you. 

“I want you to tell me how to please you Wolffe, I- I want you to tell me so no one else can plague your dreams but me, so each time you touch yourself, you remember my mouth and my hands as they brought you pleasure.” You rest your cheek against the tent in his blacks, lightly kissing his cock as it twitches against your heated skin. When he doesn’t respond right away, you slide your hands up and down his thighs before pushing them apart as far as possible. Wolffe stares at you in silence, incapable of forming so much as a syllable the longer he takes you in. As much as you appreciate the effect you’re having on him, the bit of patience you still have begins to evaporate and you decide to throw all propriety aside. Maintaining his gaze, you kneel down further until you come face to face with the space between his thighs. Without missing a beat, you lean over and nose at his hard cock softly, shutting your eyes and taking in a deep breath to let his natural musk hit your nostrils. It’s perhaps the most unhinged, desperate act you’ll ever take upon his person, but you don’t care how you must appear to him right now. All you know is, you wanted to smell him where he’s most vulnerable, most natural, most…him. 

There’s a spike of something otherworldly in his Force signature, and before you can try to wrap your mind around it, you feel his fingers drag against your scalp and intertwine in your hair. As soon as you open your eyes, Wolffe tugs your hair and pushes you harshly against his cock. He wants nothing more than to feel your lips around him, but something about the way you welcome the rough handling as you inhale his scent makes him lose control. He doesn’t look away once as he assaults your senses with frantic touches and whispered commands. 

“Go on my little jetii, be a good sweetheart and take me in that perfect mouth of yours. Make me scream your name mesh’la.” Wolffe growls at you, the deep brown of his eye barely shining through his dilated pupil. You’re not sure what makes you whine against him, whether it was how focused his other eye seemed to be as you trailed your fingers up to the waistband of his blacks, or the breathless way in which he begged you to please him. You don’t dwell much on it, not wanting to waste another second teasing him and yourself. Not moving away from his crotch until you absolutely had to, you slip your fingers softly beneath the edge of his blacks and pull them down, smiling up at Wolffe when he slightly raises his hips to help you. You don’t know what you expected to see as you lowered his uniform down his legs, but a pair of skin-tight boxers prevent you from leaning down and taking him into your mouth. You pout at the article of clothing only to correct your expression when you hear Wolffe chuckling above you as the hold he has on your hair tightens. 

“So needy for me already, aren’t you little one?” Wolffe takes his lower lip in between his teeth, fighting against his instinct to drag you into his lap and claim your mouth again. The wetness of your tongue as it rolls over the wet patch on his boxers forces a grunt out of his mouth, making you giggle at him in return. 

“D-do you blame me? I’ve only wanted to suck your cock ever since we met.” You hum at him lewdly, raising a curious eyebrow when you sense the surprise emanating across his Force signature. 

“T-that early on?” Even though you told him multiple times how much you want him, even showed him every dream you had of him, Wolffe is still a little shocked that you were attracted to him ever since the two of you were introduced. He never thought he was important, especially among the Jedi generals, but to think that he was able to get your attention that quickly…

“Oh yes, and it only got worse after that. Each bit of attention you offered me, I’d- maker, I would struggle all day long until I finally returned to my quarters.Years of training to become a Jedi Master...right down the drain Wolffe, and all because of the way you looked at me.” You pull the rest of his blacks off, and take a moment to admire the muscles of his thighs and legs. Wolffe is buzzing with pent-up energy, finding it difficult to breathe when he sees you eyeing him like a rare, exotic fruit. 

“And now that I’m here, so close to tasting you, feel you heavy against my tongue…gods, it’s maddening. Absolutely maddening.” Again, Wolffe is positive you aren’t purposely pushing him to lose his mind, but with each teasing comment you throw at him, he has to call on his training so he doesn’t fuck you into the next planet. 

“Please sweetheart, let me…let me feel you.” His voice is strained, sounding a little off to his own ears even, but he doesn’t dare say anything else when he sees your fingers trail up his flushed thighs until they slip underneath the skin-tight boxers. He watches closely as you dig your nails into his thighs and push them as far up as possible without the fabric threatening to rip. 

“You’re so good Commander, so fucking good…but I can sense how bad you can be, how bad you want to be.” Wolffe is not sure if this is a mere observation on your part or if you were warning him away from his lust-filled thoughts, but when you quickly remove your hands and forcefully pull down that last bit of clothing hiding him from your gaze, he knows immediately you’re only trying to provoke him, maybe even push him far enough until he truly lost control and used you. His hands let go of you and return to his side, one last attempt at not forcing himself on you anymore than he already has. He throws his head back for a second to try and collect his bearings. 

But his attention is snapped back down to you when he hears you whisper a few swears to yourself. Wolffe tries to gauge your reaction to finally seeing him, hoping to the maker that he wasn’t disappointing you. When you remain quiet and continue to stare at his painfully hard cock, Wolffe reaches down and softly cups your cheek in his calloused palm to turn your attention back to him. 

“Am I…pleasing to you?” Wolffe was never self-conscious about his size, not by a long shot, but he finds himself wanting to hear you tell him that you were happy with him, all of him. He doesn’t know what you expected to see and he hopes that you’re reaching out through the Force and sensing the anxiety filling his heart, not to lie to him about his size or anything, but just to know that he was going to try his best and pleasure you even if he wasn’t impressive enough. 

“Stars, I’ve thought of you so often, when we went on missions together, when I stood aside and watched you train with the others…when- kriffing hells, when you kept watch during long rotations on those backwater planets,” Wolffe watches as your chest rises and falls rapidly with each breath you take, and he finds his own heartbeat losing rhythm when you lick your lip before descending down on him. He doesn’t know what to expect, but it’s certainly not you fisting your hands in his shirt and shoving it up his chest before sliding your tongue from the base of his cock all the way to his navel. He hisses at the sudden hot and wet sensation your rather innocent tongue leaves across his skin, and he wonders briefly if this is what lava feels like as it destroys everything in its path. Wolffe can’t take his eyes off of you, and he gulps nervously when you finally look up at him as you kiss across the flexing muscles of his abdomen. Wolffe is paralyzed by your gaze alone, and he holds his breath to prepare for whatever you had in mind for him. 

“But nothing-”

Kiss.

“Would have prepared me…”

Bite.

“For how beautiful your cock is.”

Before Wolffe can respond, you spread one hand across his lower abdomen and firmly grasp his quivering thigh with the other, smiling at him one last time before leaning down and taking the tip of his dick in your mouth. Wolffe falls back onto the cot when he feels your tongue swipe across the pre-cum threatening to roll down his length, and it takes every ounce of strength in his body to push himself up on his elbows so he doesn’t miss one second of the sight of you as you worshiped him.

“Sweetheart-”

“Hmm.” You hum at the shudder of his voice, softly moving your head up and down his achingly hard length to get used to him. You remove your hand from his stomach and softly wrap it around the rest of him that can’t fit in your mouth, pushing on his thigh with your other palm to urge him to spread his legs wider for you. He willingly obliges and finally releases a deep sigh, lips parting and letting out a string of curses when you apply more pressure on the base of his cock. 

Wolffe is mesmerized, mostly because of how confident and playful you’re being with him now when a few minutes prior, you were hiding in his neck as you showed him what your filthy little mind came up with every night in your bed. He reaches for your hair once more, but remembers why he shouldn’t touch you there and retracts it immediately. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and you remove him from your mouth long enough and kiss the crown of his dick to get his attention. He’s not sure how such an innocent gesture could feel so fucking dirty but he whines as soon as he doesn’t feel your hot, wet mouth wrapped around him anymore. 

“Mesh’la, you- you’re killing me.” Wolffe chokes on the words, and he can’t help himself from following the trail of saliva extending from your lips to his cock. He unintentionally bucks into your palm when you firmly grasp him and jerk him off as you respond to him. 

“Tell me, oh please Wolffe…tell me how to make you feel good. I- I want you to guide me, guide my lips around you…you’re- I didn’t think you’d feel so heavy on my tongue, but you feel so good, so hard and- maker…your scent. You smelled so- so spicy and sweet before, but your taste, it’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. It’s intoxicating…please Wolffe, fuck my mouth if you have to, use me like I know you want to…like I know you pictured a thousand times.” Gone is the clear-minded, self-controlled Jedi Master he’s fought alongside for many rotations, and Wolffe groans deeply when he notices how desperate you are to make him forget his name. He gulps nervously as he slowly stretches his hand and holds it above your head, waiting for a few more seconds to ensure that this is truly what you wanted. When he doesn’t find any hesitation swimming in your eyes, he fists his hand into your hair and tugs it back to reveal your features more clearly to him. 

“You want me fuck your mouth sweetheart?” It’s times like these when Wolffe thanks his perceptiveness because he pinpoints the second his words hit you and forced what he can only describe as a whorish-moan from your lips to veil his cock. 

“More than anything.”

“More than my cock filling your pretty little cunt?” It must not be what you expected him to say because you hesitate in your response to him, rightfully so he thinks. Instead of stretching this out longer than necessary, Wolffe takes pity on you and brings you back to his dick. He calls on all the strength left in his muscles to sit up once more, and as he does, he smirks to himself when he sees the way you eye the flexing muscles of his abdomen. Letting go of you for a moment, he makes quick work of his shirt and throws it aside, basking in the way your eyes seem to glaze over him with lust as he finally revealed all of himself to your hungry gaze. 

“Wolffe…”

He doesn’t bother to grace you with a response as he combs his fingers in your messy hair again. A random thought plagues his mind and he chuckles to himself when he sees the anticipation buzzing across your body.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you look right now? With your messy hair and your bruised lips...fuck sweetheart, I thought you looked ethereal on the battlefield, but that’s nothing compared to the sight of you now.” He traces your bottom lip with his thumb, applying the slightest pressure on the bruised skin until you part your lips and whine for him to put you out of your misery. 

“And only I get to see you like this, no one else.” A shudder courses across your form as he lets those words hang in the air, making the predatory smile on his features widen as he lowers his head closer towards you. You think he’s about to kiss and you part your lips in offering so he could do whatever he wants with you. The thought quickly escapes when Wolffe shifts his tongue a moment before he spits on your tongue, winking down at you when he sees the shocked expression overtaking your eyes. 

Wolffe is afraid he’s crossed a line and quickly forms an apology when he feels a flickering of a wave pass through his mind’s eye. His gaze never leaves you as you prode his mind, and his hold on your hair grows painful when he realizes what you’re doing. 

Permission to swallow…Commander?

Your voice echoes in his mind as clearly as when you order him on the battlefield, and he almost cums then and there from the intimacy of the moment. There’s something equally erotic and filthy about you refusing to move a muscle so you don’t lose his essence and choosing to ask him for an order through the Force. It’s not that he didn’t expect you to react in such a way, it’s that he never thought he’d witness you using the Force so easily in a moment defined by nothing except complete lust. 

“Good girl, sweet girl…because you asked so nicely, I’ll give you the option. Would you rather swallow me like the filthy sarad’ika I know you are…or would you rather me fuck your mouth and mix my spit and cum on your tongue?” It’s almost as if he’s asking you how you enjoy your caf, and although you shouldn’t be surprised by his behavior, you can’t help but grow shy at the answer you conjure up as soon as the question rolls off his tongue. 

“What will it be, hmm?” He lightly caresses your cheek, urging you to be completely honest with him. 

Can- can I have both?

Wolffe raises a curious eyebrow at your response, and he notices how you look away from him out of embarrassment at the implication behind your request. 

“Look at you, such a fucking whore for me and we barely even started. Is that what you want mesh’la? You want to take me down that beautiful throat of yours so I can spit in your mouth again?” Wolffe pushes his thumb on your tongue and rubs it across, not caring for how his cock twitches in your palms as he feels you lean into his touch. 

Please.

It’s a simple syllable and yet it lights an unnerving sense of possessive fire in Wolffe’s chest. To think you were letting all your walls down in front of him and no one else. 

“Hmm, you beg so sweetly ner jetii’ika. Go on then, swallow me down and I’ll give you some more.” The order barely fills the tense air for a few seconds, and Wolffe watches as you make a show of mixing his spit with your own before gulping it down altogether. You clench your thighs when you read the unhinged thoughts storming through Wolffe’s mind, and before he can take back his promise, you lean up and part your lips even wider, patiently waiting for him to do what he wishes. 

“Cyar’ika, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of you. I always thought that- maker, I thought I only needed to have you once to satisfy this need…this aching. But having you here, on your knees, waiting like a good girl for me to do as I please and give you what you want, I know…I know that once will not be enough. It will never be enough.” The more Wolffe reveals to you, the dizzier you become and the harder it gets to remain patient. Ever the gentleman, he doesn’t keep you waiting and moves right above you to give you what you crave, except this time, Wolffe doesn’t spit in your mouth. No, he slowly lets his spit stretch down until there’s a direct line connecting his tongue to your own. You try to move closer to him but he keeps you where you are, chuckling lightly when you finally feel him on your tongue and refuse to move again. He’s not sure how long the two of you sit there, but when he thinks you’ve had enough, he licks his lower lip and sits up again. 

“Fuck, it won’t ever be enough.” He whispers, more to himself than you, as he lowers you down until you’re inches away from his painfully hard dick. 

“Go on, show me how much you want me baby.” You melt at the constant use of petnames he’s calling you with, not wasting another precious moment away from his cock as you nuzzle into his thigh one last time before you get to work. 

Thank you, Commander.

Wolffe grunts deeply, not sure how the sight of you rubbing your cheek against the underside of his cock could look both cute and dirty. In the end, this little detail doesn’t matter because it’s the sound of your dazed voice as you call him by his rank that unravels him so easily. His fingers twist and turn in your hair as you lay the tip of his dick on your tongue while you watch him. He can’t take his eyes off of you, of the way his spit begins to mix with your own as you roll your tongue around the pre-cum leaking from the reddened head of his cock. He forces his hips to remain immobile, knowing that if he so much as thrusts them easily against your hand, he’d start fucking your mouth in no time. 

Show me what you like, please.

He knows he’ll never get over the sound of your voice spreading through every corner of his mind, or how breathless and soft it becomes as it rings down to his chest, and he clears his throat to attempt and respond to your pleading request with some coherence. Words fail him, however, when your teeth gently graze the underside of his cock, and he unintentionally thrusts against your wet tongue when he feels it trace the protruding veins throbbing down his hard length. There’s an apology threatening to unfold through his lips, but Wolffe becomes even more distracted when he suddenly feels a wave of warmth wash over him like a rare, mellow ripple in those peaceful ponds across Felucia. 

It occurs to him then that, somehow, he has not witnessed the true breadth of your power  just yet because he is sure the burning sensation coursing through his veins was very much an extension of what you were feeling. It’s unlike anything he's ever experienced before, and he files this bit of information for later because he may not be interested in all things Jedi-related, but he was certainly fascinated with everything that had to do with you and your extraordinary abilities. He lets the veil of fire take over him completely as he studies you, and a smile breaks on his features out all of a sudden when he winks at you and watches as you grow flustered at the scrutiny of his gaze. 

Wolffe, fuck my mouth.

You may not have meant it as a distraction, but Wolffe’s smirk falters as your request replays in his mind over and over again. No longer afraid of being too rough with you, Wolffe spreads his thighs obscenely widely to get comfortable and begins to buck his hips into your mouth. You hum in pleasure as soon as you feel him push farther down your throat, and before either of you know it, the two of you are moaning and grunting as Wolffe drives his cock across your tongue. 

“Oh fuck sweetheart, you feel so kriffing perfect. My pretty jetii’ika, can’t- can’t get enough of me, can you?” Wolffe refuses to look away even for a moment and he bites into his lower lip when he sees how willing you are to submit to him. He never thought he’d ever have this with you. You were so much more than him, so powerful and beautiful, a General who received respect from even complete strangers. Even though you told him several times that you would never do this with anyone but him, Wolffe can’t fathom how you were on your knees for someone like him. His stomach flutters as he watches you worship his cock like you said you wanted to, and he moans your name like a prayer as he feels the warmth of your mouth engulf him time and again. 

“Right there mesh’la, keep- fuck…keep taking me down your throat. You’re doing so good baby, so fucking good for me…letting me use you to get off, f-fuck your mouth like you’re mine.” He palms your cheek and whines when you take him deeper, the sweet gesture of his calloused hand not going unnoticed by you. He knows you can probably feel what he would like to do to you, and he hopes that the soft caress of his fingers against your heated cheeks is enough to let you know that he could never hurt you, not unless you specifically asked him to. 

But…I am yours.

Your voice rings in his mind again, and he’s not sure how you manage to sound so seductive when it only echoes like a whisper. The knowledge that you felt the need to say such a thing as you licked across the hardness of his dick makes him impossibly flustered, and he tries his best to convey to you what you’re doing to him but it only comes out as a string of broken words. 

“Ahh f-fuck, you- you’re really…keep doing that and I won’t be able to-” He chokes on his breath when you slide your tongue against the tip of his cock a little harder as you suck him in bewteen your lips. Wolffe tries his best not to come then and there, but as he looks down and sees more saliva rolling down your chin to your hands, he knows that it won’t be long before he’s shooting his cum down your throat. You collect some of the drool from your skin and wipe it against his balls to make them wet, and Wolffe knows that he must have died and gone to whatever heaven existed because he is sure you aren’t trying to be sexy but it turned him on too much. 

Doing what, Commander? Sucking your cock or telling you to claim me?

He sighs and throws his head back for a split second before remembering that he wanted to commit every moment to memory. As he returns his gaze upon you again, he finds your eyes impossibly wide, their attention strictly on him and nowhere else. He’s panting heavily, the need to shove his cock into your mouth outweighing everything else, and just as he’s about to warn you, you narrow your eyes at him and move one of your hands up his thighs. He follows the movement and hisses when you dig your nails into his navel, the action unintentionally causing him to buck against you a little rougher than he’d like. 

“Both…fucking both. You look so fucking sweet like this cyar’ika, mouth full of my cock. And your- sith hells, your pretty little hands wrapped around me, messy with our spit and my- fffuck. Oh fuck, just like that.” Wolffe wanted to apologize, but as he stares down at you, he finds himself forgetting whatever was on his mind and instead praising you for making him feel good. The smile you throw his way as you mouth at the side of his length and tease the protruding veins shouldn’t make him want to push you to the floor and fuck you into the next galaxy, but he feels his chest give out at the thought of losing his control from you simply smirking at him.

Thank you, sir. You- you’re looking pretty sweet yourself.

“Shit, you’re so kriffing filthy, letting me fuck your throat like a whore. Maybe- oh pfassk, maybe I’m not being rough enough with you if- if you’re still talking.” He raises a curious, teasing eyebrow when he sees you shiver at his words, and slithers his hand across your skin to the back of your head to see how you’d react. When you nod frantically at him and push against the palm of his hand, Wolffe smiles and pushes you down on his cock, growling into the night air as pleasure zaps down his spine when he feels your teeth slightly graze his warm skin. 

Do whatever you want with me Wolffe. I’ll take it.

“And here I thought I would- ahh, I’d put that mouth to good use if I filled it up with my cock. Come on sweetheart, less talking and- hmmm, more sucking.” He pushes you down as he thrusts his hips up against you, completely losing himself to the touch of your soft hands and wet mouth as you bring him closer to the edge. Never in his life did he think he’d find himself at your mercy, but here he was, talking down at you like you weren’t his commanding officer who had every right to right him up for insubordination. 

Hm, now there was a thought. There was definitely some insubordination involved with the two of you, but it was more on your end than his. 

Like this?

“Yeah, yeah baby…just like that.” He huffs out a laugh from the sheer ecstasy coursing through his veins, and he waits until you close your eyes to accommodate more of him before he extends down to take your hand into his. Your eyes shoot open immediately, and Wolffe thinks you’re shaking your head because he’s being too rough, but when you eye his hand and your own, he realizes that you didn’t want him to make a mess of himself as well. Wolffe winks at you as he drags your fingers against his and holds onto them as he raises your hand to his mouth until he kisses your wet knuckles. You whimper at how positively filthy yet sweet he’s being, and take him out of your mouth to let him know how much you adore him. But then you become distracted with the way his ballsack twitches as more of your drool slides down his skin, and you lick your lips at the idea of making them even messier with your tongue.  

“Go on ner sarad’ika, I can s-see you want to. Be a good girl and suck my balls, show me what that filthy little mind of yours imagined at night when you touched yourself. Show me what you wanted to do with me, love. Shit…that’s it, take me like the mesh’la cockwhore I know you are.” His grip on your hand tightens as he pulls you more against him, wanting to feel every bit of your skin slide against his own as you left your mark on the most intimate part of him. You gulp at the sudden display of desperation, licking your lips as Wolffe spreads his thighs wider to give you more space. You rest your cheek on his thigh as you continue to jerk him off, never once looking away from his features as you kiss the area between his hips and his cock. He hisses at the action but says nothing else as you descend on him and nose at his length. 

“Only for you Wolffe, always for you.” You moan for him right as you sink further down and scent his balls, smiling to yourself when you look up and see Wolffe having difficulty breathing. He stops trying to focus on what you’re doing as soon as you kiss and lick at his balls before you take one inside your mouth. The sudden pressure and heat of your mouth as you alternate between sucking on his balls and licking at the base of his cock drives him mad with lust, and he can’t help but comb his fingers into your hair and pull on it to have some semblance of control. 

“That’s right sweetheart, no one gets to see you like this. N-no one gets to feel you like this. Maker…your hands are so soft, and your mouth is- it’s fucking heaven. Tell me, ner kar’ta…tell me you’re mine. Tell me you- gods, tell me no one else will get this close to you but me. Please, oh fuh- I’m already so close love, so fucking close…see what you do to me?” He’s a whimpering mess, and you feel a sense of pride wash over you the more you think about how you managed to make the Commander Wolffe, leader of the 104th Battalion, plead and sigh your name so sweetly as he lost himself in your touch. 

You know better than to let your feelings run away with you, but something about the way he begs you to tell him that he’ll be the only one to touch you so intimately makes you feel a sense of possessiveness. You give yourself the chance to meditate on those strong feelings for half a moment before you remember that it may be more beneficial to focus on pleasuring him and not anything else that might spiral you down into longing thoughts. 

I’m yours, Wolffe. All yours Commander, won’t look at anyone else but you. Won’t let anyone touch me but you.

Wolffe sighs in relief at finally hearing an answer to what’s been on his mind ever since he walked into your quarters tonight. He knows better than to feel so strongly attached to you, but he doesn’t know what he’d do if you ever thought of being this close and intimate with someone other than him. Then again, it wasn’t like he needed to abide by your rules as well. Jedi could never form attachments, but that doesn’t mean that he didn’t already have one for you. Maker knows how tethered his life became to your own ever since he met you. 

“You make me so karking needy sen’ika, so hard and wanting with the sight of you. Make me lose my mind just by looking at you. Oh fuck…please sweetheart, don’t stop. M-make me cum baby, make me cum so I can mark you up, so I can claim your mouth. You going to let me cum down your throat baby? Hmm? Fill you up with my seed till you beg for some more? Till e-every one of your holes is full of my cum?” He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him or if he should perhaps control the words falling from his lips. But one look at you confirms to him that you were enjoying this side of him, perhaps more than you were letting on. The more he spoke of much he wants to mark your body, the more enthusiastic you become in your touches, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you genuinely wanted him to fuck you in every way possible, perhaps cum down your throat, your cunt, and your ass all night long until there was no mistaking who was bringing you pleasure. 

Please Wolffe, give it to me. I want to taste you. 

His muscles shake with an intensity unlike anything he’s ever experienced as your words settle in his mind. Wolffe couldn’t fathom you wanting him this badly. It made no sense to him that you’d want to take everything he’s giving you and beg for more. It’s not as if he’s never had someone go down on him, far from it. It’s just that he never thought you, a well-respected, renowned Jedi Master and General would debase yourself so easily for him. And not only that, but to continue pleading for him to take whatever he wants, however he needs it. 

“Fuck, I can’t. I need to- maker, sweetheart you’re going to make me cum…oh gods, oh fuck- keep your eyes on me. Let me- let me watch you swallow my cum cyare, let me mark you up and- ahh fffucking hell I’m c-cuh…” His chest ripples with harsh breaths as he tries to hold off the pleasure as much as possible. In the end, it was not the gorgeous heat of your mouth engulfing his balls or the soft, caresses of your lips mouthing at the underside of his cock, or even your expert hands coaxing pleasure from the tip of his dick that made him shoot his cum down your throat. 

No, it was the sound of your voice whispering your wishes for him to mark your tongue and fill your mouth with his seed that made the knot deep in his stomach unravel quickly and suddenly until he was emptying himself down your throat. 

Cum for me, please. I’ve wanted to taste you for so long, Commander. Cum in my mouth.

Wolffe pulls on your hair harshly to keep you in place as he growls his release, finding it difficult to keep his eyes on you as he shoves his cock so far down your throat until you’re gagging around him. He bites into his lower lip when he feels your hand squeezing tightly around his own and forcing him to come closer to you. Your upper body is flush against his thighs and his chest quivers when he finally focuses on how warm your skin feels as you swallow around him. Your throat is constricting with every movement you make, and Wolffe realizes that he’s being too rough with you. Before he can pull away however, you hum around him and keep warming his dick with your mouth, your other hand going to his ballsack and massaging it until he was oversensitive. He tries to push you away another time but you shake your head and shut your eyes, relishing the taste of him as his hard length slowly softens on your tongue. Your eyes flutter open, and Wolffe feels sick to his stomach when he finds the tears rolling down your cheek impossibly sexy. 

He doesn’t dare move an inch, wanting you to take whatever you want from him until you’re satisfied. When you let go of his hand, Wolffe removes his own fingers from your hair and falls back onto the bed, barely managing to keep himself on his elbows. He throws his head back for a split second, wanting to distract himself from the way your tongue slithers around the head of his cock. His attention, however, snaps back to you when he feels you remove him from your mouth and kiss down the length of him. He’s breathing heavily, incapable of looking away from the sight of you as you leave soft kisses on his cock before returning your attention to the tip of his dick until you were sure he’s emptied his balls. Wolffe is close to begging you to slow down when you suddenly open your mouth and swirl your tongue around the mess of his cum and your saliva. He chokes on whatever he’s about to say as you continue to push the mixture of fluids around your mouth until you lean down and kiss his cock one last time before swallowing everything he’s given you. Wolffe swears beneath his breath as you make a show of letting him know you didn’t waste a single drop of his cum, and he groans in frustration as he feels the familiar sensation of blood flowing down his navel to his cock again.

Fuck, there was no way he was growing hard already!

“You…you’re going to be the death of me sen’ika.” Wolffe huffs in between chuckles, his eyes boring into yours lovingly the more you showered his flushed skin with kisses. His muscles are sore but they slowly begin to buzz with energy when he sees the way you’re looking at his sweaty skin. He swears there’s a fire in your eyes he’s never seen before, not even in the midst of battle, as you trail them up his body. He can’t help but smile at you then, not one of those teasing or cocky smiles, but a soft expression that he hoped conveyed to you how glad he was that you found him to your liking. 

“Did I-” your voice comes out hoarse, barely louder than a whisper even, and Wolffe smirks when he sees the way you avoid his gaze as you wipe the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. He reaches towards you and smears his thumb across your lips, forcing you to tilt your chin up and look at him. When he holds your attention for a few seconds, you clear your throat and slither your hand up to his wrist, blinking at him a few times as you grip his forearm tightly to keep yourself grounded.

“W-was I okay?” There is a hint of worry swimming in between your words, and Wolffe chuckles at the absurdity of such a question. He’s sure you can tell how sated he feels at the moment, and the thought that you still had any doubt in your mind of the effect you have on him makes him want to shake you to sense. He barely manages to find strength in him to sit up, and when he does, he reaches down and takes your cheeks in his hands. You blink at him shyly, and Wolffe smirks at how timid you’re being with him now when, not a second ago, you were pleading for him to come down your throat and mark you as his own. 

“Okay? Kriffing hells sweetheart, you’ve ruined everyone else for me. It was already difficult to not think about you every minute of every day ner jetii’ika.” He admits shamelessly and kisses your forehead when he sees you growing more bashful at his compliments. You sigh in defeat as he continues to touch his lips to your furrowed eyebrows, unable to hold back from smiling as you finally relax your worried features and accept his sweet words. 

“And now,” Wolffe nudges your nose with his own, waiting until your eyes flutter open once more before whispering to you truths he never thought he’d get to reveal to you, “now my heart won’t beat without the whisper of your name on my lips.” He leans down and takes your mouth against his lips, swallowing your surprised shrieks and growling dangerously as your hands slither across his muscles and dig into him possessively. 

“Wolffe,” you moan his name as he breaks the kiss, and reach for him with more desperation once you feel him moving away. 

“Come here mesh’la,” Wolffe orders, not giving you a chance to say anything as grabs your waist and pulls you up. You yelp in surprise when you find yourself suddenly laying beneath his firm body. He nips at your neck, only to swear in frustration when he tries to pull down your shirt and fails. 

“You’re a little overdressed General.” He comments as he fingers the leather straps hugging your shirt tightly, and you giggle at his sudden lack of patience when he begins to pull the straps out of the buckle. He stops, however, when you finally respond to him with an excited smile. 

“W-what’re you going to do about it?” You try your best to sound confident, but the words come off a little unsure, and you hope that Wolffe doesn’t misunderstand your nervousness for hesitation. When he raises an amused eyebrow at you and bites into his lower lip, you know that he can see right through whatever act you’re attempting to pull off. For a moment, you’re distracted by the sudden spike of bright colors in his Force signature, and your chest rises and falls rapidly when he maintains eye contact with you as he descends on your heaving form.  

“Teasing little vixen,” Wolffe mouths at your clothed chest, and you throw your head back in pleasure when his lips close around your hardened nipple and tug on it. He’s toying with you, making you lose your mind until you have no choice but to tell him what you want from him. A part of you thinks that perhaps he sees you as someone who takes pride in never losing their reserve, and you’re suddenly filled with a need unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You want him to know that you’d be willing to do whatever he asks, no matter how humiliating it may be. 

“Please…t-take this off. I want to feel your skin against mine Wolffe. Let me- let me touch you everywhere.” You slip your hands in between the two of you to pull at your clothes, huffing in frustration when Wolffe doesn’t move an inch and remains as flush to you as possible. He lets go against his will, and eyes you with a dangerous hunger you’ve never seen before. 

“Fuck sweetheart, as much as I love hearing your commanding voice ordering me around on the battlefield, I prefer the way you are now,” he doesn’t give you a chance to remove any of your clothes, twisting the leather violently off of you and throwing it behind him before he makes work of your shirt. 

“Breathless,” you shiver when you see something flash behind his eyes right before he rips your shirt down the center and pulls the straps of your bra down your arms even more aggressively. You’re sure his fingers will leave marks across your skin, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, not when he was looking at you like he was fighting every urge in his body to not eat you whole. 

“Wanton,” you try to help him with your pants but Wolffe halts your movement with a single look, and when he’s sure you won’t move your arms again, he unbuttons your pants and pulls them down legs, seething with need when he realizes he has to remove himself from you to take everything off. You writhe and pant beneath him as he tugs your bra down your body as well, the sound of ripping fabric setting a fire deep within your chest, knowing that you were one step closer to giving into what both of you craved for so long. You’re left with nothing but your panties, and although you want to cover yourself, you decide against it, knowing that Wolffe may drag this out longer if he saw you shy away from him. 

“And so kriffing sexy,” Wolffe shakes his head in disbelief as he takes in your nude form. Never in his life did he think he’d ever get to see you like this. He can’t remember how many times he’s dreamt of this moment, but now that he was here, hard as beskar in between your thighs, with your body on full display for him, he knows that he was never going to do you justice. 

You were perfect. 

“Oh cyar’ika, look at you. You’re mesmerizing.” He wants to say so much, kiss every inch of your innocent skin and relish in the fact that he’s the first, and most definitely the last, to touch you so intimately. But words fail him as he rakes his eyes down your form and sees the history of your years, of the harsh training and unforgivable battles you went through for the sake of the Republic. None deserved your dedication and kindness, and yet, the evidence etched in your muscles told him that it didn’t matter to you whether they deserved you or not. As long as you knew your value, nothing else mattered. 

His gaze meets your own a moment later, and he notices the way you grow uncomfortable beneath his focus. You turn away from him and offer your attention to the windows, covering your mouth with your arms to try and avoid the stern, earnest way he continues to study you. 

Kriff, you must have heard his thoughts. 

“Don’t get all shy on me now. ‘sides, I’m only speaking the truth ner kar’ta. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His words send a shiver across your body, and you dare to shift your gaze back to him. When you find him staring at your exposed skin like you’re the finest of delicacies, you sigh in frustration and reach for him, wanting him to get closer to you so you wouldn’t be at the end of his scrutinizing stare. He follows without hesitation, pushing your thighs wider so he can get comfortable. You throw your arms across his back and bring him as close to you as possible, lips seeking his own in a heated kiss that melts every coherent thought in your mind. 

The weight of his body washes over you like a wave of comfort, and you shake your head when he tries to put some of his weight on his arms. You force his chest against your own and break the kiss, nuzzling into his neck when you feel his sweaty and muscular skin slide against your own. He swears beneath his breath at the sheer desperation running through you, hands roaming up and down your waist and thighs to show you how much he wants you in return. The harder he drags his nails across your heated skin, the brighter his Force signature becomes and you don’t realize just how powerful it is until he pushes your head to the side and bites into your shoulder. 

“No star compares to your beauty…not one flower in this universe will ever bloom as sweetly as you,” he whispers in between kisses and you arch your back against him when his fingers slip underneath the fabric of your panties and bunches it together. You let go of him and reach for the bed sheets, pulling harshly on them in hopes of feeling somewhat grounded. Wolffe sits up and eyes your shaking form hungrily, biting into his lower lip when he sees how hard your nipples have become. He pounces on you with his entire body, mouth nipping and licking at one hardened peak while his fingers pull and pinch the other. You’re crying his name like a mantra, silently begging him to keep taking whatever he wants from you. 

Wolffe is sure he’s never heard a more beautiful sound in his entire life.

His teeth are rough, but he’s careful not to hurt you as he nips and sucks on your breasts. His other hand is just as brutal, squeezing and rubbing your nipple until it was almost painful. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to slow down or handle you harder, but as he licked the reddened skin and soothed it with his tongue, you couldn’t help but ask him for more, knowing that the harsh, burning sensations were what put your mind at ease. 

“Not even the Force will ever compare to you.” The compliment makes you gasp, and you instantly comb your hands into Wolffe’s soft hair to get his attention. What he said isn’t necessarily blasphemous, but your heart skips a beat once the meaning behind such a confession settles in. To know that his adoration for you ran so deep that he couldn’t care less about offending the Force filled you with an unbearable need, a need that only he could fulfill. 

“Don’t- oh maker, you can’t say things like that Wolffe.” You know you don’t sound believable one bit, and Wolffe must see through your hazy reply because he shakes his head and sucks harder on your breast to get you to believe him. 

“I don’t care ner runi, I’ll scream it to the galaxy if I have to.” He growls against you before pulling away, roughly cupping your breasts in his hands and clenching his jaw tightly when he sees how perfectly they fit in his palms. He’s mesmerized by how responsive you are to his touches, and he leans down one last time to kiss the center of your stomach before he slowly makes his way down. 

“Please Wolffe,” you’re practically sobbing at this point, and Wolffe hates how powerful he feels at having you give in so easily. He can get drunk just from hearing you whisper his name so sinfully, and he goes even slower to try and have you moan for him again. You pull on his hair a bit, hoping that he could see how much you need him, how much you wanted to feel him deep inside you. But he wasn’t a commander by accident, and he chuckles deeply at your failed attempts, letting you know that he was still, very much, in charge. 

“Your lips tasted so sweet, like honey and jorgan fruit,” he waits until you look down at him before he shoves his nose into the wet patch of your panties, not once breaking eye contact with you as he takes in your scent and hums in approval. You try to close your thighs to push him away from you but Wolffe lets go of your breasts and pushes down on your inner thighs until you’re on full display for him. He can see that this might be too much for you, and he wills himself to slow down long enough to ask you an important question, one that he knew was necessary if this were to go on any further. 

“But maker, the scent of your pretty little cunt is- it’s maddening sen’ika. Like the ripest of flowers on Felucia.” His smirk can rival a predator, and you bite your finger to prevent yourself from making any other pathetic noise. He shouldn’t look this soft when he’s nothing but intimidating, but the longer you stare at him, the more you wish he can just devour you and end your misery. Wolffe rests his cheek on one of your thighs and chuckles when you unintentionally jump as soon as he traces his middle and index finger across the center of your panties. You look down and zero in on how large his fingers look, how thick they feel compared to your own. The thought of his expert hands pushing you over the edge sends a zap of pleasure down your spine and you push yourself against him in hopes of getting him to increase his ministrations, perhaps become more firm with you. 

“I- I need to-” You try to form a coherent thought, but Wolffe uses your distraction to his advantage, roughly pushing his fingers against your engorged clit to get a rise out of you. He wants to lean down and bite into your soft skin, make sure his mark is left everywhere on your person so you remember how good he felt. But he reminds himself that there’s no rush to any of this. There was no need for him to make you forget past lovers, there weren’t any, and he didn’t need to ensure that anyone else who would touch you could see his mark, there wouldn’t be any. 

No one would dare, not unless they valued their life. 

You whimper all of a sudden and Wolffe moves his focus from your heated core to your eyes, quickly coming to the realization that you most certainly heard the rather violent and possessive thoughts roaming his mind. And if he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you were getting off on him being your first…and last.

“That’s it baby, tell me what you want. Tell me what you crave and I’ll give it to you. I’d give you my heart if you asked, love. I’ll give you anything, just tell me what you need.” Wolffe turns his head and kisses down your thigh, breathing promises against the edge of your panties as he continues to tease you with his fingers. He can feel you growing wetter with each word that falls from his lips, and he shuts his eyes for a second to get a grip on himself before he looks at you again. Like earlier, he prays that if you can read his mind, then you would focus more on the part of him that’s willing to slow down and not the deepest desires in his heart begging to be let out to bring you to your knees. He wants you to know that he would never hurt you, that he’d take care of you until his dying breath, because he isn’t sure what he’d do if you told him that his need for you is beginning to scare you. 

“Your mouth…fingers, fuck- anything Wolffe just…just touch me. Please!” You try to move lower to feel his whole palm against your clothed pussy but Wolffe shakes his head and removes his hands from you, pushing down on your navel so you stay put and not drive him insane any further. You eye his hands and whimper at the prospect of being at his mercy. There was no doubt in either of your minds that you were the stronger one, but something about the way he pushed you down and asserted himself against you makes you clench your walls in anticipation. 

“I can almost taste you on my tongue, but-” You mistake the rest of the sentiment for doubt, and quickly reach down for him, intertwining your fingers with his own as you plead for him to take you. You’ve spent countless rotations thinking about what it would feel like to be pressed beneath his body as he rocked against you and filled you with his cock, and the mere thought of him kissing you was enough to excite you throughout the entire night. Deep down, you know that you can never force him to do anything. If he was having second thoughts, there was nothing you can do except push down your own needs for his comfort. Still, you beg him one last time, hoping that he can have mercy on you and at least remain with you for the night. 

“No, please. I’m- wasn’t I a good girl for you? Don’t stop, please I-” Words fail you as you stare into his eyes and will him to see how desperate you are for him. When he smiles and shushes you softly, you feel the nerves bubbling up your throat begin to die down once more, and you bite into your cheek to force yourself to be quiet so you don’t make this worse by accident. 

“Shhh, I’m not going anywhere. Believe me, I want nothing more than to drown in your juices, your sweet, tender scent as you shower me with your cum. But if I start, if I put my mouth on your pussy, I know I won’t be able to stop…won’t be able to get enough of you. So, little one, tell me the word you’ll say if you want me to stop.” The calm tone of his voice puts you at ease, and you blink at him with confusion until you finally understand what he’s asking you. As much as you appreciate him wanting to be safe, and thinking of your comfort before doing whatever he pleased with you, you hated that he was making this more unbearable. 

“Is- is that really…” You try to distract him, dragging his hands up your navel and pushing his warm palms on your breasts. But Wolffe was known for his resilience, and he narrows his eyes at you as he pinches your nipples in warning. You sigh his name and dig your nails into his forearms to get a rise out of him, but he sees through your act and slips his arms from your grasp. In the blink of an eye, he pushes you down beneath his body and takes hold of your wrists, roughly slamming them down above your head to get you to stop touching him so he can focus, for both of your sakes. 

“Necessary? Yes. You’re more powerful than me, Force knows that turns me on more than anything, but I can’t rely on that only. Pick a word sweetheart, and as soon as you whisper it, I’ll stop.” Wolffe cooes in your ear, grasp tightening across your wrists as he nudges your cheek with his nose. He halts in his exploration, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he takes in the sweaty yet sweet scent of your skin. He groans deeply and parts his lips to suck on the reddened skin, humming to himself when the taste of you seeps through his tongue. You try to slip from his hold, but Wolffe pushes himself impossibly close against your body, silently warning you not to try him. Both of you are aware that you can have him across the room and begging for his life in the blink of an eye, but you keep the charade going, loving the unspoken trust and understanding traveling between your minds and bodies. You’re unsure whether Wolffe can sense how much you want him, but when he chuckles and continues to play with you, you realize that you must have been connected to him more than you thought. 

He smiles as he sinks his teeth into the top of your breast and you arch your back against him in an attempt to feel more of his skin against your own. You sigh in frustration when he rolls his hips against your inner thigh and gives you a taste of what’s to come. You want nothing more than to surrender to him as he fucks you into the next galaxy, but the harder you fight him, the more you realize that he has the patience of a thousand Jedi. With each pass of his tongue across your hypersensitive skin, you can’t help but cherish the teasing he’s putting you through, mostly because you knew that it would lead him to fuck you even harder when he finally let go and used you as you always imagined. A soft growl escapes his beautiful lips when you use every ounce of strength left in your body to push yourself into his hold, and Wolffe sits up instantly, narrowing his eyes at you when he sees the little smirk overtaking your features.

“Be a good girl and tell me your word, sweetheart. I’d hate to bring this night to an end because you’re too much of a fucking brat to listen to me.” Wolffe warns as he lets go of one hand and traces his index and middle finger down your body, halting for a moment at your navel before slipping his palm down to your slit and cupping you harshly. You’re absolutely drenched but he doesn’t bother moving a muscle, knowing that you may not take him seriously if he gave you a sliver of what you clearly craved from him. 

“Won’t you be a good fucking girl for me baby?”

“Y-you’re making it so difficult to choose a word. I- I can’t focus when you…when you’re looking at me like that…when you're touching me so sweetly.” You feign innocence and bite into your lower lip as soon as you feel a spike of heat and danger in his Force signature. He schools his expression and for a moment, you think that he’s going to do as he said and pull away. Panic shoots down your spine immediately when Wolffe lets go of your other wrist and sits up. You’re about to beg him to stay when he shoves your thighs even wider and settles on his stomach between them. He slips his arms underneath them, calloused palms grabbing your muscles tightly just as he leans down and kisses the flushed skin inches from where you wanted to feel his tongue. 

“We’ve waited this long, I think we can hold off a bit more.” Wolffe looks at you with nothing but hunger and lust storming in his eyes, and you wonder briefly how he manages to keep you still with such a gaze, especially with his unnaturally gray orb that holds little to no emotion. Then again, it must have been how dominating he was without even trying. You gulp nervously when he shoves his nose into the meat of your thigh and takes a long whiff of your sweaty and salty skin. You’re practically vibrating with need, but he pays you no mind as he continues to explore your body, hands keeping you motionless beneath him to remind you that he was very much in charge. You can’t think straight and you blame the demanding Force signature slowly taking over you the more you submit to him. 

It’s not until he stops leaving wet kisses across the expanse of your skin that your eyes shine with recognition. You whimper at the sweet yet rough touches, and as Wolffe looks up from in between your thighs and holds your gaze, you can’t help but gasp at the predatory demeanor he was exuding. You part your lips to try and verbalize the word that suddenly came into your mind, but you can’t find your voice, incapable of forming so much as a coherent thought. 

“Hmm, I know that look. Tell me your safe word.” Wolffe teases as he nudges your knee with his nose and sticks his tongue out to lick the shivering muscles. You grab for the bed sheets and tug on them in an attempt to ground yourself before you completely lose your mind. Wolffe doubles down on you, moving closer to your heated core and leaning down when you don’t answer him right away. 

“It’s- uhh…” You forget whatever you’re about to say when you feel his lips leave the softest of kisses at the top of your mound. He chuckles and pulls away as soon as you buck your hips against him to feel his mouth on you again. Shaking his head in amusement, Wolffe decides to stop his torturing and rest his cheek against your hip, and if you had half a functioning brain cell, you would see how difficult it was for him to keep himself in check and not descend on your cunt like a starved man. 

“Go on, I won’t judge you sarad’ika. If it’s easy to remember, then it’s perfect.” Wolffe can smell your arousal, and he wets his lips to take in your scent, hoping that his tongue can catch anything from you to satiate his terrifying need for you. He soothes your legs, massaging them back and forth until he feels you melt at his touch. A part of him knows he’s being cruel, that you deserve some respite before he really takes you apart, but the bit of him that longed to keep this game going is beyond pleased with how easily you surrender to him, how little he has to do to make you fall at his knees. 

He’s close to warning you again when you break the silence of the room and whisper a word he never thought he’d hear fall from your lips, let alone come to mind as you begged him to take whatever he wants from you.  

“Riduur.”

The air is thick with unspoken feelings, and neither of you dare to admit the heavy implications behind such a simple word. 

Wolffe can tell that it took every ounce of bravery in your soul to admit this to him, and he hates that you look almost fearful of his reaction, as if he would ever deny you anything. He stops his teasing altogether, and smiles at you, knowing that anything he says might break the rhythm you’ve set and cause you to pull away from him. Leaning down, Wolffe kisses your thigh one more time before moving down the cot to get more comfortable between your legs. 

You’re not sure what to make of the soft gesture and calm expression meeting you, and you sigh in relief once you shut your eyes and relish in the Force signature blanketing you with comfort and serenity. As they flutter open once more, you look down and furrow your eyebrows when you notice that his smile only widened from a second ago. Afraid he’ll comment on your choice and embarrass you, you turn to the side and whine at him, praying to the maker that he doesn’t mock you. 

“You said you wouldn’t tease me about it.”

“I won’t cyare, we’ll talk about this later.” If Wolffe can tell that you’re beyond embarrassed of what you just said to him, he ignores it and shakes his head frantically to let you know that he wasn’t trying to tease you about such a confession. 

“But for now, I need to taste you.” No other warning is offered to you as Wolffe descends down on your wet cunt and lays his tongue flat against your slit. As soon as he parts your folds and shoves his tongue into your pussy, Wolffe feels as if all the stars in the universe burned on his lips, their ashes seeping through his skin and making him yearn for more. 

More of you. 

He knows he should try and control himself, not get carried out now that you were at his mercy and trusting him with the most precious part of you. But as your slick drenches him, Wolffe gets greedy and pulls you closer, growling into you as he expertly licks against your engorged clit and tastes you on his tongue. Wolffe thinks you’re growing hotter and wetter at his ministrations, but he finds that he doesn’t really care, not when you were groaning and screaming his name in ecstasy as you let him drown in your juices. He opens his eyes and raises his focus to your features, his heart threatening to leap out of his chest when he finds you too far gone to meet his gaze. 

Wolffe is sure he has not seen a more beautiful marvel than the sight of you coming undone at his touch, and he hopes that he is able to commit your pleasure to memory when he finally fills you with his cock and claims you. The thought of being a mere moment closer to fulfilling both of your desires sends him into a spiral and he sucks harder until you arch your back and let out a silent scream. 

An instant zap of lightning courses down your spine and forces you to push yourself into his mouth until the pain becomes pleasure. He growls and adjusts his hold on you, pressing one palm over your stomach to keep you from writhing beneath him while the other hand reaches up and toys with your sensitive nipple. You moan his name shamelessly and reach down to comb your hands into his hair, hoping that he could see how desperate you are to feel him pleasure you. 

As soon as you tug on his dark locks, Wolffe sucks harshly on your clit one last time to savor the taste of you before reluctantly dragging himself away from your cunt. He licks his lips and hums when he tastes more of your juices on his tongue. He watches you closely, relishing in how breathless you are when he barely just started. You try to reach for him again but Wolffe doesn’t bother for any more warnings, waiting until your fingers caress his cheek before he tilts his head to the side and bites your wrist. You whimper as the sting his teeth leave behind when he lets go and kisses the reddened skin, licking your palm to silence you into submission. 

“I’ve thought of nothing else since I met you.” Wolffe confesses, lifting his body off of you as he makes his way up your body and leaves a trail of wet kisses over every inch of you. He takes his sweet time, alternating between soft nips and harsh bites to any place he desires until he feels you growing restless once more. He can tell that it’s taking a great deal of patience and control on your part to remain as he wants you, to not reach out for him again out of fear of causing him to slow down even more. He’s more pent up than ever, and he can feel your muscles buzzing with energy as they prepared to take the onslaught that was his desperation. When you throw your head back and whimper his name to snap him out of whatever haze he fell under, Wolffe chuckles and zeroes in on the dip of your hips, slipping one hand beneath your body and lifting you off of the cot high enough so he can reach the untouched skin he wished to leave his mark on. As soon as he bites down on your body, you twist and turn beneath him, fisting your hands into the sheets around you to prevent yourself from sinking your nails into his arms. 

Even as you shut your eyes, his Force signature threatens to push you into a sensory overload, but you remain steadfast and focus on the warmer side of the aura, afraid that your distraction grows and deters you from giving the two of you what you have been praying for since many rotations. As much as you relished the intense yet calm, flickering signature that Wolffe emitted whenever you were in battle, you preferred him as he was now.

Inflamed. Unhinged. Dominant. 

“I’d lie awake every night wishing I was in between your thighs, kissing you,” it was almost threatening the way he unveiled his desires to you, as if he was promising you that he was going to take you apart piece by piece, and look forward to every second of it, “scenting you,” Wolffe nudges the side of your breast with his nose, not caring for how filthy the action is as he takes in a deep breath and hums in approval, the scent of you pushing him into the most pleasurable mandess, “marking you,” he takes a nipple in between his teeth and rolls his tongue around it roughly while tugging it far enough for him to take a good look at what he’s doing to you, eyes piercing your own until you prayed for him to touch you were you most wanted him, “hmm, fucking you till you screamed my name.” he breathes those last words against the goosebumps erupting across your skin, and it’s in that moment that you realize Wolffe was never trying to toy with you, or even sweet talking  you until you were soaking wet. No. 

He was voicing every fantasy that has overtaken his mind and making it known to the air so he was sure this was real, that he was here, with you, caressing your body, which he now understood, belonged to him. 

“Wolffe, I need you.” You plead again, and allow your own Force signature to flutter near his own in hopes of letting him feel how desperate you were for any part of him. When he shivers and sucks harshly on your nipple while pinching the other a little more violently than before, you know that he recognizes what it is you’re doing to him. You expect him to warn you again, perhaps remove himself from you until you obey his command before returning his touches. But Wolffe does neither of those things, and instead kisses the bruises beginning to form across your skin until the reddened marks aren’t as terrifying as before. You wait for him, allow him to do whatever he wishes, knowing that he needs to feed his desires before delving into your own. 

“What do you need mesh’la? My fingers…or my mouth?” The gruff tone of his voice is unnerving, and you clench your thighs tightly as more slick drenches your sheets and makes known your unbearable need for the man cornering you against your bed. You want to respond to him, but like before, Wolffe doesn’t give you any respite, and continues to map every dip and every scar across your body with his lips, all the while looking directly into your eyes and daring you to look elsewhere. You muster up as much energy and focus as your mind allows you to and push into his mind the dreams that have plagued you ever since you met him. Wolffe hisses, and you’re not sure if he does so out of pain or pleasure, but you feel the effect you have on him when he grasp your legs tightly and squeezes your muscles until you were sure an imprint of his fingers would appear the following morning. You don’t once look away from him as you push more memories of your desires into his mind’s eye, sobbing his name sweetly as images of the two of you, in the most unholy and compromising positions make themselves known to him. 

Wolffe shouldn’t be surprised, his own thoughts reflected the scenes unfolding in his mind, but he still finds it slightly shocking that you conjured up such indescribable dreams without the familiarity of another’s body. 

“Kriffing hells, you- you wanted me this badly, cyare?” When you don’t respond, Wolffe slips one hand across your sternum until it rests around your throat, and he pushes you down into your damp sheets as he trails his other hand down your body and cups your sex. You twitch and whimper beneath him, but Wolffe doesn’t pay you any mind as he repeats his question again. 

“Fucking tell me, what do you want?”

“Either…b-both. Just touch me, show me how much you want me. I d-don’t care what you do to me Wolffe, I just want you. Make me forget everything…make me forget the war, Commander.” It was one thing to hear you moan like a wild animal in heat, but something about the way you breathed those last two requests shakes Wolffe to his core. He is not completely sure whether you know what you just asked him, and he gets the sense that such words could have only made themselves known if you were truly so desperate to have him, needy enough to give him complete control over you, not for your own satisfaction only, but for his as well. 

“With pleasure sweetheart,” Wolffe gazes into your tear-filled orbs as he finally, finally, gives into you. His eyes don’t waver once as he rubs your clit softly to get his fingers wet. It’s hot and hard beneath his touch, and Wolffe wants nothing more than to look down at your cunt and commit to memory the sight of your engorged clit as it trembled at his touch, but he knows he would regret not keeping his attention on your features as they changed with every little caress he offered you. 

“Ohh…oh gods-” You arch your back at an uncomfortable angle, and Wolffe tightens the hold he has on your neck when you cover your mouth with your hands to keep quiet. A part of him understands why you must refrain from making too much noise. It wouldn’t do either of you any good if someone was alerted to your activities and interrupted you. But he finds that he doesn’t really care if you were found in such a compromising position. In fact, Wolffe straightens his back and feels his chest expand with pride when he realizes that he, very much, wishes to make you scream his name until the whole of Coruscant knew who was coaxing pleasure from your untouched, unclaimed body. 

“None of that, I want to hear you beg for me. Beg for me to give you what you want…what this pretty cunt needs.” Wolffe leans down and growls at you until your eyes flutter open. He sees your eyes get lost to the pleasure he was literally forcing out of you, and when he sees the gears shifting in your mind at his command, he bites his lower lip and smirks at you as parts the lips of your pussy and sinks his middle finger as deep inside you as he can without hurting you. 

He gauges your reaction, wanting to ensure that you were neither uncomfortable nor in pain at the familiarity with which he was touching you. He doesn’t move a muscle, afraid that you aren’t wet enough for his thick finger. He looks into your eyes and watches as they glaze over with some unknown spirit, and before he can ask you if he was hurting you, you sigh his name like the two of you have been doing this for eons, hands moving from your mouth to his forearm and grabbing them to have some semblance of control. Wolffe swears as your nails sink into his skin, and the thought that he would walk around the following day with the mark of your fingers on his arms makes his cock twitch to life. He wonders briefly if you would be willing to mark him with your teeth and your fingers as he did to you, but the curiosity evaporates when you manage to form a coherent thought and respond to him. 

“Wolffe, please…please touch me. I need you s-so badly. I’ve wanted you for so long, t-touched myself every night pretending it- it was your fingers making me cry till I came…till I was shaking with need for you. Please Wolffe, I- ahhh fuck!” Your cries are ripped from your throat as Wolffe quickly leans over your body and spits on his hand and your cunt. You groan at the filthy sound of his actions, and look down just in time to see him shove two fingers past your folds and into your cunt. Your heart threatens to leap out of your chest as Wolffe pushes his fingers deep inside you, and just when you think you can’t feel more full, he begins to curl the tips of his digits and rub the deepest, hottest part of you. You can’t find your voice, and the thought that Wolffe was staking claim on every untouched part of you almost sends you over the edge then and there. 

Wolffe barely manages to keep himself together. The sounds of your pleasure ring inside his mind and he finally allows himself to look down to where he’s filling you. The sight that meets him almost makes him lose his rhythm but he remains as he is, thrusting his fingers into your pussy with determination. Your juices flow easily down the palm of his hand and against the bed sheets, and Wolffe finds it remarkable that he hasn’t been touching you so intimately for so long and yet you were so affected by him. He can vaguely hear you calling out for him, but he doesn’t try to listen to your words, not when your cunt wept for him so sweetly and showed him how much you craved him. It’s only when you dig your fingers into his muscles that he snaps his attention back to you again, and as soon as he meets your eyes, he buckles forward from the sheer strength of your Force signature. 

He’s not sure what’s happening, whether you’re pulling him in deeper without realizing, or whether you purposely brought him closer to you to feel his skin as it slid against your own, but Wolffe thanks the maker that he was trained to multitask for so long, because he’s sure he would have been distracted by the heat and desperate veil blanketing him had he been shiny. He continues to move his fingers in and out of you, finding the soft, spongy walls of your pussy as they squeeze him tightly more alluring than he ever dreamt. He groans your name and begs you to come for him when he thinks of what you must feel like wrapped around his cock, and pulling him in deeper into your womb. 

Fuck, he really wanted to sink his cock into your pussy, shove his hard, leaking dick so deep inside you until you can taste his cum in your throat. Wolffe desperately wished he could just take you then and there, but he knew that he would be hurting you if he didn’t prepare you to take him first.  

Do it, please. M-make me scream.

The breathless whispers filling his mind push Wolffe into a frenzy, and he loosens the hold he has on your jugular just as he begins to fuck you with his fingers like a madman. He holds his breath as he pushes his digits into your pussy with an unthinkable force, occasionally shaking his head to rid his mind of the onslaught of images you continue pushing into him through the Force. He’s as hard as beskar, and he hates that it’s mostly due your willingness to use the Force in such an unholy way to show him how much you crave him. Your lips part as you feel a strange sensation growing in the depths of your stomach, and as you’re about to scream Wolffe’s name, he lets go of your throat and clamps his palm hard against your mouth to prevent you from making any more noise. He shushes you sweetly and warns you with a curious eyebrow, and when he’s sure you’ll be mindful of your noises, he lets go and fists his hand into the sheets near your head. He can barely hold his weight off of you, arm shaking from how hard he’s trying to not fall on top of you. But just as quickly, you begin to moan and whimper his name again, making Wolffe shake his head with disapproval as he forces you to part your lips so he can push three fingers into your mouth. You bite down hard on his fingers, but Wolffe doesn’t mind the pain stringing across his hand, not when he could feel you growing closer to orgasm, pleasure that he was pushing you towards. 

Him and no one else. 

“That’s it baby, you’re so close.Your pussy is squeezing the fuck out of my fingers…go on ner jetii’ika, I know you want to cum for me. Please cyare, let me feel you drench me…let me- fuck…let me see you cum for me.” He’s as breathless as you, his eyes lighting with fire the second he looks down and sees your hips attempt to buck against his movement. He can feel how close you are to coming, can feel your walls clenching tightly around him as your cunt threatens him with your slick. Wolffe wishes he can go down on you, but he doesn’t want to drag you away when you’re so close to finally falling apart for him. The need to taste you is slowly beginning to outgrow his desire to pleasure you, and Wolffe growls lowly above you as he picks up the speed and curls his fingers while driving his digits quickly into your pussy. You’re a mess beneath him, and from the way you continue to whisper his name while you show him memories of your dreams without any particular order or coherence, Wolffe would think he was pushing you into a sensory overload, so much so that you weren’t able to keep a proper hold on what you were doing to him anymore. 

“Give me what’s mine sen’ika, your pleasure…your pleas…your sweet cries. Go on mesh’la, mark me with your cum. Claim me for your own.” The urging words wrap around your body like an invisible rope, and you feel tears roll down your cheek as Wolffe doesn’t let up and continues to shove his fingers into your slit with the promise of blinding you with indescribable pleasure. You push your head back as you feel the knot deep in your stomach begin to unravel, and you can do nothing but silently cry for Wolffe as he leans down and licks the river of tears from your sweaty skin. The intimate action reminds you of how much the Commander above you yearns to taste you, and it’s only when he whispers the next few words in your ear that you finally come undone for him. 

“Cum for me General. Now.” There is a spike of something dangerous in his Force signature, and as his hoarse voice floats into your ear, you feel yourself fall to the pleasure his hands are bringing to you, silently whispering his name as you cease to breathe and come on his fingers. 

“W-wolffe…I-” The words die in your throat as you give yourself completely to him, unable to move a single muscle as Wolffe fucks you through your orgasm. You push your cheek into his lips, silently begging him to look upon you as he took what he wanted and brought you pleasure in return. Wolffe somehow senses that you want him to look at you, and he returns his hand around your throat once more, tightly grasping the length of your skin until he can feel you straining to expand your lungs with air. He gazes upon your body as it writhes beneath him, and he bites into his lower lip while he roams his eyes across the expanse of your muscles, chest swelling with pride at the knowledge that he was the one coaxing every bit of pleasure from your innocent soul. If he thought you were beautiful before, he wasn’t sure what word could describe the way you looked in that moment. 

Fuck, you were ethereal. 

“Kriffing hell, if only you could see yourself now General. You look so fucking beautiful when you cum cyar’ika. And the sounds you make…I won’t ever forget them, not in here, and definitely not out there. Come on sweetheart, be a good little jetii’ika and cum for me again.” Wolffe talks you through your pleasure, torn between keeping his eyes on your contorting expression as it turns heated, and your sweet cunt as it squelches the harder he thrusts his digits inside you. You’re unaware of how harsh your touches are becoming against Wolffe’s arms but he doesn’t care that you’re almost drawing blood, knowing that every violent mark you leave on him is more than worth the pain. He huffs in disbelief at the wetness drenching his arms and thighs, but doesn’t bother to stop, wanting you to come around him again and wet him with your sweet juices. 

“Ahhh I- too much…” You finally manage to flutter your eyes open and look at him, gasping with desire when you notice the way he’s gazing down at you. Had you not known Wolffe and trusted him with your life, you would have feared the look you found in his eyes. True to his name, he looked as if he was close to bending you and devouring you until you died from the pleasure coursing through your veins. But unlike the Wolffe you knew, the one who always ensured you were comfortable and well, the man on top of you never slowed down, and he smiled wickedly at you as he stopped for a moment to adjust his fingers and push them deeper into your cunt until his thumb flicked your clit. You twitch out of reflex and try to look down to where he is holding you, but the Commander doesn’t allow you to break contact with his eyes and he grips your jugular in warning until you’re forced to shift your focus on him. 

“Safeword then...” He orders, not wasting another moment before continuing his ministrations. The onslaught of his touches is almost painful, but you surrender yourself to the oversensitivity in hopes of finding that unmeasurable, yearning ecstasy once more and doing as he says. 

“You know what you have to say if you want me to stop baby, but if you don’t say it…then you’ll only be wasting my time.” He breathes against your forehead, kissing you sweetly as he teases your clit with his thumb and rubs it without remorse while curling his digits against your walls until he feels you squeezing him tightly. 

“Wolffe…please.” You plead yet again, praying to the maker that he gives you some respite and has mercy on your used body. But Wolffe wouldn’t be a man of his word if he gave in to your begging words so easily, and he readjusts his entire body until he has one thigh resting between your legs to prevent you from closing them around his hand. He hears you sob at the urgency of his fingering, chuckling at you with a teasing spirit to let you know that he wasn’t planning on stopping unless you spoke your safeword to him. Before he can think twice of what he’s doing, Wolffe lets go of your neck and quickly slithers down your body, violently pushing your thighs apart to make room for himself before descending down on your clit like a hungry wolf. 

“And now I want more. Come on little star, cum on my face.” His stare pierces your eyes instantly, and you try to sit up to look down at him, but he doesn’t let you, laying his arm across your body and pinching your nipple before pushing you down against the sheets. You arch your back as soon as you feel his lips enclose around your clit, screaming his name like a prayer as he sucks harshly while he pushes his fingers in and out of you at an excruciatingly delicious pace. 

You fall apart in an instant, the orgasm Wolffe is pulling from you making your entire body freeze up for a second before you begin to shake violently beneath him. Wolffe doesn’t stop, growling his pleasure into your mound and flicking his tongue across your clit and against your folds until the pleasure became blinding, even to him. He’s not sure if the desperation overshadowing him is his or your own, whether your Force signature is forcing him to become so needy for you or if it was his own wishes of having you come undone at the mere touch of his skin that lead him to such dominant dreams. 

“Not- not enough…give me one more sarad’ika.” He commands in between nips and kisses, moaning your name with every pass of his tongue against your bundle of nerves while his fingers fuck you in the way he always imagined. He swallows your juices, his heart threatening to escape his chest when he feels you drench him with every second that goes by and every slight push that leads him all the deeper into your cunt. 

“I can’t.” You whine, hands shooting for his hair and twisting in the brown locks to try and push him away. Somehow though, your body disobeys your mind, and you end up pulling him closer to your pussy, the feeling of his teeth as they softly graze against your clit making you see stars. His Force signature is unrivaled in its need and aggressiveness, and you make a mental note of asking him later if that desperation you were feeling through the Force would only be reserved for you. 

“You can, and you fucking will if you want my cock.” Wolffe demands as he sucks your engorged little peek into his mouth and closes his lips around it. He can feel you shivering with the slightest of touches, but he finds that he doesn’t really care, not when your walls squeezed around his fingers so perfectly and signaled another orgasm. He pulls away and collects your cum and his spit on his tongue before spitting loudly on your folds, allowing his drool to connect his lips and your slit for a few seconds before he licks his lower lip and sits up again. The sight of him shamelessly caressing your body like he’s done this a million times makes you dig your nails into his scalp a little harsher than you wished. He moans your name as you pull him up and part your lips to kiss him. 

“Commander, please I-” You try to beg him to slow down, but Wolffe shuts you up instantly, swallowing your pleads and your groans in a heated kiss that makes you forget the galaxy. You submit yourself to him within a heartbeat, allowing him to take control of the kiss and mark your bruised lips with his teeth. He shoves his tongue inside your mouth when he sees how obedient you’ve become for him, silently letting you know that you were being a good girl for him. He waits until the hold you have on his hair loosens before he breaks the kiss and taps your mouth twice to get your attention. You open your eyes and look right at him, finding the gray pupil of his cybernetic eye oddly softer and more endearing than the dilated black circle completely overshadowing his hazel eye. 

“There we go, you’re already so close.” Wolffe cooes at you, nudging your nose gently with his own and kissing the corner of your mouth just as he begins to fuck you with his fingers without abandon yet again. 

“Ahh oh g-gods!” You tilt your head to the side and bite into your sheets, knowing that you really should try and control your screams a little more. The sudden movement of Wolffe���s hulking form snaps you out of your haze and you watch as he moves in between your thighs one last time to kiss your clit. The soft yet filthy action sends you over the edge once more, and you clamp your hands over your mouth as you come on Wolffe’s fingers and mouth, drenching him with your sweet cum until there wasn’t another ounce of ecstasy left in your body. 

“Feed me mesh’la.” Wolffe mumbles as he licks at your folds violently, lips enclosing over your clit one last time to tease your oversensitive heat before he opens his mouth and swallows your essence. It’s the hardest you’ve come so far, and Wolffe smirks as he rings all the pleasure from your restless form until your muscles grow tired and cease to shake at his touches. He doesn’t remove his fingers just yet, not wanting to part from the heat of your pussy as aftershocks of your orgasm force him deeper inside you. You’re sobbing his name in between pleas, and if Wolffe was a better man, he would have apologized instantly for pushing your limits and turning the pleasure into pain. 

But he wasn’t a better man, far from it. He was a man that spent hours on end picturing you falling apart for him and asking him to take whatever he wished from you. He moves slowly, not wanting to scare you or make you push him away out of reflex. He keeps his hands as still as possible inside you, and when he’s sure that you won’t flinch, he slowly takes his fingers out and drags his hand across your sweaty skin. Your expression is much more calmer than a moment ago, but your chest is still heaving with overexertion, and before Wolffe knows what’s happening, you’re reaching for his shoulders and pulling him towards you until you’re completely hidden beneath his firm body. 

“You’re okay. Shhh, you’re okay sweetheart. I’m right here…not going anywhere. You did so good for me, so good for your Commander. Such a perfect fucking girl, letting me use you like this, letting me take what I want from you.” Wolffe kisses the top of your head, whispering sweet words into your ears as he leaves a trail of kisses across your damp skin. You’re not shivering anymore, and he isn’t sure why you keep hiding in the crook of his neck every time he pulls away to take a better look at you. It’s only when he repositions himself and feels how wet you are as he slides his cock against your heat that he gets an idea of the sudden embarrassment that washed over you. 

“I- I’m so sorry. I never…” You must notice the moment of realization because you kiss the base of his neck and apologize for making a mess of him. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, little one. You did exactly what I wanted, what I dreamt of seeing every night for so many rotations. And the taste of you…karking hell woman, I barely fucked you with my tongue and I’m already addicted.” He slides one arm behind your back until he has a good hold on the tips of your hair. Tugging on them, Wolffe winks down at you as he reveals your flushed features to his gaze, and when he’s sure you’re looking into his eyes, he leans down and gives you a quick peck on your lips before pulling away and roaming his hands across your nude form. Your muscles flex on instinct, turning him on more than they should as they ripple in recognition of his touch. 

“Wolffe…”

“I mean it. You plague every moment of my waking hours…and- you, kriff baby, thoughts of you consume me every night.”

The depth of his exclamation hits you harder than you thought it would, mostly because of how heartfelt and abrupt it is. It wasn’t as if you didn’t think Wolffe was capable of being romantic in the throes of passion, far from it. It was merely the fact that such confessions came so easily for him, a man whom you thought didn’t particularly enjoy opening up to others, even his own vod. You barely manage to hold back the tears threatening to escape down your cheeks, and instead of telling him that you share a similar predicament each night you go to bed, the sheer amount of want you have for him preventing you from falling asleep easily, your spiraling thoughts take over and make themselves known in the form of frantic sentiments. 

“Oh Wolffe, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say those words. I thought that- I came to terms with spending the rest of my days only stealing glimpses of you…thought I’d never feel the touch of your skin except in my dreams or- Force help me, thought I wouldn’t feel the heat of your kisses on my body.” You’re torn between wanting him to put your mind at ease and distract you with his mouth some more, and wishing he could wrap his arms around you and let you confess all of your worries to him so you wouldn’t think of them anymore as you laid alone in your bed after tonight. 

“Sweet thing, you could have had me any second you wanted. One word from you and I would have worshiped the ground you walk on.” Wolffe remarks, his voice soothing your heart until it didn’t ring so loudly in your ears. He nips at the bruised skin of your neck, licking across your sternum and purposely kissing you loudly so you can focus more on the sounds of his dedication to you and less on those busy thoughts inside your mind. 

“I- I didn’t want you to think that I was pulling rank, couldn’t live with the thought of you believing I would ever force myself on you. I couldn’t be the one to have started this, no matter how much I wanted to come to your bed every night and plead for you to claim me.” You reach down and cup Wolffe’s cheeks, urging him to look up at you so he can know why you weren’t the one who initiated this. The way he gazes at you makes your heart skip a beat. It’s as if he’s staring right into your soul, and you slowly bring him up again until his lips pass over yours in a chaste kiss. It’s unhurried and gentle, allowing you to savor the taste of him and the faint flavor of your cum on his tongue as he swirls it around yours. But before you lose yourself in the moment, Wolffe breaks the kiss and responds to your worried string of thoughts. 

“You wanted me to come to you? Well, here I am mesh’la. I’ll get on my knees and beg for you if you want me to, just don’t make me part from you again. I- I can’t bear the thought of not being beside you. I have to be with you, please. Don’t leave me again.” It’s his turn to bear his heart out for you, and you notice the shift in his demeanor as soon as he gulps nervously before letting all of his mental walls down for you. The rush of emotions washing over you with his Force signature is almost too much, but you take in a deep breath and allow him to show you whatever he desires. You see images of many memories, moments where he studied you as you fought and defended his vod, moments where you sat beside him in silence following a particularly rough battle, moments where he felt his heart almost give out from how deeply he realized he cared for you. He lets you in and doesn’t hold anything back, eyes piercing your own silently in hopes of having you understand what he meant by his words. 

Oh maker, he- he truly wanted to be with you. Always. He was willing to part with his battalion, his General…his brothers. 

He was willing to leave all of them for your sake. 

“I’d- I’d never ask that from you Wolffe. I would never take you from your vod, from Master Koon. I know how much you care for him and for your men. I couldn’t-” You shake your head in panic, not wanting him to think that you could ever push him into putting your presence above those whom he’s known his entire life, more than he’s known you. You can feel how truthful he is, how willing he is to remain by your side and not leave you for another day. The thought of Wolffe relying on you so deeply makes your heart clench tightly, the pain and relief of being the one who makes him surrender his soul so easily causing you to push back against him. He grunts at the sudden presence of your own wishes as they unravel and braid amongst his own, and if Wolffe didn’t know better, he would think you were trying to distract him from what he just asked you. 

“Then stay with me love, stay with the 104th.” He lets go of your waist and takes both of your hands into his own, pushing them against the sheets and forcing you into submission once more. You widen your eyes at the spike of neediness overtaking his bright aura, and before you can attempt to ask him to discuss this later, Wolffe widens his legs and forces your thighs wider until they frame his hips perfectly. 

“Wolffe, I- ahhh!” He slides his hard, leaking cock against your wet fold, the warmth of his length catching you off guard and forcing a loud moan from your throat. You forget whatever you’re about to say to him as soon as he bucks his hips against you and nestles his dick perfectly against your slit. The tip of his cock nudges against your clit with every small thrust he delivers, and you’re reminded that his length is much larger and much thicker than his hands. 

Oh maker in heavens, he was going to fill you to the brim. 

“You feel that cyare, this is what you do to me. This is how needy you make me. I- the thought of not being near you burns me with a desperate fire that…karking hell, that only you can tame. Please General, be with me. Let me be by your side, let me…let me protect you from this war. Let me…let me love you the way I’ve always loved you.” 

“W-Wolffe…” The way he breathes those last three words lights a flicker of hope in your chest, and you commit the moment to memory, knowing that it would be the only memory to save you from heartache when the time came.  

Force, he loved you. After all this time, wondering whether what he felt for you was anything more than physical attraction, he finally confessed those words to you. The hopelessness you felt through every meeting, and every battle, and every dinner suddenly didn’t compare to the complete and utter joy blanketing you…the two of you. 

“Fucking hell, you’re drenched and I haven’t even given you my cock yet. Tell me sweet girl, tell me you’ll stay with me and I’ll give you my fucking soul.” Wolffe mouths at the corner of your lips, dragging his hand down your body and taking hold of his cock before rubbing the hard tip in between your folds. The sound of your wet cunt should embarrass you but you moan with need as you feel him inch it ever so slowly into your hole. 

“I- I’m…” Wolffe slips out of you before he can dip his cock into deeper into your heat, and you feel your walls clench around nothing in anticipation of what’s to come. You were so ready to have him fill you, but then he teases you again with the head of his cock and you pout at him, whining at almost having him the way you’ve dreamt of for so many nights. 

“That’s it, use your words and promise me you’ll never leave my sight. I swear to you, my heart beats only for you sen’ika…every breath I take will- oh gods, it will be to protect you. Won’t let anything happen to you, oh fuck…I can’t take it anymore, I must have you.” His voice is almost unrecognizable, the aggressive tone shooting straight to your cunt and making you gush down your thighs as Wolffe continues to frame his cock with your wet folds. He looks down for a moment, groaning deeply when he sees how perfectly nestled his cock looks as he keeps teasing your slit. His actions are a paradox to his words in a way; whereas his confessions settle beneath your skin and flicker your spirit to life, his fingers and cock snap your attention back to him, reminding you that he was within your grasp, that he could give you whatever you wanted from him. 

“Then fuck me already Wolffe, please!” You attempt his demands with one of your own, but Wolffe puts an end to your tone instantly, slapping his dick hard against your clit until you whimpered his name and silently apologized for the way you behaved. 

You just needed to give him what he wanted first. 

“Promise me you’ll stay with me and I will. I won’t fill your cunt with my cock till you swear to me those words. Fucking tell me you won’t leave me and I’ll fuck you like the cockdumb whore I know you are. I’ll fuck you so hard baby you won’t remember anything but my name…just tell me you’ll be with me.” Wolffe demands as he tightens his grasp around your wrist, his other hand roaming across your body and pinching your nipples as it ascends to your throat. He chokes you harder than before, waiting until your eyes flutter open and look into his own once more before he leans down and biting your lower lip. He continues to move against you, giving you a taste of his cock in hopes of getting you to surrender your heart to him. 

“I- oh maker, I promise I’ll never leave you again Wolffe…won’t care for anyone else but you.” You claim as assertively as possible, knowing that there was no going back on your word now that you promised him you’d never leave him again. As the promise leaves your mouth, Wolffe pushes his cock into your tight cunt, forcing you to throw your head back in ecstasy and scream for him as he fills you deliciously. 

“Atta girl,” Wolffe grunts as he thrusts his dick deep inside you until he bottoms out, your pussy swallowing him whole and knocking the breath out of him before he can call for you. He almost falls on top of you, barely managing to keep himself from crushing your body as you spread your thighs wider and allow him to push impossibly deeper into your cunt. 

“Ohhhh,” Neither of you move as Wolffe nuzzles into your neck and breathes heavily against you. You throw your arms across his back and grab for him, hoping that he doesn’t mind the marks you’re surely leaving across his muscular back. An answer to your prayer comes instantly as Wolffe bites the space between your shoulder and your neck, reminding you that he enjoyed leaving his mark on you as much as you did on him. It’s only when he lets go and licks across the indents his teeth left that he finally recognizes how quiet and still you’re being. When he raises himself to look at you, he finds you gasping for air, lips wide open and eyebrows furrowed as you force your lungs to expand with air. Wolffe leans down and holds his mouth against your own, his warm breath snapping you out of your momentary haze and allowing you to breathe in more easily. He doesn’t dare budge, not wanting to hurt you anymore than he may have already, and waiting until you told him he could move before he pleasures you again. 

“Breathe…breathe ner kar’ta, you have to- osik …you’re so fucking tight ‘round me. Breathe for me, love.” He struggles to form a coherent thought, his mind racing frantically at finally having you wrapped so deliciously around his aching length. He’s spent so long wishing to touch you intimately, kiss you where no one has before, and where no one would ever again, whisper his devotion to you until you returned his affections. He dreamt of this moment so often that he almost can’t believe he was actually here, his cock stretching your cunt around him and squeezing him so hard from the smallest of kisses. 

“I- you’re so thick and it…Wolffe, I feel so hot.” Your words unintentionally make him thrust inside you, and the two of you moan in unison when you feel his cock twitch and push against your tight walls. A shudder courses through him when you tilt your head to the side and kiss his jaw, and it takes every ounce of self-discipline running through him to refrain from flipping you around and fucking you on your hands and knees. 

“Karking siths, you’re going to be the death of me if you keep…keep moaning those sweet words for me.” Wolffe warns as he tries his best to remain still, but he feels his resolve breaking as soon as he looks down and sees the way you’re gazing at him. 

As if he’s hung the stars in the heavens for you…

“But you are…you feel so thick and hard inside me. I feel like I’m on fire and you…you’re making it hotter, making it burn more.” Your confession sends a clap of lightning down his spine, and Wolffe fists his hands into the sheets to remind himself that this was your first time, that he should put your comfort and pleasure above his own, and not give into his desires. 

“Shit baby, we can stop if-” He begins to say reluctantly, not wanting to part from you but willing to do so if you asked him to stop for now. The way you pull him down against you until his chest touches your nipples lets him know that you are on the same page as him, and Wolffe kisses your cheek to distract you from the pain he was unfortunately causing you. 

“No! Please don’t…please keep going. I want you to fuck me Commander, fuck me like- like you can’t get enough of me.” It’s your turn to order him, and Wolffe has a teasing remark on the tip of his tongue, but like before, you distract him and push your own Force signature against his own, letting him feel how long you’ve craved him, how you couldn’t care if he was hurting you…

How you truly, desperately wanted him to make you forget the pain of this war with his touch. 

He bites his lower lip to restrain himself from sinking his teeth into your skin again, finding a similar need to your own mirrored in his own heart. He’s longed for the soft touches of another for so long, an intimate moment that could replace the violence he’s known his entire life. It didn’t feel right to experience it with just anyone, and it wasn’t long after he met you that he knew he could never share this part of himself with someone other than you. 

“But sweetheart, I won’t ever get enough of you. Won’t ever get enough of your sweet lips, the softness of your fingers…ah kriff, or your wet, tight cunt as you clench around me. It won’t ever be enough.” Wolffe cooes against your mouth, breathing in the air leaving your throat and hoping that you can see the need he has of having you mark every inch of him. 

“Take me Wolffe, make me forget everything.” A single tear espaces your eye, and as you whisper that last request to him, Wolffe rubs the dampness on your skin with his thumb before grabbing the pillow beneath your head for leverage…and to prevent himself from holding you down roughly.  

“Yes sir,” those two words are the only warning you receive before Wolffe pulls his cock out of your cunt and pushes back into you again. The force of his thrust would have sent you into the wall had you not been hugging him tightly, and you scream his name in ecstasy as the familiar pace you knew Wolffe was capable of returns with a vengeance. He growls into your ears as he snaps his hips into you, making you sigh in relief at finally feeling him the way you’ve always wanted to. Wolffe wants to slow down, he knows he should for your sake at least, but the tightness of your walls as they clench around him and swallow him whole with each push of his cock deep into your womb makes him feral. He always imagined what it may feel like to sink his dick into your pussy, but he never thought it would feel this natural, this sublime, this perfect.  

“Oh fuck sweetheart, you’re perfect. So good for me…better than all my dreams.”

You don’t bother trying to focus on anything else but him, clutching onto him tightly as he plunges his throbbing cock into you while continuing to whisper filthy words in your ears. You want to listen to what he’s murmuring to you, but you don’t have the mental capacity to ignore the hard, protruding veins of his dick as they rub against your sensitive walls and push you closer to that familiar, dizzying sensation.

“You’re mine now cyare, mine…fucking mine. No one can touch you but me, no one can- hmmmm, no one can kiss you but me…and I swear on my life, no one else will ever fuck you but me.” Wolffe promises as he trails kisses across any bit of skin that still hasn’t experienced his love yet, and he grazes his teeth over your shoulder when he feels you melt beneath him further with every ravishing sentiment he growls against you.  

“W-Wolffe…” His name is a whimper on your lips, making him pound harder into you to get you to pray it again for him. He raises his head to take a better look at you, smirking to himself when he finds you so lost in pleasure that you don’t notice the deep, slow thrusts of his pulsing cock as he plunged into you. 

“You paying attention sweetheart, or do I need to spit in your mouth again to get you to listen to me?” He asks teasingly, chuckling at you when you finally open your eyes and look at him through dazed pleasure. He expects you to beg him to stop, perhaps tease you less about how easy it was to have you writhing and pleading for him. 

“Please,” you dig your nails into the muscles of his arms and whisper sweetly to him before parting your lips and maintaining contact with his fiery orbs. He stutters for a moment as the dirty nature of your pleas settle in his mind, and without missing a beat, he makes a show of collecting spit on his tongue before pursing his lips and allowing a trail of spit to fall into your mouth. You whine at him only to get the breath knocked out of you when he parts your thighs wider and rams his dick into you again. The light connection of spit touching your lips and his own makes you clench around him and Wolffe forgets what he wants to do, lunging down and shoving his tongue into your mouth to swallow the gasp of his name. 

Something alien takes over Wolffe and he lets go of the pillow instantly, sliding one arm beneath your body to hold onto your neck while the other slithers down and grabs one of your thighs. He nuzzles into your neck again and allows himself to completely let go of his inhibitions, asking you a question he knows the answer to already, but wishing to hear you tell him once more. 

“Tell me little one, who do you belong to?” His voice is strained, and you tug on his hair when the sound of his heaving breaths increases with every push he delivers into your aching cunt. Wolffe hisses your name violently, and the sound captures you intimately and with such familiarity that you can’t help but wonder how often he moaned for you as he fucked his hands. You forget that he’s asked you a question, but Wolffe doesn’t and he lightly slaps your thigh to bring your attention back to him again. 

“You…only you Wolffe.” You murmur as you caress his neck and touch your cheek to his own, the moment somehow overpowering every other one the two of you have experienced with each other thus far. 

“And whose cunt is this?” Wolffe growls in return, grunting against you as he slams his dick into your pussy shamelessly and without mercy. 

“Y-yours,” you respond instantly, refusing to let him doubt your affections for him. 

“That’s right mesh’la, this is my perfect, tight pussy. Remember that baby, remember how full you feel right now…s-so you don’t cum unless you’re filled to the brim with my cock.” His words send a rush of heat across your skin, and you shudder at the thought of being able to have him again, of coming on his cock the next time he comes to bed with you.  

“Yes…oh fuck, yess Wolffe. Right there, keep- keep going.”

“Look at you, already addicted to getting fucked and I haven’t even gotten you on your hands and knees yet.” His chuckle should embarrass you, but you find that you enjoy this cocky side of him, how dominant and assertive he’s become now that he knew you wanted him this way. You want to tell him that you wish he could flip you over and fuck you from behind right this moment, but he drives his dick against your inner walls and pushes you closer to the edge. 

“Please…can I c-cum again? Please Commander, make me cum on your cock,” you beg hoarsly, knowing that Wolffe would fuck you harder if you asked his permission before you surrendered to the pleasure. As you thought, Wolffe swears beneath his breath and plunges his cock into you until he’s stroking every innocent inch of your pussy. 

“You sound so sweet when you beg my little jetii’ika…since y-you asked so nicely.” 

“Oh gods-” The words die in your throat as Wolffe slips his hand in between your slick bodies, fingers instantly hovering over your clit and rubbing it furiously until he feels your muscles shake at his touch. 

“Go on love, cum on my dick. Drench my fucking cock little one. Claim me for your own, I want you to.” Wolffe collects your wetness on his fingers and flicks the bundle of nerves with determination, raising himself to look at you just in time to watch you fall apart for him. Your arms fall to the side as you arch your back against him and throw your head into the pillow in ecstasy, coming harshly around his cock and squeezing him so tightly that Wolffe has to hold back from falling over the edge with you then and there.  

“There we go, so nice and wet for me…perfect cockslut for your Commander, aren’t you?” He talks you through your little high, continuing to tease your clit until your pussy clamps around him and makes him retract his actions. As much as he enjoys the wet, tight sensation of your walls as they claimed his dick, Wolffe doesn’t want to come just yet, wanting to make this last as long as possible so he could get to see you come undone for him one last time. 

“I- I can feel every inch of you, every hard vein and ahhh,” you tremble all of a sudden as Wolffe drags his fingers up and down your thighs, leaving a trail of angry, red marks across your skin as he shifts between rough, deep thrusts, to slow, shallow rocking of his hips. 

“Would you look at that? Didn’t think you’d have such a filthy mouth on you, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Your cunt gushes like a bitch in heat when I remind you who you belong to…s-should’ve known you’re a dirty mesh’la.” The teasing remark does it for you, and you sigh in relief as you roam your hands across his arms and back before mirroring his actions and scratching the expanse of his beautiful, bronze skin. 

“Wolffe, I- I can’t anymore. I need you to fuck me…hard. Don’t be gentle, I want to feel you for days. I- I want to see your mark all over my skin…bruise me with your love Wolffe, please.” You know you shouldn’t ask for such violent needs, but you can’t find it in yourself to care for the pain that would surely follow you in the days to come. You decide, then and there, that you very much want to feel traces of his aggressive kisses and hard thrusts in your muscles as you walk around the Temple and go on missions with him. You want to feel him in every step you take, a reminder that he was yours and you were his, that you finally gave into your mutual desires and took each other apart until the Force knew of your love. 

“Oh fuck, is that what you want cyar’ika? You want me to mark you up so everyone knows you’re mine? So you remember who fucked you till you screamed all night long?” Wolffe asks to make sure you are aware of what you’re asking him. He was doing his best to hold back so far, and although he knows he could have focused a little bit more on not hurting you, he still feels like crossing that line with you might make you regret ever giving yourself to him. 

He’s come to accept those violent needs he’s held in his heart, how he’d never give into them for your sake. But your pleas unlock them in a matter of seconds, and before Wolffe can ask you again, you pull on his hair until you meet his eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat as you declare to him words he never imagined hearing from you, certainly not to him of all people. 

“Yes…I- Wolffe, I love you. I’ve loved you for so long and- I…maker, I just want you.”

Wolffe freezes for a second, eyes boring into your own with an intensity unlike anything you’ve experienced with him thus far, and you fear that this was the wrong time to confess to him the depths of your feelings. Before you can apologize to him, Wolffe takes hold of you and flips the two of you around until you’re straddling him. The new position sends his cock deeper inside you, and you shiver as he experimentally thrusts up into your heat and sends you toppling against his chest. 

“Finally!” Wolffe growls before pulling you down by your neck and swallowing you surprised gasps, no longer caring for anything else as he wraps his arms around your back and plants his feet on your cot. You don’t bother trying to fight him for control, allowing your body to melt into him as he returns his rhythm and fucks up into you with a depseration rivaling your own. 

“You look so beautiful like this, falling apart for me. I- I want to sink my teeth in your perfect skin, have you bare my mark underneath all those Jedi robes so you don’t forget me. Sith hells…you’re pulling my cock so deep inside your cunt sweetheart. It’s like your body already knows my touch and wants more.” Wolffe holds you flush against his body, eyes taking in your features as they twist in pleasure with every pass of his cock against your tight walls. He can feel you reaching your orgasm slowly, and he realizes that he won’t be able to hold back any longer, the need to fill you with his seed outgrowing his willingness to keep pushing your limits and fucking you the entire night. 

“I want…no, I need- need to…” He stutters and throws his head back, biting his cheek so he doesn’t accidentally mark your neck with his teeth and have the other question your loyalty. You know what he wants to do, and the thought that there was still some conscious part of him worrying about you makes your chest tighten with more love for him. Knowing he was right, you don’t ask him to do what he wants this time, and instead beg him to tell you what he needs from you so he can come. 

“Need to what? Tell me Wolffe, what do you n-need? I’ll give you anything you want.”

“I- I need to brand your fucking soul baby.”

The vicious desire lacing those sharp words should have terrified you and had you wondering whether your attachment to each other was a mistake. But you completely ignore the warning of the Force, and surrender yourself to him completely, brushing his Force signature with your own in a heated embrace to let him know that he already has it. 

Already has you…

“Oh gods Wolffe, it’s yours. It’s already yours. Everything I am, it’s all yours. My body, m-my heart, my soul…they’re yours.” You pray for him as he continues his assault on your cunt, barely managing to hold back from screaming for more as he plunges his cock so hard into you until you can feel him swelling and throbbing harshly against your tight walls. 

“You mean that ner kar’ta?” The disbelief hidden in the question makes you wonder why he found it so hard to understand your dedication to him. But you remember what the Republic has done to him, what others often say of him and his vod, and your irritation turns into a string of words that you often tried to forget whenever you looked upon his handsome features. 

“They’ve always been yours, till the day I die Wolffe. Do whatever you want with me.”

“Oh fuck, I love you cyare. I love you so much…so much it fucking hurts. Can’t- won’t ever tell you enough how much I fucking love you.” Wolffe’s voice breaks as he tightens his arms around your back and lifts his hips off of the cot at an impossible pace. He can’t feel any of his muscles anymore, but he pounds into your pussy as he chases his release, hoping that you can find your own with him so he could seal your love with a final act of claim. 

“Wolffe, I- I want you to remember that…I’ve loved you always, and…ahhh I always will.” You manage to breathe out right as you fall apart with Wolffe, shaking with need as Wolffe loses his rhythm and pushes his cock a few more times into your cunt until he comes undone with you. A rush of heat spreads across your walls and you shiver with want when you feel Wolffe shove his seed deep in your womb. He’s growling and praying your name as his hands grab your muscles and keep you from moving off of him. You nuzzle into his neck and breathe harshly when he roams his hands down to your ass and squeezes it tightly as he shoots his cum into your pussy and marks you as his own. His hips continue to buck into you for a few moments, and you almost laugh when he feels your cunt flutter around him and forces him to grunt your name in warning. 

Neither of you move for a while, and Wolffe wonders if you would allow him to remain as he was for the duration of the night. He wants to ask if he can keep filling your pussy with his cock, but he fears how you might react if you knew the real reason behind his need to keep his cum in your womb. He knows it isn’t possible to have what he wants with you, but he wants to pretend that it was possible, that he could stake claim on that part of you until it took hold and you held evidence of his love inside you. 

His chest rises and falls more calmly now, and he fears that he may have been too much with you when you remain silent and refuse to so much as move a muscle. As if you read his mind, you push yourself off of him and take in a deep breath as you meet his eyes. You find his eyebrows furrowed with worry, the expression making you smile endearingly at him before you lean down and kiss him until he softens at your touch. 

You feel his Force signature flicker down, still very much intertwined with your own, and even though you don’t wish to part from him just yet, you slowly remove yourself from his lap and fall to the side. The two of you hiss at the sudden loss of each other, but Wolffe doesn’t waste another moment as he brings you into his arms until you rest your head against his chest. He titles his head to the side and kisses your forehead lovingly, smiling down at you when he feels you spread your fingers across his sweaty skin and touch the scars adorning his body. 

“Did- did you mean what you said?” Wolffe breaks the comfortable silence of the room, and you kiss his chest one last time before you sit up on your elbow to take a better look at him. Even though his cybernetic eye can’t truly convey any emotion, you feel your chest tighten at the soft, vulnerable look you find in both of his eyes. The hazel color of his natural orb glistens in the shadows of the remaining candles, and you smile at him reassuringly as you lean over and pass your lips over his own. His mouth seeks you out when you try to break the kiss, and his arm tightens around you back to bring you closer into him. You fall over him, but don’t bother moving away when he does finally let go of you. 

Wolffe turns his gaze down and takes hold of your hand, bringing it to his mouth and laying the gentlest of kisses on your palm before placing it across his chest once more. You wait until he meets your gaze before you touch your lips with his cheek one last time and whisper to him what you’ve known ever since the two of you were introduced. 

“Every word, from all of my heart.”

It takes a great deal of reserve for Wolffe to not drag you underneath him again, and fuck you until you’re nothing but a whimpering mess. You huff out a little giggle at the thoughts coursing through his mind, and Wolffe can’t find it in himself to care about how wanton he’s being. A few hours ago, he would have apologized profusely for allowing his mind to run away with such filthy thoughts, but now that you’ve seen him at his most vulnerable, hushed him with words of encouragement and promises of never leaving his side, he knows that he can never hide from you again. He could give you whatever you wanted, including free reign of his mind, without you asking. 

In the end, he settles for pushing you down into the sheets and covering you with his body, bringing your arm across his back so he could nuzzle into your neck and take in the scent of your sweaty, pleasured skin. His hands roam your body as if they were friends for ages, mapping out every little soft scarred tissue that formed from maker knows what weapon. However, as soon as his fingers slip a little lower and tease your engorged clit, you hiss out in pain and pull away from his touch. Wolffe lets go of you instantly, and sits up, shoving the covers away from your body to see what has caused you such pain. When he finds your body littered with discolored bruises, and your wet folds hot to the touch, he removes himself from near you and looks around in search of anything that can help. 

“Kriff, I didn’t mean to…I’m so sorry love, I didn’t think that-” Wolffe tries to apologize for his rough demeanor, mind racing in panic at the prospect of hurting you so harshly without taking notice. A part of him regrets being so careless with you, and he hates that it’s a little because he may never get to touch you again. He turns his focus back to you, and looks into your eyes, willing you to see that he genuinely didn’t try to hurt you on purpose. He’s about to get out of your cot when you reach for his wrist and stop him from moving another muscle. Waiting until he’s somewhat calmer, you place one hand on his chest while the other takes hold of his cheek. It takes a great deal of effort for you to move, but when you’re finally kneeling chest-to-chest with him, you lean up and kiss his eyebrows, waiting until they’re no longer furrowed before you lay back down on your sheets once more. 

“Don’t ever apologize for showing me how much you want me. I’ll wear these with pride Commander…and I’ll even beg you for more.” You take hold of his hands and trace them down your flushed skin, slowly easing yourself into his mind to show him that you weren’t lying, that you welcomed the needy, loving touches without a doubt. Wolffe watches you closely, studies the way you slide his fingers up and down the bruises on your body. He bites into his lower lip when he sees your nipples harden at the slightest of passes, and as much as he wants to leave his mark on the skin not bearing evidence of his love, he holds back and decides to fall into your arms. 

You throw your head back against the pillows as soon as his lips caress your neck, and it’s only when he nips and sucks at the skin of your throat that you grace him with a sigh of his name. He wraps his arms around your body and rolls the two of you over until you’re laying on top of him, and when you try to move away so you’re not crushing him, Wolffe refuses and grabs at your waist and neck, silently pleading for you to remain where you are. 

“Is that so?” He asks teasingly as he mouths at your clavicle, smiling to himself when you hum in approval and comb your fingers into his hair so you can push him into you. He slips his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck as well, tugging on it until your neck arches. With more access to your flushed skin, Wolffe eyes you hungrily, wanting to sink his teeth into your soft muscles until there was no doubt whom you belonged to. 

You nod against him as soon as you feel what he wants to do with you, and when he lunges for your throat and sucks harshly at the side of your neck, you slowly begin to buck your hips against him, not caring for how your body screamed for you to give it some respite. No, you needed to feel him on every inch of you, now. 

“Then you won’t mind if I leave some more?” He asks in between kisses, the hand splayed across your back slowly descending down your body until it settled against your ass. You shiver at the hot sensation as it travels down your back to your core, and Wolffe must feel what you’re trying to get him to do again because he quickly moves his digits and settles them across your thigh. He holds you there, knowing that you shouldn’t try to exert yourself anymore for the rest of the night. 

He waited this long to have you for himself, he could wait a little longer until you weren’t in pain. Now that he was sure there would be no one else, he needn’t try to stake his claim on you over and over again. 

“Never.”

Wolffe continues to leave a trail of kisses across your skin, occasionally taking your hands into his own and bringing them in between the two of you so he could caress them or peck the tips of your fingers. You don’t bother telling him to stop, mostly because you were enjoying the attention and the effect you had on him. You don’t tear your eyes away from his handsome features, smiling at him every once in a while when he turns and winks at you. You’re not sure how long the two of you remain like this, but when Wolffe is sure that he’s left traces of his lips everywhere, he lets go of you and moves you down his body until your head rests on his chest. He massages your back until you completely melt against him, his eyes shifting to your expression only when your eyes shut. 

He’s not sure what compels him to do such a thing, but the longer he stares at you, the more he feels the need to memorize every detail about you. He draws circles on your head, and when you sigh heavily and smile, he leans down and scents your hair, humming in pleasure when the sweet smell of your locks fills his nostrils. Wolffe pulls away almost immediately, realiznig that you might think him weird if he continued to behave so awkwardly. You take notice of the shift in his aura and shift back until you can take a better look at him. 

As soon as you look up, you find him already staring at you, his hazel eye almost as intense in its scrutiny as his cybernetic one. Although you can normally get a good read on him, you find it more difficult now. His Force signature was soft, but the way he was studying you was a mixture of vigorous passion and serious concern. 

“What?” You ask, giggling at him when his gaze doesn’t waver, but hardens with fire. It takes you raising your eyebrows in curiosity for Wolffe to finally snap out of his haze and respond to you. He must see how nervous he made you feel because he shakes his head and takes hold of your hand to bring it to his lips. You sigh in relief, and pray that he gets better communicating with you, but when he leans down to kiss your forehead, you suddenly can’t care any less about his behavior. What he lacked for in verbal communication, he made up for with sweet and soft touches. 

“Nothing. I just- I never thought I’d ever have you in my arms sen’ika, and now that you’re here, refusing to let me go, it’s like a fever dream.” His voice wavers a little as he speaks his truths, and you don’t realize what you’re doing until Wolffe groans your name and begs for you to take it slow. You mirror his actions and kiss across his chest, up to his neck and near the corner of his lips, wanting to show him how much you love him. He tries to pull you off of him but you keep licking at his skin, your mind adamant on ensuring that he knows this was real. 

“If this is a dream, then I don’t ever want to wake up. I want to stay here, in your arms…listening to your heartbeat and showering you with a thousand more kisses.” You say in between touches, and Wolffe throws his head back against the wall to feel anything other than the softness of your lips.

“I- I don't deserve you sweetness, and I may never deserve your love…but I swear to you cyare, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to be a man worthy of you.” He barely manages to breath out as you replace years of painful memories with softened touches. But when you suddenly stop, Wolffe snaps his attention to you to see what he possibly said that caused you to halt in your quest to mark every inch of him with the memory of your adoration. 

“Don't say that Wolffe, you- you're the only one who'll ever have my heart. You're important to me, perfect for me…more than you'll ever know.” Your heart skips a beat at the thought of Wolffe thinking that he was not deserving of your love. 

Of everyone you met throughout your life, he was perhaps the most worthy of your affections, not because of the numerous times he saved you or the different battles you led him and his men through, but because he was genuinely a kind and loyal soul. All of the clones were, but there was something different about Wolffe that attracted you to him from the first moment you laid eyes on him. He was reserved, except with those he was closest with. He has a great sense of respect, both to himself and others around him even those who didn't deserve it. He was also generous in everything he took part in, whether it was putting his life in danger for the sake of his vod or simply telling one of his brothers that they shouldn’t waste their time thinking of how others thought of them. He was generous even with you, during those rare instances when he could see through your act and recognize how tired you were. There was no need for him to go out of his way to make you comfortable during the many different missions the two of you sent on together, but he did, even if it cost him his own comfort. 

If there was ever anyone you would leave the Jedi Order for, it would be Wolffe. No one else could matter as much as he did to you. You just prayed that you'd have the heart to tell him.

Before it was too late.

“Far from it mesh’la, you’re only saying that because you’re my General.” He avoids looking at you then, afraid to find the slightest hint of agreement to his statement etched in your orbs. Wolffe shakes his head at himself, irritated that he only said those words so you can disagree with him. You’ve told him so many times throughout the night how much you love him, and even if you hadn’t, Wolffe could see how much you cared for him with each kiss and vulnerability you offered to him without a second thought.

“Hmmm, ‘my General.’ I do like the sound of that.” You trace circles across the hardened muscles of his chest, trailing your fingers down his stomach and teasing the top of his navel so he’d stop pouting at you. You almost chuckle at the way he furrows his eyebrows at you, but manage to hold back, afraid he would misunderstand your amusement for teasing and pull away. You hide your smile in his chest, not wanting him to feel embarrassed at your reaction to his little pout. Never have you seen anyone look so handsome and sexy while pouting as Wolffe, and the mere idea that he was capable of such an expression sends flutters through your heart. 

When you’re confident in your ability to suppress whatever laughter threatening to bubble up your throat, you turn to look at him again and tilt his chin to the side so he can meet your gaze. Wolffe is about to say something else but he quiets down when you lightly trace his lips with your index finger. His breath catches in his throat at the intimate gesture and without thinking much of what he’s doing, he sticks out his tongue and gently caresses the tip of your finger. The two of you are suddenly placed in a trance where you’re both mesmerized by the other’s affectionate touches, and it’s only when Wolffe leans up and bites your finger that you can finally snap out of your haze and remember what you were trying to tell him. 

“But you're still wrong Commander. I'm not saying that because I'm your General. I'm saying that because it's the truth.” 

Wolffe feels a sense of relief wash over him at your declaration, but a part of him still finds it unbelievable that you held such high regards for him, and against his better judgment, he confesses to you what he’s believed for his entire life. 

“I'm just another clone, ner kar'ta. I'm nothing special.”

The shift in your expression is instant, and Wolffe sits up immediately when he sees how shocked and angry you are at the relayed sentiment. He’s about to spew a string of apologies when you beat him to it and sit up away from him. He already misses the heat of your skin and he tries to reach for you to bring you back against his chest. You don’t give him a chance however, not caring for how aggressive you’re being as you grab his chin and force him to look straight into your eyes as you responded to his unfaithful words. 

“Wolffe, if you love me as much as you say you do, you'll never say those words to me again.” The tone of your voice is equal parts wounded and heated, and Wolffe mentaily chides himself for unintentionally turning such a sweet moment into the beginning of an argument. 

“Little one, I-” He shakes his head in an attempt to show you that he didn’t mean any offense by his words, but you shut him up again. Except this time, you’re not snapping at him in irritation or warning him of his next words. No, you’re throwing yourself into his arms and stopping whatever sorry excuse of an apology he is about to convey to you. You slip your tongue into his mouth without hesitation, trying to show him that you weren’t lying or flattering him because of your positions. Wolffe doesn’t question your reaction, arms wrapping around your back and pulling you impossibly close into him until there wasn’t an inch separating the two of you. You tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss, and Wolffe growls in desperation as he meets your passion with as much vigor allowed for him. 

Neither of you is willing to break apart, and you maneuver yourself on top of him until you’re straddling his lap. You can feel his cock slowly hardening against your thighs, and you try your best to ignore how deliciously thick and long he feels as he nudges your oversensitive clit the more he moves beneath you. You finally manage to push away from him, and sense of pride and possession fill your soul once more when you look down and see him chase after your lips to kiss you again. Pushing your palms down on his chest, you sit up and force him to remain where he is until you’ve said everything you wanted. It’s difficult to put a coherent sentence together when Wolffe keeps looking at you like you’ve hung the stars for him, so you shut your eyes to collect your bearings before you meet his eyes again. You’re sure you can get off simply from memorizing the way his eyes roam down the expanse of your skin as if you were crafted by the maker himself, and you have to shake your head for a few moments to get your mind together once more. 

“You’re unique to me, as is each and every one of your vod. You are all special in your own ways, whether it’s your mannerisms, your smiles, your ticks…even your voices.” You trail your hands across his muscles, digging your nails into his skin occasionally when he gets distracted and breaks your gaze. He’s breathing heavily, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re straddling him or because you’re touching him so shamelessly while revealing to him how much you appreciate him and his brothers. 

“And I want you to know that,” the words die in your throat when you place the palm of your hand on top of his chest, and grab his own hand to push it against your racing heart., “my heart noticed you from the very first time it heard your voice.” You hope that he can see how genuine your words are, because if none of what you said or offered to him tonight got the point across, then you knew you had to try harder to get him to see the deep, unconditional love you’ve always reserved only for him. 

“Sweet thing,” Wolffe cooes at you as takes hold of your arm and forces you down into his embrace. He keeps you in his arms without breathing another word, silently thanking you for everything you’ve done for him, and freely gave tonight. Wolffe was never an openly sentimental man, but he finds himself unable to stop the few tears rolling down his cheeks at hearing you reveal to him that you have loved him for so long. Although he knows he would have never minded displaying such an outburst of emotion in your presence before, he’s glad he waited until the two of you shared this night before he broke apart at your unmitigated truths. 

“And it became weak…I became weak Wolffe, have been for you ever since.” You turn your head to the side and nuzzle into his neck as you continue to whisper your heart’s affections to him. You knew better than to reveal such dangerous and sincere words, but you find that you no longer care about anything but him.

You’re not sure how long the two of you remain in this embrace, but when Wolffe finally loosens his hold on you, you push up and kiss his cheek and forehead before laying your cheek on his chest once more. 

“Keep talking like that and my heart might explode.” He chuckles as he breaks the silence, and you roll your eyes at him as you wipe the tears from his chiseled cheeks. He slips a kiss to your palm as you dry his skin, and when you rest your hand across his neck, Wolffe sighs with deep satisfaction and throws his head back, the faint evidence of a smirk managing to seep through his handsome features. 

“What a way to go…nestled between your thighs, listening to you telling me how weak my voice makes you.” You playfully shove him, hiding from his teasing gaze and wishing he wasn’t so quick to recover from the heartfelt conversation. 

“It's- kriffing hell, it's not the only thing that makes me weak for you Commander.” You admit to him with a whisper, squealing in surprise when he pinches your sides so you can stop hiding from him. 

“Is that so General?” The familiar, boyish charm returns stronger than before, and you huff in irritation at the effect his voice has on you. Waiting until he thinks he has the upper hand, you trace your hand down his form until you reach his navel, and when you catch his attention and his smirk falters, you throw your leg across his side and rut against him, smearing the wetness pooling from your slit across the skin of his thighs and distracting him long enough to answer his question. 

“Hmm, there's also your smile…rare as it may be, it makes me feel warm. And your amused chuckle when Master Koon says something sarcastic to one of the boys. And let's not forget the most important of them all…your brooding strut when you have a mission and you want to get shit done. It’s kriffing sexy watching you make your way through your battalion right before giving orders.”

“Fucking hell,” Wolffe moans as he forces his eyes away from where you’re humping him, biting into his lower lip when he looks down at you and sees a similar hunger swimming in your eyes. 

“I must say, there were times after you gave orders when I almost got on all fours for you and begged you to fuck me in front of the whole fleet.” His eyes widen for the fraction of a second at the sudden confession, but his expression turns almost devilish when he realizes that your desires weren’t too different from his own. 

“Oh yeah, well I wouldn’t have minded sweetheart. In fact, I would have fucked you real good, made sure they all knew who can make you sing so sweetly.” Wolffe leans down and nips at your jaw, content with knowing that you were as desperate for him as he was for you. You hum in appreciation at the warmth of his Force signature as he continues to shower you with affectionate kisses. It should have made you laugh realizing that Wolffe’s love language was touching and kissing, but now that you thought about it, it wasn’t surprising at all. The man lived most, if not all of his life, touch starved and untrusting. Of course he had a need to keep his skin against yours. 

You relish the quiet moment as Wolffe rubs your back and occasionally kisses the top of your head. You never want this moment to end, and the more his scent fills your senses, the harder it becomes for you to quiet down the fiery need rising deep in your chest again. You don’t know if you’ll be able to have him tonight once more, and you get the sense that it might be difficult to move off-world tomorrow if you tried to take him inside you for another time. So instead of recalling how perfect he felt as he dragged his cock against your tight walls, you leave a trail of wet kisses to the scars across his side before breaking the silence yet again. 

“When did you know?”

“Hmm?” Wolffe hums in question as his hands continue to draw random patterns across your back. 

“With me,” you hope he understands what you’re trying to ask without you elaborating because you get the sense that the question might sound stupid if you were to detail it further. 

“When did I know you had my heart?” The way the question rolls off of his tongue sends a shiver down your spine and you cuddle closer to him so he doesn’t see the effect his rather expressive and ardent interpretation of your question has on you. Had you known that Wolffe was the type to easily characterize a general question or opinion with such tender tendencies, you would have gone out of your way to chat with him more often, if only to hear his hoarse voice speak so earnestly to you. 

“Such a romantic…” 

“Don’t be so quick to judge mesh’la, you might find me pathetic if I ever answer that question.” Wolffe is quick to respond and the shyness that overtook you as soon as you asked the question evaporates into thin air when you look up and see Wolffe rubbing his face to try and hide from you. 

“Uh oh, this should be interesting then. Tell me.” You can tell that he’s embarrassed by whatever answer he clearly already has, and you sit up on your elbow to get a better look at him. 

“Nah, I don’t think I will. You think I’m romantic and I’d like to keep it that way.” He raises an amused eyebrow, but you see right through the act he’s playing, the flushed tips of his ears letting you know that his answer must have been too much for him to reveal to you. Without missing a beat, you trace your fingers up his body and lightly pass them across his nipples, hoping that you can push him far enough until he finally replied to your curiosity. 

“You know, I could pull rank right now if I wanted to…maybe even look inside that busy mind of yours and find out.” You raise your hand and tap softly at his forehead, laughing at him when he instantly snatches your wrist and pushes it away from him. He doesn’t let go, and when you try to take back your hand, his hold tightens further, a silent, warning demand on his behalf. 

“Go on then.” Wolffe calls your bluff, rightfully so, and you shrug your shoulders not a moment later before you shake your head. It may have been said as a joke, but you don’t want him to think that you would ever do such a thing without his explicit consent. 

“Hmm, I don’t need to.” You smile before you turn your attention elsewhere, studying the rise and fall of his chest as he studies your entertained expression. You know you have him right where you want him when he rubs your wrist with his thumb and loosens the hold he has on your hand before intertwining his fingers with your own. 

“Oh yeah, and why is that?”

“Because you’re going to tell me anyway.” You admit as if you already know what he’s going to do, and when Wolffe leans down and breathes the following question against your forehead, you pull away and bite your lip to suppress the smile threatening to break through your reserved aura. 

“And how are you so sure you little minx?” His voice is laced with annoyance and humor, and you can’t help but laugh out loud at how genuinely irritated he was at your line of questioning. 

“The way I see it, I entrusted you with so much of me tonight. My feelings, my desires, my body…everything. You answering my question would be all I need to know that you trust me just as much.” Wolffe is speechless at your awfully genuine confession and he hisses in pain and pleasure when he feels your Force signature blanket over him like woven fire. He doesn’t dare fight you, wanting you to take over him completely so whatever the two of you now had would grow deeper and stronger. He isn’t sure if it’s his soul being set ablaze or if it’s his body being raised to ashes, but he can’t find it in himself to care, not when you were opening up him so willingly and sharing with him the deep-sated love you extended only for him. 

“You may not have ordered me or looked in my head but karking hell woman, you had to go there didn’t you?” His voice is strained, and you’re afraid you’ve hurt him by accident, but he puts whatever doubts you had at ease when he suddenly tilts your head back and shoves his tongue down your throat. You moan into the kiss and let him take whatever he wants from you, silently praying that he’d finally give in and answer the question you’ve held in your mind for so long. Wolffe breaks the kiss with a growl, pecking you one last time before laying his head against the pillows again. 

“Fine. I knew my heart was yours when…when I saw you go at it with that Senator from the Hadar Sector.” 

It’s not the answer you expected, mostly because you don’t recall seeing Wolffe any time during that night. You briefly wonder if you were introduced then and you just couldn’t remember, but as you replay the important events of that night in your mind, you don’t once recall ever seeing Wolffe or the 104th. 

“You mean Gume Saam?” You ask as you continue to rummage through your memories to see if you missed him, but Wolffe’s low hum snaps you out of our struggling mind and turns your attention towards him. 

“Hmm.” It’s only when he looks down with a hurt look in his eyes that you finally register the reason behind that dinner. You swallow the lump in your throat in anticipation of whatever he’s about to say, already hurt that he had to hear such vile words about him and his vod from those who never once had to sacrifice anything in their lives. 

“You were there at that dinner with the senators, weren’t you?” You already know the answer, but you want to hear his perspective regardless, knowing that he must have had things he would like to get off his chest. 

“The General thought our presence would make the Senate see that we aren’t as…expendable as they believe us to be. We’re flesh and blood just like them. I wanted to tell him that he had too much faith in them but I- part of me hoped that he was right.” He toys with the tips of your fingers as he recalls the details of that night, and you wish with all your heart you can take his sadness away because if anyone deserved respect and honor, it was each and every one of the clones who weren’t asked to be a part of the war, but merely shoved into it without hesitation.

“How come I never saw you that night?” You ask him as you turn around until you’re lying on your stomach. Wolffe refuses to let go of your hand, and you don’t dare remove it from him, knowing that he needed to distract himself with something so he can respond to your questions. 

“The boys and I got good at blending in. Let’s just say a lot of spotchka went missing that night.” Wolffe tries to joke the night off, and you offer him a smile to the best of your abilities. When he sees that you aren’t buying the mask he’s slowly putting back on again, he gives up and shrugs his shoulders in defeat. 

“I don’t blame you.” 

“We were on our way out to 79’s when we heard a commotion at the far end of the room, and we almost headed your way too to break apart whatever fight we thought was going on. But then I looked over and saw the General hum in amusement and I stopped. I heard him mutter something to the other two Generals about how he always looked forward to hearing your passionate speeches. Now that I think about it, that may have been the first time I saw General Kenobi laugh so openly over your choice in insults.” Wolffe smiles the longer he speaks of you, and you look upon him long enough to memorize the soft expression before you look down and hide in shame. 

“I see.” You’re not sure what you’re supposed to say, and you mentally kick yourself for letting your emotions run away with you so easily during that gala. 

“You definitely had a way with words sweetheart.” Wolffe breaks your spiraling thoughts, and you shake your head when he tries to lean down and kiss you again. He furrows his eyebrows at you, unsure why you were suddenly refusing his touches. 

“I’m sorry you had to witness that. It was wrong of me to respond so crudely. You must have found it so difficult to respect me when we were introduced. I- maker, I acted like a child.” You shake your head and huff in irritation when Wolffe holds you down and lays the gentlest of caresses to your cheek. He remains there for longer than necessary, but it’s only when you smile at him that he finally lets go and brings you into his embrace. 

“Believe me, none of us were complaining. You were defending our honor cyar’ika, you think a few dirty words will make us think differently of you? If anything, it was your rather fiery speech that earned my respect, and when we finally met, it was only solidified.” Wolffe reassures you yet again, and you give into the kind sentiment, noticing the way his Force signature warms and spreads over you the more he speaks of his feelings. 

“You- you had me in the palm of your hand ever since then little one, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He whispers to you as he continues to massage your back and rake his nails down your spine, the contrasting touches making you move closer against him to feel every bit of his skin against your own. You thank the heavens that your unruly behavior didn’t make him think less of you, unsure of how you would react if he told you that he didn’t think your actions were deserving of his respect. You valued it more than anything, almost as much as his love for you. 

“You’re right by the way, I was totally wrong to call you a romantic.” You giggle when he swears beneath his breath and throws his head back to avoid looking at you. 

“Kriffing hell, I told you you’d think I was pathetic.” The sudden shift in his response makes you laugh a little harder than necessary, and you chase after him to let him know that you had more to say. 

“Oh no, I disagree with that as well. You’re…tender,” you cup his cheek and urge him to look down at you. When he does, you kiss his shoulder and trace his muscles with the gentlest of touches, “ardent,” grazing his skin with your lips until you reach his neck, and when you know you have his undivided attention, you nip at the juncture of his neck until he’s a moaning mess beneath you, “and so damn charming.”

“Only for you love, only for you.” Wolffe barely manages to breathe out, fingers combing into your hair and tugging on it so he can get a better look at you. He finds unadulterated lust coursing through eyes when he meets them, and he knows then and there that he’ll never get used to the sight of you shamelessly eye-fucking him. 

“I promise I won’t tell anyone.” You tease him some more, and brace yourself for whatever remark he’s about to throw your way when loud footsteps sound outside your door and cause Wolffe to sit up all of a sudden. His arm closes around your form instantly, and if you weren’t so spooked by his reaction, you would have told him that his protective tendencies made you fall even more for him. 

“You know who that was?” Wolffe asks when he sees your dismissive reaction to the footsteps growing fainter by the second. He looks down at you and is distracted for a moment when he notices the way you’re looking at him. He eases his hold on you but doesn’t relax down again, unsure if he needed to get out of your bed right this instant or not. 

“It’s just the temple guards, they come through every other hour.” You reassure him calmly, resting your hand across his chest to let him know that the two of you were safe behind your walls. 

“Shame, we could have put on a show for them.” Wolffe winks at you when he sees that your lust-filled gaze isn’t calming down. He hopes that the rather crude remark would make you shy away from him, but when he notices the way your muscles seem to come to life at the implication behind his words, he regrets the comment almost immediately. How was he meant to function properly now that he knew you were as enthusiastic and impassioned as he was? 

“Down boy,” you pinch one of his nipples in warning, throwing your head back in laughter when he salutes you with a firm, upright back and roars the usual response you expected from the lower ranks. 

“Yes sir!”

The two of you fall into a fit of giggles, with Wolffe making it worse by kissing down your neck and nipping at the heated skin of your breasts. You stop fighting him after a while, letting him mark you as he pleased, until the both of you were sure there wasn’t an inch of your skin that didn’t bear evidence of his touches. He continues to nose at your skin, occasionally scenting you to fill his sense with the memory of your sweet smell, one that was slowly beginning to smell like his own. 

As much as he hates what he’s about to do, Wolffe swallows the lump in his throat and reluctantly pulls away from you, taking one last look at your sated and inviting form before turning around. You don’t notice that he’s getting up until you open your eyes and watch him place his feet on the ground, body ready to stand up and move away from you. Without thinking much of what you’re doing, you sit up and wrap your arms around his neck, kissing his shoulder blades and digging your nails into his chest in hopes of showing him that you would rather him stay the night. 

“Where- where are you going?” Your voice is small, and Wolffe already feels guilty for making you ever doubt his affections. He turns his head to the side and waits for you to follow his movement so he can kiss your cheek. 

“Heading back to the barracks.” He whispers against your skin, reaching for your wrists and holding onto them tightly out of fear of feeling you let go of him. He doesn’t want to leave, it’s the last thing he wants to do as a matter of fact, but he knows that it might not end well for either of you, especially you, if he was seen leaving your quarters during the early hours of the morning. 

“Why?” You can tell he’s trying to make this easier on you, knowing that you might find it difficult to ask him to leave if the two of you spend another minute drowning in each other’s love. It breaks his heart to be the one to take the initiative, but he doesn’t ever want you to think that he would knowingly make matters worse for you, especially with everything that happened with Ahoska. 

“Because the last thing I want is to jeopardize your place with the Council.” He hopes that this answer is enough for you because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to say another word without begging you to reevaluate your loyalties…or his own. 

“I knew what I was getting myself into when I let you in here hours ago. I- I want you to stay with me, please.” Your voice wavers briefly but the request is as assertive as he’s ever heard. He takes a few deep breaths, not knowing how to respond to the sentiment mirroring his own desires. 

“Unless you want to leave for other reasons, in which case I’ll-” You, however, mistake his silence for rejection, and you slowly begin to move away from him as you try to give him an out. Wolffe doesn’t give you a chance to drown in whatever wrong implications your mind was conjuring up, and he reaches back and grabs your arms tightly to prevent you from putting any more space between the two of you. 

“I already told you mesh’la, I never want to leave you again.” 

He lets the words play in your mind for a bit before he turns around to look at you. When he finds you ringing your fingers nervously, he takes them away and brings both of them to his lips, lightly kissing each of your palms before reaching for your waist. 

“Come here love,” you follow his command without hesitation, letting him handle you however he pleases until you are nestled in his lap. When he’s sure you won’t try to move away again, he removes the covers on your bed and slips underneath them, ensuring that you don’t move too far away from him as he lays down. As he settles down with your relaxed form almost on top of him, he returns his arms around your back and rubs the expanse of your skin, silently telling you that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere for the rest of the night. 

“I love you Wolffe,” you wait until the two of you completely melt into each other before you profess your most deeply felt sentiment. So much has happened in the past rotation, most of which in the last few hours, but you put every small kernel of emotion in your exclamation to make him see that you meant those words from the bottom of your heart.

Wolffe is not silent for long, and he lifts your chin up until he meets your gaze, waiting until you mirror his smile before he kisses your forehead softly as he caresses your cheek and neck with his warm hand. 

“I love you too, sweetheart. Now, get some rest. And I promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

— 

As the familiar chirping of birds rings across the gardens below your window and wakes you from your sleep, you groan and try to stretch but quickly find the task impossible to carry out. Blinking away the fatigue from your eyes, you turn your head to the side and quickly realize the source of your predicament. You can’t help but chuckle at the sight that meets your gaze. 

Who knew that the fearless Commander of the 104th Battalion, one of the fiercest in the GAR, enjoyed cuddling into the morning hours of the day?

You smile at Wolffe as you try your best to turn in his embrace without waking him. When he groans and furrows his eyebrows, you decide against it and instead focus on feeling him rather than seeing him. His arms grow tighter around your form, and you hold back from shuffling closer to him when you feel a particular interest poking at your lower back. Force, the man was incorrigible even in his sleep, and even though you knew you shouldn’t, you really want to slither beneath the sheets and wake him up a different way. 

Your plans are interrupted, however, when a loud noise sounds from across the room and you groan in irritation as you reach for your comms to silence the message coming in. Looking at who it’s from, you shut your eyes and relish the warm Force signature completely overtaking each and every one of your emotions. You allow yourself another few minutes of relaxation in Wolffe’s arms, meditating on the rise and fall of his chest as it brushes against your back until the pattern lulls you to peace once more. 

As much as you want to remain in bed with him, you know that the two of you had a job to do, and if he wasn’t back in the barracks soon, Master Koon might start looking for him. Placing the comms on the floor, you softly raise his arm from around your stomach and slip from beneath the sheets, careful not to wake him up until you are ready to go. You push the pillow against him to replace your heat, and let your eyes roam down his almost nude form in the process.

Kriff. You really wanted to wake him up and go for another round before he left. 

The insistent message drags your attention away, and you type out a quick answer to Master Kenobi before you grab your things to head to the refresher. Just as you’re about to enter, you hear Wolffe shuffling around and you turn around to make sure he was still asleep. A gasp almost breaks the silence of the room when you take a better look at him. You knew he was a beautiful man, they all were, but you certainly didn’t expect him to be this close to perfection. Images of last night swirl around your mind as you study him, and you realize that the lighting of your room a few hours ago did not do him any justice. Had you not known where he came from, you would have thought the force itself crafted him out of the most mesmerizing of elements across the universe. 

If you thought you couldn’t look away from him before in the heat of battle, it was damn near difficult to focus on anything but the soft expression he held as he slept between your sheets. He turns his head to the side and you get a better look at the scar adorning his eye. You’ve always known him with it, and even though you wouldn’t change a second of interaction with him, you wish you could have seen him before. You get the sense that he may have been a little more confident, but the longer you look at him, the more you appreciate the Wolffe you knew now. He was still confident, and perhaps even more handsome than before, but he certainly appeared more discerning and cunning, even a little more intimidating. You clench your fists tightly at the thought of ever coming across the one who hurt him. You would never admit this out loud, but you had a feeling that if you were to ever confront her, you would make her pay for the pain she caused him. 

You recall what he said earlier about your rather flowery language when you confronted the senator, smiling to yourself when you picture an amused Wolffe as he stood by and watched a Jedi Master lose her shit. You can almost see the confused expression turn into a smirk as the other Generals stood by and debated whether your fiery speech would result in a few clones needing to escort you away from the premises for the sake of the nerf-herder’s safety. Now that you thought about it, you wouldn’t have minded if Wolffe was the one tasked with removing you from the escalating argument. It would have certainly been an entertaining introduction. 

But just as that smile makes its way to your features as you stare at him, it’s quickly replaced with a somber look the longer you look upon his peaceful lips. 

A part of you prayed to the maker that your dreams were only the deepest fears lying in your heart, that they were temptations offered to you by the Dark Side in an attempt to betray your family, that they would never come to fruition. But you knew better than to hope this much. 

Still, you tried to keep faith that when the time came, when you finally breathed your last, it wouldn’t be too painful, for either of you. But you had a feeling that such a simple prayer may still be too difficult to ask of the universe.

Because now that he made you swear you would never leave his side again, there was no doubt about what would soon unfold.

You were still going to pass from this world into the next, as you saw a thousand times in your dreams.

And Wolffe would be, as he was tonight, a comforting embrace bridging you to a new life.

Tagging those who seemed interested when I first started this fic way back in February: @sunnydaysonthemoon @mrs-ghuleh @mandoleksiak @verdandis-blog @reaperofmen @gotomarvelgal @sjva03 @thefact0rygirl @2amandstillawake21 @ktrivia @sweetangel0069 @zombiesnips-blog @lackofhonor​

#commander wolffe #commnader wolffe/reader #commander wolffe x reader #wolffe/reader #wolffe x reader #cc 3636 #cc 3636/reader #cc 3636 x reader #the clone wars #star wars #star wars the clone wars #commander wolffe smut #Wolffe smut #clone smut #the clones smut #commander wolffe x f!reader #commander wolffe x fem!reader

[dark-magical-ships]

HELLO sorry i’m late the clutches of sleep were too tempting >_< let’s see… how about 2, 3, 4, 7, 22 and 26 for whoever you want!!

HI HI HELLO HI RAINY :3 Lmfao no worries look how long this took me to reply :P ANYWAY LET'S GO <3

Specific Self-Ship Questions

2) You have to leave for an extended period of time. How is your f/o without you for that long? Does anything change about their routine/schedule?

Oh, man. Seto and I haven't been apart for very long in.... hell, it's been years. Since before we were even dating, I think. I think he'd probably be fine but I'd have a hard time adjusting lmfao. First of all, this would not happen because wherever my wife goes, I go. Short of Amy personally telling me not to, nothing would stop me from just going with her, no matter what I have to do to my work schedule to make it happen. Second, she's wrong to think this would not bother me. I can't even sleep without Amy anymore, which the entire reason I moved Kaiba Corporation's office hours around to fit her work schedule. I don't like the idea of spending an extended period of time without her around. Which, again, is why I'd simply go with her. FFF okay well. There. there you have it. i guess. heck XD

3) Do you share a room together? If so, how is it decorated (and did either one of you do it or did both of you contribute)? What kind of stuff do you keep in there?

Oh yeah, Seto and I have shared a room for years. XD We lived together for like five years before we even tied the knot, and I used to stay over at his place really frequently even before that. The bedroom itself is mostly just that; it's where we go to Relax With Intent To Sleep and where we go to change clothes, so there's not an especially busy room. There's a bookshelf with some of our favorite things to read, and a desk with a laptop that basically just runs music or white noise if/when needed. I'm a sucker for smelly things so there's a few scented candles around, and there's my altar with incense/offering plate/religious items. Overall color scheme is warm with darker earth tones and cool blues to balance it out. The bed's a king size four-poster with curtains to help keep the light out, and believe it or not I got him to let me string up some fairy lights for ambience. XD There are some family photos around—mostly Mokuba but now there's some wedding photos too. XD The rest of the house is where the more interesting decor is tbh lol

4) Are there any movies, books, games, music, etc you would show your f/o? Do you think they would like your taste? Are they indifferent or do they need some time to get used or it?

Believe me he's aware basically any and every bit of media I get involved in. XD Most of the games I play, he either plays with me or at least tries out once or twice just so he understands what I'm on about when I start yammering about them. XD Movies and shows, he's often in the room and at least sort-of following when I'm watching them even if it's not really to his interest, although just chilling on the couch and watching stuff together is one of our favorite ways to hang out around the house (aside from gaming together, anyway). Books... I tend to pick up books through our shared Audible library, so I generally go through them on my own only to find out that he listens to them right after I finish :P I think he just likes to stay informed enough about the media I consume to hold an actual conversation about it if it comes up (because it often will lol). We do have some variations on taste—Seto's more exclusively into harder stuff like metal and rock, for example, while I enjoy those genres but also listen to stuff like pop and even country music, and Seto prefers scifi while I'm more into high fantasy or straight-up comedy—but we generally can enjoy each other's stuff pretty amicably.

7) The two of you are at a zoo or an aquarium (you decide). Which section of the place are you two heading toward first? Or do you have different things in mind you wanna see from each other?

Oh man I haven't been to a place like this is years. XD At the zoo, we're definitely heading for the reptile house straight away... but since I'm betting this was Mokuba's idea, we're probably stopping to check out the African animals like the elephants and lions on the way. XD

22) If you’ve ever drawn/written about your f/o, how would they react to it? Or alternatively, how would you think they would react to your blog and all the things you’ve said gushing about them?

Okay so. This question is... actually really hard to answer and I think part of the answer is that it depends on like.... which Seto we ask, kinda? And this is something I've been trying to figure out for like a week, right? So. I self-ship with the fictional character, Seto Kaiba. That's been part of my life since really before Tumblr or Twitter or even Facebook existed. His presence in my life in one capacity or another predates my internet presence, or any creative project I have ever done in my entire life. But how much of that has been self-shipping/self-insert fiction as in making stuff up with blorbo from my shows, and how much has been a genuine relationship—first platonic and then romantic—with the real headmate I didn't know existed who had assumed the blorbo's identity? DID forms in early childhood, and he's probably not the first headmate I ever had, but he is the most distinct one, and likely appeared around the same time I first recruited him as a sort of protector best friend. Talk about a mind-fuck, right? So, if I were to separate the headmate and in-system relationship from the selfship with the fictional character, I'd probably do it be making the division point a matter of what universe it takes place in. If I'm placing myself in yugioh canon and our relationship is based on shared events in that universe, it's the selfship. If it's Seto in my real everyday life and I pulled him out of his world to help me and this is the 20-year friends to lovers wildness that makes up the bulk of this relationship, that would be the in-system relationship with the real dude who lives in my head. Okay... F/O Seto would probably be torn between being kind of touched that Naomi was taking the time to write about how they first came to fall in love, and being kind of uncomfortable at the thought of having some of his most vulnerable moments written about and left where anyone could read about them. If he saw Naomi running this blog, he'd probably be trying very hard to hide how deeply it affects him to see her writing hundreds and hundreds of words just on the subject of how completely and utterly she adores him. Well, he'd try to hide it from everyone else; with her, he'd tell her outright he's not sure how to handle it but he wants to do everything in his power to live up to the things she says about him, and then there would probably be a lot of kissing :P lol

Headmate Seto.... he knows. He's been here all along for all of it. He's even contributed to some of my posts on this blog—whether it was to answer questions posed directly to him or to voice his own opinion anyway when he feels it's warranted (see above). He's frequently helped with dialogue, not just his own but sometimes for other characters as well, sometimes from entirely different fandoms if my take on them is inspired by him in some way (several selfship oneshots for Fenris leap immediately to mind). And realizing that he not only knows but actively helps with these things sometimes has been sort of an emotional roller coaster, honestly, like..... Gods, he sees the insane posting I do on here??? This blog's not even a year old but it's extremely close to hitting 2000 posts and the vast majority are all about him and him specifically. Not the purely fictional or canon Seto, but the one in my head. My Seto. And like he actively encourages this lmfao. When I finally stopped insisting that there was no way he was really a headmate and that was just wishful thinking, when I finally let myself accept that he's real on some level and I'm not just making him up.... He was overjoyed. He's still overjoyed, like you almost wouldn't believe Seto Kaiba is capable of that kind of sustained level of sheer happiness but. Whenever he's close to the front or directly co-fronting with me now it's just. Continuous. The emotional baseline for him is higher than with anyone else in the system; it's how I've been able to start really picking out when he's up front and go "oh, I'm Seto right now" and actually recognize his presence in the moment instead of after the fact, which is something I don't have with any other system members yet. He's just so incredibly happy, it's amazing, and kind of humbling, because like.... he's happy because to use his words, his work finally paid off. Years of loving me but knowing I thought I was imagining it, years of convincing me to write about us and even about other characters because it was the only way he could make me feel loved even if it was just a fraction of what he wanted to give me. Years of dragging my attention toward the subject of multiplicity. Months of encouraging me to talk about us here on tumblr when I found the community, and to even "come out" about us with a few trusted people outside the community in the hopes that one of them might help me see that "hey, that character you're in love with and you've written so much fic about, did you know you straight-up channel that guy sometimes because it's wild how much you talk like him in X/Y/Z situations." And like... ultimately I don't think I really can separate the selfship from the headmate at this point. Outside of the constraints of the universes of the specific fanfics I've written, I really don't think I can really tell where the fantasy ship ends and the in-system relationship begins.... there's just too much history, and a good half of our life was (and is) devoted to a selfship that was basically the vehicle through which Seto and I built and maintained our real relationship because I was too afraid of losing my mind to realize he a real part of me, even after I'd literally been diagnosed with the disorder famous for creating "multiple personalities." That's not going away now, either; it's just that bond runs... deeper, now. I guess the tl;dr is that he's very supportive and very happy about my writing and blog about him lmfao. Actually I think he's even sort of considering starting his own blog to inflict the same kind of bombardment of love and adoration upon me in return now, but he's never been much for social media so. We'll see lmfao.

26) [for a platonic/familial f/o and a romantic f/o] how does this platonic/familial f/o feel about them? Are they on good terms or did that take time to achieve? Would you consider them friends or at least somewhat close?

Lmfaooooo so opting not to take the easy road on this and go "Seto and Mokuba adore each other obviously," let's go with the most chaotic matchup I have for you here: Seto, and Jonouchi. You would think Seto and Jou would hate each other for all time. You would be correct...... but also incorrect. I dunno if I've ever seen a case of "volatile best buds" more intense than theirs. Walk into a room containing these two men and you can practically feel the decades of dislike between them. Seto thinks Jou is irritating, obnoxious, irresponsible, way too fucking extroverted, more than a little dumb, way too willing to jump into things without any forethought OR clue what he's doing OR reason to expect to succeed, and just generally a gigantic headache to interact with. Jou thinks Seto is rude, elitist, arrogant, an asshole, also irresponsible but in a completely different way, too mistrustful, a massive stick in the mud, entirely too serious, an endless source of frustration, unfairly good at games, and just generally a colossal pain in the ass to interact with. They are on a permanent last-names-and-insults-only basis. They will take shots at each other just because an opportunity presented itself. They will openly describe each other in unquestionably derogatory terms to both complete strangers and to mutual friends. Either of them would take a bullet for the other without a second thought. When the chips are down, they have each other's backs. They can work together as a team with surprising efficiency, and will come to each other's defense or assistance without being asked. I asked Jou to be in my wedding party but Seto had gotten to him first. There was a roughly two week period when we weren't sure Mokuba would be able to get away from school for the wedding, and during that time, Jou and Atem were seriously competing over who was going to be the backup for taking Mokuba's place as Seto's best man. I dunno what it is man, their relationship went from "antagonistic at best" to "our antagonism is now how we express friendship." To put it in Jou's own words,

#q&a #friends #rainy #🐉💙 cocoashipping 💙🐉 #thank you so much for the asks friend!! <3 :D #platonic f/o: katsuya

[asparrowonthewind-blog]

Messy Meditations

Messy Meditations

Winging it on a chaotic spiritual journey to the next coffee break…

               When did we all, as a species, decide to gather and proclaim that a vital part of the human existence is a desperate search for inner peace using the generic “spiritual journey.”  One moment you’re fondling a rose quartz tower at the cart in the now abandoned mall that wreaks of off brand Naga Champa, and the next you are a baby fawn stumbling through the dense wood of shadow work.  All the while a dooms day clock ticks above you demanding you to “heal” faster, evolve quicker, let go instantly, didn’t you know we are basically all high frequency vibrating drones now?  

               I can’t.  Yes, I stand here in the face of all the girl bosses, rise and grinders, armchair psychiatrists, gurus, “self-made” baddies, curated Instagram accounts, viral TikTokers and declare, I Sparrow Lovett, of stressed mind and below average bank account, can NOT. When did we decide that doing our best was not enough?  When did I relinquish my definition of what is “good enough” to the discretions of an aesthetic?  Is this the price of asking for help with “feeling better?”

               So now I’m here.  I’m nearly 38 years old and I feel like that sparking end of a drowning candle wick trying to do all the things that are going to “improve my life.”  My face is drowning in moisturizing serum, I have 2 different lotions for my body and a strict regimen for mouth wash.  My diet fluctuates from a devoted raw veggie enthusiast to oh my god it’s fried sugar!  I’m desperately clawing at the last shred of my socially acceptable youth while trying to age with grace before I am banished to my crone chapters. I am treated as an infant and an elder in a world I was promised but never inherited, and frankly I’m tired.

               This is my stand, here in this pre apocalyptic hell-scape, I make my mark and say, “5 more min please.”  We are all just trying to survive to the next break, aren’t we? Yes, I am going to be a good consumer and buy the face wash, and I’ll repeat my positive phrases while I scrub it on too but, I’m also going to stop not letting each little thing affect me. I’m going to cry at beautiful films, hell I’m going watch beautiful films more.  I am going to walk at night for my health, even if sometimes it’s just to the gelato shop.  I am not a gremlin, goblin, feral raccoon.  I am not a lucky girl, and I don’t glow up.  I am a mess but I’m doing my best and somehow that’s okay.  I will keep these little embers radiating with a flare or two of passion here and there.  I am undefeatable, I am sometimes disagreeable, I am forever fighting for my place in this garden… I am a tomato plant.  Side note I am a lot of things…

               I could now impart upon you with some glorious plan on how I shall set out to live my life as my “best self” and fill every moment with “that human” energy, I could, but I honestly don’t want to.  There is no plan, no 20-point routine or schedule to fail. Instead, I want to live my life with a few simple principles and see what sticks, so let’s toss the spaghetti!

Here are the things I will ask myself in the morning as I wash my face and think through my day:

1.       What small thing can I do today to make things in my home more pleasant?

2.       What small thing can I do for myself that will elevate my mood?

3.       What is one small change I will make to correct my negative habits?

            I’m sure there are quite a few more things I will ask myself while I get ready, I mean it takes like 20 minutes to scrub the sleep off so it’s not like I don’t have time. Still, I want to keep it short and sweet but, most importantly painless.  

In the same fashion I will ask these at night before bed:

1.       What went well today and what actions can I take to keep the good things flowing?

2.       What didn’t work and what can I do on my part the next time?

3.       What is one thing I am looking forward to?

It is my hope that while my life is a mess these simple meditations will help me create my own organized chaos.

 *- I’m stressed, I’m a mess, and I’m doing my best -*

#inspiration #meditation #spirituality #figuring it out #self acceptance #selflove #selflovejourney

[klappertart]

how this all started (weeb edition)

This is a preface of some random writing posts I’m gonna do next... about anime... and why I develop a certain “taste” in stories (LOL)

When I made this blog way back in 2011, I didn’t like Japanese pop culture AT ALL. I just thought most anime fan are degenerates, and so is the source media. But my mom made me and my sister watch Ghibli movies in the next year, and it kinda changed my view about Japanese (and East Asian) media in general.

However, since Ghibli is pretty mild for “otaku culture”, the most view-changing media for me is Japanese RPG horror games I found in mid 2012, the first one is Ib. Then my sister downloaded Mad Father and The Crooked Man in 2013, and well. There’s no way out ever since.

My (non childhood titles broadcasted in TV) anime encounter was started from horror & intense animes, first was Another, then AoT, Tokyo Ghoul in 2014. The one left the most impression for me was AoT, it surely deserve its fame today. However I was kind of traumatized (LOL) since I actually hate gore and blood, so I tried to find milder titles that aired that season. First time I actually watching anime was from Crunchyroll App and I found SAO II. It may sounds silly, but SAO helped me forgetting the horror of AoT XD

While SAO wasn’t my first anime series like most people, it did one of the first. So I was pretty invested with that series, and the fandom as well. That’s when I found Noragami which also aired in the same season... and one of the most impactful title for me as well. It was in 2016 and I remember how I read SAO light novels. In late 2015 I also started doing digital painting and need new fandoms to draw, as well as started reading Webtoons = my introduction to Korean media.

Thanks to SAO, I also found some references regarding a famous character called Saber from a franchise named Fate Series. I was confused what’s with the weird names?? But the characters look intriguing and there’s this artist I follow who keeps drawing Fate fanarts (and they’re look really cool) so I tried to join the bandwagon by started watching Fate/Zero in late 2016 AND BOY IT CHANGED MY LIFE FOREVER. FATE/ZERO LIFTED THE WHOLE ANIME STANDARD FOR ME... EVERYTHING FEELS SO BLAND AFTER I WATCHED IT... and so... I tried to consume every Fate media I can found for free (and no, not the H) until I ran out of them and... Installed FGO for the first time in March 2017.

I’ve been in Fate fandom and never, ever recovered ever since. I no longer following SAO, even when Eugeo arc was aired in 2018. I’m stuck in Fate hell. I tried to watch more seasonal animes and some considered “classics” but none can hold a candle from my impression of Fate/Zero. I started joining comic cons with friends as seller.

However, while up until now I still can’t move on from Fate/Zero, there are several anime titles I can confidently say very enjoyable. And most of them are not even from “big titles” (they have good ratings, but not THAT popular), this is what I’m gonna write in my next posts.

#anime #(this is tag for myself) #rambling review

[strawberry-jackalope]

losing my mind again about my car being garbage and this business driving my up the goddamn wall

#I lost the bags to put soap in which means until I find them soap is off the table #bc we don't want dirt dust or cat hair getting in it bc that makes it unsellable #paintings are never good enough for anyone so fuck making those things #candles are time consuming and also hell in general #my ac broke in the car which makes dashing difficult #bc my phone overheats and you can't hear gps with the windows open on the highway #also it's summer here in the south everyone is app ordering milkshakes and that shit will melt in my car immediately #and that means I'll get in trouble and until I get my ac fixed work is meh at the very best #and they want almost 2k to fix the fucking car and we've already put more into fixing the fucking thing than I paid for it #overall I hate it here especially since I have to see the psychiatrist on wednesday and he's gonna be a pain #but I need drugs or I'll really lose my marbles soon #I start school again in two months #if my depressed ass isn't on something I'll be wasting time money and my already shit credit history #not to mention pissing me and tim off bc I'll be failing and on god bro #I just want shit to go right for two weeks #two weeks isn't crazy it's not too much why the FUCK can't anything go right #whatever if you've read these tags what up I'm putting shit on etsy #go check out glass cat emporium and help me not stab my own brains out

[silver-tongued-bby]

Devotion - Part I

Pairing: Dark!Loki x Nun!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!! This is a Dark!Loki fic and it explores sexual and dark religious (catholic) themes, including mind control (paralysis), loss of faith, oral sex (m and f receiving), loss of virginity, knife play, blood play, dirty talk, a dom/sub relationship, and general blasphemy. Read at your own risk!!

Words: 3,668

Summary: You chose to devout yourself to God. But did you choose the right one?

A/N: If there is a hell, I think I'll be going straight to it for this one. Please remember this is a work of fiction- if you take issue with the themes mentioned above, please do not interact.

...

It was late when you finished your prayers- much later than usual. You’d stayed by the chancel, kneeling on the soft velvet of the hassock well beyond the sunset, your Sisters excusing themselves one by one. The votive candles were mostly out by the time you stood on shaky legs, the feeling slowly coming back to them as you extinguished the remaining flames.

You sighed, hoping that the twelve hours of prayer today would be enough to rid yourself of the dream. Walking behind the altar, you turned off the lights. Things were still somewhat illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight coming through the stained glass.

Moving back around the altar towards the nave you stopped, seeing the outline of a figure before you, your heartbeat in your ears as you held a palm to your chest. You tilted your head, blinking furiously in the darkness, attempting to make sense of the form. It looked like a person- a man, standing by the open doors. Must be a trick of the light, you thought as you squinted in an attempt to make out the tall shadow.

Sighing, you gingerly stepped down the altar’s carpeted stairs to slowly approach the form, keeping your eyes on it. Suddenly, you stopped, the hairs standing on end at the back of your neck. This was how the dream started. A figure- a dark figure is what you’d see before it would float towards you, wrapping you up in its darkness and consuming you whole. You’d wake gasping for air, your eyes wet with tears.

You took a deep breath, chastising yourself for your foolishness. You were awake, and the dark mass in front of you was likely a shadow from outside, or the coat rack, or the monstrance- Sister Anne always left the monstrance out after she buffed it.

Shaking your head, you stepped down onto the cold stone floor. Then you thought you saw the figure move. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears as you stopped once more, trying to make out the shapes in the shadow. You attempted to calm yourself down- you were awake, this wasn’t a dream. Besides, in the dream you always heard that laugh- the dark, velvety laugh ringing out in the silence. There was no laugh now.

You pinched yourself for good measure, nodding when you felt the pain, ensuring that this was not a dream. Huffing, you decided to speed-walk down the nave, your steps ringing out as you approached the shadow.

You were about four paces away when you finally saw the glint of two eyes in the moonlight. You gasped and scrambled backwards, the figure before you now clear.

“At last.” A voice- the voice from your dream. It was deep, dark velvet ringing out through the silence. A sliver of moonlight was hitting two green eyes, illuminating pale skin and a dark brow. You could see the inky, black hair that fell around his face in waves.

You were stunned, and wanted so desperately to turn and run but you couldn’t bring your body to move. You opened your mouth to scream but no sound came out, just like the dream. You began reciting The Apostles Creed in your mind, attempting to calm yourself and awake from whatever this was.

The familiar deep chuckle hit your ears. “Your prayer falls on deaf ears, little one. As they always have.” He stepped closer, then slowly circled your paralysed form.

Undeterred, you kept praying, shouting each word within your mind at the presence before you.

A hand came to grip your face firmly, long fingers digging into your delicate skin. “No more of that, little one.” With that, your thoughts were silenced. Held in place like the rest of you.

Your breath was loud against the silence, shaky puffs coming in and out as the entity observed you. You were struck by the beauty of this presence, his chiseled face more breathtaking than the paintings of Christ. He stood tall, before you, lithe figure covered in a crisp black suit.

“Your god has long since abandoned you. All of you, worshipping an entity who simply flicked the switch to humanity, who left once the beginnings had been set in motion.” He let his hand fall from your face and circled you once more.

“Yet you continue to pray, to worship, to adore him. And this Jesus Christ you vow yourself to,” he laughed pitifully, “a mortal. Long gone.”

“So much work, so much devotion, to an absent god. A god who cannot solve your problems, empower you, or answer your prayers.” He stopped in front of you and reached to pull at the veil covering your head, letting it drop to the floor. Tears were welling up in your eyes, obscuring your vision.

“Beautiful,” he breathed against your ear, “what god would ask for such beauty to be hidden away, like a dirty, little secret? What god would tell their most devout followers to vow themselves to never be touched,” he lightly traced your cheekbone with his knuckle, “be pleasured by another?”

His eyes searched yours for a moment, and you felt the hold on you release. “You may answer,” he watched you as you blinked and shivered, a tear falling down either of your heated cheeks.

“You can’t know that- that He isn’t with us,” you frowned at him, your voice small.

He gave you a pitying look, his head tilting slightly. “Oh but I do, little one. And so do you.” He clasped his hands behind his back, regarding you darkly. “You prayed to your god for twelve hours this day, ten hours each day before. I heard you. I watched you.”

Your eyes widened. How could he have known? How long has he been watching you?

“A long time, little one. I heard you praying to your god to take away the dream I sent you. The dream foretelling you of my arrival.” He circled you again, leaning in to speak close- so close to your ear. You shivered. He could read your thoughts.

His mouth quirked upwards in acknowledgement before he continued. “If your god is with you, why did he not answer your prayers and protect you from me?”

“I- He must be testing me,” you said, the tears still falling.

“If your god is here with us, why is he not striking me down for standing on his ground? Speaking such blasphemy, in his own house?”

“I- I don’t know,” you said, a quiet sob shaking you. You felt alone, scared, and lost. If He was not with you, how could you carry on devoting yourself to Him? Was any of this His will? Or were all the rituals, the sacraments, fabricated by man?

You’d been having doubts for a while- since the dreams started. Instead of opening up to your sisters about it you held your tongue. Saying it out loud would have made it all so real. As it is now.

“Hush now, little one. Tears won’t do a thing.” He touched under your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

You felt defeated and betrayed by the cause you’d so devoted yourself to. Pointless. What were you to do now? Without your faith you had nothing, no one.

“You started down the wrong path.” His eyes were locked with yours, a glint of something beneath the blue-green. “I can help you correct it. Worship me, and I’ll hear your prayers. Devote yourself to me, and I’ll answer them. Adore me,” he brushed his finger tips across your lips, “and I’ll empower you.”

You felt a thrill with his words, his actions, and his darkening stare. “What must I do?” You asked, your heart racing.

“Get on your knees.”

You knelt in front of him, bowing your head to his towering form, your hands clasped together in your lap.

“Eyes on me. Always.” He said, and you brought your face up to meet his stare. Before you were fully aware of what was happening he’d taken himself out, his hardened member before you.

Your eyes widened at it- you’d never seen a phallus up close in person. The vow you took promised yourself to your lord. You weren’t even supposed to touch a man, and had stuck to that for the majority of your life. You were nervous, unsure of what to do, how to please this dark entity before you. You also realised you’d never even asked him his name.

He chuckled darkly. “I am known to many as Loki, but you may call me Master. Now, bring yourself closer to me.” You leant forward. “Good. Open your mouth, little one.”

You did as you were told and he laid his thick member over your tongue, the taste of his skin salty, his heady scent enveloping you.

“Use your lips and tongue to worship me. Show me your devotion,” he angled his hips forward so more of his length filled your mouth.

You kept your eyes on his as you started to run your tongue along him, pursing your lips slightly. You took him deeper until he hit the back of your throat, which made you gag, tears springing to your eyes.

“Relax, little one. Breathe through your nose,” you did as you were told, consciously relaxing the muscle at the back of your throat. You found you could take him further, more of him pressing into you as your saliva dribbled around your lips.

“Good,” his voice sounded deeper, a small edge to it. He grasped your head, his nails lightly scraping against your scalp, bringing a little hum from you at the sensation. He twitched at that, and you took note, humming and groaning around him as he began to move you back and forth over his length.

His lips were apart as he moved you over him, his eyes running over your features. The lustful approval of his gaze made your heart flutter, and your core ache. You were so pleased to serve him, to have a God you could so tangibly show your devotion to. You wanted him to use you, use your body and soul for his pleasure.

He grunted, teeth clenched as his grip against your scalp became harsher. His hips stuttered and he groaned, his warm essence spilling into your mouth and down your throat. You were filled with pride to receive his seed, eagerly swallowing and revelling in the taste. You cleaned him off, his length remaining hard as he watched you work below him.

“Very good, little one.” He removed his hands from your scalp, gently brushing the hollows of your cheeks as you continued to suck his length. “What do you say after such a gift?” He asked.

You let him fall from your mouth, licking your lips. “Thank you, Master.” You said breathlessly.

He nodded at you in approval then motioned you to stand from the cool stone floors. You stood on shaky legs and he held up one hand, palm upwards. You tentatively put your hand in his and he gripped it lightly as he guided you towards the altar.

Once up the steps, he turned to you and in a flash of green he held a dagger. He hooked the blade into your tunic, tearing the fabric as he brought it downwards. The linen opened to expose the virginal white of your underwear. He pushed the cloth off your shoulders, letting the tunic fall to the ground. He did the same with your underwear, tearing the soft white fabric of your bra and panties to shreds, leaving you naked before the altar. He flipped the knife in his hand, catching it before disappearing it in another flash of green.

“Present yourself to me,” his eyes were busy running over your exposed skin.

“Yes Master,” you said, moving up against the altar before settling upon it and spreading your legs, exposing yourself to the cool air. You laid back, looking up at him from heavy-lidded eyes. Remembering all the times you’d prayed staring up at this altar made you ache for your new Master, needing him to feel your worship.

“So wet and needy for me,” he brushed a knuckle over your heat, forcing a shudder from you. “Though since it’s your first time, I will ready your body to take me.”

“Thank you Master,” you said again, resting on your elbow so you could maintain his gaze.

He smirked at you and bent a knee to bring his face closer to your heat. Your muscles twitched in anticipation as he lowered his gaze to your wet heat, his hands sliding up from your calves to your thighs, stopping so they could grip your tightly.

“Have you ever been touched here by another, little one? Kissed?” He asked, his breath ghosting over your heat.

You swallowed, shaking your head. “No, Master. N-never.”

“So pure,” his eyes ran over you before capturing your gaze once more. “Have you ever touched yourself here?”

You cast your eyes downwards, “yes, Master.” You whispered, feeling shame bubble within you, your face hot.

His hands tightened around your thighs. “Look at me,” he commanded, and you quickly met his gaze. “Never feel ashamed for taking your pleasure. Worship me through it. Give into your pleasure, give into me.” He licked a slow stripe up your folds, and you cried out, your back arching against the hard wood of the altar.

From the angle of your gaze you could see the crucifix, inverted at your position. Blinking your eyes up at the sculpture of Christ, you felt your Master’s tongue swirl over your bundle of nerves and you moaned, still gazing up at the crucifix, as if you were expecting it to come to life.

You heard a low chuckle. “I told you. He’s long gone, little one.” Your brow furrowed- you still felt your Master’s tongue over your centre, hot and wet. How could you hear him?

“Look at me,” you heard his voice once more and pulled yourself up on your elbows to meet his icy gaze as he dipped a finger within you, causing you to shudder. “Do not question. Surrender,” he curled the finger on a spot that had you seeing stars, “surrender to me.”

You nodded, licking your dry lips as you panted. You were close. His hand was pressing hard into your thigh, while the other was quickly moving in and out of you, his tongue moving in tandem. “Let me feel your euphoria, little one. Let me drink it from your very soul.”

It was all so much, the feel of his fingers within you, the flick of his tongue against your most sensitive part. You were lightly moaning, the sound of your voice and his ministrations echoing off the stone of the church. His eyes were cold steel, demanding your gaze as he steadily stoked the fire within you, the flames licking at your skin.

“Oh! Oh my…” you trailed off, “God.” He finished darkly, and you came undone, writhing against the altar. As you rode out the waves of your high you whispered, “thank you Master,” over and over in prayer, your eyes slipping to those of blue-green below.

“Very good, little one. You’re ready to take me now. To feel me deep within you.” He pulled his fingers from you and stood, eyes roaming over your naked form. He ran one finger, wet with your excitement down from the hollow of your throat to the soft tufts of hair between your legs and you shivered, the cool air kissing the trail he’d left.

Smirking down at you he gripped himself, coming closer to run the head of his length up against your dripping core. You inhaled sharply, your hand gripping the wood of the altar below.

“You were built for worship. Body and soul,” he spoke, his voice rough. He slowly pushed in an inch, your channel tight around him. You squirmed, feeling a sharp pain as he continued to push in.

“Relax. Deep breath, little one.” You did as you were told, filling your lungs with air and he slid the rest of the way in on your exhale. The pain turned sharper still, and you whined, your breaths quick and pained.

“That’s it. Don’t cry,” he brushed a stray tear from your cheek. “It will feel better soon. But I need you to feel the pain. I need you to feel me stretch you, to feel me break you.” His eyes went to the skin where your bodies met, where he was stretching you, holding still while you desperately tried to relax your muscles, your nails digging into the wood of the altar.

He brought his hand down, swiping around your folds. Bringing his fingers before you, you could see they were wet with slick and bright red with your blood. He brought his fingers to your lips and swiped them over your tender skin. He bent to kiss you, his tongue running along your lips. He hummed at the taste before kissing you deeply, the metallic-tinged taste lingering in your mouth.

He started to move his hips, pulling back out of you before coming forward. Your back arched, the pain mingling with some deep sort of pleasure as he began setting a pace. He moved to whisper foreign words over the shell of your ear.

You felt a warmth wash over you, the pain slipping away with it, leaving the pleasure. He came away from you, standing back up to his full height as he looked at you, his head tilted. “Does that feel better, little one?”

“Yes, Master,” you moaned, your hips moving in time with his thrusts. His hands gripped either side of your waist, long fingers pressing into the skin as he continued to move with you.

“That’s it little one, worship me as I fuck you. Worship me as I taint you.” He continued to thrust into you, the stained glass windows of the church framing his dark figure. He gave a little flick with his fingers in the air and you felt a pressure on you- similar to finger tips, gently rubbing at your clitoris. You cried out, and he bent forward to clasp his fingers over your wrists, pulling them upwards to hold them firmly on the altar over your head as he continued to thrust within you.

You were writhing against him, the soft, woven material of his suit rubbing up against your sensitive skin, the phantom touch still continuing below. He was grinning at you, the glint in his eyes that of pure sin as he watched you lose control. You came fully undone beneath him, giving in to the pleasure he was wringing from your body, every nerve alit with it. Your vision blurred slightly but you kept your eyes open, his smirk taunting you as you came thanking him at the top of your lungs.

The touch below had continued as you rode out your orgasm, coming back in full force once your breath settled. He moved to grip your wrists with one hand, the other coming to firmly grasp your jaw, pushing your face to the side. You felt his tongue against the shell of your ear and you cried out at the sensation. He chuckled lowly before taking your earlobe between his teeth, marring the flesh then running his tongue over the heated skin. Your breaths were quick puffs, your chest rising against his as he continued to nip, bite and lick at your skin.

“You will cum once more, little one. Cum for your Master and I will reward you,” he nipped at your earlobe once more, “I’ll fill you little one. Would you like that?” His voice was divine, the dark tone of it bending you to his every will.

“Y-yes please, Master, please fill me,” you stuttered, your hips arching towards his thrusts, angling you slightly off the altar.

He chuckled once more, “good. Now, little one,” he licked the skin beneath your earlobe, “cum now.” With that he bit you- you could feel his teeth break the skin of your neck as you moaned, the pain mingling with the pleasure sharply bringing your release. The pleasure electrified you, you couldn’t keep your body still as it fully overtook your every sense, clouding your vision.

As if it were far away you heard your Master moan. His muscles tensed against you, and you felt him twitch within you. As your breath returned he pulled out of you, stepping backwards to admire your form.

He smirked and brought two fingers to your dripping hole, swirling them in the wet there. Removing them, he traced a line down your chest in the slick, forcing a shudder from you.

He connected the vertical line with one horizontal, painting a cross over your breasts. You flinched when his fingers skimmed across your nipples, your body still overstimulated.

“Perfect,” he breathed, his hand moving to close his trousers.

His eyes falling back to you, he held a hand out towards you. You took it and he guided you to stand, the cum dripping down the insides of your thigh.

He snapped his fingers and suddenly you were clothed in a tight fitting tunic, the neckline low and the colour a rich emerald green. A golden pendant hung between your breasts, a small, detailed snake on the end with emeralds for eyes. You could still feel the cold wet slick on your chest and between your legs- he hadn’t given you any underwear. “That will do,” he nodded, “very fitting of a high priestess.”

He swiftly turned on his heel, heading down the steps and down the nave. Your heart beat loud and fast in your ears as you watched him walk away, unsure if he wanted you to follow. Stopping at the final pew he turned, long fingers of one hand beckoning you.

“Come along. You have work to do, little one.”

Part II here.

End Notes: There will be a part 2! Keep your eyes peeled- let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list.

I apologise if I got some aspects of the church wrong- I spent some time researching but I am in no way an expert.

Want to read more Loki fics of mine? My masterlist is here.

And as always, thank you for reading!

#dark!loki x you #dark!loki x reader #dark!loki x you smut #dark!loki x reader smut #dom!loki x you #dom!loki x reader #dom!loki x you smut #dark!loki x nun!reader #bd/sm fic #dom!loki x sub!reader #loki smut #loki fic #bd/sm smut

[vake-hunter]

Fingerking and Devil lore post!

Spoilers for the Parabolan War, Heart’s Desire Endings, Nemesis Endings and Sunless Skies

So what are the Fingerkings anyway?

"We live behind the glass, the Fingerkings. Parabola is ours. If you want free passage of this place," it says, "that comes only from us." It flicks your ankle with the tip of a forked tongue. "Trust that I am the least dangerous of my kind."

It speaks other names. Orts. Boil. A Spire. Be cautious of these beings and places. Show respect, and do not make demands unless you are willing to bargain. 

— Dome of Scales, Occupied in Parabola; Fallen London

What about the Devils?

"After the Well of the Wolf," he says, "the Devils could no longer remain in the sight of the Judgements: not if we intended to live. We escaped through Caduceus into Parabola, the place that is not; and from there onward. We were a people in exile. Not strong enough to take a place and hold it for our own. Not weak enough to be welcomed as refugees. It was an intolerable time and I take no pleasure in remembering it." 

— Ask him about his memories of Caduceus via The Repentant Devil; Sunless Skies

Hold on, back up, The Well of the Wolf? What happened?

Revolution.

"It was a waste," the Repentant Devil says. "The protests, the peaceful fights and the violent ones. We were never likely to win by those methods."

You wait.

"Control what something consumes," he says, "and you control what it is. The feeding of stars is a delicate art. I had spent centuries in cultivating them, studying their palates, watching for evidence of their responsive growth. I had influence. Now, how much can any Devil say the same?" 

— Ask more about rebelling against the Judgements via The Repentant Devil; Sunless Skies

So the Devils and the Fingerkings met in Caduceus.

[...] 

The devils swarming into Parabola longed for many things: for souls, for escape, for their own deaths and the things that waited beyond each death. The Fingerkings saw their longing, and welcomed them as food.

The devils were bargainers, contract-writers, enemies of the stars. The Fingerkings saw their nature, and welcomed them as allies.

The devils were hollow, skin-shedders, eternally in chrysalis. The Fingerkings saw their capacity, and welcomed them as salvation.

— Receive the story in the form of cascabel venom via The Dome of Scales, Occupied; Fallen London

The Parlous Knot was the greatest Fingerking-congregation of its time: vast, numerous, indivisibly loyal.

It was the Knot that arranged the treaty. The devils would dwell in Parabola as long as they wished, but one day, they would depart, carrying any Fingerking who wished to possess a devil.

This Fingerking before you is descended from the Parlous Knot; it hatched on the day the bargain was fulfilled.

— Ancestral Stories via The Dome of Scales, Occupied; Fallen London

Aeons passed. The devils were in no haste to go. They built furnaces that scarred the land. They traded with Irem; they changed Irem. They searched the mirrors endlessly for a suitable destination in which to hide themselves, but always that goal remained out of reach – until they found the Neath. Until the first person brought the first looking-glass below.

Then they were ready to leave Parabola. Fulfilling their bargain, they opened their mouths to the Fingerkings, offering them transport into the Neath.

But the inside of a devil is too changeable, too corrosive. A Fingerking cannot survive in such a place. The Parlous Knot was dissolved in the gullet of a Grand Devil.

The devils returned alone to the Is, unpossessed, and the Fingerkings remained, trapped without change.

— Ancestral Stories via The Dome of Scales, Occupied; Fallen London

Slightly different text of the above from having certain qualities

With Vengeance Nemesis Ending:

Aeons passed. The devils freely used the hospitality of Parabola. They defiled the land; they let the Parlous Knot grow old waiting for them.

At last the day came when the devils were prepared to leave, the moment for them to enter their Hell.

All the Fingerkings gathered, the Parlous Knot first of all. The scales of its snake-cohabitants had faded to silver and grey; the eyes of its members were glazed like marbles. But weary and eager for Being, the Parlous Knot climbed into the gullet of a grand devil–

And expired there in agony. The devils cannot be possessed. They cannot house a Fingerking. They must have known this. They must have traded on it. They must never have intended to honour the bargain.

They must be punished.

They must be followed and punished.

In the name of the Parlous Knot. For the sake of every other who ever accepted a contract with a devil.

With Escape Ending of Heart’s Desire: 

Aeons passed. The Fingerkings waited. The devils built furnaces in Parabola, and laid down trade routes. The Fingerkings waited. The devils looked into mirrors, and considered new homes, and did not choose any of them. The Fingerkings waited, though patience is not in their nature.

At last the devils saw the Neath. Their destination was chosen! Their escape was selected!

There were so many devils that every Fingerking alive would have an escape. But as a matter of respect, the first possession was offered to the Parlous Knot, for it had formed the treaty, and it had lived into a great old age in the hope of seeing it fulfilled.

But a grand devil swallowed the Parlous Knot into a pit of corrosion and absence: for there is nothing in a devil that can sustain a Fingerking. The Parlous Knot perished, in the sight of all its descendants, down to the smallest egg. And the devils went laughing into the Neath, and not one Fingerking escaped with them.

With Time Ending of Heart’s Desire:

Aeons passed. The Fingerkings waited. The devils built furnaces in Parabola, and laid down trade routes; looked out of mirrors, and considered new homes; and for generations searched for their new Hell.

When they discovered the Neath at last, the Fingerkings proved unable to possess them. To be swallowed by a devil was death and dissolution. A Fingerking lives on desire, and a devil cannot sustain it. It was the death of the Parlous Knot.

This story is told in venom and fury, but you are able to know the tale without being drawn in. You too have bargained everything for time. You have known the devils' side.

With the Impenitent Devil:

"Make no bargains that you cannot enforce," says the Impenitent Devil, when you have framed your question. "We did not betray the Fingerkings. We upheld our side of the bargain. When we left Parabola, we offered every one the chance to dwell inside a devil. Sadly, they did not find their new homes hospitable. We are not easy to possess. Not, at least, for such insubstantial creatures."

The Fingerking lifts its head to hiss at him. He pays it no mind. "How is it our fault if they did not understand what they asked for?"

He does not say the devils were ignorant. He does not say they made the treaty in good faith. He does not say they believed they could rescue the Fingerkings.

So bargains? 

"We always keep our bargains," says the Serpent of the Dome: almost affronted, perhaps, by any suggestion they might not keep a bargain with you.

— Purchase a greater freedom of the place via Dome of Scales, Occupied; Fallen London

[...] But this Fingerking is young, small, greedy. It has made its bargain without being ready for the dangers. [...] 

— An Illusion, Viewed from the Audience via The Dome of Scales, Occupied; Fallen London

The Fingerking is waiting, wide-jawed, for precisely the correct moment to open Parabola to the audience volunteer. Only the right victim, in the right state of mind, will bargain with a Fingerking, and allow himself to be possessed.

The victim must be at once anxious and bored, eager to be on-stage and sure nothing will happen, jaded with London and wishing against hope for some glimmer of cosmogone.

It is like waiting for the guards to leave their posts; it is like waiting for fruit to ripen on the vine.

But here, the moment's come. The victim's longing is intense, their doubt overpowering. Now, now, precisely now, the Fingerking lets them through the mirror, to the place where all dreams are true…

— An Illusion, Viewed from Behind via The Dome of Scales, Occupied; Fallen London

Devils are known for making contracts and being experts of loopholes and law. They are often lawyers and tricksters. They are known to be selfish and dangerous. 

Fingerkings do trick people in order to try to possess them, but it is just as dangerous for them as those they are possessing. They have to be strong enough, through feeding off emotions, in order to do this. It also seems the person needs to be willing, even if they are misled. They must agree to the bargain. 

Okay but what about roses and honey? 

We know Devils tend to roses, they do so all over. The walls of Hell are the only place Exile’s Roses can grow. Prisoner’s Honey is made by Lamplighter Bees who have pollinated these specific roses. The honey takes people to Parabola, where like dreams and glass, they can be led astray by Fingerkings. 

Order Serpentine from Knife-and-Candle says that the Devils did this on behalf of the Fingerkings, as a deal where the Fingerkings will give the Devil’s part of what they gain. 

…THE LITTLE SNAKE asked the grumpiest bee in both worlds for help. And the bee said, why should I help? And the snake said, I will give you one-fifth of all I gain thereby. So the bee thought, and he said, in a far place there grows a rose. And that rose…

— Order Serpentine, Sorrowful

...THE ROSE, WHICH IS CALLED EXILE'S ROSE, has a property of passage. So shall I brew a honey from its dusts and pollens, and the honey shall be sweet, and it shall bring those who taste it, here to your dwelling. And sometimes they shall stay forever. And the little snake was very pleased with all the new friends the honey brought, but... 

— Order Serpentine, Lachrymose

#fallen london #devils #fingerkings #lore #sunless skies #fallen london spoilers #sunless skies spoilers #parabola

[knchins]

Hunger - Todoroki S.

Summary: Todoroki Shouto doesn’t want to follow the footsteps of his father. On the brink of starvation, he hears the call of a witch who finds a way to fulfill both of their needs.

Pairing: Incubus!Shouto x Witch!Reader

Rating: E+

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Sm*t, v*ginal fingering, v*ginal s*x, oral s*x, c*nnilingus, choking, some mentions of (consensual) breeding, soft!dom Shouto, some begging ig, some mentions of sugar daddy/baby, Shouto is several centuries old and is of age, oh and some fluff

Notes: This was my very first request I think??? I got it months ago lol so idk if this person if even still following me RIP. But I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope they enjoy it wherever they are <3 I did deviate a little bit but not TOO much.Censored words is so I can show up in the gd tags.

 Dealing with demons had become sort of a pastime for her, the young witch living in the secluded wood out in the countryside. She greatly enjoyed the remoteness, though sometimes it did come to a great disadvantage. Travelers would come, asking for potions or spell-work, something to help them with their troubles in life. As a grey witch (one who practiced both white and black magic), she tended to be able to help just about anyone with anything. Of course there were a few lines she wouldn’t cross such as raising the dead or directly causing death. She did have some morals after all, albeit somewhat controversial ones.

 Whenever she needed an item that she simply had no access to, then she would call upon demons to aid her in her work. The first couple times she had been a little reluctant and she would be lying if she didn’t say she had a few close calls, but ultimately demons could be bartered with just as humans could. The lower leveled ones were rarely smart enough to outwit her or ask for something she just couldn’t give. So far, dealings were good and they only became better when she met him.

 On the fourth or fifth time she called out for help, this time she needed a rare desert root for a drying spell, she followed the same procedure as always. She lit her candles, drew a summoning sigil on the floor, and chanted the words that would bring her the closest demonic being that felt the urge to heed her call. She specifically did it in a way that powerful demons would not be attracted. In fact, she would much prefer to keep them away for they were much smarter and more conniving, and ultimately not worth the risk. This time though...this time someone with a little more juice than what she normally found herself bargaining with appeared before her.

 Todoroki Shouto was an incubus with the most prestigious lineage of any sex demon that resided in hell. His father was known by all demonic beings. He was number one in his class, The closest to king that anyone of them could truly be. He had also fathered more children than any other demon, enjoying ruining human women to the point that they could no longer be satisfied by mortal men. Shouto found it distasteful. The way Enji wold flux his hormones so that any woman within a few hundred feet would simply beg for him to fuck her, to breed her, to make her his. He had more half-siblings than he could count in addition to the three full-blooded ones. His mother had also been a high class demon with a pedigree, though her whereabouts were currently unknown.

 He was minding his own business, taking a nice walk through the woods in the mortal realm when he heard the call. There was a tugging sensation on his chest and a melodic voice ringing in his ears. It was not a call for someone like him. Someone capable of such true  power. Yet, something drew him in. Something about that voice had his interest piqued. He couldn’t resist answering her quickly, less some other demon came to her first.

 He appeared before her, hair split down the middle perfectly. One half red like his father’s, the other white as his mother’s. One dark grey eye and another a brilliant blue, his white button-down shirt loose fitting with a few top buttons undone to show off his chest. If he wanted to lure in the opposite sex then he could with ease, but Todorki Shouto had a secret. One that made him much less powerful than he could be.

 The witch was taken aback by the demon in front of her. He was certainly the most handsome she had ever seen, most lower level ones were not very pleasing to look at. It made them easier to deal with. Her curious eyes blinked as if to make sure he was really there. Immediately she could sense that something was off about him. Something wasn’t quite right, however she could not pinpoint what it was.

 Shouto regretted answering the call immediately. The witch he had been summoned by was possibly the most beautiful creature he’d ever set eyes on. She was pure beauty and grace, more stunning than anyone residing in hell or earth. In fact, part of him wondered if maybe she was an angel. However the various bottles of herbs and assorted animal parts quickly led him to believe that she was not divine. She was simply mortal and in need of help.

 “Oh an incubus.” She said, still looking very bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. “What a surprise. I’m not sure if you can help me or not. You’re a little out of my league.” The last part seemed like a joke but Shouto wasn’t entirely sure.

 “Why did you call for me here?” He asked calmly, his face perfectly blank though his eyes were fixated on her.

��“I’m in need of something for a spell.” She said honestly, “Sometimes I call upon demons to help me gather items I cannot easily get.”

 “Is that not dangerous?” He asked, starting to look more intrigued than anything. “Do you not worry about your safety?”

 The witch let out a nervous laugh, “Well, lower levels ones aren’t much of a problem for me. You’re a bit more than I’m used to. I’m surprised you even heard it honestly.”

 Shouto knew immediately why he heard it. Because as it stood, his power level was that of some lower tier demon. He had only fed twice since coming of age. His hunger was almost maddening. It had been eating away at him for decades. But he would not be his father. He would not be a glutton for sex and breeding. He refused to follow in his very heavy footsteps.

 “I was simply within range.” He said, though she knew that him happening to be close by to her didn’t really mean much. The spell was designed to not be heard by anyone over a certain power level. Could an incubus really be below that? “What do you need?”

 “A root.” She replied, flipping through one of the many of her family’s grimoires. She found the page that had a drawn picture, name, and general description. “This one.”

 “You’re doing a drying spell.” He said out loud by mistake. He knew because he had had this particular spell cast on him many times throughout the years, though recently it seemed to be working less and less. It was to dry up sexual desire. It was one of the few things that helped him get by so long without feeding. Without it he would have been driven insane by lust many decades ago.

 The witch cocked her head at him curiously, “yes, I am. For a client. She’s tired of having children but her husband just won’t stay off of her. She’s hoping it’ll get him to stop.” She paused for a moment, “Can you get it?”

 “Yes.” he replied dumbly, as if it were totally obvious.

 “What is your price?” She asked then, realizing he didn’t catch the implied question.

 Shouto thought for a moment, it was about time to recast the spell judging by the lecherous thoughts that were starting to cross his mind. “Can you perform another one?”

 She looked perplexed for a moment before it dawned on her why he heard her incantation. He was starved. And he must have been for some time too. “I can but I think I can do something else for you that will be much more beneficial.”

 “And what is that?” Shouto asked, wondering if perhaps there was another spell or potion out there that was more powerful and thus would be more effective.

 “Just have sex with me.”

 That was how it started. Any time the young witch needed something, she’d do a more specific summoning spell, one that only Shouto could hear. And every time he’d come, no matter what he was doing, to aid her. She would often jokingly call him her demonic sugar daddy because he provided everything for her for the low low price of coitus.

 The first couple times had been a little awkward. Shouto’s abilities were almost dormant. He fumbled his way about her body which was quite embarrassing for a sex demon. However after a few practice rounds the two truly began to find what got the other off the most. And in half a dozen sessions Shouto was feeling power, but with power came hunger.

 When he appeared before her hearth one night, without an invitation, the woman nearly threw an old vase full of nightshade at him in terror. She only put it down when she realized it wasn’t just any random intruder, but her newfound lover. She hadn’t needed anything in quite some time now. Hadn’t called on him because business had been rather slow and the jobs she did get, she didn’t need anything from him. Perhaps it was a little cruel of her to not call on him regardless, but she honestly did not know how much his appetite had grown. How it began to consume him until all he could think about was her, naked and writhing beneath him as he pounded into her. He craved her and only her. It was not something that ever really happened to Incubi. After all they could have anyone they wanted. But he didn’t want anyone else. He only had eyes for her.

 “Shouto.” She breathed out, heart still racing as she set down the clay vase. “I wasn’t expecting you, did you need something?”

 His eyes were fiery as he stepped towards her and she could smell the faint scent of hell on him. She wondered if maybe he had another argument with his father. He had told her a little about his family life during post-sex cuddles. It wasn’t much but she knew he hated the demon that sired him. He always seemed to be wound extra tight after coming straight from hell, and that was usually the reason.

 “Go bend your ass over the bed.” He said, further unbuttoned the flowy shirt he typical wore. Her eyes grew wide, embarrassment heating her face as she took a small step away from him. It wasn’t really out of fear, just a simple reflex. He never really got demanding of her like this, maybe something was wrong.

 But the warmth pooling between her legs told her that despite the interruption, despite having not planned this whatsoever, hearing him order her to get into the bedroom had her flooding with desire, and he could smell it.

 Shouto didn’t really have to use his pheromones to seduce her. He was naturally attractive and had a body that looked as if it had been sculpted out of marble. No, he never used them before but he was definitely using them now and they had her weak in the knees as she trembled. She walked on shaky legs into her bedroom, keeping her thighs pressed together as she walked in an attempt to hide the wetness that was accumulating in her panties. It was pointless though. He could always tell.

 He left his shirt in the living room and kicked off his boots on his way to the bedroom. He lost his pants at the entryway, watching as she leaned over the side of the bed and resting on her forearms. Her eyes large and doe-like at the rush of adrenaline. Sex with with a sex demon was always an unforgettable experience. It was easy to see how people went mad over it. The way he made her feel, the orgasms he gave her, none of it compared to any other lover she had ever had. Perhaps that was one reason why she had been so willing to listen to him just now. She knew he’d make her feel good, and who didn’t like to feel good?

 Shouto padded over, dropping to his knees behind her as he pushed her skirt up over her ass so that the fabric could bunch at her waist. His nimble fingers hooked around the elastic of her panties and he slid them down with an odd amount of carefulness. He practically buried his nose into her sex, inhaling that sweet scent of arousal that had him feeling absolutely feral. His tongue came to prod at her clit, causing a small whimpering sound to come from her.

 He dragged his tongue over every inch of her pussy, savoring it fully until she was a quivering mess with shaking knees that threatened to make her fall down. “Let me breed you.” He said between kitten licks. “You can have anything in return.”

 They had been using protection until then. Sex demons were incredibly fertile and typically had no trouble creating offspring. But at the time when this started, Shouto didn’t want to sow his wild oats like his father had. This witch had him wanting to throw all of that to the wind. He just didn’t care. That drive to fuck without any sort of barrier was maddening.

 Anything from a demon was a very big price tag, and Shouto had never tried to deceive her. He had never been anything other than honest. And despite all her teachers to never trust a demon, she found herself trusting him. Every time their bodies intertwined she fell more and more in love, no matter how much she had tried to resist. She had thought some distance would have helped ease her feelings, but apparently it had been hard on both of them.

 “Y-yes,” She gasped out as he latched onto her clit to suck, “Ple-please, Shouto, fill me with your cum.” She was gripping the old quilt on her bed tightly to try and keep herself grounded, but the way he was eating her out, two lithe fingers now dipping into her dripping core made it impossible to even think straight. All she could think about was her simple need to have him inside of her.

 He didn’t stop working his fingers or tongue until she hit her first peak, moaning out for him in a way that had him nearly cumming prematurely. The strain in his underwear was painful now as he throbbed with need. After one long lick along her slit he stood up, grabbing onto the globes of her ass for pretend support.

 “Tell me what you want me to do, Little Witch.” He said as he pulled down his briefs and kicked them away as if they were the most offensive thing in the world to him. “You’re shaking like you want to say something. So say it.”

 “I need you,” She said, somehow sounding out of breath despite not having done anything besides orgasm. “Shouto, I need you so much.” He wrapped one hand around his cock, pumping in slowly as he watched her continue to tremble. “Please fuck me!”

 The amount of lust he was feeling for this one mortal woman was dizzying. No one had ever told him that one person could have this kind of effect on a demon. Neither his father nor his two older brothers. Was it that far fetched to think that something was happening to him that had never happened to them before? They all had a primal drive for sex but never towards one specific person. Shouto found that he desired no one else in any of the realms. He only wanted her.

 He pushed it without any hesitation, feeling her tense suddenly at his thickness stretching her out. He watched with fascination as he disappeared inside of her cunt, the warm, wet feeling enveloping him like summer rain. “Fuck,” He couldn’t stop himself from cursing and just how amazing it felt to be inside her. It was like taking that first breath of fresh air after being held underwater for an extended period of time. It was so damn freeing.

 The witch relaxed against the mattress, her eyes closed to focus on that beautiful feeling of him completing her with his cock. Shouto took hold of her hips to keep her upright and steady as he pulled out slowly before bottoming out all over again, her slick making for the best lubricant as he moved with ease.

 It started slow. Shouto wanted to revel in the heat. He wanted to drink in the feeling of her walls clamping down around him. The sound of her tiny whimpers when he pushed all the way in after pulling out. But this was much too slow for her, she couldn’t handle such a torturous rhythm. Shouto had eternity but his little mortal did not. Her time was limited and the thought of that made his heart suddenly ache.

 “F-Faster,” She dared to mumble to him, sometimes he’d punish her if she begged too much. If she didn’t let him enjoy himself properly. Today was not one of those days though. Today Shouto wanted to hear her cry for his cock.

 So he obliged, increasing his pace as his fingers dug into the flesh of her hips. His witch began to moan even louder as he hit that sweet spot again and again, making her dizzy with ecstasy. She never lasted long when it came to sex with Shouto, something he took great pride in. He loved nothing more than to give her multiple orgasms.

 But this view just wasn’t doing it for him. He pulled out abruptly, making her cry at the sudden emptiness. He flipped her over onto her back, ripping at her blouse so that it was torn wide open for him. Then he tugged down her bra to free her breasts before reinserting himself into her. He watched her face contort with pleasure, the glossy look in her eyes as he began to pound into her at a relentless pace. The hypnotizing way her tits bounced with every thrust, they were just so perfectly in sync with one another. It was the definition of beauty.

 Shouto brought a thumb to her clit, lightly pressing on it in a way that had her clamping down on him even more. It was as if she was trying to suck him in deeper, never wanting to be without him again. He grunted at this sensation, eyes burning with lust as her mouth made that perfect “o” formation with her eyes rolling back as her second orgasm overcame her.

 He never talked much during sex, choosing to be a silent observer. Every now and then he’d give a command or order, but that was about it. He had never been much one for dirty talk like his father or eldest brother. The witch was fine with this. He made it hard enough for her to think without adding the pressure of comprehending something as complex as language.

 Just when she thought he might be coming to his end, he increased his pace even more. She whined, still feeling incredibly sensitive from the first two orgasms. At least he had the decency to take his thumb from her aching clit. Instead he reached up and wrapped his hand around her bare throat, squeezing just enough to lessen the flow of oxygen and blood to her brain.

 She gasped for air, her moans less audible now as air came out in strangled puffs. He would loosen just enough to give her a small break before tightening back up again. She grabbed at his wrist, and he waited for her sign that it was too much. A double tap anywhere on his body with her pointer and middle finger, or their safe word if she could manage it was all he needed to tell him that he’d gone too far. But neither came and so he continued to abuse her pussy with a pace so fast no human could possibly keep up, and only when she was screaming his name a third time did he finally release himself.

 Shouto came inside her for the very first time. Normally he pulled out even with a condom on. He really wanted to take no risk. This time, this time he had to claim her as his somehow. If any other demon were to come to her then then they’d smell him all over her. They’d think twice before crossing a Todoroki, that was just how well known his family was.

 He removed his hand from her neck, before leaning down to kiss it softly. His nose nuzzled the underside of her jaw in a way that might have appeared to be loving if either of them knew what that word really meant. Her heavy breathing slowly calmed down, delicate fingers squeezing his biceps with care. A simple sign to tell him that she was alright and that he did good. She had found that sometimes he needed encouragement. Sometimes he wasn’t as confident as he pretended to be. But small reassurances were really all he needed to bounce back to normal.

 “Can you stay the night?” She mumbled. Any time she asked, any time she was feeling particularly weak for him, he would turn her down. Saying he had other things to do. Saying it just wouldn’t be proper. Making any excuse he could.

 This time Shouto did not move from on top of her. His mound clouded with the afterglow of such an intense orgasm. He knew then that he’d do anything for her. Anything at all. And because of that realization he hummed back a simple affirmative. He’d stay as long as she would have him.

#todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha #mha #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #todoroki shouto imagine #bnha requests

[hopeshoodie]

Random headcanons I have about the islanders that don’t belong anywhere

Camilo watches a TON of anime. Like… To the point where it’s the only entertainment media he consumes. He also has zero shame about it/doesn’t know that people think it’s cringey

Gary has a quote from Ron Swanson or Michael Scott (specifically the ‘“you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take” -Wayne Gretzky -Michael Scott’) on his Tinder profile

Seb likes big titty goth girls and milfs, exclusively. He and Viv vibe because she has a really patronizing way of treating him (and uh… tibbies *pleading emoji*). The big vampire lady from Resident Evil? He’s in love and honestly the same.  

Shannon has horrible spring allergies. Like ‘stay inside with an air filter, can’t set foot in a park’ allergies. Like ‘eyes swell shut welcome to sinus hell’ kind of allergies.

Shannon is bi and loves going to strip clubs. That’s like… Her go-to Friday night plan. She doesn’t buy private dances very often, and prefers to just spend all her cash on the different girls working the floor and doing sets. Real Sassy from Black Ink vibes.

When doing drugs or the nasty, Yasmin has to turn little Yasmin around or cover her eyes. 

Lily bites her fingernails down to the point of them bleeding

Priya despises ballet flats (she loudly will declare that they’re bad for your feet, stinky, and above all else ugly) and doesn’t own a single pair. She insists that any outfit that can be paired with flats look better with heels, sandals, or boots. She assumes everyone else shares this belief and will lowkey scoff (or at the very least be surprised) at her besties for wearing them. She’d never make fun of someone, but she just takes it for a matter of fact that everyone dislikes flats. 

Priya loves a good bubble bath and definitely posts aesthetic bath pictures of her bath table, candles, bath bomb/salts/mixes, music, etc. 

Priya collects all her spare change throughout the year and puts it into a glass jar, and around christmas time she finds someone in need and gives it to them. It’s usually like $400-$600 in change. After she realizes how inconvenient giving change is, she still collects change but at the end of the year brings it to a bank to exchange for bills. 

I am in love with Priya.

Lucas is REALLY good at roller skating. He’ll never bring it up, or ask to go unprompted. So I’m picturing MC and him dating/married, going to a nephew/niece’s birthday party at the roller rink, and out of nowhere Lucas is revealed to be this graceful and masterful skater. Maybe it was from playing hockey growing up or maybe he’s born with it. 

Lucas coped really poorly with all the attention in the wake of Love Island. He didn’t really consider how often people would recognize him or how much fans would seek him out to proposition him. Unless he won with MC and stays with her, he regrets going on the show (that is until 20 years later when he reconnects with Henrik and they start dating). 

Noah has an amazing singing voice. It’s deep, and he has a good ear for harmonies. 

Rahim grew up with his family taking him to the gun range, so he knows how to handle a weapon. He’s very knowledgeable about makes, models, and safety, and probably owns at the very least a rifle and a handgun. 

Rahim has a TERRIBLE yoda impression that he thinks is genuinely good. 

Talia has a terrible Bill Hader impression that she knows is awful. She does it frequently to annoy her friends. In general, her sense of humor is just about being annoying- puns, bad impressions, impulsive physical comedy, all done with both irony and earnestness. 

Rohan goes through a jewelry phase where he accessorizes every outfit with some kind of necklace (often multiple), and his go-to look is some kind of sweater with a silver necklace over it. Definitely has one ear pierced, if not both. 

Genevieve is lowkey addicted to reality tv- her favorites are Real Housewives and any kind of cooking competition- and that’s what inspired her to sign up for LITG. 

Marisol gives amazing massages. It’s a point of pride for her. She’ll go off on people trying to use lotion instead of oil and will always slyly suggest massages in the bedroom. 

Jake doesn’t cook a lot of spicy foods, but being able to eat extremely spicy things is a huge point of pride for him. He would ABSOLUTELY go on Hot Ones after Love Island, and that would be the only talk show esque interview he’s willing to do. 

Hannah hate hate HATES those foam things they put between your toes when you get a pedicure.

#litg #headcanons

[sleepdeprivedheretic]

Lilium

Summary: Although a witch, you weren’t the one to really summon demons, but your friends had insisted that you could use an extra pair of helping hands to help you with your run-down hut. After fixing the mess of a first attempt fail, you were expecting to summon a lower gremlin. What or who you didn’t expect, was to summon the demon king of hell, keeper of souls, in searching for something that only you could do perfectly.

In explanation of the fic: Each powerful demon has his/her own hell, and in each hell has layers, like onions. So although reader didn’t summon Lucifer, she summoned a pretty powerful Japanese demon who’s element of hell follows close to that of Greek mythology because Rita liked the Persephone vibes. As for the soul thing, those are the souls who just...wind up at his place.  

Title name: Lilies are a flower that represent not only unity, love, and devotion, but also the flowers are most often associated with funerals, they symbolize that the soul of the departed has received restored innocence after death. Persephone held lilies in her hands/arms as she was take away by Hades, the flowers turning white as they fell to the ground. Ancient(?) Romans would stuff pillows full of the flowers, the fragrance perfect for love-making ;)  

Notes: @youtubequeens, or Rita, requested the beautiful idea of Tai-chan being a demon king in need of something that only the reader can do, and we brainstormed together on the setting and the plot, so the credit goes to her, go ahead and check her on Tumblr <3

Warnings not in order: Cursing, hand cutting for rituals (so blood), being void of a soul (cause, demons), summoning demons, minions, souls of the damned, smut, deals with the devil, having your soul taken and turning into a demon, and hellish stuff.  

Tag: @youtubequeens

   “I mean, look at this place, Sister! It’s a dump! C’mon, pleeeease!” Your friend begged. She, along a few others belonged to a nearby coven. Although good friends, they delved into the darker aspects of witchcraft, such as demon summoning, as you stuck to herbal remedies, readings, and a little bit of scrying. Although not against the art, you weren’t well acquainted, and a little nervous.

“You don’t even need a contract! Just bind whatever poor little goblin or gremlin to you, and...you know, have it help you collect your herbs! I know, binding seems a little much, and it’s difficult to get out of one, but they can’t hurt you when bound to you.” Another friend piped up, trying further to convince you. Your gaze fell onto the chalked-up pentagram within your home, surrounded by salt and melting red candles, looking innocently out of place, almost.

“Alright, fine.” You huffed, causing squeals of victorious joy from the gaggle of girls. It wouldn’t hurt, you thought. You lived in the outskirts of the village, within a rugged hut that you called a “store”. Although it was a popular little town, you weren’t doing to well. Your place was falling apart, herbs were harder to find, and although tolerated, your witchy status had alerted and unnerved everyone, except your little coven of friends, who had hidden themselves away deeper into the forest.

Your life sucked, and with your pet familiar, the two of you kept to yourselves as you brewed supper more than potions and remedies, your Sisters popping in from time to time, checking up on you.

Your little orange rabbit snuggled into your lap as you repeated the words in Latin, trying to spark hellfire into the pentagram. No such luck.

“Aw! Is it not working? I’m suuuure my aunt gave me the right spell!” Your main friend huffed into a pout, the two other girls following her example of disappointment.

“Perhaps another time? It’s getting late, girls.” You admitted. Truthfully, you didn’t want to have to deal with more pressure, and your familiar was getting unnerved by the whole thing.

“You’re right. It was fun hanging out with you, Sis! Wish we could do this more, but you know, coven stuff.” The sweet friend smiled softly as she hugged you tightly.

“We’ll be busy, you know, coven stuff. Auntie wants us to clean out the nasty pots, restock the potions, and go on a wild, exciting adventure of grabbing rare herbs, so we don’t know when that’s going to take. Ugh, I’m not leaving, yet, and I miss you, already!” The leader of the girls whined, dramatically throwing her arm over her eyes. You couldn’t help but giggle.

      “Stay safe, okay? We’ll visit to check up on you. Give Lottie some extra treats for us!” The third one grinned, petting the rabbit. With further words, they left, leaving you warm, yet saddened and alone.  

 Many times, the fellow women of the coven had offered a place for you, so that you wouldn’t be so alone, and you appreciated that, but you knew that the coven wasn’t one for you. Although not evil, you didn’t want to join for a multitude of reasons. They had strict rules and regulations, following their leader without question as they sacrificed time and energy for reasons that the girls, although close, didn’t tell you what for.

You couldn’t help but feel that it was rather sketchy. Your eyes laid upon the pentagram as the thought crossed your mind. You weren’t fully against summoning things from the underworld, it was an aged old practice that was held with reverence from generation to generation. You held Charlotte close to you, the rabbit sniffing at the air, scenting out scents that your human nose could not deter.

“I smell nothing out of the ordinary. The salt is too strong.” Her voice echoed in your head, and you nodded your thanks. You were curious, you admitted. You didn’t really have much things to do, other than clean your stew pot, tend to the moon water, and pluck the petals off of the dried out roses.

“Something has to give, in order for you to receive.” You said aloud, the wheels turning in your head. A certain flower could help, you thought suddenly, looking at the container of dried out white lilies. You opened the jar spreading out the white funeral flowers among the edges of the Celtic symbol. The scent was almost too pure for such a deed, you couldn’t help but think.  

Carving a fool-proof plan to mind, you placed Charlotte down, and grabbed a small blade used for cutting fruits from your kitchen. The little rabbit opted to say nothing, trusting you as her witch to do what you think was best.  

You winced as you sliced a small cut into your palm, letting the little blood droplets to drip onto each flower, avoiding the salt as best as you could. Picking up a slip of paper in which had the summoning spell, you began reading the Latin out loud as you channeled your energy at the edge of the pentagram, instead of in between it.

Your breath hitched as bright orange hellfire sparked, not going past the salt as it crackled at the precious crystals and parts of the flowers. You continued speaking the verses, watching in awe as the odd underworldly flames refused to consume, instead it burned brighter at each verse.

As you finished the last sentence with a final quip, you jumped in surprise as the flames reached almost as high as the ceiling, whirling dangerously as it let out smoke and sparks, fizzling as a tall figure behind the flames seemed to crawl from the little circle, you couldn’t see who or what it was, but you were coughing as the unnatural smoke outweighed the dying fire, floating heavily away as you looked up to see your first summon.

You were choked up, not knowing what to say as your eyes beheld the sight when the smoke finally cleared from the deadened flames.  

 A demon, and not just anything in the ordinary of what you knew about them. He was tall, as tall as the men in your village, and almost resembled a human. His pointed ears were adorned with little ringlets of gold, matching the glittering bracelets and bands that were worn upon his ankles, horns, wrists, arms, and a swishing pointed tail. His attire was something you’d never really seen within your village, but you knew what it was due to your books.

He wore dark orange attire that almost resembled a Doric chiton, except the one he wore, hardly left anything to the imagination, but you weren’t focused on that, right now. What you were focused on, was the demon’s scowl of frustration and annoyance, aimed at you as his tail swished and thumped angrily at the ground, reminding you of an angry cat.  

“This fuckin’ circle’s too small! And the hell do you want? I’m a very busy man, ya know!” He growled out, taking in your smaller frame with displeasure. You were surprised by his accent, it was gruff, yes, but it was new, something that you’ve never heard, before.

“I was trying to summon something else.” You stammered, and he faltered in an angry shock, before narrowing his eyes at you.  

“Tch! Who do you think you are, summonin’ a king of hell, tellin’ me that you were tryin’ to summon somethin’ else?” He bared his teeth, and you could see little tusks peeking out from underneath his bottom lip. You gave him your name as you found yourself blurting out who knows what.

“I need a um...helper. I needed somebody to look after my hut while I collected herbs...make sure that the villagers don’t torch down my shop.” The excuse slipped out as you stood your ground. It was partially true. His stance relaxed a bit at your words.

“A magic user, huh?” He asked slowly, behavior sharply and swiftly contrasting from his angry tone, as he rested his chin onto his hand in processing the thought. Then his eyes moved onto yours. He unnerved you.

“What about it?” You asked, and he indulged you.  

“Normally, mortals such yerself can summon us with ease, only because ya need a contract. You, lil’ witch, were trying to find a binding partner, which uses magic. I may have use for you, yet.” His attitude shifted, and you couldn’t help but relax a little at the honeyed tone. What was with this demon?

“What are you talking about?” You bit out. He let out a victorious grin.

“Yer magic was so strong, it summoned me. A king of hell, a keeper of souls, n’ lord of demons. Bindin’ magic can only get ya so far, it’s pretty much unheard of a mortal summoning somethin’ greater than an ogre, or an oni.” Rolled off of his tongue, eyes now glinting with something that you couldn’t pinpoint. You were surprised. A king of hell? It did explain his jewelry and finery, you silently pinpointed. Despite the shock, you still needed to ask more questions while he was in the mood to be generous with his answers.  

“So...you’re needing me to summon demons up for you from the surface?” You offered, and he looked at you with surprise.

“No….I need you to give up your soul, and live with me in hell.” He grinned at the tight atmosphere that he was causing, you froze.

“Tell me, why would I ever want to do that? What do you even want?” You grounded out the last bit, still confused, and getting weary. Your summon had taken a toll on your body, and now you were feeling the lull of sleep due to sapped magic.  

“I have two main underlings who are like sons to me, but the three of us can only do so much in carin’ for the undead. Ya see, hell’s a very powerful place, in which it can supply a witch’s magic with ease. Ya know where I’m getting’ at?” He drawled out, and you nodded a little.

“I think somebody of yer stature could really hold the forte down. All you have to do, is just be there, n’ yer magic can calm down n’ soothe the restless dead, making this job a lot easier. Since yer magic is powerful, it’ll be extra helpful n’ dosing the souls an’ lesser devils, down. You give me what I need, an’ I can give you what you need.” He purred at the end.

The thought of being useful did appeal to you, it’s what you ever wanted. Yes, it was a terrible decision and you’ll probably end up being burned, anyway, but you remembered that a bound demon or devil cannot hurt you, no matter how powerful they were. If they hurt you, they hurt themselves.

“I’m not going to give up my soul to burn forever, to live with a demon that I’m not bound to.” You countered, and his eye twitched

“First of all, Sweetheart, my realm is in layers. Where you, I, an’ my boys live, is an environment that resembles your realm, but better. Secondly, you will be bound to me, but not as a servant or master, but as an equal. Somethin’ akin to…” He let the sentence hang as he smiled smugly at you, brows furrowed with cockiness, leering at you from his height.

“Akin to?” You egged him, and he let the rest rolled off of his tongue without hesitation.  

“My queen.”

Your brain screeched to a halt.

He laughed at your stunned expression.

“What? Ya expected me to make ya my lil’ minion? No, no, Honey, somebody with yer power, and the sheer gall to stare into my face while arguin’ with me, has already earned my respect. Yeah, you’ll have to turn into a demon, but you’ll be immortal, n’ you can visit yer friends n’ family as long as you like, if you’re powerful as me. Which, you will be.” He threw in his own bait, trying to lure you in.

Understandably, you were stunned. You just summoned a devil. Who wanted you to rule hell with him.  And to become an immortal mistress of the night who can help rule over the undead while living forever with him in his realm.

It was tempting, yes, but you were not one who really chased power. You told him, and his eyebrows furrowed, as if thinking further ways to lure you in, and to be honest? You found that you didn’t mind being swayed by a literal handsome devil.  

“Well, think about it this way, Princess, I don’t know you well, but you live in a run-down hut, the peasants fear you to the point of possible violence, and you’ve turned your attention to demon summoning. We’re both desperate for somethin’.” He looked at you thoughtfully, tail swishing as you processed it. Hell.

“What about my familiar?” You were caving in, and his gazing expression broke out into a victorious grin as his eyes slide to your rabbit.

“Sure, the lil thing can come, too. Familiars exist in hell, too, but not the cute lil’ rabbit ones. Might be a nice change to have one. Wipe away the salt, n’ we can get started.” He acted as if he had already won, and to be honest, he did.  

It was too good of an opportunity to really pass up, and you didn’t really have anybody, and good decisions in your tired state were lacking. You wiped away the salt, and he sighed with relief as he stepped out.

“Man, that tiny circle was exhaustin’ to be in. Now, let’s take you home.” He tucked a fray hair behind your ear. Smiling a devil’s smile, he held you against him, and you tried to keep your cheeks from flushing as he began a mantra of a spell in his native tongue, leaving you awed that it wasn’t the usual Latin. You couldn’t keep your eyes open as a wave of exhaustion and tiredness wafted over you, and your eyes slid shut, darkness over-taking you, but not before hearing a dark chuckle.  

…………..

Warm. You were so warm. You opened your eyes, only to be greeted by a bare chest. Your eyes widened as now you were fully conscious, furiously wondering on what the hell was going on.

“So, yer finally awake.” He hummed, and you jolted slightly, looking up at his face with pure surprise, he smiled at you as he held you close to his chest. It didn’t take you long to realize that this was his bedroom, and your mind whirled, vaguely remembering prior events. Sitting up, he whined at the loss of contact, but you paid no mind.

The room was lit up by the flickering familiar orange flames emitting from the white candles slowly melting on top of his dresser, creating a safe, sleepy, and an almost romantic atmosphere. The bed was huge, and took up a good portion of his room, but there was still enough space for some furniture such as the dresser, and a large cage. You sighed with relief, seeing the familiarity of Charlotte within, the little rabbit’s eyes now glowed with luminescence, as if she were something else. It would make sense, your familiar was no longer a normal familiar, since she was in hell, with you.    

You looked down, feeling warmed metal against your skin, and that’s when you’ve noticed your new attire. It was a chiton, like his, although a little looser, and you wore the same amount of matching golden jewelry. Your ears stung a little at the newer piercings, but you didn’t pay that much mind as you couldn’t help but think that he went out of his way to undress you and doll you up to match him. You gave him a dirty look, and he grinned in retaliation, enjoying the flushed and guffawed expression that marred your face.

“If ya’re gonna be the part, might as well look like it. I didn’t undress you fully or touch you too inappropriately, if that makes ya feel better.” He shrugged. Although you admit that he sort of have a point, still!

“What happened to me?” You opted to say instead, and he sat up along with you, you jumping slightly as his tail curled around your waist, acting as a small comfort.  

“You’re a demon. I took yer soul, and bound it to me. Wish ya could’ve seen it, ‘s so pretty an’ pure, an’ it fizzled nicely within me. Was the only way for ya to come down here, sorry.” He hummed, rubbing his cheek against yours in seemingly affection, eyes glittering as he let you process the words and his bizarre behavior.  

Demon. Were you dead? You had no heartbeat, did you? You let your hand rest against your pulse point, surprised by the soft fluttering. You looked at him with question.

“Demon, not fully dead, but not fully alive, either, an’ yeah, you’ll look forever like a human, since ya weren’t born like us. I took yer soul, and gave you one of the multiple that belongs to me. ‘S how we tie our lives together fer eternity, as if exchangin’ rings. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Romantic, isn’t it?”

“I have so many questions.” You murmured, instead. He smiled.  

“We have an eternity together, I’ll answer all of ‘em. For now, c’mon. Lemme show ya what yer magic is doing right now at this moment.” He stood up from the bed, offering you his hand, pulling you up to him as you accepted it. He opened the drapes to his balcony’s windowed doors, revealing an ashen gray sunlight that paled in comparison to the candles. Letting you take Charlotte out of her cage, he opened the doors as the two of you stepped outside.

You looked on in awe.

The balcony to your new home, an ashen gray-stoned castle, had a short amount of steps that led into a gigantic garden. You stared in amazement and joy at the flowering plants and trees that grew in your former realm. There were so many plants, you couldn’t name all of them, but you didn’t mind as you looked on in the neatly organized forage of a garden, enjoying the array of greens and different colors of flowering foliage. Your familiar squirmed, wanting to enjoy the plants and be free, and so you let her, knowing that she’ll be smart enough to stay within eyesight.    

“Beautiful, ain’t it? It didn’t look like this ‘fore you were here. Sure, some plants such as pomegranates n’ ferns grew, but since it’s such a deadened place, nothin’ really grew. I tried for centuries, n’ no such luck. It’s so beautiful ‘cause of yer magic.” His voice broke out of your thoughts, and you listened carefully as a hint of sorrow passed over his features.

“Pomegranates…?” Your mind raced to the odd familiarity of the setting. Greek clothing, the underworld, and now pomegranates? He leaned down and smirked at you, bringing your hand to his lips.

“Heh, because, ya know…” He grinned, enjoying the way you stared up at him in disbelief.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Can’t say that I don’t have a sense of humor.” He chuckled, and you felt yourself relax, thinking of ways to steer the conversation into another turn.

“You really like this place, don’t you...um?” You wanted to curse yourself. You went through a psychological loop in becoming a queenly wife to a stranger, no less a king of demons, and you didn’t even know his name. How forgetful were you?

Ignoring your inner dread, he grinned as he held your hand within his, rubbing his thumb over your palm.

“Taishiro. Yeah, I rarely visit earth ‘cause all the shit I have to do, n’ so this is my favorite place to relax. Thanks to you, it’s blossoming quite well.” He admitted, pecking your cheek, tail flicking with delight at the prospect of your face pink with the affection. Oh, you were so cute, he crooned.

“What about the dead, Taishiro?” You wondered as you tried out, the foreign language rolling off of your tongue. He looked at you with interest, liking the way his name melded to your own dialect.  

“I’ll take ya on a little tour, how about that? Show ya what’s happenin’ and yer new home. N’ later, we can relax in our garden, take a lil’ break to enjoy our Honeymoon.” He purred, and you felt butterflies flutter nicely within your stomach and chest as you nodded.

“Yer familiar can stay outside. It never rains here, an’ she’s not really...alive, anymore. She’ll be fine.” He looked at the little rabbit that was chewing on a blade of grass, absentmindedly paying attention as you agreed, knowing that she’ll be safe.  

Without further ado, he took you back inside of the castle, beginning the day.

……...            

       It was obvious that you were still in shock, and that this wasn’t a dream. He opted to say nothing about your state, as he introduced you to the castle, and the many rooms within. Of course the first thing he had offered to show you, was the dining room, stating that you were probably hungry, and a nice breakfast had been made for you. You blushed furiously, not acquainted with such treatment, and he grinned, pinching your cheek and you huffed at him.

“C’mon, Sweetcheeks, the staff’s all here, n’ they’ve been waitin’ to see what’s been in my bedroom fer about two days.” The sentence had surprised you.

“Two days?” You looked at him owlishly, and he shrugged.

“Turnin’ a human into somethin’ else, takes a toll on the receiver. I’m surprised that it was that short, to be honest.”  

 You walked along side him as the interior looked unique and odd, nothing of it that you’ve seen before. Colors of orange, gold, and red melded into a comfortable, royal setting as the hallways twisted. Each one sported different types of framed pictures and paintings of animals, spirits, and demons of which were new to your eyes.

 Taishiro smiled at your awed and innocent wondering as he began talking, introducing you further into his world, entrancing and entrapping you into the Greek and Japanese themes that he so loved, and you couldn’t help but feel fitted in comfortably within your new home as the two of you continued on-wards towards the dining room, your stomach feeling empty.  

You talked along with him, trying to learn and get used to the idea that yes, this was your husband. Your demon husband who was oddly being affectionate with you, despite his earlier, snappish attitude. Although, you were not minding it, preferring the brushing of hands, eyes meeting yours, and little touches, rather than the first thoughts of possibly burning in hell for eternity. He intrigued you, leaving you to wonder on how were you this lucky and yet foolish. All too soon, however, he had guided you into his favorite place that was second to the garden.  

 The room was beautiful and spacious, with multiple dining ware, vases of freshly cut flowers, and cloths laid neatly upon the long table. The staff were well dressed in their own lesser version of Ionic chitons, small bands of gold littered their collars and wrists, but nothing too extravagant like you and your husband’s. He sat you down, the smell of bacon, eggs, and biscuits wafted deliciously to you from the silver plate sitting in front of you. You could feel your mouth all but water as your stomach grumbled with an awakening realization. Taishiro sat next to you, chuckling at your eagerness.  

“I know that yer not human, anymore, but we demons can live on an’ indulge on such human foods. Thank our chefs fer goin’ out onto the earthen realm, n’ huntin’ down the stuff.”

“Thank you.” Came out, and who you guessed were the chefs, bowed with gratitude. You tried not to shovel the food greedily into your mouth, paying mind to try to eat with grace. You blanched, feeling a bit of the egg yolk dribble down your chin, and you jumped as Taishiro didn’t miss a beat in taking the opportunity to swipe it from your face with his forefinger, eyeing you with a dark look mixed in with a cocky smirk as he began suckling on said finger, rolling his tongue around it, and pulling it out of his mouth with a wet pop.

You felt as if your face, chest, and ears were burning as he then groaned.  

“Delicious.”

You weren’t burning in hell with actual fire, so you guessed he had to come up with other ways, you guessed.  

The two of you finished in silence, him grinning with knowing want at your expressions, liking the way how easy and fun it was to just tease you. After saying your formal thanks to the staff, the two of you continued onward.

 Most of the rooms, other than the main bedroom, that he had led you, were guest rooms, and the others were sleeping headquarters for the staff and his underling sons. Speaking of which, it did not take you too long to be introduced to them. Cue in bright laughter, oddly mixed in with a rather gloomy aurora caught your attention, and lo and behold, down the hall is where they stood.

“Oooh! Is this her, Tai-chan?!” Noticing your presences, a red-haired young man turned his attention towards you. He nor the other young man were dressed as glamorous as the two of you, but they were unique. The red haired boy, along with the black haired one, both had pointed ears, but that’s where the line was drawn. Red had scaled, burgundy wings, furled neatly behind his back as his reptilian tail wagged slowly, he sported a sharp-toothed grin and radiated sunlight.

The gloomy man had a crystal ball within his clawed hands, cape and hood cloaking his figure as he stared at you.

“Who else would it be?” He muttered slowly, sarcasm lost on the other.

“Eijirou’s the dragon, an’ Tamaki’s the sorcerer. Boys, this is yer Queen.” Taishiro made a short introduction.  

“Nice to meet you!” As well as “Hello.” Greeted you, and you mimicked their greetings, surprised by the welcome. You replied your own greetings, feeling a bit nervous.

“Tamaki, would ya show ‘er the souls? I’d like for her to know what’s on the lower layer.”

“Sure.” Without further question, the scryer demon began murmuring his own spell as you stared into the crystal ball, watching with amazement at the sheer focus that was being put into it as it began to reveal answers to your questioning mind.

“See what yer magic’s been doin? Told ya, Nightingale, yer magic’s one of a kind, an’ yer not focusing on it, right now, but see what it’s doin’?” Taishiro gestured towards the mass of ghostly shadows within the ball. They seemed still, as if time had stopped them.

“Rather than deafening screams, wailing, and clattering of chains, we have this. They’re calm, awaiting to be reincarnated. It’s the most quiet that we’ve heard in centuries. None of us has yet the need to intervene and waste our time.” Tamaki opted to explain for you, a small hint of a smile graced his features, while Eijirou smiled warmly.

“It eases their suffering, too! Your magic to them is like a lullaby! You can’t hear it, but others can! It’s why Tai-chan’s been so calm-

“Anyway! Let’s go to the garden, yer not too tired, right? We can continue this later.” Taishiro interrupted swiftly, ruffling each boy’s heads as he gripped your hand rather gently, tugging you along back towards the familiarity of the garden, as you swore you heard two chuckles behind you.

……..

         “There is a teeny, tiny detail that I need to explain.” Taishiro dragged you further into the depths of the green foliage, slowly but surely darkening out the sunlight as you couldn’t help but shiver a little due to the anticipation. Where was he leading you? You guessed that he could see in the dark, but you couldn’t, feeling yourself stumble a little.  

“Taishiro, I can’t see.” You offered, and you heard a chuckled huff.

“Guess I gotta carry you, hm?” The sentence was your only warning. You let out a shrill yelp, feeling him lift you up with little to no effort into his arms. You liked the way how he gripped you, and seeped into his warmth as he continued walking to who knows where, and oddly enough, you trusted him.

“In order to fully complete the bond,” He startled you, as he finally broke the silence in what had seemed minutes. Setting you down, he snapped his fingers. Orange floating, flickering lights that resembled candles appeared right after, dimly illuminating the area around them. Your eyes adjusted, taking in the scenery that the lights were willing to show. It was a spacious area of smoothed down grass, white lilies and red roses crowned around it, giving it a magical, romantic feeling.

“you need to finally receive part of my power. Sure there’s multiple ways of sharing a mate’s essence, I just thought that this would be more fun.” He gave you a wink, and you felt your heartbeat quicken with a little nervousness. Yet, you found yourself not really surprised. He was your husband, after all. The thoughts of you becoming a demon, him being your mate, and that you ruled souls along with your new family, had been whirling around your head silently. It was only natural to continue, right?

“Only if you take the lead.” You offered, and he smiled, leaning down to finally mesh his lips upon yours in a secured kiss, tail swishing wildly as if joyed. Although a little snappy, he was also sweet and devilish in a teasing, fun way. You guessed that he was probably stressed from working and worrying too hard, thus you didn’t really hold it against him.

“Alright.” He led you to the clearing, laying down as he pulled you down on top, you basically straddling him, heat creeping up to your neck and ears as his clothed hardness poked at your equally clothed entrance. Not bothering to take any clothes off, he rocked his hips, groaning with guttural want as you let out a whimper, feeling the silk cloth of your clothing stimulate your clit as he rutted lazily up against it. His eyes focused up at you as he held your waist tightly, helping you rock your hips in sync with his as his tail rubbed itself against your sensitive, itching to feel you.  

“Can ya smell yer own arousal? Mixin’ in nicely with our flowers? Ya can cum anytime ya want too, okay?” He brought you down to kiss your clavicle and neck, your hands gripped his hair as your fingers threaded though the soft tresses and horns, keening as his own teeth latched onto the juncture of your throat as he suckled, minding his bottom tusks as he bit harshly, kissing the bruising skin with tenderness. You choked out a whimper as your hips bucked a little more roughly at his actions, causing him to groan.  

You could feel yourself clench with want as his precum and your wetness soaked through your undergarments, creating a slicking friction as the wet squelching noises echo through the dimly lit darkness. You looked down at him through lidded eyes, eyebrows furrowing as you bit your bottom lip, noticing that he mimicked your expression, if it wasn’t for the gritting teeth, You liked this side of him, too, you thought through your itching need to cum.  

He could tell that you were getting desperate, hell, he was, too. Yet, he wanted you to come before he did. Taking both hands away from your waist, he placed one underneath your ridden up clothing, and another cupped one of your bouncing breasts, thumb rubbing roughly over a nipple. Taking pleasure in the way that you were staring down at him, swallowing thickly, he let his hand slip into your soiled undergarments, making sure that every time your hips bucked forwards, you could feel his fingers brush against your clit.  

“T-Taishiro~!” You gasped, and he moaned, slipping two fingers in as he continued bucking, envying the digits as they stretched your tight and wet heat. Your juices were now dribbling down, creating more of a mess as his now four fingers pumped in and out of you, crooking them and stretching your walls with a gentle fervor as his dick slid between the folds of your labia, continuing to rub against your clothed clit. He ate up your desperate expression, knowing that he was no better as the both of you were about to cum. He picked up his pace as your face was buried in his shoulder, panting loudly and letting out breaths of need.  

“Y-ya know, I haven’t done this in centuries. ‘M gunna fuck you so good. Would ya like that?” He nipped at your ear, and you whined wantonly as you felt yourself tighten around his fingers, gripping them like a lifeline and he hissed as you came, cum soaking and dripping everywhere as you stilled, fingers grasped in his hair tightly, and damn if he loved that feeling. He stilled, awaiting for you to recover as you panted, lying against his chest as tears and a little bit of drool temporarily stained your flushed face. He kissed you softly, removing his soaked fingers from your fluttering heat, lust boiling within him as he imagined his cock in there.

“How do ya want this? Missionary and doggy are pretty good positions for first timers, either way, I’m going to claim you, Sweetheart.”

You looked at him through your wet lashes, as if contemplating on what you want.

“What do you want?” You asked instead, and the question caught him off guard, but he grinned.

“You.” He didn’t hesitate.

“Then have me.” You felt a blush at your own statement, but you really wanted to continue.

“Ya sure?”

“Anyway you can, Taishiro. I trust you, you’re not going to hurt me.” At this, his expression softened as he then kissed you with such a tenderness.

“I won’t, but my instincts are screamin’ at me to take ya right here on the ground.”

“Then do so. We have an eternity together, right?” You pondered, and he frowned a little.

“For your-

“I trust you.” You interrupted, looking at him dead in the eyes, as if challenging him. He couldn’t help but smile at your spitfire attitude.

“As my Queen commands.” He kissed your cheek.

It was the only warning you really had, but your blood was on fire with heat and want, and truthfully, if he wanted to hurt you, he had every opportunity to after you wiped away the salt from the pentagram.

Shedding off the both your clothing, the both of you stared unabashed at each other, a red flush tinted his face, and you were blushing furiously. You weren’t really acquainted with seeing an angry-looking cock, veins visible as a drool of precum leaked onto the ground, but here it was, twitching slightly at your intense gaze. The golden glints caught your eye, and your eyes widened with surprise.

“Y-you have piercings-!” You guffawed as he laughed.

“Oh! You’re so cute! Easy to reach’n stimulate, Babe.” He winked and you swallowed thickly as he then decided that enough time was spent staring, and now he wanted to touch you, more.  

 He placed both garbs neatly on the ground as he gently maneuvered you onto them, your stomach and breasts were cushioned as you gripped the clothing, knees on the cool grass as you basically laid out bare for him.  

 You jolted as you felt his hot, fat tongue lick a long stripe along your leaking sex and clit, his hands gripped your thighs, squeezing them gently as he decided to make a meal out of you, first. You could only lay there, whining and panting, trying to move your hips in his tight grasp as he licked you with fervor, taking extra time to suckle at your clit, chuckling as he also sopped up the extra slick running down your thighs, kissing them gently and you moaned.

“Taishiro!” You whined at him, silently pleading for him to get to the main event.

“Oh? Ya wanna be fully tainted by the devil?” He purred, and you nodded. You knew that he had to take care of his need, too, and he didn’t admit it, but he was getting a little impatient.  

“Easy there, Hon. If anythin’ bothers you, say somethin’, and we’ll stop, m’kay?” He finished, getting an affirmative from you, as he then grabbed his dick, leading it to your sopping entrance, and pushing a little bit in. He was amazed on how the muscles to your opening were loose, letting the head of his dick catch the rim, slipping a little inside.

He froze when you froze at the sudden prodding, opting instead to move his hips rather gently, not going further as you got use to the feeling of what’s already inside you. He decided that rubbing your clit was a good idea, and was rewarded as he felt you loosen up a bit, knees spreading out further as you bit your lip, feeling the gentle rubbing of calloused fingers.

“C-continue.” You murmured, feeling the other piercings now slide past the muscle. It was a delicious feeling of being stretched and stimulated, feeling yourself loosen as you took more of him in.

“Almost in, Sweetheart.” He murmured gently, his other hand rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades. Finally, he moved the last couple of inches inside of your burning heat as he refused to move, letting the both of you take in the feeling of being joined together.

“Ya alright?” He grunted, silently pleading for you to give your affirmative for him to move. He was relieved when you nodded, amazed at himself for gently rocking his hips as you were basically sucking him in. You were in a daze, feeling every inch, vein, and piercing churn your inside walls as your breasts rubbed against the silken clothing, clit still being stimulated as he took care of you.

“Y-you can mo-ve fa-faster, T-Taishiro.” It sounded more needy than you liked to admit, but he didn’t seem to mind. He leaned down, resting his chin against your shoulder as he basically enveloped you from above, one hand rubbing your clit, and the other holding himself from fully crushing you as he let his hips buck with more fervor, both of you seeing each other’s needy expressions.

“Takin’ me in-oh! So well, Darlin’. Ya’re s-suckin’ me in so-damn! Nicely. Don’t know ya that well, but ‘m so fond an’ proud of ya.” He kissed your cheek tenderly, contrast to his hips positioning themselves in a new angle in a snapping motion. Your head spun with stars as you felt the piercing on his tip, hit something inside you, letting out a “do that again!”. He would chuckle, if that statement didn’t turn him on so much.

“Y-you’re doing such a g-good job, too! Ah! Like y-you a lo-ot!” You admitted, trying your best to return such actions of affections. He rested his cheek against your cheek, taking his free hand to interlace his fingers with yours as he felt you tighten when he rolled his hips, aiming for the spot that kept making you clench.  

“’C’mon, cum fer me, Baby. Lemme feel ya milk a century’s worth dry.” He growled into your ear, eager at the prospect as much as you were as you suddenly stiffened, your walls tightening around him desperately as you let out a whine, chasing the fleeting feeling as you reached down and gripped his fingers onto your clit.

“T-Taishiro! O-overstim-ula-t-ed!” You cried out, tears pooling around your eyes in frustration as your body kept clenching around him and the electricity of your high was going haywire, consuming you into a mess.

“J-just a lil! More!” He tore his hand away, sitting up as he gripped one hand on your waist tightly, and the other pressed down on your back, snapping his hips, churning your sensitive walls with an animalisitc frenzy. You could only whine, laying there and taking it as your mind was in a blank state as you felt him get bigger, suddenly. To your relief, he gave one final thrust.  

A hot warmth coated your raw insides, mixing in with your own cum as you felt him still. You whined softly as you felt full. Moments passed as the two of you huffed and panted, letting the cool air chill the two of your sweaty bodies down. He pulled out of you gingerly, you whimpered at the loss as you felt cum and slick leak out. He paid no mind, plopping down to the side of you, and pulling you back onto his stomach as the two of you took each other in, cooling down from intense highs.

He cupped your face, and began trailing soft kisses wherever he could reach, and you couldn’t help but rasp out giggles, the fog clearing from your head as you descended back towards your normal mental state of closure.  

“Beautiful. Mmm, ya took me so well, an’ ya looked so pretty n’ debauched. Don’t care, I’m gunna say it, Princess. I love ya.” He admitted so softly, hands smoothing down your back as you felt your heart softened as you gazed down at him.

“I love you, too. I know for sure that I will love you more when time passes.” You kissed him tenderly, letting your own growing affections seep into the kiss, and he let out an odd guttural of purring, enjoying the fulfilling feeling of a partner doting on him. The lights flickered, as if trying to lull you to sleep, but you weren’t sleepy, yet.

“I want to talk. What’s your favorite color? Why do you purr? How did you meet your sons? I want to know every bit about you.” You murmured into his chest, peeking at him through lashes, enjoying the surprised and pleased look that you were receiving. You didn’t care about the time, letting him ramble at each question you had, enjoying the way his heartbeat quickened as his breathing chest fell up and down, him talking excitedly as he threw in his own questions, pleased to know about you, more.

“Ah~! I don’t think ya can’t get any cuter~.” He rubbed his nose against yours in affection, and you were surprised to hear the familiar purr echo through his chest.

“What about your purring?”  

“Yeah, happens now an’ then when I’m truly happy.”

“That’s wholesome and cute.” You admitted truthfully, liking the way his eyes danced with light at your confession.

“I wanna go again.” He said suddenly, and you flushed, realizing that he was stirring to life, again. You didn’t mind. You told him, and he smiled, kissing you.

“We’ll take it a lil’ more slow, this time. Face to face. Preferably ya kissin’ me, more.” He smiled, pinching your cheek playfully. You kissed him in false retaliation.

“Yer still a lil’ wet, so ya wouldn’t mind if I just-?” He asked, and you nodded, feeling his member catch onto the rim of your used entrance, the both of you moaning as he slid in easier, this time. You were wet and loosened, and instead of focusing on chasing your highs, the two of you paid attention to each other.

 Not many words were said as you did what you pleased, kissing, touching, and enjoying his softened expression at your inquisitive hands as he held onto you, returning your affectionate gestures as the atmosphere resonated with the flickering candles: soft and romantic as the two of your hips met in a slow, sensual pace, not racing against time as you felt him continue to purr, much to your satisfaction.  

You were still satisfied from earlier, but he still managed to make you cum again, this time it wasn’t as intense, but it didn’t matter, for your head cleared a little more quicker, getting to enjoy his desperate look as he quickened his pace. He looked debauched and desperate, eyebrows furrowed downward, pools of wetness gathering at his eyes as he bit his lip, only to open his mouth and call out your name as once again, he came inside of you.              

   “Damn, I think that I can forever make love to ya.” He panted out, sweaty chest rising and falling as one of your hands soothed circles around his waist, the other bringing his own to your lips as you kissed the back tenderly.

“I feel the same.” You admitted truthfully, and he let out another set of purrs.

……….

“Oh my goooooood! Oh my god! Sister! Where have you beeeeeen?! It’s been like, a year since we’ve last seen you!” Your friend hugged you tightly, relieved tears threatened to spill. Taishiro and you had decided to take a visit on the earthen realm to collect the rest of your things, if the villagers hadn’t destroyed your hut, that is. Luckily, your place was left untouched, and you came across the wondering group of girls, fretting over you, your state of dress, and looking at Taishiro with concern.

“Sis, did you finally summon a hireling? He doesn’t look like a gremlin?” One asked. You had to keep in your laughter as your husband’s eye twitched with annoyance.  

“Um, I used a different method on the summoning spell. This is my husband, Taishiro.”

“Whaaaaa-?”

“King of hell, keeper of souls, blah blah. Look, me an’ my Queen are going to go, now. Yer all annoyin’.” He griped, snapping his fingers as the portal to your home had opened, not giving your friends time to wave their goodbyes as he dragged you home, and oddly enough, you didn’t mind.

……..

          Your eyes glinted in the moonlight as the juice from the pomegranate seeds stained your lips red as you eyed the stunned man. Centuries had passed, and you and your husband had lost track of time, not aging as your magic grew in power, melding perfectly with his. Your adopted sons had moved on, finding their own mates, bringing them to your realm to visit regularly, and your love for Taishiro grew immeasurably.

  Unfortunately, since he was an ancient demon, he had to reincarnate once every one thousand years, letting his soul reset into a body although resembled his own, his memories were long gone, leading you onto a twenty-nine year old man-hunt for your reincarnated lover.

“I may have a use for you, yet.” You let the words soothe over the young magic user, his eyes widened in something akin to recognition, although confused.

“Alright, Dumplin, What’dya need?” His accent was the same, except it belonged to a young man, this time, and not a demon.

“I’m Queen of hell, lady of the lost souls, and I’m in need of a king.”

 “So familiar…” He gripped his head, eyeing you with confusion, yet there was a hint of your husband’s glint within those eyes.

“It’s because you know me. Very well.” You hummed at his confused expression.

“Alright, I’m curious. Lead me.” He gave in.

You smiled. It wouldn’t take long for the two of you to be reunited, after all.

………..

End! Give Thanks and Credit to Rita, or youtubequeens on tumblr for the idea and us brainstorming! I tried to fix any plot holes, I fell in love with the setting and mythology and other things, so I’m pretty proud of this fic :3

#Taishiro Toyomitsu #Fatgum #fatgum x reader #mythology #demons #witchcraft #A lot of things really #I don't know why I added the familiar #I just like bunnies #Hades and Persephone vibes #This is for you Rita #I hope you like it #I tried #Plotholes but imagination #Ig #Sorry #Will I stop being a simp? #No

[ardentmuse]

Four Times Fred Weasley Proposed to You... And the One Time He Meant It (Fred Weasley x Reader)

Harry Potter - Fred Weasley x fem!Reader

Summary: The title says it all. Just read it ;)

Wordcount: 4.7k (I’m trash)

Warnings: fluff, sex, cursing - basically my holy trinity, and AU where Fred lives (which is the only universe I live in) 

Masterlist

A/N: Toddle started daycare yesterday and I learned that I churn out about 1k worlds per hour if I don’t have a kid crawling on me. Today is also my wedding anniversary for fluff felt right. A request from anon! 

I.

The candles floating high under the vaulted ceiling are the only things that don’t shake with the uproar of cheers, especially from the seventh years, that accompany Dumbledore’s announcement of return of the Triwizard Tournament. Fred bumps elbows with his twin, whom he simply knows is already conspiring to rig this thing in their favor. Fame, glory, prize money – everything they need to set themselves up for success is being presented on a golden platter – or rather in a wooden goblet. But they don’t have the opportunity to conspire before the room falls hush at the gentle lowering of Dumbledore’s willowy arms.

“Please join me in welcoming the students of Beauxbaton Academy of Magic and their headmistress Madame Maxine,” Dumbledore’s voice bellows, but to Fred it is but a whisper. The doors to the Great Hall have already opened and towards the front of the group of impressively dressed students, their jackets pristinely fitted and their skirts flared in a way that hints so nicely at the shapely things that certainly reside beneath them. Fred’s baser brain, the part that, as a sixteen year old, gives power and life to many of his higher-level functions, completely takes over. His eyes roam the group, landing on a stunning creature, third from the left whose straightened back, bright smile, and flushed face from the chill of the castle night are enough to make his mouth grow dry and his palms sweat with anticipation. 

But then you begin your dance – if it could even be called a dance. You skip forward like an elegant ballerina, your neck tall and your chest out the way a swan might look upon the lesser creatures within its pond, elegant but superior. And Fred minds not one bit being the scum that lines your lakeside domain. With light steps you descend upon the Great Hall, down the path on which he sits. And as you grow closer, you open your hands, releasing blue mist and butterflies upon the crowd, like a siren singing a song to lure in the ships at sea. 

A few more pranced steps and you are standing right beside him. He watches with baited breath as your skirts flow and twist. You lean forward with special flourish, flicking your wrists and humming in unison with your cohort. Your fingers lightly brush against Fred’s cheek as he ebbs closer in rapture. 

“Marry me,” he whispers, which draws your eyes away from the front of the hall to meet the man sitting right beside you. A simple turn of his head has his lips gently brushing against your fingertips and the piercing of his cinnamon eyes catches your breath in your chest. You miss your next step, so beguiled by this handsome man before you, broad and freckled and just the teeniest bit unobtainable in the way that confidence seems to radiate off him. 

You bite your lips as you quickly make your leave, returning to the perfectly choreographed dance that seems to have enchanted more than just the eldest Weasley twin. 

George’s elbow lands squarely in the soft space below Fred’s ribs. 

“Oi, Freddie, what the hell was that?” George asks as the room rises in applause for their new guests.

George searches Fred’s face for answers. Across from him, both Angelina and Hermione seem to be brooding in equal measure. Ron is busy picking his jaw off the floor. But for Fred, all he could do is search the room for the figure whose shape is now buried deep in his mind and whose soft fingertips he can still feel upon his lips. 

He finds you taking your seat at the Ravenclaw table beside Roger Davies, who is all too eager to move his cloak and offer you water. Something primal rises in Fred, hot bile in his gut at the sight of Davies’ hand brushing against your wrist as you turn to speak with him. But as if feeling Fred’s presence, you flick up your gaze to lock with his and almost immediate you look away. But Fred is satisfied if the way you are biting your lip and hiding so delicately behind your hat is any indication that you might be feeling the exact same electric charge between you that he is.

“I don’t know, George. I really don’t know.” 

II.

The spring sun warms the courtyard as the visiting students say their goodbyes to Hogwarts and the witches and wizards that call it home. Fred and George sit on the stone wall of the archway, overlooking the chaos of tearful hugs and exchanged promises to write, respectful handshakes and gossipy giggles. 

“So much emotion for something so simple as a goodbye,” George says as he pulls at the leaves of the bush just starting to bud beside him, “Does everyone forget we have magic? Owls, portkeys, floo networks, and the works? It’s not goodbye forever, you know?” 

Fred’s eyes scan the courtyard until he finds the top of your head standing in a circle of Beauxbaton students who are wishing farewell to their Hufflepuff friends, offering elongated hugs and whispered words of comfort to those mourning the loss of Diggory. 

You pull away from a puffy-eyed girl, handing her a notecard, which Fred assumes has your address on it, and turn your eyes up on catch him staring at you. You blush – at least he thinks you do at this distance – and turn your attention back to the young Gryffindor who has just tapped you on the shoulder. Fred closes his eyes. 

“Well, George, sometimes even a goodbye for now can be more than you’re willing to accept.” 

George looks to see Fred’s eyes still closed, his head lulled to the side in a look that can only be described as painful longing. 

“Speaking in general or personal there, dear brother? A certain French girl I caught you snogging have anything to do with—“ 

“George,” you say, interrupting their hushed conversation. George smiles almost too wickedly at your appearance. “And Fred,” you say, turning your eyes to the boy who has consumed so many of your thoughts these past few months. 

At hearing your voice, Fred’s head pops up from its angst-filled recline against the stone castle wall. The wide saucers take you in like a man dying of thirst. 

You clear your throat and move your head to take in both twins. “I just want to say that I will miss you and your laughter. You have both made my time here at Hogwarts a pleasant one.” Your smile seems forced, but Fred cannot tell why. 

“And it has been a pleasure getting to know you as well, my dearest mademoiselle,” George says in his best accent, swallowing the first “e” the way you taught him to do so precisely. “Quite the pleasure for one of us, I might say.” 

Fred turns near crimson at his brother’s coaxing and your own eyes find rest starring down at your lap. 

“Well, yes,” you stammer, knowing full well this was George’s intention but not being skilled enough to overcome its impact, “For me, too.” 

You feel a hand come under your chin, and your eyes come up to meet the very bright, but very pleased face of Fred Weasley. 

“You are a pleasure,” he says for just your ears, his thumb running across your chin as your face grows hot at his attentions. 

“You know, I’m not sure I want to go home,” you admit, looking up at the cute boy before you from under your lashes. His Adam’s Apple bobs at your minor seduction. “I have quite come to like your country.” 

“I could marry you,” he says as his hand finds the curve of your neck, “Then they couldn’t take you away. I hear Ministry visas are quite a valuable commodity these days.” 

You laugh, deep and hearty, the kind of laugh you have come to know so often as your friendship has blossomed with the twins. 

You hand a card to Fred, not a tiny index card like the kind he watch you hand your other friends, but a proper greeting card, with a beautiful calligraphed, “My Fred,” on the envelope. 

“Maybe you can write me sometime, if you want? I’d love to know how the business comes along.” 

Fred’s fingers trace the curves and bends of the ‘my’ so thoughtfully placed before his name. 

When Fred says nothing, his eyes so drawn to the paper, George pipes up with an, “Of course, love. We’ll be sure to.”

“Okay,” you whisper, but Fred’s attention is still elsewhere. With a swallow, you say, “Bye, then,” and with a tiny wave, returned by George alone, you turn on your heels and head for your carriage. 

George stares down at his brother, whose fingers have already gone to rip at the letter, to see its contents and pray that its words align with the flutter he feels in his chest right now. 

Opening the envelope releases a frill of blue dust and butterflies, scented like your shampoo, which he is ashamed to say he knows now. An index card with an address, just like the ones you gave the others sits inside, along with a note, long and eloquent about how you’ve enjoyed the time you’ve shared together, the laughter and the kisses, too, but it is the last two lines that gets him right in his throat, his heart beating faster than he can ever remember it doing before. 

“You are the sweetest man I’ve ever known, Fred Weasley, and I pray one day when I know love, it will be with someone who makes me smile, makes me think, and makes me feel as beautiful as you have in these few short months. Who knows, maybe that someone will even be you.”  

Finally, Fred hears George screaming his name, the tone of which makes it clear to him this was not the first yell. 

“What!” Fred finally screams back, his hands gripping tightly on the parchment he holds.

“You didn’t even say bye to her, mate.”

Fred whips around to see a line of soft blue suits taking the stairs into their Abraxan-drawn carriages, the boys of the school offering softly cupped hands to the girls as they ascend. Fred jumps the stone wall into the courtyard, not caring for the height of the fall and sprints through the crowds, pushing a few first year students in the process until his hand grabs yours just as you take your first steps away from Hogwarts. 

You spin around at the tug. When Fred sees your face, slightly obscured by your hat, his chest hurts at the sight of the tear lines that clearly flow down your cheeks. 

He pulls you to him quickly, catching you in his arms as you partially tumble down the stairs towards him. He kisses you before you can even recover, to the hoots and hollers of some of the younger students, which earns them the scolding of a surprisingly softhearted McGonagall. 

Fred’s lips are all pressure, as though movement might take you further away from him. He is locked in the moment, securing you to him and into his memory for as long as he may have you.

When he finally pulls away, he runs his hands along the sides of your face and your forehead, like memorizing every shape and detail.

“Goodbye, my Fred,” you say to him, you eyes still saddened, still hurt but the parting, but all the more healed for the confirmation that this is hurting Fred too.

“Goodbye for now, my princess.” 

And so you walk away, your hands lingering together as Fred does his best to help you up the stairs and into your carriage, his precious swan princess preparing for her journey home. 

A few minutes later, Fred returns to his brother, who still sits on the stone but is now holding the envelope and letter that Fred discarded in his pursuit of you. George offers a slow clap of appreciation at Fred’s grand gesture.

“Georgie, how much money do you think we have for the summer? Enough to restock and still have extra?” 

“Why are you asking?” George hands the precious parchment over to Fred for safe keeping.

Fred just stares down into his hands, at your words and your script and the remains of your magic and your scent. 

“I think I have to go to France.” 

III.

“You keep cooking like this and I’ll have to make a kept woman out of you, you know,” Fred teases as he grabs yet another of the Christmas cookies you have just pulled from the cooling racks. You swat his hand away but not quickly enough to stop him from adding another handful to the collection already lining his plate and pockets. “Trying to impress my mother with baked goods is a very good idea but completely unnecessary. She’s going to love you. She already loves you for how happy you make me.” 

“Are you sure?” you ask as you continue to turn over the cookies, packing the ones with the best looking bottoms into festive tin to take with you to Ottery St. Catchpole.

Fred’s hand grabs as your wrist as you nervously rearrange the cookies ones more, “I’m absolutely certain.” 

A few moments pass as Fred hums happily, crunching down one cookie after another before you speak up once more. “A kept woman, ye? I hope I might be more to you someday than just someone to fulfill your desires.” 

Fred’s mouth curls into a Cheshire grin as drops his plate once more against the countertop. “And what’s so wrong with fulfilling my desires? Hmmm?” 

You can’t help but smile too as you toss your oven mitts aside. 

“Nothing,” you hum absentmindedly, leaning into Fred’s game. “Other than that I have desires of my own.” 

Fred creeps around the counter, taking in your form as the aprons strings hug tightly at your waist. In one deft motion, Fred has you pinned so fiercely against the counter you worry he might actually take a bit of you instead of the desserts you have spent all morning making. 

“Well,” he whispers into the soft of your ears, sending shivers down your spin, “Make me a kept man and we can live a life filled with unending pleasures.” And with the purr of the last word, he dives down to taste the salted hollow of your neck. 

“Two kept people is just a marriage,” you manage to get out before the sweet suction upon you pulse makes you lose your breath and, with it, your composure. 

“Then married we shall be.” His lips tickle against your collarbone before making the ascent back up your neck towards your chin. “Married, happy, fat off cookies,” he says between kisses. “And drunk off desire,” he whispers, leaving a final, long, bruising kiss upon your lips. 

You are pulled from your daze by the call of George’s voice in the shop below the apartment, telling you his mother would be quite disappointed if you found yourself running late for Christmas dinner because you were too busy making her grandbabies. 

As he pulls away, Fred runs a fingertip, slow, across your bottom lip, feeling the swell his kisses put there. 

“I’m keeping you,” he says to your lips before meeting your eyes. For a moment, his look is deep with longing, but quickly he smiles and the mask of play returns to his bright features as he snatches the packaged cookies off the counter and pulls you out of the room to meet up with his twin. 

IV.

“That’s it, love,” Fred breathes into your hair as you tighten the grip of your thighs around his hips. The sweat from his brow rolls down your neck sending shivers across your already prickled skin. Fred’s arms grip at your hips, desperate and needy. You can’t help but admire the taut muscles of his shoulders, round and firm in exertion. Even now, long after all the quidditch training and regular exercise, the lines of him are still subtle perfection. 

A bite at your ear pulls your eyes away. And the rocking of his firm length deep inside you pulls your mind away, too. 

On instinct, you roll your hips to meet his needy thrusts, finding a rhythm so right that you each let out a satisfied groan. You grip tight into the shoulders you love so much, digging your chin into his neck as you work yourself against him, pulling your pleasure from him as much as he is from you.

“Merlin,” Fred breathes as he seizes your chin so he may look in your eyes. He pins your hips once more with his rough hand, pounding into you long and slow.  “You’re perfect,” he says before kissing you deeply, the action pressing your entire personage further into the mattress, all parts of him consuming you wholly.

As his hand moves from your hipbone to brush against your sex, you feel the tightening that Fred so easily can pull from you, the sweet anticipation of a cascade of relief that marks your lovemaking as something necessary. His fingers deftly work you in time with his hips and soon you are falling off that cliff with only his strong arms to catch you. 

Fred groans at the feel of your orgasm, finding his own in the sweet music your body plays for him. And as he releases himself in your depths, your body quakes once more with the pleasurable feel of it. 

Exhausted and spent, Fred lays himself upon you, chest to chest, the weight of him a welcome reminder of the real world to which your brain has just returned. 

“I can’t wait to make you my wife,” Fred says into the darkness of your bedroom.

You laugh – or at least as much as you can with his weight bearing down upon your chest. You take in his nose now resting against your shoulder, the soft freckles decorating the bridge, the pink of the creases now coated in a pleasant sheen of sweat. He pops up his eyes to meet yours in unspoken question.

“The feeling’s mutual,” you smile. You run your hands through his hair, hoping to ease the worry you feel from him. 

Fred rolls off of you to lie on his side, mischief dancing in his eyes. 

“You also can’t wait to make me your wife?”

You turn to see Fred lounging casually upon the mattress, his nudity fully on display as he shows off his body for you with a flourish. 

“Can you not resist these womanly curves?” He almost can’t keep the smile off his face. 

You lunge towards him, but he’s quicker. He hops off the bed and runs down the hallway before you can even extract yourself from the covers. The last thing you see is that cute, firm butt of his round the corner towards the kitchen. 

“Shall your wife bring you tea?” He calls in a mocking high-pitched voice from the depths of your home. You toss a pillow at the door, and as it plops, Fred laughs. 

And just as you feel the glow of your orgasm begin to subside, Fred walks through the door with two steaming cups. He sets them down on the bedside table before kneeling before you. Only then do you notice the silliness is gone from his face, replaced with the hint of nerves and raw emotion you saw only a hint of in your afterglow.

“I’m not joking, you know,” he says as he grabs at your knuckles, “I’d like to marry you someday, make this beautiful, precious thing we have permanent, assuming you want that too.” 

And with a look into those beautiful brown orbs of his, you nod. 

V.

You cling tightly to Fred’s back as his broom zooms between the snowy peaks of the Pyrenees. The castle in which you spent your formative years seems but a speck off in the distance as you direct Fred along a saddle of the range and towards the cliff face just beyond.

“There,” you point towards the gap in the trees on the north face. The rush of the wind as Fred speeds downward makes it hard to hear the beautiful crash of water you associate so much with this place. But as the trees thin, you see it – the gorgeous waterfall and crisp blue-green pools that catch its spray. 

Fred slows down his flying, weaving expertly through the forest until you come to rest upon the boulders that face the torrent of water. 

“This is it. This is where us Beauxbaton girls came for peaceful retreats. Made quite a few friends among the wood nymphs, too.” 

Fred turns to you, confused. “You find this relaxing?” He screams over the loud crash of water. 


“Trust me?” You ask as you take his hand and lead him down the winding paths deeper into the forest. He grips your fingers tightly as his boots dig into the mud you seem to navigate with an elegance that reminds him so much of how you floated into the Great Hall of Hogwarts all those years ago. 

When you finally let go of his hand, you are in a clearing covered in a canopy of trees. Steam fills the space as three pools, one flowing into the next, radiate heat outward. The water is an inviting shade of aquamarine and the stones underneath seem to glisten silver, the cleavage of them lined with some rare elements that Fred can only assume are as precious as the creature standing beside him. Your face glows with memory, like a child on Christmas filled with the possibilities of unopened boxes and mysterious smells from the oven. 

“I told you it’s beautiful,” you say, turning to the man you love, the man you are so excited to show the parts of your life he had been absent from so that he can become one with all of you. What you see when you find him again makes it clear he wants the same thing.

Fred is bent on one knee, his soft woolen jacket open revealing a pocket you hadn’t seen, and in his hands sits a beautiful ring box holding a delicate band and a single, shining diamond, even brighter for the way the blues of your hot springs cast off of it. 

“You did,” he says, his voice deeper than you are used to, like a lump somehow is already forming in his throat. But that isn’t too hard to believe, as tears are prickling at your eyes, ready to roll over before he has even spoken. The sight of this man, his handsome chiseled face and his soft, kind eyes looking so weak, so wrought with emotion, and all for you, is enough to send you into hysterics. He is perfect – your silly, brave, industrious, kind, honest, perfect Fred. And here he is, telling you without words that you are perfect, too. 

“Do you remember my first words to you?” He asks with a lift of the left corner of his lips.

“Marry me,” you whisper with a hiccup, now full-blown crying at the memory of how his lips somehow felt so right against your fingers, even though you didn’t even know his name.

“Marry me,” he breathes more to himself than you, chuckling at his own teenage silliness. He shakes his head and looks at the ground. But upon catching the glow of the ring, his eyes return to your face. “I’d like an answer now,” he says. His hand somehow instinctively finds your fingertips, the source of all the kinetic energy between you, the spark that opened the doors to a lifetime of happiness. 

You try your best to find your breath between your tears. “Yes,” you say, though you are unsure if you actually made any sound given the heaving of your chest. “Yes.” 

Fred hops into the air, his lips finding yours and his arms engulfing your body in his embrace. He showers you with kisses, your tears mingling together, no different from the moisture of the steam coating your skin.

“I love you so much,” you manage to say as you smile against his mouth.

“I love you—fuck,” Fred pulls himself from you and drops to the ground. The ring box is discarded several feet from you, dropped quickly in Fred’s desire to shower you in affection. The ring still sits inside, pretty and intact but dusted with dirt. Fred frantically wipes the ring against his coat before grabbing at your hand.

“May I?” He asks. You nod enthusiastically, enjoying the feel of the cold metal running over your knuckles, chilling your heated skin.

As Fred stares in awe at the new jewel that gilds your hand, you slowly back away from him. With a careful flick of the buttons, you drop your coat to the ground. Fred’s gaze moves to your neck where your hands now continue their slow turn and flick, opening the buttons of your blouse in the most enticing strip tease he could imagine. 

“What are you doing, woman?” He whispers, though he takes no steps to approach your still retreating form, now just inches from the edge of the water. 

“What do you think I was planning for us to do here?” You ask him. Your hands slide down the curves of your now-exposed sides, bunching the fabric of your hips. “It’s a hot spring.” You wiggle your hips just a little as you push the fabric over your rump and down your thighs. “What do you think we Beauxbaton girls did here? Painted our nails and doodled in our notebooks?” As you lift your ankles, leaving yourself completely bare – bare expect for the gorgeous ring your fiancé just placed upon your hand – you stride with slow, confident steps towards him, a swan returned to her pond, a siren seducing her sailor. 

“Do not make me picture you and a handful of beautiful French girls bathing here naked together. My heart can’t take it.” 

You now find yourself inches away from your fiancé, his eyes trying their hardest to stay trained on your face but failing miserably with each breath that lifts your chest just a little closer to his face. 

“Your heart can take plenty of things,” you moan into his ear, your entire body just an inch from touching his. “It’s taken me, hasn’t it?” 

And just as his hands comes to ghost the curve of your lower back, you flee him, jumping into the largest of the pools with a satisfying splash. 

As you come up and turn to him with your hair slicked back out of your face, Fred is already half naked, his clothing thrown haphazardly across the clearing and his belt buckle proving much more difficult than he ever imagined it would. 

“Damn it, Princess,” he says with a huff and he yanks at his jeans, “You have no idea what’s in store for you.” He flicks his eyes to you as he pulls his t-shirt over his head, revealing the beautiful expanse of strong stomach and chest that somehow never fail to take your breath away. His eyes glint with a hint of evil and a heap of lust and you are almost ashamed at how quickly your body responds to it, his gaze heating your whole self even more than the springs already have. 

“I think I know,” you say as Fred lowers himself into the waters. 

He paddles over to you and wraps your nude form in his arms. His lips find your hands and delicately play with them, his fingers running over the smooth metal as his lips move up to your wrist. You drop your head back against the smooth rocks and allow this man you love, this man who has enchanted you for the first connection, to love your body in turn. 

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt,  @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug

Harry Potter tags: @tessimagines, @0-lost-in-stereo-0, @whysoseriouspadfoot, @eldritchscreech,

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagine #hp #hp imagine #weasley twins #harry potter imagines #hp imagines #reader insert #x reader

[bryanastar]

Short Story Introduction - The Lotus Motel

No light ever crept through the barred windows at the reception area of The Lotus Motel, and there was no electricity to luminate the shattered bulbs. The motel owner had only the glow of dim candles to guide him in sweeping the floors and dusting the front desk. The room was small, so small in fact that it could barely fit the desk and the chair, Still, it took him the better part of an hour to clean the whole room, or at least he thought it did. He could clean for days, and he’d think only minutes have passed.

———

Howdy Tumblr! Here we have a decently different short story except than what you all may be used to. Very reminiscent of my old writing style (back when I thought this was the height of description and atmosphere lmao). That isn’t to say I’m not proud of it. It’s just... unlike any projects I have on my roster currently.

With that out of the way, let’s get on with the introduction! (Full post and story link under cut)

Genre: Mystery/Surrealism

Word Count: 1340

Publisher: The Graveyard Zine

Musical Inspiration: Hotel California

Synopsis:

A mysterious man who runs a strange motel supposedly famous for it’s intoxicating tea welcomes three new tenants for the night, along with a cup of his lotus tea.

Project History:

I first wrote this story for my English I Honors class in Freshman year of high school. We were doing a unit on The Odyssey, and the final project was to either make a video/mini-movie summarizing part of the epic, or rewrite a portion of the story from the villain’s perspective.

Obviously, I went straight for the latter.

The story I chose was “The Lotus Eaters”, though the rewrite itself was only a very loose retelling (which I’m sure you’ve already gathered from the title, cover, and synopsis). Still, because I kept the core elements (that being x thing being consumed makes Odysseus’s men have amnesia and never want to leave), I still got full points (with my teacher even complimenting my writing style and humor).

At the time, this story was the best short story I’d ever written, and, even now, it’s still one of my strongest pieces. It’s one of the first stories that actually gave me the confidence to continue writing and to try to actually do stuff with it. It was also one of the first times I’d ever gotten complimented for my writing (outside of my family of course). Plus, I was just passionate about the project in general, even if I (at the time) didn’t plan on doing anything with it.

Fast forward to 2021 when I actually become serious about trying to get my writing published and I finally decide to try and get this story published. I at first planned to just leave it in the drawer since it wasn’t at all what I was really interested in writing now, but then I just went “screw it” and decided to start submitting it. I first impulsively sent the piece to a literary magazine called Body Without Organs Journal... whom I never heard back from (I ended up withdrawing the piece regardless). I don’t think they got my email, which is pretty awkward, but I do plan to keep this journal in mind whenever I have another piece that fits the word count.

The second journal I sent this to was Juven Press, a literary magazine run by teens for teens, during their 24 hour submission period where I’d learn whether they accepted or rejected me 24 hours after submission. The theme was untold/retold, and, considering my piece was a retelling of The Lotus Eaters, I thought my piece had a pretty good shot.

Yeah. It did not.

I actually got feedback for this piece from Juven Press, and they actually didn’t have much to say (other than that they really enjoyed the story and thought it had a pretty good chance of finding a home somewhere else). They were mostly confused on how the story fit the theme of untold/retold, which actually reveals a tiny problem with the piece.

If you removed any mention of the “lotus” in the story itself, it would definitely be impossible to tell that it’s supposed to be a Lotus Eaters retelling. Due to that, it’s been very hard to market in the short fiction market as I don’t really know what genre to put it in. It’s certainly genre fiction, and has a lot of surrealist elements, but it’s not exactly a surrealist tale. It’s not a mystery (or at least not one where the mystery gets resolved at the end). It’s not horror, even if the concept is kinda creepy. It’s just a very strange anecdote in a very strange setting with very strange characters. Not that that’s a bad thing. It just makes it hard to market and know where it will fit.

So yeah, I shopped this story around for a good long while. After I withdrew my piece from Body Without Organs, I sent it off to a magazine called Theme of Absence. I did hear back from them after a month had passed and I queried about my submission. They said I should hear back in at least three weeks.

Then another month passed and I still heard nothing.

After that, I decided “to hell with the ban on simultaneous submissions!” and submitted my story to two more magazines. I didn’t think much of them and a day passed. I was scrolling around on this app called RoundPier (think LinkedIn but for overachiever high schools kids trying to get into T20s) and I saw this submission call for this new literary magazine called The Graveyard Zine. They were student-run and had only published a single poem.

I sent my story in purely for the name alone.

I heard back from them literally the next day. They said my piece would be published in 1–3 days. I made an Instagram post on it. They commented and added me to their story. It was pretty nice and chill. They’re a super cool bunch of people and I really hope their magazine blows up in the near future.

After I got the news that I was being published again, I immediately sent my Freshman teacher a text to tell her the news, and, welp, she was proud. I was on the moon for the rest of the day (especially because I got a different email for a different short story that had been accepted).

I was super excited to see it get published, because I never thought it would due to being more genre fiction than literary fiction. For the longest time, I thought it was forever cursed to be cast by the way side just because it didn’t fit the standard convention of what a literary story was. It’s a great reminder that there is ALWAYS a home for your short story out there, regardless of it’s genre.

Here’s the link to that piece. I hope you enjoy it.

That’s all for now. See you next week Tumblr!

#The Lotus Motel #The Graveyard Zine #teen writer #young writer #writeblr #writblr #short fiction writing #creative writing #publication #literary magazine

[leahxx129]

Truth or Cut (Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester)

Hello there! This my * very VERY * late submission to @dontshootmespence​ ‘s   Alphabet Angst for 8k Challenge. I am incredibly sorry for this delay but I had to take a break away from Tumblr and social media in general in order to focus on my mental/physical health & other issues in my private life. Now I think I’m ready to return and create content again. As for the story, I hope you like it. This is my first attempt at a love triangle. Important: does not include Wincest so it’s safe to read for anyone who’s not into that. Also, I inserted a ‘Keep reading’ line, I hope it’s visible.

Summary: The British Men of Letters try a new approach to acquire the Winchesters’ cooperation, which leads to heartbreaking revelations. 

Warnings: cursing, bloodshed, mentions of sex, character death

Word count: 2.750-ish

* Moodboard is mine, pictures used are not.

You gain consciousness to two male voices calling your name frantically.

“She’s opening her eyes, Sam! She’s alright… Look!” the hoarse baritone belonging to the elder Winchester reassures his brother a second after your eyelashes have started fluttering.

“Well, that’s the overstatement of the year, Dean… Let’s just say I’ll live.” you grumble once you fully come around. “What the hell?!”

Usually you’re more eloquent than that but at the moment it’s the best you can muster, considering that you’ve awakened in what appears to be an abandoned warehouse and all three of you are handcuffed to uncomfortable metal chairs organized in a neat triangle, facing each other. The only source of light are a few flickering candles placed on a table nearby.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, babe.” your long-term boyfriend Sam replies in a soothing tone.

His handsome face seems intact – minus a couple of scars he obtained in previous fights – so being ambushed is crossed off the list of possible explanations on what happened and how you got here. Maybe you were drugged? If yes… by whom? The things that go bump in the night prey upon their enemies and slash their throats open, not abduct them.

A heavy silence falls on the place, only the crackle of the candle flames can be heard.

You have no idea how much time has passed – it could’ve been an eternity as well as ten minutes – when suddenly a consecutive knocking sound fills your auditory canals.

“Are those… are those high heels?” you ask aloud incredulously.

“Louboutin’s to be exact, my dear.”

Every head snaps to the accent’s direction just in time to see an elegantly dressed slender woman step into the candle-lit area.

“But excuse my manners… talking about fashion before introducing myself? How rude of me. I’m Lady Toni Bevell on behalf of the British Men of Letters.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Dean growls “You know, here in America no means no, Lady! We’ve already told your stupid little boyband to fuck off. We’re not here to do their bidding, we’re here to save lives.”

“So I’ve heard.” She nods in understanding. “But yet, we’d still like to gather some information, one way or another.”

She walks over to the table and unfolds a neatly wrapped package, revealing a knife. Suddenly, Sam’s sarcastic chuckle fills the place.

“And you think you can get us to spill by torturing? Seriously?”

A predatory smile spreads across Toni’s face as she casually picks up the weapon of her choice.

“I was thinking about playing a game that may involve torture. It’s up to you whether it does or does not.”

“What game?” you ask suspiciously.

“I’d like to call it Truth or Cut. Maybe Truth or Stab, depending on the importance of the information you intend to withhold. The rules are the following… I ask something and if you reply, that equals truth, and nothing will happen. If you do not wish to answer, just say cut and I’ll sink my knife into your flesh.”

“You’re crazy!” Sam exhales in disbelief.

“Thank you, Sam! I’m going to take that as a compliment. And since we are already engaged in a conversation, let’s start with you.” She walks to the center of the triangle to face the younger Winchester. “I’d like you to give me the names of American hunters you consider the best.”

Sam leans a bit forward, his face is unreadable.

“Bite me!” he hisses through gritted teeth. “I’m not gonna participate in your psychotic game. You can’t make me.”

Toni flashes a dangerous smile once more.

“Are you sure about that?”

She slowly walks behind your chair and places the blade under your right collar bone.

“If you refuse to pick either truth or cut, your loved ones will pay the price for it, big guy.”

Sam’s eyes search yours for confirmation of the next step and you nod.

“You’re bluffing.” He counters Toni.

The next second you feel the metal pressed against you slash into soft skin and you can’t suppress a loud grunt of pain. Blood starts oozing from the wound and your white tank top soon begins to acquire a shade of crimson.

The brothers yell ‘No!’ in unison, then Dean delivers an impressive selection of curse words – sneaking in some that were new even to you.

Toni strolls over to Sam.

“Now I ask again. Name the best American hunters you know.”

“Cut.” Sam responds in a tone just above whisper. He soundlessly flinches when the woman draws blood by sliding the blade across his left forearm.

“Alright… Who wants to be next? Perhaps Dean? List all the places where we can find extensive knowledge on the supernatural, not counting the Man of Letters safe houses of course.”

Dean’s gaze meets Toni’s and for a second you think you can see her confidence falter because of the deadly rage and utter disdain that radiates from the hunter, but she soon regains composure.

“So? Is it truth or cut, Dean? You know what will happen if you refuse to choose.”  

“Cut!” he emphasizes the t at the end.

You’re next and you pick cut as well. Then the cycle starts all over again...

You’ve made three rounds without anyone breaking and giving Toni what she wants, which visibly annoys her.

“Let’s shake things up a bit by changing the topics, shall we?” she announces out of the blue, making all of you knit your brows.

Spinning around on her heels, she turns to Sam.

“Sam! Did you manage to decide where you want to propose to Y/N? In my personal opinion the place where you said your first I love you-s is more romantic than the place where you first met, but that’s just plain old me.”

Sam’s eyes widen in shock, reflecting your own facial expression.

“Sam? What is she talking about?” you question in a thin voice, perplexed.

A shy, boyish smile appears on his face as he looks deep into your eyes, reminding you of the very first time you’ve seen him.

“Uh, yeah. She’s right. Although I have no idea how she knows this, but I did indeed plan on proposing to you at one of those places, probably where we met… up until now. Now I have to come up with something else I guess.”

A mixture of emotions floods your heart, making you undecisive what to say first. You finally open your mouth to speak but before a sound can escape, Toni directs the next question to Dean.

“Alright, that was a truth, so no cuts. Now, Dean! I am certain she will not get offended so you can tell me honestly… Is Y/N a good kisser?”

“How would I know?” he asks back, lacking any hesitation. “I think you’re mistaking me with Sam, her boyfriend. You know, the tall guy whose proposal you’ve just ruined? Next time you play this game with someone, have your facts checked first, Suit pants.”

The confusion on Sam’s face slowly starts to fade away, but Toni presses on relentlessly.

“Oh, Dean... That was a very convincing performance! But, unfortunately for you, I did have my facts checked. And according to these facts, you and Y/N locked lips passionately just two years ago, in 2015. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

Everybody’s eyes are on you waiting for your reaction, and you can’t help but reminisce about the event in question.

You were having a hard time finding the key for the motel room you were renting - courtesy of the bottle of bourbon you’d consumed earlier. All those keys on the chain looked the same and neither of them seemed to fit into the lock, let alone open the damn door… In addition to that, the world slowly started spinning and you had to prop yourself against the doorframe to prevent an ugly fall.

“Need a hand there, Sweetheart?”

Your heart skipped a beat from the scare but soon calmness washed over you as you identified the person. You could recognize that husky voice anywhere, intoxicated or not.

“Dean Winchester!” you exclaimed, turning around to find him leaning against your car you’d parked near the doorway. “The world’s deadliest hunter and mightiest panty dropper turned hell’s cruelest demon! To what do I owe this pleasure? Considering that you’ve gone out of your way to ignore both me and Sam in the past couple of months.”

He leisurely pushed himself from the car and started walking towards you.

“I needed a breath of fresh air, that’s all. But speaking of whom… where’s Sam?”

He almost left no distance between your bodies when he finally stopped. What was he doing? If he wanted to kill you, he probably would’ve done it already…

“I don’t know. Why don’t you give him a call, huh? Ask him how he’s doing? You could make him the happiest man alive…” you replied with a bitter undertone.

A shit-eating grin formed on Dean’s handsome face.

“Uh-oh. Is there trouble in paradise?”

“Shut it, Dean! It’s really none of your business.” You said, crossing your arms and averting your gaze.

His comment hit a nerve – you both knew that – but the last thing on Earth you wanted to do was discussing your relationship crisis with him. If you still had a relationship, that is.

To much of your surprise, the next second he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him and pressed his lips against yours. It felt terribly wrong but incredibly right at the same time… It took you half a minute to gather all your willpower and push him away.

“Y/N? Is it true?” Sam’s voice brings you back to reality.

Tears start dwelling up in your eyes, providing a wordless answer. He swallows hard.

“Why?”

“It’s all my fault, okay?” Dean speaks up as you’re clearly unable to form a coherent sentence. “I kissed her, man. It happened when I was a demon… I figured if I kissed her, I’d piss you off enough to leave me alone. Besides, she was totally hammered and still pushed me away.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, Dean?!”

“I don’t know… a little, maybe?”

Sam scoffs then all of a sudden realization hits him.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“What?”

“Is my girlfriend a good kisser?”

Both you and Dean stare at him in shock.

“C’mon man, you can’t seriously want me to answer that…” Dean attempts to change the subject but doesn’t succeed. Sam’s stare makes it obvious he won’t let this one slide. He won’t let go until he hears the truth no matter how unpleasant it may be.

“Yes.” Dean blurts out. “She’s a good kisser. In fact, she’s one of the best kissers I’ve ever encountered in my entire life. Happy now?”

The only response is a nod.

“Oh wow…” Toni lets out an excited sigh. “Changing the topic was the best idea ever, don’t you agree? Now, let’s move on to Y/N. She’ll get the most interesting question in my repertoire.”

She slowly walks over to you, her Louboutin’s menacingly tap against the concrete every step of the way. She crouches down, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and asks the most ruthless question in the sweetest voice.

“Which one of the Winchester brothers is better in bed?”

The tears you’ve been holding back for quite some time now break free and roll down your cheeks swiftly.

“I mean, it’s not entirely true what Dean said, now is it? You did push him away but then you pulled him back...”

Complete silence ensues and you swear you can hear three hearts break if you listen closely.

You were standing there more confused than ever. What the hell was Dean doing?! Was this a long time coming or was he playing some sort of a game? Either way… If you were sober, you most certainly would’ve punched him in the mouth. But due to your condition – or at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself ever since – you pulled him back and kissed him there instead. The part of how you got inside the room was a blur, but soon enough you found yourself tangled up with him in the sheets. Torn clothes peppered the floor, a smell of bourbon lingered in the air and Dean treated you as if you were the single, most important person in the entire universe. You truly thought you’d never been happier – then came the morning and shattered everything to a thousand pieces.

“You know, to encourage picking truth regarding this question, I am going to tell you something you yourself may not even be aware of, Y/N.” Toni breaks the silence. “There is something else that’s not true in what Dean said. He did not spend that night with you just to piss Sam off… He’s been attracted to you ever since you’ve met and being a demon allowed him to shamelessly do something about it.”

You whisper ‘Cut’ as a reply and Toni’s face hardens.

“Oh, honey… withholding this information is worth a stab.”

Before you can comprehend her words, she swings the knife and it ends up in your right thigh. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this much blood come from a stab wound… Both Winchester men yell in protest, but their voices become distant as you slowly slip into unconsciousness.

Mary and Castiel tracked down your location and arrived just in time. You almost bled to death, but the angel managed to heal the wound. For a while you wished he didn’t.

Three weeks later you’re sitting in your car at an abandoned gas station. About fifteen minutes after your arrival, a black SUV parks near you. You limp to the vehicle and tear its door open, barely containing your fury.

“What the fuck was that, Toni?!” you question while getting in and pointing a gun at her.

She glances at the weapon then looks you in the eye.

“Is that necessary?”

You cock the gun in response.

“Alright. So, as you know, the management decided that you delivering information to us about the Winchesters is not enough anymore.”

“Yes, that’s why you’ve contacted them directly, I know.”

“Correct. But since they refused to cooperate, the management came up with a plan of disrupting their unity. This way it’s just a matter of time and one of them will be knocking on our door. I suspect it will be Sam.”

A bitter laugh escapes you lips.

“So that’s what this was? A disruption of unity? Really?! And why didn’t I know of this, huh?”

“We needed your reactions to be genuine.”

“God, you’re a bunch of psychopaths… You know what, I’m not gonna do this anymore. I quit.”

She lets out a loud scoff.

“Please… what are you going to tell them? Furthermore, how do you think they will react when they learn that the love of their lives is a snitch?”

You let your gun down.

“I’ll make sure they know why I became a snitch... I’ll make sure they know how I made a crossroad’s deal years ago to save them both. I’ll make sure they know how you offered to delay the hellhounds in exchange for some information every now and then. I have no idea how they’ll react, but maybe someday they’ll understand and find it in their hearts to forgive me.”

Toni stares daggers at you.

“I suggest you think this through carefully, Y/N, as we still hold your deal. One bad move and the hellhounds will come and get you. No more delaying.”

You flash her the biggest smile you can summon.

“Well, it’s been a while since the last time I played with puppies from the pit… I think I’m ready.”

Not waiting for her reaction, you get out of the car and start limping back to yours. By the time you get in, Toni is gone.

You’re all alone.

Well, not entirely alone to be fair.

The grumbling hellhounds in your backseat keep you company.

You take your phone out of your pocket avoiding any sudden movements and type a quick message to the Winchesters:

‘My nightstand, second drawer.’

Toni thought she could prevent you from exposing the truth by taking action quickly, but she wasn’t paying attention. You never said you were gonna tell them everything. You said you would make sure they know. And the detailed farewell letters you left for them in your drawer will serve the purpose well.

#nicolesalphabetangstfor8k #dontshootmespence #dean winchster x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester x reader #Sam Winchester #supernatural fic #supernatural #SPN #spn fanfiction #sam x reader #dean x reader #sam x reader x dean

[imnotwolverine]

The marriage pact - Island folk

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 6 | Part 7 Island folk | Part 8 >

Disclaimer: mention of late motherhood worries

Author’s note: This story is just so much fun to write. I set a scene and *BOOM* it just kind of writes itself. Now, I don’t know how long this writing craze will continue, but so far you can expect an update every day. You read that right; every day! 

Word count: 1.525

(Link to my Masterlist)

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[ Alice.in.writing.land ]

Dear readers,

Dark are the abysses of my heart sometimes, and I know that keeping those thoughts under lock and key only make things worse. And so, for the first time on this blog, I’d like to share something really, truly personal with you. A little snippet of my thoughts for a tender of your time, I’d like to come clean about my most recent Google search which I did late last night, after hours of laying awake.  

Late motherhood.

Why? You may wonder. Well, with my relationships continuously failing and the years - and candles - slowly adding up to my birthday cakes, I feel the increasing unease in my heart whenever I come to think of having a family of my own. Will it happen? And if so, am I not too late already? All my friends and family members had their first children in their late 20s, yet here I am, the oddball, single Pringling through life at 37.

It was about 3 AM late last night when I found myself quelling my nerves by looking at pictures of older female celebrities having kids at the “ripe old age of 35”, which in my book is still super young, but of course we are looking at Hollywood standards here. And, to be quite frank, I’m not sure if it helped me, but at least it did offer me the slightest sliver of hope as I found that I’ll probably just need a little luck, good preparation..and perhaps a donor, to make my wishes come true.

Research is required.

But, let’s not get carried away just yet. I know what I want, now all I need to give myself is time. Time to listen to my heart and learn if this is truly it, time to investigate my options a little more and time to sleep. Because honestly, Google is one hell of a click-through trap when you can’t sleep - I may or may not have ended up falling asleep to videos of laughing foxes, which are truly..the cutest. In case you want to look it up and dare to delve into the time consuming trap that is watching random Youtube videos, then search for: “Finnegan fox”.

Hi-la-ri-ous.  

Also; apparently chocolate cakes have internet access. So, aherm, hello and welcome to my little writing den, oh mysterious chocolate cake of mine!

A very sleepy, but glad to have this off her chest,

Ali

The waves broke softly onto the shoreline as the wind tugged gently on my hair, my pen scribbling away on the paper notebook on my lap. For some odd reason I found it much more comfortable to write by hand, and so whenever the mood struck and I found the time, I snuck out to my little beach hide-out and started to write. This time it was for work, but sometimes I also worked on smaller fictional stories, the very act of writing calming my nerves considerably.

I looked up when I heard the sound of slushing feet through the fine sand, the distinct vibrations telling me someone was approaching me with slow, dragging feet. And.. it appeared to be not just anyone.

Henry.

So very suddenly I felt terrible about posting that blog this morning. Had he read it? Would he start a conversation about it? I wasn’t quite sure if I wanted to have that conversation with him right now. We were at best just dating, our newly rekindled friendship slash relationship only a few days young.

He stifled a yawn as he plopped down beside me on the picnic blanket, his eyes sporting large dark circles beneath them, his shoulders slumping slightly as he looked me over. I sniffled, shaking my head at the fact that we both had barely slept - obviously.

‘Mornin’.’ He grumbled, a gentle smile reaching his lips, his body leaning forward, but halting mid-morning kiss. Almost automatically I closed the distance, my hand moving aside my notebook so I could lean in, lips brushing over his, which apparently was just what he needed, his lips curling up in a full smile. ‘Hi.’ I whispered into his lips, then leaned back, tucking some rogue curl behind his ear before studying him better. Once more he wore a blue shirt - he had a gazillion of those, didn’t he? - and some dark jeans, his hair fresh and messy straight out of bed.

’So…no sleep then?’ I inquired, watching him as he slowly moved his gaze towards the rolling waves before us. ‘Nope.’ ‘How come?’ ‘Hmm..’ He thought aloud. ‘..I suppose it is difficult to just stop my life right dead in its tracks.’ He sighed.

‘What’s up Hen?’ I scooted closer to him, fingering a hand through his curls, his eyes closing as he revelled into the simpleness of my touch.

‘I have to fly back to London for the weekend. There’s this event that my manager can’t seem to cancel without serious repercussions and..’ He sighed again. ‘You don’t want to go.’ ‘Not really no. But I will have to. The fox videos helped by the way.’

My heart summersaulted at his words - not only because he apparently read my blog, which wasn’t entirely surprising, but also because he was showing so much vulnerability. This large bear of a man was being honest about the things that frustrated him, something I had never experienced with previous partners. They’d always just burst out in flames all of a sudden, without giving me any fair warning before hand.

‘Hmm..’ I hummed, thinking. His eyes were still staring out to the sea, soft waves cascading in similar shades to his cerulean irises. He truly seemed to be a bit done with it all. 

‘I’ve got some swimming pig videos at the ready too.’ I added, laying my head onto his shoulder and wrapping both my arms around his large chest, wishing to comfort him a little. ‘Hehe..swimming pigs.’ He chuckled, his chest vibrating with near silent mirth. ’Yea..can you imagine? Those tiny, tiny legs kicking through aquamarine water, their noses sticking out the water like living, breathing, skin coloured electricity points. Oink oink!’

Henry’s chuckle turned into rumbling laughter, his shoulders shaking until he finally looked back at me, my head still resting on his shoulder. ‘Ali..I ..eh..know this is maybe a bit weird, but, would you perhaps like to join me? To London? Leaving Friday night, back Sunday morning?’

I sat up, my brown eyes staring into his deep blues. Tender, hopeful blues. ‘Hmm.’ I hummed, blinking for a moment as I mulled over his words.

‘I know it’s all going fast and I don’t want to pressure you.’ He added.

‘No, it’s okay. It’s ehm..okay. Yea, sure, I’ll come. I haven’t been to London in ages and don’t have weekend plans anyways.’

‘Ages?’ ‘Naa..okay..maybe not ages. More like months.’ I snorted. We both laughed until finally my eyebrow quirked up. ‘So..what kind of event are you ..or we..going to?’ Henry smiled, leaning in to kiss me, the sound of my fluttering heart drowning out all else around us.

The answer to my question didn’t matter, I was simply very happy that I could join him and finally get a sneak peek of his usual life. Henry’s life.

—

‘I’m still amazed at the fact that you managed to pack all your things in that one backpack.’ Henry grinned, pushing my backpack in the overhead storage locker in First Class. I grinned in turn, shrugging my shoulders as I sat back in my seat. ‘Oh you know. I don’t mock about. No need to bring the unnecessary.’

‘You’d make for a fine traveller.’ He admitted, plopping down in his seat, right next to me, his hand quite instantaneously interlacing with mine - he didn’t even seem to think about it -, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips as he watched two business men enter, taking their seats a few rows ahead, leaving us plenty of privacy.

Slowly, he cast me a curious glance. ‘What is it, dear?’ He asked, noticing my studious look, his smile growing and his blue eyes sparkling.

‘Mmm..just wondering. You probably thought about this far better than I have thus far. But if you’d start a family..how would that..go? Like..-‘ ‘The travelling and stuff?’ ‘Yea.’

Henry leaned into the headrest, his head tilting up slightly as he licked his lips. ‘It’s going to take some back-and-forthing with my partner. And it won’t be easy. It will not only be my children that will give you broken nights, you see.’ He grinned and my heart fluttered at his words - children! -, yet my mouth remained sealed, waiting for him to continue. He sighed. ‘I..would definitely slow down my career. For the longest time I didn’t even think of that as a possibility. But like you wrote quite perfectly; all my friends and family members had their children young and here I am..the oddball. I know I should not press my luck by demanding my partner to give up everything for me. That is just not fair.’

‘Give and take.’ I added.

‘Yes, give and take.’ He smiled at me, his large warm hand squeezing mine gently. It felt nice. ‘Okay..so another question. You live in London right?’ ‘Mostly, yes.’ He nodded, making me grin. ‘Yea yea..Superman has several mansions and a jet setting career that makes you quiver right back into your 2-bedroom flat.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘But all joking aside..why did you chose to stay with your parents, now you requested a “time-out”?’

Henry shifted in his seat, his smiling face turning to one holding a more serious expression. ‘I’m from the island baby. And I will always, ALWAYS return to the island. It is my one true home after all.’  

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[mirrorballls]

* liana liberato, cis woman + she/her | you know rory hanna, right? they’re twenty-two, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, their whole life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to cool by soccer mommy like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that loud pen clicking rapidly in the corner of kahlo’s, collegiate sweatshirt two sizes too big, and constantly waiting for that deep breath of relief: a longing hope that one day, it’ll all settle down thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is august 26th, so they’re a virgo, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

hey team.

admins made poor decision and let me take up two more muses. i want to plot but we all know i’m butt ass slow at getting to those messages so. i’ll probably make a day of that once i finish starters this all makes sense in my little twisted head.

basics.

full name:  aurora catherine hanna. answers exclusively to rory. birthday:  august 26, 1998. big three:  virgo sun. aquarius moon. capricorn rising. sexuality:  bisexual. occupation:  social media manager for the local paper. neighborhood:  lives in her childhood home on orion avenue.

bio.

rory was born the youngest of three and it shows. i’m not saying third child syndrome is real, but if it is, rory has it. her family was seemingly average in every way: the white picket fence, the house on orion avenue, parents happily married, and not many curveballs coming their way. but as the youngest, rory has always been more of a self-starter. from a young age, she was both fiercely independent and constatnly doing whatever it took to get her parents attention: it’s a paradox, but it’s who she was. she burned the candle at both ends, making sure she was taken care of, on the right track, but always looking for a pat on the back about it.

education had always been a priority in the hanna family: both of their parents were teachers and they were sure to instill a sense of how important an education was. and it left marks on them all in a different way. for her brother, it meant pursuing teaching (smiles at austin) and for her, it was turning her education into something competitive, something she was so passionate about getting the absolute most out of, she was willing to go to extreme lengths. she, like many others, will blame it on the aftermath of gifted-and-talented programs, and being made to feel like she had to achieve at this high level or fail, no middle of the road.

and so, school became almost her singular focus. she was naturally clever, smart enough to learn little ways to come up for air, but for the most part, it was always at the forefront of her mind. and for that, she became her mother’s prize jewel. she would beam and laugh and joke with her bookclub friends about how rory would one day be at duke with the best of them. and her third child syndrome just ate that up. she loved the attention and the praise that dedicating herself to school got her, and she’d do anything to keep that high for a while.

so high school kind of sucked. she had her sights set on duke and knew, that to actually be able to go, she’d have to get enough scholarship money to make that feasible. because the more she talked to her mom about school, the more she indulged her desire to see rory succeed, almost as if she was living vicariously through her, school kept getting bigger. because at first it was getting to the top of her class. then it was duke. then it was law school, preferably ivy league. they had it all mapped out, ready for rory to just succeed and make it happen.

but obviously it’s not as easy as just succeeding. for four years, she was stretched thin. she got involved with as many clubs as she could, she took as many ap classes as her bloated schedule would allow. she played it cool around her friends, whenever she was actually able to see her friends, but for the most part, she spent high school holed up in the library or her bedroom studying and working on whatever paper or project would click her along on her way to duke.

but it all paid off. in the end, she got into duke, and was able to check off that box. but she also got into university of north carolina, and they were a lot more generous with the scholarships. she got a full ride, and with ambitions beyond undergrad, it just made sense to go ahead and take it, save her money for the big league law school she would pick out later. plus, she still got the satisfaction of knowing she got in, she had done enough to impress them, so she convinced herself that was all the payoff she needed.

she majored in journalism and political science, always with intentions of it being a solid base for law school. but she always had a preference for her journalism classes. she got really involved in campus publications and, while it wasn’t all consuming like high school extracurriculars had been, it was something she loved. she loved writing, she loved piecing together each week’s issue, she loved exploring her world through that lens, getting to shine a spotlight on the good and the bad in her community. if she had it her way, she’d pursue that full time. but she didn’t think that was possible.

about a year ago, around the time she was working on law school applications, her parents got divorced. it sent shockwaves through her family, rory and her siblings were largely blindsided by the decision, and it brought her to reconsider a lot of things. seeing her mother in this new light, it felt like half of her decisions for the past ten years had been made to please someone she felt like she didn’t even really know.

so, partly out of hedonism and partly out of spite, she decided to defer law school, eventually deciding to all together not go. she was breaking the cycle and doing something for herself for once. she would take her degree and pursue journalism, she would keep living with her dad and largely cut out her mom, she’d become the person she wanted to be and not who she was expected to be.

but living an amazing life out of spite is harder than she expected. she’s working on finding her footing again, but she didn’t expect to be out in the real world so soon. she took the only job the local paper had available, and she’s hoping to work her way up to writing and editing more, but for now, she’s taking what she can get.

personality wise she’s very determined and stubborn when it matters but she’s also always been a little impish. when she took breaks from studying to go out, she wanted it to count, so she’s been known to raise a little hell. just wanted to make sure she didn’t read as fully joyless nerd even though she is like at least a third joyless nerd.

connections.

high school friends!! rory came back to irving on the weekends/in the summer, but she kind of fell out of touch with a lot of her closest friends from high school. i picture her to have been close with a bunch of other smart girls with ambitions, so maybe its just a matter of them all being in town again to get back in the swing of things

summer flings!!! she hasn’t done a lot of dating dating, but she was prone to messing around a little in the summer. maybe ur muse was apart of that! they could be on the same page as her or maybe they wanted something more and it just didn’t pan out.

former rivals!!! maybe if they were in high school at the same time, your muse and rory were rivals. they still be rivals, and your muse has the upper hand since rory gave up on law school, or maybe they’re more on the same page now.

im very bad at thinking of these. but i would love to make plots with you all :)

but im gonna keep this short and sweet because i have Another Intro to write.... ugh

#irvingintro #1 down 1 to go then im free to play again.....