#commander lemon

[padawansuggest]

Rex: *five minute tirade about Anakin’s weird mechanic binge last week that resulted in an illegal death ray*

Fox: *still complaining about Palpatine’s ear hair*

Bly: *sighing about Aayla’s beautiful lekku and how she gave him a forehead kiss once*

Cody: …*sipping caff*

Rex: ???

Cody: What?

Rex: Well, go on, what new bullshit is Kenobi getting into lately?

Cody: Not much.

Rex: …he’s calming down finally?

Cody: No, I just found his off button.

Fox: An off button? Where is it?

Cody: The back of his throat.

Bly: …oh my god?!?

Rex: What… don’t you mean the back of his neck?

Cody: Nope. Throat. You know, on the inside.

Rex: OH MY GOD

Bly: *cackling* oh god how often does that happen?

Cody: Whenever he starts to rant and we’re alone.

Rex: …do you think that’ll work on mine?

Cody: Probably. He seems like he’ll turn to goo if you call him a good boy.

Fox: *big sigh* I don’t think that’ll work on mine. I’ll just kill him 😔

Bly: Call me if you need help hiding the body.

Fox: Thanks, Bly. You’re a pal.

[illusivesoul]

What happened after that kiss in the Omega DLC.

[1-800-crscnt]

it’s very entertaining and cute to me to think about the differences in language that Guardsmen have with the rest of the GAR and how some things require lots of background knowledge. of course you can make it a bit sad, as this would create a bigger divide/rift in the relationship. sticking to the light-hearted stuff, i think Fox would make a joke about lemons being a kid’s entry into becoming an evil CEO, and Wolffe would just be blankly staring at him because he doesn’t know what a lemon is or what CEO means. Fox would trick him into eating a lemon, and then explain lemonade and lemonade stands, how kids used to be encouraged to make one many thousand years ago and why, explain starting up your own business as an adult, explain what CEO stands for, what CEOs are in charge of & what they do while frequently going off into tangents about particular ones (and their companies) that he wants to see “disappear”, and laugh some more at Wolffe falling for his trick. Wolffe is silent and listens, not because he cares about any of this anymore, but because he’s worried Fox might actually lose his mind if he doesn’t get all this out.

[pookydraws]

Please stay.

[lemodoe]

anyways. he called her renée....

[somedaylazysomeday]

Tied Up in You - Part Three

When edging doesn't work out for you, Fox decides to test your limits in a different way.

Commander Fox x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 5,800

Warnings: Dom/sub elements, attempted edging, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, accidental orgasm, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, elements of forced orgasms (but not really), safeword discussion and use, unprotected sex, creampie.

Previous | Masterlist

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“Come on, pretty girl.”

Fox’s low voice, velvety with the rough edge of his arousal, made you thrash your head back and forth. “I th-thought that’s what you di- ah! - didn’t want me to do?” 

“Just because I don’t want you going over the edge doesn’t mean I don’t want you on the cliff,” he told you. You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear the smile in his tone. It made you want to simultaneously smack him and kiss him.

Your relationship with Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard was easily the best part of your life at that particular moment. Actually, you couldn’t remember anything better in your past and you couldn’t picture anything better for your future. Fox was everything to you, and he was very clear that you were everything to him. 

Even when he was relentlessly tormenting you.

At that particular moment, Fox had buried his face between your legs. He was teasing you with his mouth, pushing you closer and closer to orgasm without allowing the pleasure to overtake you. Normally, your relationship was all about chasing pleasure with every bit of energy either of you could muster, so this turn of events was deliciously frustrating. 

“Be my good girl and tell me when you get close,” Fox pulled away to say. It wasn’t the first time he had said it, and every time seemed to coincide with a time when your body was starting to lock down to come. “Don’t come until I say so.” 

“I’m close right now, Fox!” you wailed. 

A sharp sensation in your inner thigh made you gasp and you looked down to find Fox in the middle of delivering a bite there. When he had finished, he moved enough to warn, “Watch that tone. Don’t forget that I’m in charge of deciding when you come.”

“Maybe you’re depriving me,” you countered, cutting yourself off with a sharp gasp as he started tormenting you with lips and tongue once more. 

“Fine,” Fox said, and you could almost cry at how cold and empty you felt as he sat back on his heels. “You want to come so badly? Beg.” 

“Fox,” you complained. 

“C’mon, princess,” he urged. “Beg for me. Tell me what you want me to do and how, and I’ll have you screaming my name just as soon as you want. But you’re going to have to beg first.” 

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. Fox gave you a dark smile and heat rose in your face and chest. You were comfortable with Fox - clearly - but begging had never been part of your skill set. Something about the humiliation of it, the desperation… you couldn’t figure out whether you loved the idea or hated it, but you’d never managed to work up enough nerve to find out for yourself. Not when you weren’t being overly-dramatic or doing it as a joke.

Fox used his fingers to keep you on-edge as you tried to work up the courage to plead with him. “Don’t come without permission or I’ll come up with a punishment for you.”

Despite the warning, you could feel the way your body started to tighten. “Fox, I-”

His hand pulled away a millisecond before your thighs snapped together. You and Fox stared at each other in wide-eyed shock even as the muscles of your core spasmed and squeezed. You had come without his permission. And worse, you hadn’t even been able to enjoy it!

“What did I tell you to do?” 

The urge to be sarcastic was strong in the face of Fox’s deadpan question, but you bit it back. He looked stern and foreboding - a combination that had proven to be lethal to your self-control in the past. 

So you ducked your head. “I’m sorry, Fox.” 

“Did I ask for an apology?” He shook his head before you could answer the question. “What did I tell you to do?” 

“You told me not to come.” 

“That’s right,” he agreed with a nod. “And what did you do?” 

“I came,” you muttered, face burning again. 

“Yes you did.” Fox seemed thoughtful, which was potentially a worse development for you. “The question now is: what should I do about that?” 

Your breath caught and Fox gave you a sharp look. It hadn’t been an unhappy noise, and you hoped he knew that. But subtlety didn’t seem worth the risk. “You said you were going to punish me.” 

Fox sat back further, sitting on the bed so he could watch you from a more comfortable position. His expression was still one of consideration, like he was trying to figure out just how far you wanted to push this particular game. He was hesitant, you could see it in every muscle of his body. He wanted to go as far as you did, but never to cross the line. 

Eventually, he leaned forward, studying you intently. “What do you think should happen?” 

Ah, yes, leaving the decision up to you. Perfect. 

With a great deal of effort, you kept your smirk internal and offered him a look of wide-eyed guilt and scarcely disguised interest. “I think I’ll never learn to obey you if you threaten to punish me and don’t follow through. Sir.” 

Fox looked softly entertained at that, especially at the title you’d hastily tacked on at the end. But he managed to keep a straight face, with only the warmth in his eyes betraying his amusement. He nodded gravely. “If your future behavior is at stake, I don’t believe we have a choice.”

“If you think that’s best,” you agreed, biting the inside of your lip to fight the smile trying to emerge. 

And then Fox was utterly serious once more. “Okay, sweetheart. What are your hard limits for this?” 

“Same as always,” you told him. It may have sounded like a rote assurance to anyone else, but Fox gave a firm nod. He knew your limits backward and forward, but he liked to check that nothing had changed, especially if a situation was new or different. 

“And can you tell me the safeword?” 

You couldn’t help but smile, the way you always did when asked about the safeword you and Fox had come up with: “Palpatine.” 

He shook his head in fond exasperation, rolling his eyes slightly at the reminder. “Yes. Give me a minute to set up. If you need to grab a drink or use the refresher, now would be the time.”

That was a new warning, and you decided to do both of those things before you got started. When you got back, Fox had retrieved your bottle of lube, set a collection of toys on the bedside table, and was holding his binders. 

“What did you decide on?” you asked, crossing to the bed. 

Fox turned and your spine reflexively straightened. His posture was straight and his jaw was firm - clear signs that he had switched into dom mode. “You haven’t behaved well enough to ask questions. You aren’t entitled to the answers. Now, get on the bed and make yourself comfortable. You’re gonna be there a while.” 

You complied, your body already tightening with interest. It was unusual for you to be ready so soon after an orgasm, but there was something about the way Fox bossed you around…

“Yes, Commander,” you murmured as you slipped past him. Fox’s hand stroked over the curve of your hip as you went, and the feeling of that touch buzzed through you. 

This was going to be good. 

As soon as you were comfortably on the bed, Fox nodded at you. “Arms out.” 

You put your hands out toward him and Fox attached the now-familiar set of binders on your wrists. They had seen a lot of activity between you and Fox, but the sight of the dull, utilitarian material wrapped around your limbs still made you shiver with anticipation. 

Fox pulled your bound hands upward, pressing a single button to magnetize them to the headboard. His motions were brusque and businesslike, but his eyes burned at you every time he caught your gaze. 

He didn’t seem able to resist the last time, and ducked down for a long, searching kiss. You hadn’t even noticed the way you were leaning forward to accept and return that kiss until Fox’s fingers parted your folds. You gasped at the touch, still sensitive from your earlier activities, leaning back and back and back until you were finally sitting against the headboard. 

Fox was undeterred, his fingers toying with you. They weren’t entering you, not yet, but they stroked your folds and brushed over your clit. He took long breaks to run his hands over the smooth skin of your inner thighs, and you eagerly spread your legs wider for him. 

When he finally decided to touch your core, his motions were slow at first. He dipped a fingertip into you and pulled back out immediately, studying the way your body had left a prominent shine on his skin. He licked his finger clean and you moaned for him. Fox’s eyes glimmered wickedly at you, then he was pressing two fingers deep inside of you. 

Your breath caught audibly at the intrusion of it. Fox’s fingers were broad and he didn’t seem worried about the fact that they were spread slightly as they pressed into you. If you hadn’t already had one orgasm, the sensation probably would have been painful rather than just intensely pleasurable. But from the knowing look on Fox’s face as he pumped those spread fingers in and out of your body, he had already taken that into account. 

All of a sudden, your hands jolted. With the binders locking you to the bedframe, the motion was ineffective but loud. Fox’s eyes pulled upward to your face. Dimly, you recognized that they had been focused between your legs for the past few minutes. 

“Fox- Sir,” you hastily corrected. “I’m close.” 

The hint of tension dissolved from Fox’s expression and he started pumping his fingers once more. “Good. This is your punishment, sweetheart. If you want to come so badly, I’ll make sure you have the chance to. After all, I wouldn’t want you to feel like you’re being deprived.”

The wicked drawl in his last sentence - clearly mocking what you had said earlier - made you burn. Whether that burn was lust or irritation or your impending orgasm, you couldn’t tell for sure. You were tempted to lean toward that last explanation, though, since your body tightened further and further until it snapped, releasing that tension in a flood of endorphins and bright colors bursting behind your closed eyelids. 

Fox worked you through all of it, milking every bit of pleasure from your system until you were squirming. “What do you say after someone gives you something you’ve asked for?” 

When you turned to look at him, your head lulled to the side in a lazy sweep. You grinned at him. “Thank you, Commander.” 

He gave an unimpressed little grunt. “If you’re gonna act like a brat, I’d better not give you any time to recover.” 

“Recover?” you asked, but Fox was already pushing himself down on the bed, forcing your thighs wide around the broad sweep of his shoulders. 

“Recover,” he repeated, a sweet darkness in his tone as his head lowered toward the junction of your thighs. 

In a smooth motion, Fox spread you wide for himself, holding your folds apart to make room for his lips and tongue. You had thought his actions had been intense before, but they had been nothing compared to what he was doing now. You could scarcely feel each touch as an individual sensation, let alone process any of it. The result was pleasure that managed to be overwhelmingly strong and breathtakingly intense.

Fox had teased pleasure from you before. He had coaxed it from your body, stoked it like a fire. He had played your nerve endings like a melodium and, at times, he had withheld pleasure to keep you desperately balanced on the edge for an eternity. 

But this was different from anything you’d ever shared. It felt like he was pushing the pleasure at you, forcing you to take everything he gave you… and he was giving you everything. 

Your toes were curling, your legs wrapping around as much of Fox’s torso as you could manage without fear of suffocating him. Your head thrashed back and forth, hands straining uselessly in the cold grip of the binders. “Fox, I- ah! That’s… ohhhh…”

The flat of Fox’s tongue worked expertly against your clit, pressing and ribbing, letting you revel in the rough slickness of the muscle against you. At the same time, he sank a finger deep into your core, moving unerringly to that place against the front of your channel that made you fall apart for him every time. 

You arced up off the bed, for all the world like he had electrocuted you rather than press against a hidden collection of nerves deep in your body. “Fox!” 

It was half a scream and you worried that Fox was going to stop. You stared down at him with wild eyes only to find him looking back at you. While your gazes were linked, he closed one eye in a slow, deliberate wink. 

Your head tipped back, connecting solidly with the headboard as your breath whooshed out in a sharp exhale. That was followed by an equally sharp inhale and then you were gone. Your body danced and shook under Fox’s careful attention, squeezing and working his fingers like it could trap him there forever. 

At last, the rough slide of his tongue against you seemed like more of a punishment than a mercy and you groaned. Fox stopped immediately, patting your thigh and sitting back, careful not to jostle you. 

“Something you want to say?” he prodded. 

Your head lolled to one side, resting on your own bicep as you flexed your fingers in the binders. “Thank you, Commander.” 

“You did beautifully for me, pretty girl,” Fox congratulated lowly. Just that little bit of praise made you warm for him. “You were so sensitive and you let me hear you. For that, I’m going to let you have a minute to settle before we go again.” 

“We aren’t done?” you asked, bewildered. That speech had certainly sounded like the end of your punishment rather than the middle of it. Or worse, the beginning. 

Fox laughed. “You’ve come twice. Are you saying that was enough for you?” 

“It was three times,” you countered stubbornly. 

He tilted his head at you. “If you can’t handle any more, use your safe word.” 

It was hard not to pout at him, but you knew what would happen if you did. And since you were already in the middle of one punishment, you really didn’t think it was wise to start on another. You bit your lip, looking studiously at your own knee. 

“That’s what I thought,” Fox said, clearly satisfied with himself. “Take a minute. Do you need a drink?” 

All of that panting and moaning had left you feeling distinctly parched, so you nodded. Fox was unmoved. “Let me hear that voice. I asked, do you need a drink?” 

“Yes, sir,” you affirmed, face heating. That hadn’t even been begging, but it was subservient in a way that you had always made a point of avoiding. 

“Good,” Fox praised, erasing the burn in your cheeks. It returned in full force when he lifted a glass of water to your lips so you could take a series of sips. 

When you had finished, Fox set the glass down on a dresser across the room. He had to - the surface of your bedside table was covered in an army of vibrators, plugs, and other assorted toys. The largest bottle - holding your preferred lube - loomed over the rest like a king. 

Fox had apparently noticed where your gaze went, since he gave a sweeping gesture to indicate the table. “Pick one.” 

You frowned at him, searching for the trap in his words. Fox smiled, shaking his head a little. “No trick, little one. I know your favorite changes and I want to make sure this feels good for you.” 

“It always does, Fox,” you assured him, quickly biting your lip. “I mean, Commander.”

“Pick,” Fox repeated, durasteel in his tone at the reminder of the power games you were playing. “If I have to pick, you won’t like my choice.” 

That threat was laughably empty, especially given the conversation you had just finished, but you pretended to be concerned anyway. It was what you needed to keep things moving, and you desperately wanted to see where Fox went with this. 

“The white and gold,” you decided. Fox quirked one dark brow, but reached for it anyway, grabbing the lube at the same time. 

You studied your chosen toy as he began to stroke a thick layer of sheen over it. It was a rabbit vibrator, a lovely white silicone with gold embellishments. Both colors set off Fox’s rich skin tone as he prepared it for you, creating one of the most appealing images you had ever seen.

Despite the shine of the gold and the velvety matte white, the sophisticated-looking toy was simple to use and had the strongest vibrations of any toy you owned. It didn’t nudge you inexorably toward the edge of pleasure - it loaded you into a cannon and sent you there in an irresistible explosion.

Was it an overambitious choice for this particular occasion? Yeah, probably. But you wanted to throw Fox off his game, make him feel even partially as unbalanced as he made you. Besides, it really was your favorite toy at the moment.

True to his gentle nature, Fox started slow. He pressed his lips to yours in a gentle kiss, one you eagerly returned. When he was sure you were interested, he slowly deepened it, his mouth growing firmer and more dominant until you were opening and submitting to him. 

You hadn’t consciously parted your legs, but you must have at some point, probably in an attempt to make room for Fox. You hated the idea of him stooping awkwardly over the bed to kiss you in the range of your binder-clad hands when he could simply kneel on the bed in front of you. 

That helpfulness made it extraordinarily easy for Fox to lower the vibrator between your legs, teasing the head of it up and down your slit. You shuddered for him, and he swallowed down the tiny moan you gave.

He turned on the vibrations, alternating between almost breaching your channel and concentrating the head of it - and the strongest buzzing - directly against your clit. The noises you made were inhuman, and only the binders looped through the headboard kept you from pushing your way down the bed and forcing Fox to touch you the way you needed. 

“So impatient,” Fox tutted, as if he could read your mind. He pulled the vibrator away slightly. It was still in contact with your folds, but not nearly strong enough or where you needed it to be. 

“But you said I did good,” you pled, giving Fox your biggest, saddest eyes. 

“Hmm…” You wanted to call him out. There was no way he could really be considering your point while he pulsed the vibrator between your legs like that. “You’re right.” 

And then the whole beautiful, buzzing, well-lubricated toy was sinking into you. Your body parted eagerly around it and you made a sound that seemed to stem from your chest. Even with three orgasms in your recent past, the toy still brought on a stretching sensation, though it was noticeably less intense than usual.

“Fox!” you called, your fingers curling uselessly in the air. You wanted to dig them into Fox’s shoulders and back, the way you always did when you were consumed with pleasure, but the binders were strong enough to keep that from happening. 

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the side of your neck and nuzzling lightly. “I wouldn’t miss a second of this.” 

You couldn’t respond to his sweet words - you were too busy experiencing everything that was going on with the toy. The attention you had focused on the sensations between your legs only grew sharper as Fox began to pulse the toy gently in and out of you. The result was a tantalizing feeling of thrusting without removing the bulk of the vibrator from your core. 

The main benefit of this particular toy were the ‘ears’. With the vibrating shaft buried in you, they were touching your clit. And when Fox pressed it deeper, the resulting contact was firm and bright and breathtaking. 

It was strange, you mused. Your thoughts were coming far more slowly than usual, but their stream was still enough to pull you from the pleasure for a millisecond. You would have expected that reaching orgasm would take longer with each successive one you experienced. After all, you were no stranger to overstimulation. But you weren’t simply eager for Fox’s touches - your body was already starting to tighten in preparation for another orgasm. 

“Fox-” you started, cutting yourself off with a whine as Fox pressed the toy as far into your body as he could manage. 

Fox’s hands lightened against the vibrator’s silicone base. “You remember how to signal your safeword if you can’t speak, right?” 

You nodded, but didn’t tap the headboard three times. You didn’t want things to stop; you just didn’t want to be punished for coming without a warning. With every ounce of brainpower that hadn’t leeched down between your legs, you managed: “Close.” 

“Not good enough,” Fox decreed, increasing the speed of the toy’s vibrations. 

A choked scream clawed its way from your throat, almost painful in its intensity. The headboard clattered against the wall with the force of your hands against the binders. It wasn’t on purpose; your spine had arched so sharply that you couldn’t have prevented it if you had tried.

And you definitely didn’t have the mental capacity to try. 

This orgasm came over you like a flood, drowning you in pleasure until it was all you had ever known and all you would ever know. Every one of your senses was taken over by the sheer amount of information being fed into your nerve endings, and it robbed you of everything that wasn’t the overwhelming tide of sensations.

When you finally came down from that high, the vibrations had stopped, but Fox was holding the now-still toy thrust fully into you. The intrusion wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable. Especially with the way your inner muscles played over and gripped the toy, though you weren’t sure if they were trying to push it out or hold it in place. 

The slow slide of the toy leaving your body was strange, especially after having it settled firmly inside of you for that stretch of time. You shuddered as it finally pulled free, leaving you feeling oddly empty. 

“Thank you,” you murmured unprompted. 

Fox’s smile was immediate, flashing bright. “You’re welcome, pretty girl. Let’s keep this going, hmm?” 

Your eyebrows scrunched together as you tried to decide how you felt about that. You were exhausted and more than a little sore. More importantly, Fox hadn’t been inside of you yet, and you definitely wanted to fix that before you were done for the night. 

“Are you ready?” Fox asked. The question wasn’t pointed or demanding, but he was watching you as he waited patiently for an answer. 

“I… I don’t know how much longer I can last,” you admitted reluctantly. It had been a wonderful night, if a little more intense than you had expected, but you were starting to hit your limit. 

Fox was unbothered, clearly not disappointed in your lackluster answer. “Thank you for telling me, sweetheart. I’m going to keep going until you safeword. That’s the goal of this particular session. Use the word any time you need to, but I’m not stopping until then. Do you understand?” 

You nodded, relieved that Fox wouldn’t be disappointed if you used your safeword. In fact, the revelation that you were not only encouraged, but expected to use your safeword was… freeing, somehow. Counterintuitively, it made you feel like you could keep going. 

Fox’s hands reached for you, and you were thoroughly relieved when they moved past the tender throbbing between your legs. Instead, he stroked your thighs, then your hips, working his way further and further in a massaging path up your torso. Fox was strong enough to reach behind you, supporting your weight as his fingertips trailed down your spine and back up again. 

He slowly began moving back down the front half of your body, and he took a lengthy pause at your chest. The weight of your breasts was hefted, cradled in a gentle palm as his thumbs teased lightly over your nipples. 

When Fox’s lips wrapped around the sensitive peaks of your flesh, you weren’t surprised. You cried out anyway for him as he licked and sucked, every motion careful with the knowledge that you were close to the breaking point. As his mouth worked against your nipples, Fox’s hands strayed over the soft, ticklish flesh of your ribs, stroking the skin that always suffered the worst in the confines of your bra. 

You made an inarticulate noise as you felt the barest hint of Fox’s teeth - only an edge of them, there for a millisecond and gone again, but the idea of it had you squirming with excitement. Fox slipped further and further down, the weight of him between your legs trapping your thighs splayed wide enough for him to fit between them. 

He didn’t use his mouth on you. You had actually expected that from the way he had been tormenting you this time around, but he didn’t touch your core at all. Instead, he folded an arm under his head and rested it on your inner thigh. It gave him a very intimate vantage point for observation and you felt a flash of embarrassment. That was gone as quickly as it had come on when he reached to draw a feather-light fingertip over your folds. 

The effects of that light touch were profound in your sensitive state. Chills broke out over your skin and something low in your belly quivered. It felt like your entire body took an anticipatory breath.

Fox either didn’t notice your sudden focus or he was pretending not to. Instead, he kept tracing an incomprehensible pattern across your sensitive flesh. The folds of your sex were decorated with designs you couldn’t see and couldn’t begin to visualize. But your body was thoroughly enjoying it anyway, and you started to feel sharp interest growing in you once more.

The torment was slow, savoring. Having had almost no time to recover between sessions, you were already keyed-up, and pleasure came quickly even with the lightness of Fox’s touches. When you reached your peak, the pulsing of endorphins came so languorously that you weren’t quite sure you had come at all. You just knew you felt wonderful and that the galaxy seemed so, so distant and your problems didn’t quite feel real anymore. 

Since it was difficult to tell when the pleasure had started, it was equally difficult to tell when it had ended. Your muscles still trembled with an occasional spasm and your walls flexed and grasped around nothing. The room seemed hazy, not quite solid, and sounds were muted until you heard someone say your name. 

You blinked, and the weight of your eyelids was intense. Fox had sat up, staring into your face from only inches away. You half-expected him to kiss you, but the concern in his expression was odd. 

He said your name again, and you focused on his familiar face instead of your own tumbling stream of thoughts. “Are you okay? Thought I lost you for a second there.” 

That brought a hint of a smile to your face. “You’re good, Fox, but no, you didn’t kill me.” 

“Not dead, sweet girl,” he said, clearly relieved by the joke. “But I was worried you were gone for a while.” 

The way he flicked his fingers beside his ear communicated that he thought you had passed out. You shook your head. “I’m fine.” 

He looked deeply skeptical at that. “Something you want to say to me?” 

“Thank you, Commander.” 

The words were rote, fully automatic, but you couldn’t help a laugh when Fox’s expression turned to a wry sort of grimace. “Not what I meant. I think it’s about time you use that safeword.” 

You paused for a moment to consider that. You couldn’t keep this going indefinitely, but you had some things you still wanted from this session. “No.” 

The smile that appeared on your face made Fox scowl. “Not a question. You didn’t answer me the first few times I called your name. I think it’s time for this to stop.” 

“You said you wouldn’t stop until I used my safeword,” you reminded him. “And I haven’t used it yet. If you want to stop, you use your safeword. But if not, I want to keep going. I do have a request, though.” 

“Brat,” Fox sighed, staring at the ceiling like it could help him tame your attitude. “What is your request? I’m not saying I’ll agree to it.” 

“I want you to fuck me,” you said, gaze level. “I need to feel you inside of me. Please, Commander.” 

There was an internal battle being waged within Fox; you could almost see it happening. At last, he sighed again. “I feel like I have to agree to that request.” 

“It seems to be in your best interests,” you said, letting your gaze drift obviously down to his hips. He was hard, and had been for quite some time. After all, he hadn’t come a single time yet, and you were starting to worry for his health. 

Fox shook his head, but you could see his eagerness in the way he moved over your body. As he settled on top of you, he still took a moment to stroke down your arms. “Does this hurt yet?” 

Until that question, you had actually forgotten that your arms had been raised over your head for such a long time. As soon as he mentioned it, the tingling running from your fingertips down to your shoulders intensified into something you struggled to ignore. “Not hurt, but it’s starting to feel… not great.” 

Fox immediately released the binders from the headboard, catching your arms when they fell heavily toward the surface of the bed. He massaged the muscles of your arms, easing the tingling. “Better?” 

You nodded, and he quickly magnetized the binders once more. This time, your wrists were connected to each other instead of the headboard. You had a lot more movement this time, but Fox solved that problem by tossing your bound wrists over his head, using himself as your anchor. 

He lined himself up at your entrance without looking away from you, and the eye contact made your tired muscles eager for him. When he started pushing into you, he felt incredibly, impossibly big and you made a helpless little noise. 

At the same moment, your inner muscles clenched, fighting to pull him inside faster and Fox choked out a breath. Your body rippled again and his fragile control snapped. He slammed inside of you. 

The sudden invasion was a shock to your system, utterly overwhelming, and it threw you directly into another orgasm. 

Thankfully, it was a small one and you were soon aware once more. Fox was watching you, brows raised as you shrugged. “Sorry, you caught me off guard. I’m ready for you to keep going.” 

Your breathless explanation clearly didn’t satisfy him, but Fox slowly withdrew from you and pushed back in once more. Once, then again, then once more as you made appreciative sounds. If you could still remember how to speak, you would have expressed that appreciation in words, but you were a little short on brain power at the moment. 

“You’re tight,” Fox grunted, thrusting a little harder. “How are you still tight? We’ve been doing this for hours.” 

“I-” You broke off, gasping a little at the rhythm he had taken up. “You feel so good, Fox.”

Fox’s eyes darkened and he sped up even more. It hadn’t been an idle attempt to flatter him, either. Of all the things you had done up to that point, this was easily the best one. You had barely started and you had already come once. Even still, your toes were curling and your bound hands clutched at Fox’s back and shoulders for support. 

There was a crease between Fox’s brows. “Not sure how much longer I’ll last, sweetheart.” 

“Now you sound like me,” you murmured, earning a radiant smile from him. He followed it up immediately with a kiss and you were gone. 

As soon as you started squeezing around him, Fox lost what was left of his composure. He speared himself deep inside of you, spilling heat in your core as you shuddered together through the overwhelming tide of pleasure. 

When the orgasm ebbed away, you were exhausted, more tired than you could remember having been. Fox gently turned you both onto your sides. He kept one of your thighs pinned over his hip, holding himself inside of you and keeping the worst of the mess under control until you could go clean up. 

Fox’s hand rose, and he stroked gentle fingertips down the curve of your cheek. “So good for me. Perfect girl.” 

You smiled, snuggling into his hand. “Palpatine.” 

Fox blinked at you, uncomprehending for a long moment before he gave a warm chuckle. “Good. I was starting to think I really was depriving you.” 

“Never,” you assured, pressing a kiss to the base of his thumb.

---

Author's Note - Here's another fic I'm not sure I'll continue. I love this couple and their sweet and spicy dynamic. I'm just not sure what else I have to say, if anything. If I do end up writing more, I'll be sure to link it here.

For now, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

[sturgeonz]

TRADITIONAL DOODLE DUMP !!!!

[theladyhibiscus]

Commander Headcanon Time

Although professional, Signas has a little crush on his human assistant (this will be sorted out once I get to work up the courage to start my "Maverick X" fanfic). One of his quirks, he finds human women attractive. He's not a shallow fella, though. If a woman is all about looks and no character, sure, she's easy on the optics, but her personality is garbage and, therefore, not wanted.

His part-time, temporary assistant is average-looking, but she has a heart of gold. She's kind, funny, a little shy, and she snorts when she laughs sometimes. She's perfect. And, with her cubicle being not just next door to his office but there's a door between his office and where her cubicle is, he and she can visit each other at any time without anyone else knowing (her cubicle is in another office with another cubicle that's empty). When the two decide to become an item, they visit each other daily. Once her temporary assignment in MHHQ is completed, Signas is thrilled to finally be open with his new relationship.

Signas is aware of himself and is very gentle with his little human mate, giving her gentle embraces, forehead kisses, and offering his arm to her when they're walking together. X loves their relationship as it shows truly that Reploids and humans can indeed live together and love one another.

[bitegore]

I misplaced my credit card.

It's prbably not stolen, but, out of an abundance of caution, because it hasn't turned up in four days and the last time I saw it was a day I wasn't doing super hot for a number of reasons and then got sick as a dog after, I'm going to operate under the assumption that it's somewhere out in the public and I have to concern myself with the idea that someone might pick it up and use it. Before that happens, I'm going to order a new one in the mail and cancel that number.

This normally wouldn't be a big deal, because I have a debit card, and I try not to spend money I don't have. That is not true right now, because I get the money in my actual bank account (mostly) from my dad, who has been saying he'll get it to me for about a month now and not doing it. His bank account was hooked up to my credit card (which we did last month so he could pay my bill for me). This also normally wouldn't be a big deal beacuse I have cash. My college is cashless. Sometimes I have to spend money here. So you see what the actual problem is, right?

Anyway point is I suddenly have about $70 to split over everything I'll need to pay for for the next (estimated) two weeks, during what is probably the single two week period I'm going to spend the most money on takeout. (Midterms).

Normally again this wouldn't be a huge problem! I'd take on some art commissions and finish them off later. I don't love doing it but I can do it. Normally. I have a lot of outstanding commissions from this summer that I owe people, though. So I can't in good conscience do that.

Anyway, all that to say: I'm selling nudes. Hit me up. I'll do whatever. Particularly good at taking pictures outdoors but I can do it wherever. I'll fill requests. Send me a message and I'll see what I can do for you.

"teaser" under the cut :3

[inkformyblood]

a life known in patchwork (SubCody Week 23)

A very belated posting as I lost this in my docs! SubCody Week 2023 day 7 - cockwarming, hair cutting/shaving. Codywan, Tatooine Husbands. Minor hurt/comfort and past injury. Trans Obi-Wan.

Ben taps the binos against his hip before he raises them to his eyes, shielding the cracked plastic with his other hand. The world doesn’t bloom into sharp focus, it remains the same blurred distinction of rough shapes and patches of brown, yellow and darker brown but it’s enough for him to catch the steady movement of a single dark craft and its easy path upwards. 

He watches it until he can’t any longer, grief and the heat tearing him apart in equal measure. 

His perch atop the small hut isn’t the most secure and Ben knocks loose a cascade of stone as he slides down, judging the distance to not be that far. He’s wrong, as he’s finding he so often is recently, and his ankle throbs with every braced step back inside. He straightens before he knocks against the door — the same pattern every time whether it is against stone or wood or the back of Cody’s hand — and shifts his weight to something closer to equal, before he steps inside.

“How’s your ankle?” Cody asks, his dark eyes crinkling in amusement in the sweep of shadows across their kitchen table. Initially, Ben takes the parts scattered over their kitchen table to be blaster parts and something cold slips down his spine, but the thought is corrected in the next moment as Cody picks up a distorted coil and begins to try and smooth it back into compliance. 

“It’s fine.” Ben limps as delicately as he can, trying to project serenity as if he does this all the time. He manages to support himself against the low shelf that Cody has constructed into something closer to a kitchen than what Ben had been subsiding on before him. The kettle is old but still serviceable, much like them both. “The ship has left.”

“Oh?” Cody tries to keep his voice level and fails utterly. His reflection slumps for an instant before he straightens, his jaw clenched beneath the freshly grown beard. 

Ben nods, busying himself with two mugs. Picking up the small jar they use for caf, he peers into it, noting the visible bottom of it after their weeks of enforced isolation with the group of stormtroopers making a sweep of the planet. His tea had run out several days prior and it had only been strict rationing on Cody’s part that his caf had stretched out so long. “I watched the ship leave. Caf?”

“How much is left?”

Ben knocks the jar against his palm, trying to work some of the older mixture free. “Enough for a cup, my love. We’ll need to go into town soon.”

It is a strange measure of time that they have fallen into, doling out the days and weeks into scoops of caf or bowls of stew, torn between the need to keep supplies on hand and the equally urgent requirement to stay away from the town as much as possible. Cody’s face, as beautiful as he is, especially now when time has traced fine lines over the corners of his eyes and worry has been etched into his forehead, adding to the crop of grey sprinkled through his curls, is still one of the most recognisable in the galaxy and Ben doesn’t fare much better. 

He scratches through the fresh beard he’s grown over their last few weeks of isolation, relishing at the rasp beneath his nails, the grit that falls free at his touch. Sand is everywhere on this planet, it feels only right that he should carry some of it with him. “And a shave wouldn’t go amiss either, Cody love.”

Turning, Ben watches Cody like he watched the huddle of stormtroopers picking their way across a distant town, trying to pick out the welded-straight backs of the troopers he might recognise amongst the huddle of fresh soldiers that he would only recognise by the fevour in their eyes — too young, always too young and Ben had thought he had experienced every cruelty the universe could have inflicted upon him and then they sent children to try and tempt him to the slaughter. He doesn’t know if the other troopers are going grey beneath their helmets. He doesn’t know if any of them are still alive at all. 

But he knows Cody is alive. He knows Cody is here with him in all their fading glory in a life neither had thought of but hoped for a version of all the same. 

“You’re thinking too much.” Cody holds up a piece of the vaporater, peering through it with a frown. A delicate circle of light flickers over his face as the remnants of the storm claw out a final gasping breath. “Shave first or later?”

“First, my love. I’ve missed you too much to wait.” Ben nearly misses the catch of Cody’s breath beneath the hiss of the kettle as their scant water supply rolls into a boil, but the press of Cody’s hands to his hips — a touch so familiar that Ben knows it as well as his own hands — is impossible to miss. 

Cody’s hands don’t stay on Ben’s hips, one moving down over the front of his thigh while the other climbs higher, kneading into the soft muscle of Ben’s chest. “Missed me, my stars?” Cody mumbles, his nose pressed to the nape of Ben’s neck. “We’ve not spent a day apart in weeks.”

“Cody,” Ben sighs, relaxing into the other man’s touch. It isn’t purposeful, not truly, a casual exploration of places Cody already knows a thousand times over, and something twists in the base of Ben’s stomach, a clench and release in the promise of things to come. Ben tips his head back to the brace of Cody’s shoulder, ignoring the warning ache along the side of his neck that promised a limited scope of movement if he feels like pressing his luck for too long. Cody, ever a starving opportunist, kisses the crux of Ben’s neck, following it with a nip, a rasp over his fresh beard. 

“Cody,” Cody whispers, mimicking the guttural hum of Ben’s accent, rounding his vowels in the Stewjoni way. “Lost your words already, husband?”

“Not quite, my love.” Ben straightens with some difficulty, the urge to sink further back into Cody at the mention of their titles — husband, they’re husbands by every count that matters and Ben could love him for a thousand lifetimes and it still wouldn’t be an accurate measure. “Shave first.”

Cody snorts, doesn’t bother trying to hide his laughter as he inclines his head to the side. It’s more difficult to see on his darker skin but his intent is clear as he presses his fingers against the side of his neck, brushing over the rough patches of irritation, the singular bruise bitten into the hinge of his jaw. “Oh, so now we’re shaving first.” 

His thumb smooths over the jut of Ben’s hip, chasing the fold where his robes would have lain. “I can’t shave you.”

“I know.”

They had tried before, once in the early weeks when Cody was only still mostly himself, fraying at the edges and trying to hold himself together with nothing but gritted teeth and a knowledge what failing meant, but there had been moments that were harder than others and Ben, a towel thrown around his shoulders with soap on his cheeks and a razor in Cody’s hand had been too difficult to resist. The cut didn’t scar, Cody had smeared enough of their supply over it to make sure that it healed smooth and invisible, but they both knew it was there. They had tried again later, and again even later after that. 

“No more,” Cody had said after the last attempt, his teeth imprinted on his knuckles deep enough to bruise and seconds away from tearing straight through. He had been made to be efficient in all areas, after all. Ben picked up their mirror, the razor tucked between three numb fingers, the universe still crooning in the space behind his eyes, and nodded. 

“But I can shave you, love,” Ben says, sorrow layered so heavily in his chest that he can feel it shift as he breathes. He reaches for Cody’s hand, following the same path that Cody had taken and presses the pads of his fingers against the darker patch on Cody’s throat before he draws Cody’s hand to his mouth. He kisses the rough edges of Cody’s knuckles, tasting salt and the dull tang of oil. “Please?”

Cody’s face is grave, age having left more of an imprint over him than could ever have been measured by the lines on his face or the grey in his hair, but he nods, letting his eyes close for a moment. He steps away from Ben, letting his hands linger for as long as possible before releasing him and a shiver rolls up Ben’s spine, a heady mixture of longing and anticipation. He turns, bracing himself against the counter, all thoughts of their general day to day necessities now that the storm had subsided discarded in favour of watching Cody. 

In the dull light, Cody is glorious. He peels away the shirt he wears, roughly tugging it free when it catches on the jut of his shoulders, and Ben’s grip on the counter only tightens until his knuckles ache with the force of it. He isn’t the same as he was during the war, the sharp angles of his stomach softening into a gentle curve, the protrusion of his hips dimpling instead, and his stance sits a little wider now, accommodating the additional heft in his core. His body had initially been made for war, now it is made for living. There’s a dark trail of hair running over the blank stretch of his abdomen, a few loose hairs over his chest but the bulk travels downwards, directing Ben’s attention to the low slung waistband of his trousers. As if he needed more of an excuse to admire his beautiful husband. 

Cody folds his shirt, drawing the lines exact in the same places they always were and places it to one side, before beginning to tug on the cord of his trousers. Ben leans forward, a distant ringing in his ears, transfixed. When he’d been younger, when he’d been a different person entirely, affront braided together with a desire to find where his lax master’s boundaries had been just so he could cross them, he had snuck out and headed into the lower levels of Coruscant, searching for a rumor. The alleyway had been wide, a deep hollow carved through the press of the surrounding buildings and it had been awash with light spilling from thrown open doorways. Ben couldn’t recall the exact details, nerves and time smoothing over the edges until only an impression remained, but he remembered the need to stare, to drink in the press of bodies. A man had stretched out a hand towards him, cupping Obi-Wan’s cheek before he had moved away, and Ben call smell the scent of his perfume now, heady and rich.

“Going to join me, love?” Cody asks beneath the crosshatch of his lashes, impossibly dark and deliberate, his cheek indented where he’s chewing it. He shifts slightly, scuffing a heel across the floor. 

Ben clears his throat, feeling halfway ruined already. “I will, just… let me watch you first?”

Before, Ben’s knowing of Cody had been entirely patchwork, stolen moments here and there to build the foundation for a life together. He’d known the exact way Cody would kiss at the nape of his neck, his mouth hungry for any scrap of skin he could reach but halting at the junction of Obi-Wan’s collar, before he had seen the full expanse of Cody’s back and the constellation of freckles he wore. He’d known the sight of Cody between his legs, Obi-Wan’s thighs spread wide to accommodate the bulk of him, and exactly how Cody’s grip would ident his skin, his right grip steadier than his left, before he had known how Cody would segment his fresh fruit ration into an approximation of even portions before eating it, licking the pads of his fingers to follow the track of juice. He wants to know every piece of Cody, to love him completely. 

They have time, not as much as they could have, but they’ll make it enough, stretch it until it breaks.

Cody huffs out a low chuckle, ducking his chin as he tugs on the tie of his trousers, undoing the knot completely before beginning to loosen the waist. His thighs are wide, heavy-set with muscle and a ridged scar runs across the front, starting high beneath his right hip and continuing in a hauntingly familiar straight line to just above his left knee, still beautiful despite everything it means. Cody’s cock is proportional, soft along the line of his thigh, the same as everything else about him as Cody tends to point out with the same rueful grin he wears, hand on his hip for a moment before he braces himself on the table and kicks his trousers off. His socks stay on, an old worn set of Ben’s, worn at the toes and darned enough times that their original colour could be called into question.

“Beautiful, Codylove,” Ben breathes. He feels stretched too thin, torn between his fragmenting self control to keep himself fixed at this singular stable point and his desire to crowd his husband back against the table, to fall to his knees and worship. Cody wouldn’t thank him for the beard burn, however, and it’s that thought that makes Ben straighten and tear himself away, rummaging in the small cupboard above the sink for their supplies. The state of the sonic being what it was — primarily tiny and often broken in one way or another — it hadn’t been worth keeping an essentials in there. He lowers himself back onto his heels, briefly focused on the warning flare of pain from his ankle, and steadies himself once more. 

“Here.” Cody scoops the delicate bowl from Ben’s hands, the lather following to be tucked beneath his elbow. He hesitates over the razor for a heartbreaking instant, his face carefully blank before he picks it up as well. His grip is looser, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, his arm rigid. He moves quickly, returning to the table and laying everything out, pausing to tap the handle to bring it back into alignment before he returns to Ben’s side.

His eyes are bright with amusement, a loose grin draped over his face. Ben glances downward, half-shuffling into Cody’s waiting embrace, running his hand over Cody’s waist, the curve of his hip, and the flex of his thigh, the muscle twitching at the light touch.

“I can make it over there myself.” It’s redundant to point it out given that they both know Cody’s made up his mind, filed the forms in triplicate and stamped everything as complete, but Ben still protests, out of habit more than anything.

Cody leans closer, slinging one arm across Ben’s back to stroke along the line of his hip. He’s warm in a way Ben craves, a lingering scent of salt from a hard day’s work and several weeks spent wrapped up in each other’s company moving with him, not unpleasant but merely there to be experienced. 

“I wanted to do this before,” Cody says, his voice as even as he can make it, levelled of any extra fat until it is exposed bone. “Couldn’t then, sir, so I’d like to now.”

Ben laughs, leaning down to kiss Cody, licking over the cracks on his lower lip. “By all means then, sweep me off my feet, Cody.”

Cody, his beloved darling Cody, does exactly that. Ben has a moment of unsteadiness, a flip in the pit of his stomach as he is lifted, and he clings to Cody, only just remembering to temper the bite of his nails in the same instance. This close, Ben is free to draw a trail of kisses over the ridged curve of the scar over Cody's brow before he is carefully deposited next to the chair. He wavers on his functioning ankle, still half-draped across Cody’s arms and he marvels at all the years they had missed out on this, on the closeness they can luxuriate in after everything else had been lost.

“If you sit, love,” Ben says. “Then I can straddle you while I work.”

It takes a moment for them both to get comfortable; Cody sitting on the chair, Ben’s tunic folded beneath him with his hands resting on Ben’s thighs, and Ben on top of him, carefully sliding Cody’s cock into him. He’s so full, the stretch coming quickly regardless of how many times they have done this or however wet Ben is. They have some lube left, a little bacta that they can repurpose if needed, but Ben breathes out slowly, his trousers tangled around his good ankle as he carefully sits down, sinking further. His breath is shaky, ragged, and he whines, high in the back of his throat as skin meets skin, and he relaxes onto Cody. Glancing upwards reveals the pale imprints on Cody’s lips from his teeth, one eye squeezed shut even as Cody watches him through lashes beaded with tears.

“There we go.” Ben flexes around Cody, squeezing down on the intrusion, and Cody buckles beneath him, his stomach drawn inwards and his heels rising from the floor as he resists the urge to thrust. The moment passes, they always do, and Cody opens his eyes carefully, approaching his minute study of Ben’s face as if he’s trying to burn his visage onto the backs of his eyes. “How are you feeling, love?”

“It’s still a little odd,” Cody sighs. He relaxes in fragments as if he’s moving down a checklist, the behaviour still learned rather than instinctual. His legs stay wide but the twitching in his thighs lessen as the urge to thrust his cock, still mostly soft, deeper inside Ben passes. Pleasure will come later, Ben will make sure of it, but fucking while shaving is too risky even for them. He can keep Cody close, can tap his heels against the legs of the chair to negate the wash of empty hissing static that comes with his legs spread wide and all of his weight resting at the crux of his thighs, he can do all of this for him. 

Ben reaches for the lather and the razor, and Cody bares his throat with a hum, his hands relaxing along the planes of Ben’s thighs at the quiet snick of the razor unfolding. It’s a poor imitation of what Ben can remember, constantly slightly too blunt to remove all of the hair on the first path, making Ben draw the razor over Cody’s skin far more times than he’d prefer. There’s a whisper of irritation running through the back of Ben’s mind, of blood and steel to try and slake the desert’s thirst, and every other mundane worry that had arisen with living this far away from anyone, especially with the dull pulse of pain in his ankle, but Ben sets all of them aside. Pleasure sparks low in his belly, fuelled as he shifts as he works, the same heady concoction that command had given him when Ben had first held Cody’s hand in his, the dirt of whatever planet still covering them both and said, “Good work, Commander.”

Cody, his wonderful beautiful Cody, had nodded, the very picture of professionalism, but Ben felt his grip tighten for an instant, the Force suddenly awash with a burgeoning sunset and he had known that he was never going to let Cody go, not really. They’d been apart for so long but never separated. 

“You’re doing so well for me, love,” Ben murmurs, his chest heaving as he pulls in a breath scented with a dull smokiness and the ever-present tang of salt, concentration robbing him of every other impulse. Inside him, Cody’s cock twiches, beginning to harden in response to Ben’s words. Sometimes, he doesn’t and Ben would draw Cody’s hands to his clit and gasp out his release beneath his husband’s clever hands, his cock still soft inside him, before Ben would swallow Cody down, pressing a finger inside him until Cody would spill, a quiet gasp as telling as a shout. But this is not one of those times. 

Turning Cody’s head to the side, Ben presses his thumb into the side of Cody’s jaw, just beneath his ear. He follows the motion with the razor, beginning to clear the dark hair from his face. It’s a quiet meditation, punctuated by the gentle rasp of the razor and Ben’s murmured praise as the light outside bleeds beige then gold, and darkens. Inch by inch, beneath the gently fragrant soap and careful attention, Cody becomes visible. He’s still mostly soft inside Ben, his breathing a sweep along the curved expanse of his belly, and his eyes are half-lidded, a single fragment of light catching on the blown-wide expanse of his pupils. He’ll follow any order that Ben gives him and it’s a heady realisation, making Ben clench around the intrusion, feeling himself begin to leak freely. His tunic will be soaked through by the end of this, he realises, his body acting as an oasis even if his fluid intake is scarce. Ben sweeps the razor over the final patch of hair, clearing Cody’s face completely, and leans back to take him in.

“Good, Cody. Very good.” Ben pauses, reaching around Cody to deposit the razor back on the table, carefully retracted once more, and he begins to tighten the lid onto their small container of lather. He can keep his own beard for slightly longer, tending to Cody is both more important and what he wants to do. “I do think you would look ravishing with a moustache.”

“That’s why I can’t, love.” Cody’s voice is mock-grave, coming from somewhere within the depth of his chest and catching on every broken bone on the way up, rasping along with the even timbre of his breath. “I would be too attractive and I would never get any work done with you in my lap all day. That’s not even considering the planet at large.”

“You would be nothing but a distraction, my dear. I would have competitors trying to steal you away from me constantly, not just whenever we go to market.” Ben rolls his hips, testing out the angle like this, pressed against Cody with all of his composure knotted in the muscles of his thighs. He can’t rise and fall like he would need to if he was wanting to draw this out, but that isn’t on the cards. They do have to go into town at some point that day if he didn’t want to resort to brewing their morning caf out of the tin directly. It left an unpleasant aftertaste after a few minutes.

“Wouldn’t go with them.” Cody groans. He pitches forward, pressing his forehead into the curve of Ben’s shoulder. His skin is freshly smooth, strangely cool as he shifts to mouth at Ben’s collarbone. He’s hardening quickly, filling out and reaching deeper, his cock gloriously made to bring Ben every scrap of pleasure with the same devotion that Cody does. He loves him fiercely, every piece of him. 

“No?” Ben’s hips roll in an easy rhythm, chasing the crest he knows is about to wash over them both. He’s mostly cut-off from the Force but he would have to be a fool to not be able to ratchet the tightness in his belly tighter, sweat beginning to bead in his hairline as he moves, Cody’s hands solid and grasping on his thighs, his nails leaving behind perfect indentations. The marks wouldn’t last long, longer than they would have done, but time would wash away everything eventually. 

Cody’s teeth press against the line of his throat, smooth skin against the rasp of Ben’s beard and Cody gasps, his hips stuttering in an aborted thrust. “No, just you, only you, Ben, Obi-Wan, please!”

Ben sinks down as much as he’s able, widening his stance utterly so he’s suspended entirely on Cody’s cock, and Cody spills with a shout, muffling the fractured end in Ben’s throat. Ben reaches down between them, frantically thumbing over his clit, and Cody reaches over to join him, his thumb broad and practiced, and Ben comes, his toes curling until they cramp. 

They wait, breathing heavily, Cody’s teeth lodged in Ben’s throat for a moment longer before he retreats. Cody frowns, reaching up to rub at his cheek. “Your beard itches, love.”

Ben breaks into laughter, Cody following him shortly. It’s a strange life that they built together, but it’s theirs, completely and utterly. 

[padawansuggest]

Obi-Wan: *having the oddest craving rn* I would kill for a jawbreaker right now…

Cody: …I don’t think I’m big enough to break a jaw?

Obi-Wan: …um… good, because I like giving oral too much for it to not be an option.

Cody: …is that… is that what a jawbreaker is?

Obi-Wan: Not even a little.

Cody: Oh thank god.

[lemonduckisnowawake]

Sometimes I just don't get it. It's like, it's so obvious to us that when Christ transformed lives, individually, then the family, then society, we figured that, hey, maybe this slavery thing is pretty bad. Because while Christ didn't come to transform these outward manifestations of our rotten hearts, he did tell slaves to honor their masters and masters to honor and treat well their slaves - under that, yeah a slave system could exist, but not for long. And it's the same for the patriarchy. Yeah, a husband and wife can love and honor each other even within that system, but eventually it's just obvious to me that it's gotta go. If husbands are called to love their wives like Christ loved the church, to the point of laying their lives down for them, then they're also called to elevate her like Christ did to the church. And wives to submit like Christ did. And while Christ and the church will never be equal, when you share the love of Christ with each other as humans - whether as someone with more power or less power - that elevates the weaker person (like Christ was glorified even on the cross?). And under that, a patriarchal, male-led system can't exist.

[somedaylazysomeday]

Bitten - Part Five

With your contract all figured out, you and Wolffe turn to more pleasant activities.

Commander Wolffe x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors, please do not interact.

Word Count: 3,200

Warnings: Semi-public sexual activity, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, dirty talk, discussions and use of a safeword.

Previous | Masterlist

---

The silence was deafening.

You realized abruptly that you hadn't heard much noise from other patrons in the restaurant. Your server had yet to return and the design of the building meant you couldn't see any other tables. Still, you felt utterly exposed at the bluntness of the question that had been asked. 

You searched Wolffe's expression. He was waiting patiently for your answer, showing no signs of moving on until you told him what he wanted to know. 

"I… What?" 

Wolffe's brow quirked, but he dutifully repeated the question. "Are you wet for me? You've been squirming in that seat for the last ten minutes."

You could lie. Whether Wolffe would believe you was up for debate, but you could try. However, it wouldn’t be an honest start to your new contract. Instead, you took a slow breath, shoved away your embarrassment, and locked eyes with Wolffe. “Yes.” 

His head tilted slightly. “Yes, what?” 

“Yes, sir,” you amended. “I am wet.” 

“For who?” 

“For you.” 

“Excellent,” Wolffe said, and the intent in his voice brought even more of a reaction from your body. “From past experience, I assume that you don’t have any problem with sexual acts in public, but I want to be sure. I won’t take you completely, since you aren’t collared. But I can bring you some relief before I go find a collar for you.” 

You wanted to whine at the confirmation that Wolffe didn’t intend to fuck you without a collar. “I want to, but… I’m scared about getting caught. There’s a difference between a dim second-floor booth at 79s and a well-lit restaurant.” 

“I understand, and thank you for trusting me with your worries.” Wolffe gestured around your booth. “I should have told you earlier: The Edge is a BDSM club. It’s a safe space to do anything. This is one of the more… publicly acceptable sections, but it’s still safe. No one else can see us and we can’t see them. Our server won’t come back unless we call, whether for service or because we want to be caught in the act. Does that change anything?” 

It was rather incredible the way Wolffe managed to ask the question without sounding like he was making a demand. “It… I’m… yes, please, sir.” 

Wolffe’s expression softened for a moment, then turned into something deliciously wicked. “Showing off those manners again. Good girl. I think you've earned a reward for that. Do you agree?”

Your mouth was too dry for speech, but he mercifully accepted your silent nod instead of pushing you to tell him exactly what you wanted. Wolffe leaned in, offering a kiss without taking it from you, and you gladly accepted it. 

The moment your lips met, Wolffe made it clear that he was in charge. He nipped at your lips until they opened, then took full advantage, relentlessly plundering your mouth until you were breathless from it. 

When he finally let you pull away, Wolffe chased you, nuzzling hungrily at the sensitive skin beneath your jaw. You made a quiet noise - far too quiet for anyone to have heard, even if they were lurking just around a corner. Still, your face went hot with embarrassment. 

Wolffe laughed, the low sound rumbling against your throat. "Don't get shy on me now, little one. Let me hear you." 

You were trembling with the need to make noise for him, especially since one large hand had slipped warm inside your bra and was teasing your nipple to a stiff and sensitive peak. 

There was a moment - gone in a blink and yet seeming to dangle forever in front of you - in which you wondered where his other hand was. As soon as it occurred to you to ask, that other hand was creeping below the waistband of your pants. 

It was a tight fit. You had chosen your outfit based on what looked good, not on the range of motion it offered when someone else was trying to touch your bare skin. Wolffe had managed to wedge a few fingers between the soft skin of your belly and the constricting fabric, but there was no way his entire hand would fit. Not if he wanted to keep any blood flowing, anyway. 

Wolffe made a frustrated sound, almost a growl, as he unfastened your pants with one hand. They fell open easily enough after that, and Wolffe dove in with something approaching glee. 

That first brush of his fingertips over your sex was electrifying. He touched you through the thin shield of your panties, his calluses catching on the silky material. Even working through that barrier, his motions were easy, parting your folds without a second of struggle. The firm sweep of a finger started from the bottom of your entrance and ended only when it had reached the hood of your clit. 

You shuddered violently, gripping his forearm tight enough that you could feel your nails threatening to sink into his skin. 

"If you need me to stop, use your safeword." 

The words took a moment to filter through the lustful fog, and another to make sense. Stop? He thought you wanted him to stop? You might actually implode if he did. 

“More,” you corrected. “I need more. Please. Commander, sir.” 

Wolffe grinned at you. Could he tell you were just throwing out everything you had to convince him to keep going? Probably. Did you mind that? Not in the slightest. As long as he kept touching you, you didn’t care. Everything looked better in the glow of post-orgasmic bliss. 

“Well, if that’s what you need…” Wolffe leaned closer, repositioning himself so that he could get a better perspective on what he was doing to you. A few firm tugs on the hips of your pants pulled them down to mid-thigh, and you squirmed against the coolness of the booth. “How could I refuse such a polite request?”  

Before you could whine at the fact that he was still talking instead of moving, he pushed your panties off to one side. With the way your pants had been maneuvered, that left your core totally bare to his gaze.  

You had slept with Wolffe before. Twice, you reminded yourself. It was still both terrifying and electrifying to be so exposed in front of him. Especially since you were panting, clutching desperately at his arm, and soaked to the mid-thigh, but he seemed totally unaffected. Well, not totally, but enough that there was a clear power difference between the two of you. You found that indescribably hot. 

“Look at you, sweetheart,” Wolffe said, eyes sweeping over you appreciatively. You had to amend your judgment of him from ‘mostly unaffected’ to ‘using every ounce of his durasteel control’. “I never thought you would be so wet for me before we really got started. Good girl. Good, good girl.” 

A pleading noise slipped out between your lips before you could bite it back. Wolffe’s scorching gaze whipped up to your face and he nodded. “Here is how things will go. You’re going to come on my fingers. Right here, as soon as we can make it happen.” 

You nodded too many times, but honestly, he was lucky you didn’t come just at the decisive way he told you exactly what he was going to do to you. Instead, you restrained yourself and said, “Yes. Please.”

“But first…” Wolffe reached between your legs as you watched raptly. His forefinger skimmed over your entrance, barely dipping inside. Your hips jolting, canting upward as if you could coax him deeper if you only offered yourself to him more blatantly. Still, Wolffe’s finger was shining with the evidence of your excitement and you swore your heart stopped beating when his lips closed around the digit. He hummed a little as he sucked your arousal from his own skin. “I had to remind myself how you taste.” 

You didn’t remember releasing his arm, but the next thing you knew, you had planted both hands on the bench seat and used them to lever your hips upward. Wolffe pressed you back into the seat, one-handed and with no sign of struggle, then thrust a finger inside of you without a word of warning. 

And then you were holding his forearm again. Whatever Wolffe might have thought you were doing, he didn’t seem to understand that you would struggle if he tried to tease you any more. You needed to come, and that needed to happen in the next five minutes or you were going to take care of things yourself. 

Wolffe took pity on you, though, and that finger had scarcely left you when he was pushing it back inside. You spread your legs wider - as wide as you could manage with the waistband of your pants wrapped around your thighs, anyway - as if you could entice him to hurry up. The glint in his eyes as he caught the movement told you that Wolffe wouldn’t be rushed, but you were more than welcome to try. 

“You like that, sweetheart?” he asked. You panted at him, but his finger stilled as he watched you with his brows raised. “I need an answer.” 

“That wasn’t rhetorical?” you demanded, galvanized into speech by the indignation of him stopping. 

Apparently, that was the wrong answer, and Wolffe pulled away from you entirely. He was still leaning over you, taking up most of your field of vision, but he wasn’t touching you. At least, not in the places you needed him to. 

“No questions are rhetorical when we’re together,” he told you, frowning. “I need to know you’re comfortable and enjoying what’s going on, and I can’t rely only on what your body is telling me. I’ll need your mouth to tell me, too. Do you understand?” 

It hadn’t been an admonishment, but you still felt chastened… Ridiculous as that was when lowering your chin treated you to the sight of your bare mound peeking over your lowered pants. “Yes, I understand. I’m sorry.” 

“I’m sorry, too,” Wolffe told you. “I should have been more clear. I’m treating this like a practice session. We should start learning each other so there are no misunderstandings later, when someone could really get hurt.” 

“That’s a good idea,” you admitted.

“Then do you have an answer for me?”

 “Yes,” you said, face burning with mingled embarrassment and arousal. “I was enjoying that very much.” 

“Brave girl,” Wolffe said with a nod. “Do you need me to ease back into things?”

“No, I’m good.” You settled back, pressing against the back of the booth so that you could give him full access to you. “Please keep going like you were before, Commander.” 

He took you at your word, thrusting a finger deep into your channel as your jaw dropped at the surprise of it. He was merciless, pumping in and out of you until the wetness of your body was making as much noise as you were.

And then he added a second finger. 

Wolffe was a big man, much bigger than you. The addition of another finger rocked you, and you were aroused enough that you swore your vision went fuzzy at the edges. He didn’t give you time to adjust, holding his pace steady as you dug your nails into the plush fabric of the booth seat beneath you. 

“Color?” 

The question made no sense to you until Wolffe began to slow down, and you remembered the color system you had set up during your contract negotiations. “Green! Green. Please!” 

Wolffe thrust his fingers as deep as they could get inside of you. That had three immediate and devastating effects. First, your core was forced wide around him, your walls squeezing and throbbing as you tried to adjust to the intrusion. Second, it ground the heel of his hand against the sensitive nerve cluster of your clit. Third, it put his fingertips squarely within reach of your g-spot. 

You hung there for a moment, staring into Wolffe’s eyes instead of blankly watching the ceiling. Wolffe watched you in return. The intelligence and intent in his brown-and-silver gaze was both attractive and worrying - he was going to take you apart, and both of you knew it.

After he kept you dangling for an eternity - no more than a heartbeat, but time seemed to stretch between you - Wolffe deliberately moved. His fingers spread, the heel of his palm pressed against you in a sharp rhythm, and his fingertips pressed into the place in your core that made you go blind with pleasure. 

“Wolffe - sir,” you panted. “Kiss me, please, I’m going to…”

Wolffe’s mouth pressed to yours just as the pleasure reached its peak. You couldn’t fight it back any longer. You let your lips part against his, a shout escaping from you. Thankfully, it was muffled in the kiss. It felt raw, and you wondered if The Edge’s staff would still keep a discreet distance if you sounded like you were being murdered. 

The possibility of death didn’t seem like such a stretch when your body shattered. Your core cranked so tight around him that Wolffe’s fingers couldn’t hold their spread position. Even the shaking in your arms didn’t stop you from lashing onto Wolffe’s forearm, holding him steady as you thrust helplessly. 

The motion was instinctive more than anything, but it didn’t escape your notice that you were humping his hand. In the middle of the day. In a semi-public place. It was humiliating, but that was far less important than keeping the pressure of his palm firm against your clit. 

You strained and shook with your orgasm, holding Wolffe’s kiss even when you were worried you would bite through something important if you weren’t careful. Having your mouth occupied was the only thing keeping you from shrieking aloud in the restaurant, and you were ever-cognizant of the fact that there were other people around. Wolffe had mentioned that other patrons couldn’t see you, but he hadn’t said anything about whether they could hear you. 

All of this was secondary, of course, to the massive rush of endorphins and dopamine surging through your brain. 

When the orgasm had ripped its violent way through you, you were left weak and sated. Wolffe’s hand was still playing between your legs, though, and that was pushing you toward overstimulation. 

You used your grip on his wrist to pull him away from you. Or, more accurately, you tried to pull him away. He didn’t budge, his insistent touch making you squirm in discomfort. 

“Wolffe, please!” 

“What do you say?” 

You stared at him, dismayed. “Please? Sir?”

His palm pressed against your clit again and you writhed, the sensation overwhelming against the rawness of your nerves. Your mind didn’t want to work, but you had to remember… “Red! Kashyyyk!” 

Wolffe stopped immediately, and the rush of relief was heady even with his fingers still buried in you. In the sudden quiet and stillness, your panting was loud. 

“I’m sorry, little one,” Wolffe said, sounding actually regretful. “I’m going to move now.”

Slowly, gently, he pulled his fingers free of your shuddering core as you fought back against the aftershocks that tried to rise. By the time you had calmed down again, Wolffe had wiped his fingers clean with one of the table napkins and was handing you your glass of water. 

“I didn’t want to overstimulate you,” he told you eventually. “But I needed to make sure you could remember to use your safeword.”

“I was… overwhelmed.” Your voice was weary, but heavy with satiety. 

“It was an overwhelming situation,” Wolffe agreed. “But we’re going to have a lot of those in our time together. Those are the times when it’s hardest to remember your safeword, but that’s when you need it the most. You did well.” 

You smiled, but it faded as another question occurred to you. “Would you have stopped if I could only remember ‘red’?” 

Wolffe hummed. “Probably. The difference between the color system and safewords is that the color system is usually used for me to check on you. The safeword is you telling me to stop, even if I didn’t ask. But you saying ‘red’ is going to tell me that I need to check with you. It’s almost the same thing, but it may be less immediate. Unless you want to add ‘red’ as a secondary safeword?” 

“I… actually think I understand what you mean with the system as it is,” you mused. “So ‘red’ is more of a ‘something needs to change if we’re going to keep doing this’ and safeword is a full stop?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “If I ask for your color and you say ‘red’, I’m going to stop, but it’s more of a pause. Unless you want ‘red’ to mean stop the same way that your safeword does.”

“No, I think I like having the option to pause.” You watched him from under your lashes. “I get that safewords are the actual stop phrase. It makes it more serious. I won’t do it as often.” 

Wolffe frowned, taking your hands. His hands were warm and large, cradling yours in a comforting way. “Wait. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea from this. Safewording is something that’s going to happen. It should happen. When you safeword, we’ll stop whatever we’re doing, I’ll take off anything that may be constricting your movement, and we’ll discuss what happened. I’ll never be upset or angry that you used your safeword, and there will never be any retaliation. Communication is everything, and safewords are just another way we can make sure we’re communicating. And if we decide to play with gags or anything that would keep you from speaking, we’ll figure out a nonverbal safeword so you’re still in control of what we do.” 

“I thought I didn’t get to be in control?” you asked, smiling a little. It was hard to tease when Wolffe was holding you like you were precious and watching you with such sincerity. “Isn’t that the point of all this?” 

“There’s power exchange,” Wolffe corrected. “But one of the most confusing parts of power-exchange relationships is that the submissives have all of the control. You’ve trusted me to take care of you, but you still have final say on what we do or don’t do together. Does that make sense?” 

“... I’m sure it will when I’m less tired,” you offered.

That made his full lips quirk. “Come on, then. Let’s get you dressed so I can go find our server. You need some rest and I have errands to run.” 

You frowned even as Wolffe helped you pull your clothes back into place. Was he leaving Coruscant so soon? You hoped not, but it would sound unacceptably needy to ask directly. So you settled for, “Errands?”

“Errands,” he confirmed with a nod, using his grip on your hand to pull you to your feet. Then he steadied you when his wicked grin made your knees weak. “I’m finding you a collar today. I’m going to wreck that pretty little pussy as soon as possible and I don’t want us to wait any longer than we have to.”

---

Author's Note - I have a lot of ideas for these two! I'm not sure when I'll get around to writing them, but I don't consider this story complete yet.

I'd love to hear what you thought, or if there are any particular things you would like to see from this fic. Thanks for reading!

[penguinotaku]

For @rycusfunnies, @haunted-planes, and @postfuturistikarcturus

In the aftermath of the Vampire Cars 2 AU, Miles is stuck rotting in prison dwelling on all of the horrors in his sleep. The former oil tycoon would often wake up screaming and would require heavy sedation lest he hurt himself.

Sometimes he dreams that all of the lemon underlings that were drained by the vampires. All of them reaching out with their punctures tires, faded paintjobs and dull eyes begging their leader to do something anything to save them. A few of them even questioning why Miles would even go through all of this complicated planning when's he's already a millionaire. All of them bear the same fang marks directly on the fuel tanks and the lemon heads that were killed all have their engines outside of their frames.

Other nights, La Bête d'Alsace is always hunting him down in a dark forest. No matter what Miles does, the end result is always the same. The vampire car tears through his underlings like wet paper, there's no hiding place, and no amount of begging or pleading will spare his life. The Beast of Alsace corners him and lunges towards him, with Miles waking up at the exact moment the vampiric Citroen C4 tears into him.

Heavily inspired by the Captain section in the Underworld Saga of Epic the Musical

[scorchedmizar]

Was thinking about smells last night aaaand

Mizar: Smoky, grilled tomatoes, either faint vinegar or cinnamon

Alcor: Ginger and/or vanilla, sour cherries, faint lemon

Tigerlily: Honeysuckle, nutmeg, faint cinnamon

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Updated lemon's stuff and added amy to artfight with an insane added bonus of snagging a screenshot of the very front page of the site with amy's icon visible