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captn-trex · 1 month

Text

a tricky situation

Kix x F!Reader

word count: 2.8k

description: you're used to the antics of the 501st as a mechanic aboard the Resolute, but one clone takes it too far. when pulling one of his typical pranks on you, kix does something you never expected.

warnings: angst, swearing, miscommunication, kinda enemies to lovers I suppose, blood & injury but not in detail, not really proof-read

a/n: I maintain that Kix is a massive tease, but also a massive softie so... here's this. feel free to tell me my characterisation is wrong, I'll probably agree with you

You were grumbling to yourself once again.

It was something you found yourself doing too often, and you worried that soon enough your colleagues would stage an intervention and send you to get psychologically evaluated. You weren’t actually going crazy, but sometimes it felt like it.

Being a mechanic that worked aboard the Resolute, you frequently found yourself at the mercy of the clones of the 501st. Everyday, there was some new trick, some prank they were pulling. Today, it was the classic hiding your tools that they did at least twice a week, sometimes even twice a day. It was the first of the day, but it still had you ready to pull your hair out.

There was very few of them that actually let you get on with your job, and they were unquestionably your favourites. Though, that only amounted to being Captain Rex and Dogma. The rest, were positively menaces.

You had already searched through their barracks, unapologetically waking a few clones up, you had been to the engine room, the control centre, and through every side room you could possibly find, and you still hadn’t found them. You could use the ones belonging to the other mechanics, but it was late at night, and there wasn’t anyone else working. You stood in the middle of a corridor with your head in your hands.

Where haven’t I checked?

It then occurred to you who would’ve played this stupid prank on you, someone who would also be up this late at night, and you ground your jaw. Kix. You stalked off to the medbay, and if anyone had walked past you, they would have seen the steam coming out of your ears.

There was something particularly irritating about the clone medic, something you couldn’t put your finger on that made him be able to get under your skin like no other. He didn’t even try as hard as his brothers, but every single conversation with him felt like a game, an infuriating dance of taunting and tormenting. It didn’t help that you found him to be the most handsome among his brothers. Perhaps that was the reason you found him so annoying, but you weren’t going to analyse that right now.

You kicked the door to the medbay open with one swift motion and stormed inside, a surprised look on the face of the one you were after.

“Kix, so help me maker, I will shoot you if you don’t give me them back now” You growled at him, and he stood, setting down the datapad he held on one of the cots.

“My dear, I have no idea what you are on about” He said, a small taunting smile gracing his lips.

You clenched and flexed your hands at your sides, “Kix, this isn’t funny, I’m on a deadline with this one. Give them back”

The medic came to stand in front of you and placed his hands on your shoulders, running them down to your biceps. If it wasn’t him that had made you so angry, you may have even enjoyed it.

“Give what back?” He asked plainly, and you shook your head, your teeth grinding together so hard you were positive they would break. Kix could see the flame of anger in your eyes that he so loved. Winding you up was certainly his favourite pastime.

“You know what. I need my tools”

“Why would your tools be here?” He asked, cocking his head to the side, then came in closer, “You do know this is the medbay, right?”

You rolled your eyes so fast they could have rolled out of their very sockets. You ripped your arms from his grasp, and stormed around the room, turning over every single thing and huffing to yourself when you didn’t find anything. Kix watched you with utmost amusement. He would have to tidy up after you, but it was almost worth it to see you so worked up. Almost.

“Alright, alright. Relax. They’re in the closet” He called, and you rushed to the door that he was pointing at.

You switched on the light, which afforded little more visibility, but you saw your toolbox sat on the floor just by the door. You picked it up as you heard the door slide closed, and turned to see that Kix had closed you in with him.

“Get out of my way” You huffed, giving him your best withering look.

“What? No thank you?” He grinned. That damn beautiful smile of his.

“Thank you? You must be joking”

“I helped you find your tools, I think I deserve a little something” He reasoned, and you let out a disbelieving laugh.

“And what, pray tell, do you think you deserve?”

“I was thinking something along the lines of… a kiss?” He suggested.

All of your insides constricted as the word left his lips, and you were frozen on the spot.

“What?” You almost whispered out, eyes still burning with some form of rage.

Kix smirked, “You see, I know you think you’re pretty slick, but I see you looking at me when you think I’m not paying attention-”

“I do not!”

You do.

“- and I know the reason you pretend to hate me so much is because otherwise you’d just be falling at my feet-”

“I hate you so much because you do things like this!” You argued, holding up your recently stolen toolkit.

“Is that right?”

It was then that you realised that you were only a hairbreadth from his face, your nose almost touching his. You breathed heavily, not daring to utter even one word for fear of losing your composure in an entirely different way. Your eyes burned into his with an intensity that you couldn’t control, and his infuriating smirk only made it worse. After a moment, his mouth uncurled from the taunting expression, looking at you only with interest and nothing else.

Your eyes fell to his lips, and he leaned ever so slightly forwards, brushing his nose against yours gently. Your eyes fluttered shut on instinct, and you breathed out shakily. Your mind was screaming out and silent at the same time, it couldn’t make sense of what was happening, and your heart took precedent, giving into whatever it was.

Kix then brought his lips to your ear, brushing back a piece of hair behind it with his hand.

“Gotcha”

You were immediately snapped from your trance and recoiled, a look of absolute shock plastered across your features. Kix just watched you with his knowing smirk, and your anger flared once again, but this time, it was underpinned by an emotion he wouldn’t have expected. Hurt.

“You’re a cruel man Kix” You seethed out as you shoved him aside, opening the door and storming out of the medbay.

He watched you go, his insides twisting with guilt. He had only meant to tease you, but he had taken it too far, and now you were actually upset. You were usually too mad at him to ever let any other emotions slip through the cracks, but now he realised that maybe he had just never pushed you to a breaking point before. He was foolish to think that you didn’t have a limit.

You fought to keep tears from spilling from your eyes as you finished your work that evening. You were so frustrated with yourself for letting your guard slip, and even more for reacting this way to what was really a stupid prank, and nothing else. It hadn’t occurred to you before that your attraction to Kix was anything more than that, but now that he had truly embarrassed you, you realised it was more deep-set than that.

You actually liked him, he was right, and he used it just to trick you.

“Hey, I need to talk to you” You heard a voice, his voice, call out as you were slid under a gunship the next day, your arms elbow deep in wires and grease.

“I have no interest in talking to you” You stated plainly, all emotion stripped from your voice.

Kix’s heart clenched at the sound of it.

“Please” He said your name in such a pleading tone, “I need you to know I-”

“Just can it Kix, I don’t want to hear it” You slid from underneath the gunship and looked up at him sternly.

He didn’t intend for this at all. In truth, it was him that really wanted to kiss you. While it was true, he had caught you looking at him sometimes, he had no reason to believe that it was because you liked him, and he only really said it to hopefully push you to a confession. Every time he had wound you up, it was just an excuse to see you react to him, to grab your undivided attention. It was a cowardly approach, making you confess before he did, but now he may never even get the chance if you wouldn’t let him.

“You don’t understand, I-”

“I understand just fine, you used my feelings as fodder for another prank, how surprising” You rolled your eyes, “Leave me alone from now on, if it’s not too tempting to try and embarrass me again”

Kix was floundering for the right thing to say, “It wasn’t a pr-”

“Fuck off Kix, can you not hear me?” You almost shouted, gaining the attention of a few of the nearby clones.

His amber eyes burned into yours. You could see he was sorry, but you’d rather let him feel guilty for what he did than accept any apology he could offer. As you stared each other down with an intensity to rival the previous night, you could feel your emotions getting the better of you.

“Just go away” You said quietly, sliding back underneath the gunship without another word.

You could see Kix hesitate, but you watched him ultimately decide to leave you alone, and walk away. You sighed, feeling your eyes well up with frustration. You were embarrassed all over again.

It had been a week since what the other mechanics were just calling ‘the incident’. They had no idea why you had shouted at the clone, and you wouldn’t tell them, but that didn’t stop them teasing you about it. A silver lining about the whole ‘incident’ was that the clones had started leaving you alone, and your tools had not been stolen once. It was certainly peaceful, and you were reluctant to admit that life now felt boring, for fear that the clones would all suddenly come out of the woodworks with the worst prank of them all. Not that they could top the one already pulled by their medic.

You hadn’t even seen Kix since said ‘incident’, but your head was still maddeningly filled by him. The most maddening fact of all being that it wasn’t your argument that was stuck in your head, it was the way he looked at you as he pretended he was going to kiss you. It had felt so real, so sincere, and as it kept replaying in your head you found yourself wishing to go back in time and just kiss him.

But that would do no good, it was still a prank at the end of the day.

You were working under a ship, your hands buried in wires and a tool between your teeth. You heard someone call out for you and sat up, whacking your head on the underside of the ship in the process, the tool falling from your mouth as you shouted out in pain. You vaguely heard the person shout something along the lines of ‘nevermind, got it’ and cursed them for speaking in the first place. You brought your hand up to your head and felt small trickle of blood, or was it grease?

Then there you were, grumbling to yourself once again.

You stormed off to the medbay reluctantly, but this time you had no intention of speaking with Kix. You opened the door forcefully with your shoulder and made a beeline for the nearest cot, rifling through the draws next to it for a bandage or anything else.

“What are you-” Kix had watched you come in, and was utterly perplexed by your actions until he saw the mix of grease and blood trickling down your forehead. “What happened?” He asked, coming over to inspect the wound.

You just stayed silent.

He said your name gently, drawing your attention and you glanced at him briefly, “What does it look like? I hit my head” You said, finally finding a small bacta patch in the draw. You took it and peeled off the back, sitting down to apply it.

“Woah” Kix reached forwards and took your wrist before you could place it down, “Let me clean that for you first”

You grabbed your wrist back, “I don’t need any help”

“The grease will only infect the wound” He said, grabbing the patch from you, “Sit still”

You glared at him, “I don’t care, I’d rather let it get infected”

“Well it’s a good thing I care then isn’t it” He replied, pulling out an antiseptic wipe.

You sat in silence with what he’d just said. Is this part of his latest trick? Kix gently grabbed your chin, tilting your head to get a better look at the wound. He brought the wipe up to it, “This is going to sting a bit”

And it did.

You hissed as the wipe came into contact with your wound, moving away from the clone inflicting the pain, but he just kept going until there was no more grease or blood dripping out of it.

“Wait here. Please don’t leave”

You watched him suspiciously as he moved away to retrieve something. He was being uncharacteristically serious and kind for someone who loved to tease you. He returned a moment later with some bacta and a bandage, and applied it without another word.

“You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were avoiding me” He said, the corners of his lips turning up at the attempted joke.

“Well clearly you don’t know any better then” You rolled you eyes.

He spoke your name in a soft tone as he finished applying the bandage, “That hurts” He said in mock hurt, a hand resting on his heart.

“Good” You replied instantly, looking up to his eyes to find him now looking at you seriously. He just watched you for a moment, and your own scowl softened slightly without your permission.

“I’m sorry” He said softly.

You bit your lip a little, looking away, “I know you are”

He brought his hand back to your chin, forcing you to look at him as he spoke, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I-” He gulped, “I wanted to kiss you”

Your heart leapt to your throat and your eyebrows furrowed, and then scrunched up, going through a million emotions at once.

“Is this a joke?” You asked, your tone hesitant and unsure.

“No” He said firmly, stepping forwards and finding himself between your knees, “I’m sorry for… the way I went about it. I only wanted to tell you that…”

You looked up at him with widened eyes, hanging on every word.

“I wanted to tell you that I have… feelings for you, and it- well, it all backfired” He chuckled slightly, and you let your mouth form a small smile.

“And this is real? You actually like me?” You asked once more for conformation.

“It’s real. I like you, I really like you” He admitted, his hand moving from your chin to cup your jaw.

You leant into his touch a little, and his heart did a flip, “I… I like you too, but I think you already knew that” You grinned a little and his lips formed the smirk that you usually found so maddening.

“I might’ve had some idea” He spoke teasingly, then stroked your cheek with his thumb, “Care to try that kiss again?”

You didn’t reply, and instead pulled him down by his chest plate to meet his lips with yours. It was a slow and meaningful kiss, both you and Kix making no haste and just savouring the moment. You felt him hum contentedly against you, and you smiled into the kiss, breaking away to catch your breath a little. He placed his forehead on yours, but you pulled away quickly when your wound began screaming out against the action.

“Sorry” He chuckled then placed a light kiss on top of the bandaged area, “There, that’ll make it all better”

You smirked, “Is that a treatment you give all your patients?”

“No” He smiled, “Only my favourite one”

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cattyb2 · 2 years

Text

Take a Break

Summary: As news breaks of an assassin targeting Senators in Coruscant, each Senator is assigned a Jedi for protection detail. Anakin Skywalker, a young Jedi knight has been taking his job protecting you very seriously. He grew on you, and finally let you convince him to take a break.

Warnings: flirty Anakin, then protective and serious Anakin, blood, guilt - gif not mine

A meeting of the senators had just come to a close, the heavily armed room now leaving. Anakin Skywalker stood behind you the whole time, he didn’t make any commentary, not even a face as you argued endlessly with another senator. You couldn’t understand why anyone would want to prolong this war any longer. And you were mad.

You stood up quickly from your seat, your long evergreen colored dress swaying with your movements. The dress was nothing short of bothersome. It was exceptionally long, having a train, the sleeves fell so low around your hands, and the open back made a chill constantly run down your spine. You’re sure Anakin could sense how angry you were, and he learned in the past months of being with you to not ask. You’d come to him when you’re ready to explode, and he would sit down and listen to everything you had to say. He never disagreed, and often offered his own input.

“I cannot believe this is what we’ve come to!” You almost shouted while reentering your apartment. Chancellor Palpatine had each senator moved when these assassination attempts came to light. You left your small, homely apartment to get moved into a bigger one higher up. It had another room, as Anakin also stayed in this apartment to monitor you around the clock. It didn’t bother you, and he insisted it didn’t bother him. Of course, it was his job, but you’re sure the poor guy wanted alone time.

“I’m surprised you didn’t combust on the spot, Senator Y/L/N.” He joked lightly, though this was not the right time for it. You shot him a glare, which caused his smile to go into a smirk. He knew when he struck a nerve, he became very good at doing in these long months. “Alright, alright. I agree with you, you just need to get others to agree.”

“I cannot get others to agree when everyone’s head is so far up their own ass!” You shouted, forcefully ripping pins out of your hair, letting in fall down your back, finally providing much needed warmth.

“Senator,” Anakin said.

“We’ve been over this. No senator talk when it’s just the two of us, please Anakin. I need one person to treat me normally.”

“Your wish is my command, Y/N.”

He was resting against the back of the couch, his arms crossed. His mechanical fingers moved with the utmost precision.

“Does it ever, hurt?” You asked lightly, not wanting to offend.

“My arm?” He questions, although he already knew that was what you were talking about. You nodded, staying silent.

“Sometimes, other times I barley notice I’m without a limb. Depends on how busy you keep me.” He spoke calmly, another signature smirk on his face. You pursed your lips at the comment, but then again, what else did you expect to hear from him? His laugh rang out clear as day, his arms moving to grip the edges of the couch.

“You’re almost as infuriating as them.” You accused, trying to balance as you unlaced the summer styled wedges that adorned your tired feet.

“You wound me.”

“Good.”

“Maker, you look like a baby trying to take its first steps.”

You huffed, getting more irritated. You didn't want to bend over, not with him in front of you, and not with the low cut bodice dress you had on. So balancing on one foot while bringing the other up was the best solution in this current state. He knelt down in front of you, looking as if he was about to propose and confess his undying love for you. But his mouth stayed shut, lips still twisted into a light smirk. His mechanical arm reached out for your ankle, taking it softly, and resting your shoe clad foot on his thigh.

Your dress slid, exposing your entire leg and pretty high up on your thigh. Although it was a beautiful dress, the low cut front, exposed back, and high cut slit made you question if you were ever going to wear it again. A common dress back home, wasn’t so common on Coruscant.

You wanted to look away as he unlaced your shoes, if he looked up and saw the blush on your cheeks you knew it was over. He’d never let you live this down. But you couldn't tear your eyes away from him. Not as he gently placed your foot back down, reaching for the other.

“Do this often?” You asked, trying to split the tension with some humor.

“Would you be surprised to hear that you’re the first?” His breath tickled your leg, and you were sure he saw the goosebumps that it caused crawl across your skin.

“Yes, actually. I would.”

“Well I’m sorry darling,” He started, the name catching you off guard. “But with all my watching out for you, I haven’t much time to myself.” He dropped your foot back down to the ground, grabbing your shoes and stood back up.

“Trust me, Anakin. If I had my way you’d be out fighting on who knows what planet. Not here, wasting away day after day.”

“I don’t consider protecting you wasting away.”

“I know, which I’m extremely grateful for. But still, you’re a Jedi Knight, not a guard. They shouldn’t treat you as such. You should be off on the front lines somewhere, actually doing something for us.”

“I’ve been gone for a long time, it’s good to be back home. Plus I needed a break, I haven’t been able to relax since I was living on Tatooine.”

“Relax? I didn't even know you knew such a word.”

“Oh please, despite all you’ve heard about me I can relax.”

“Would you like to know how I relax?” You asked, not even caring if he didn't. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. “I get out of this stuffy apartment.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, chuckling. “I’m afraid that is a non negotiable activity. We haven’t found who is behind these attacks, and until we do you are not going anywhere.”

“Well, I’ve heard there are some beautiful gardens the Jedi-”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“I’ve got you. What can happen?” You asked him. “Plus, only a Jedi can access these gardens I’ve heard about.”

“Those gardens are used for meditation. And I don’t believe Master Yoda or Master Windu would view kindly any sort of distraction.”

“Oh, so I’m a distraction?”

You couldn't imitate the look on his face if you tried, the eye roll and tight smirk.

“Take a break, Anakin. You’ve been at this for so long, nothing is going to happen in...” you thought for a minute. “20 minutes.”

“20 minutes?”

“In and out.” You say, getting excited he was considering it. “I just need something other than meetings, angry senators, and this stuffy apartment. So, I’m going somewhere tonight, with or without you.”

His eyes ran you up and down. Your dress perfectly hugged your figure, you were shorter than him, not by much. Your tan long legs made up for a lot of your height, although he never understood how you always managed to look so sun kissed. It’s not like you had much time to lounge around, especially not since the war started.

“In and out, and I mean it. I get one inkling of a feeling, and we’re done.”

“As you command, general.” You whispered, walking towards your room to change.

“Isn’t it me that is supposed to convince you to break the rules? This doesn’t seem like you, Senator.” The title rolled off his lips like honey, and your spine tingled.

“It does seem to be backwards.” You admitted, realizing that ever since you were appointed this position, you seemed to become a different person. “But where’s your sense of adventure, Skywalker?”

He watched you walk, you could feel his eyes boring into your back. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but your ‘bodyguard’ was starting to feel a little bit more like a crush than he should.

Within a flash you slipped the dress from your shoulders and stepped out of it. It felt nice to put on a pair of pants, felt like such a mundane thing, but one you cherished. Although you would agree you had quite the knack for being a part of the senate, it wasn’t where you wanted to live forever. Traveling to all the planets, touching the stars. That’s what sounded like a life, not arguing with opposing sides.

You glanced at yourself before leaving the bedroom, you looked normal. Pants, a black jacket, pair of old working boots. You didn’t recognize the reflection staring back at you.

“Are you ready?” Anakin’s voice ripped you out of your headspace. You didn’t even hear the knock, but his knuckles where resting against your door.

“Yes.” You say with a smile, slipping past him in the doorframe and heading out of the apartment.

Little did you know, he did cherish spending all his time with you. He had learned a lot, seen a lot, met a lot of important people. But most importantly he gained a friend, someone who understood him, who listened to every feeling he had. Someone he had grown to admire, someone he had grown attached too. One of the first important rules of the Jedi, and he broke it. Broke it trying to do a job given to him by the Jedi. He spent long nights gazing out into the distance of Coruscant, telling himself, convincing himself that this wasn’t right. He was given a job, an order, and he was starting to let this job personally affect him. He never wanted to let you out of his sight, whether it be his job, or not.

But, little did Anakin Skywalker know, that you felt the same.

In the beginning it was a tad tedious in your mind to have a 24/7 bodyguard. The constant communication every second, the constant shadow following you to meetings. But over these looming months, he had been a constant. You knew he was there, and always would be. No matter the Chancellor, no matter the outer rim, it was just him and you.

As he escorted you to the gardens, it was hard to miss the lack of people around. Although yes, this was secluded, there was no one. No stray Jedi wandering about. It was silent, eerily so. By the look that homed in on Anakin’s face, you could guess he was feeling the same. His brows furrowed together, and his fists clenched tightly to his sides.

“Is everything alright?” You almost whispered it, as if you weren’t supposed to talk.

“Something about this isn't right.” He commented, eyes scanning the gardens. We hadn’t even entered them, only standing in the doorway. The sight of green was overwhelming, it filled your heart with some hope.

“It looks like home.” You whispered, this time not because you were worried if anyone would overhear, but because emotions clouded all your senses. You ignored Anakin’s voice, not purposely, but you couldn’t help just staring at what’s in front of you.

“Y/N, we need to go.”

You turned your head toward him, but everything happened before you could even move a finger. He moved, rushing in front of you, reaching for the lightsaber hooked to his belt. A blaster fired, the hit meant for you. There was a wind as Anakin hit the ground. The assassin fled, but that was the last thing you had on your mind. The only thing you could wrap your head around was the man laying on the ground in front of you, a blaster shot through his chest.

You started to scream, you screamed for help, hoping someone would round that corner. Hoping someone needed a late night meditation session.

“Y/N,” Anakin said softly, face scrunching with pain. You looked at him, you didn’t know when you crouched down but you held a type grip on his hand.

“We have to get you up, we need to find someone.” You started saying, but your words were getting stuck in your throat. “Please, please Anakin. I have to get you up.”

“I’m sorry, Senator Y/L/N. But you need to go, that assassin could still be around. I will not take the risk of him finding you alone. You need to leave.”

“I am not leaving without you.”

This groans intensified, and a light layer of sweat started to appear at his forehead. You knew this wasn’t good, you knew he needed help, and he needed it now. His Jedi robes were burned through, but the smell of flesh was fresh enough to make your nose crinkle. You wiped his longer hair out of his eyes, and stood up. Legs shaking, and breathing heavy you went to reach for his arms.

“Y/N. You need to leave. Go. Now. That’s an order.”

“Last time I checked, General. You cannot order me around. We are getting you up and we are getting out of here.”

He groaned loudly again as you tried to pull him up, you got him to a sitting position, but he wasn’t budging any further than that.

You kneeled in front of him, exposing your back to whoever just had tried to kill you. But you didn’t care about that, the only possible thing you could think of was Anakin Skywalker.

“Anakin. Get up. NOW. We don’t have time, I need to get you up and get you help. I can drag you the whole way once you’re standing, but I need you to help me.” You pleaded, one of your hands resting against the back of his shoulder, helping keeping him propped up, the other rubbing soft circles on his cheek with your thumb. “If you do not get up,” you started to say. “I will be forced to stay here with you, assassin nearby or not. I will not leave you alone, and if you die, then i’ll die out here with you.”

Trying to convince a stubborn man to listen to you was not the easiest task. But the threat of staying here was enough to panic him into helping you get him to stand. By whatever power you possessed, you managed to get him standing. He screamed in pain, his jaw clamped down tight, and his nostrils flared.

“Y/N.” He whispered as you linked your arm around his back, throwing his left arm over your shoulder. “Y/N.” He said again, his tone more urgent.

“I’m not leaving you behind so I’d just drop that if I were you.” You snapped, focusing on starting to drag him out of the gardens.

“They’re back. I can feel them.”

“The assassin?” You asked, your heart beat starting to race as you already knew that was the answer.

Before he could answer you, a familiar voice came from Anakin’s wrist. The com link. How could you forget about that?

“Anakin, Anakin.” It was Obi-wan.

You grabbed his wrist, ready to quickly tell him where you guys were, and that you needed help, and fast.

“Obi-wan, we are at the gardens. Anakin is hurt badly, we need -“

“Say another word and I’ll kill you both.” It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, having a blaster pressed to your back. But it wasn’t one that you ever wanted to deal with again.

The assassin stood tall behind both you and Anakin. You let go of the com link, hearing Obi-wan’s panicked voice still coming in.

“Senator Y/L/N? Senator? Can you hear me?”

“Turn around slowly Senator, and drop the Jedi.”

Anakin’s spine snapped up straight. His eyes going cold, and his breathing even more intense than it previously was. Whatever pain he was feeling, the burning wound on his right peck was no longer existent in his mind.

“Run, Y/N.” He whispered, unhooking his arm from around your shoulders. Anakin turned, shoving both his hands in front of him as the assassin flew backwards. “GO.” As Anakin drew his lightsaber, stumbling slightly, you turned and ran towards the council room. Someone had to be there, Obi-wan had to be coming once he heard about Anakin.

Your body came to a screeching halt as the sounds of blaster fire rang from behind you. Anakin.

You turned back around, determined to do something. What, you didn’t know. You weren’t a Jedi, you didn’t have the force, a lightsaber, you didn’t even have a blaster on you. You were utterly defenseless. Yet, still you ran in his direction. You shouldn’t have left him, why did you leave him?

“Senator!” It was Obi-wan’s voice. You turned towards him, tears prickling in your eyes. He wasn’t alone, Mace Windu and Yoda trailed behind him. Lightsabers drawn except for Yoda. You couldn’t pull your body away from where Anakin was. Your feet were frozen, but your mind was running wild. Obi-wan and Windu ran past you.

“Senator Y/L/N, with me you must come.” You knew he could tell you weren’t psychically hurt, but mentally you were battling yourself. You wanted to go to him, needed to see him. “Taken care of, he will be. Protect you, we must.” You knew he was right, and as the blaster fire finally ceased, you turned towards Yoda.

“Master Yoda,” You started saying. He just nodded, and motioned for you to walk. Your feet stayed planted, all your weight leaning forward, still ready to run in the direction of Anakin. But it was eerily silent again, and you were struck with the overwhelming feeling that you could have lost him.

“Come, meet them in medical bay we shall.” You knew there was no point in arguing with him, he’s far too wise to argue with. You silently nodded, ripping your head from Anakin’s direction and walking with Yoda.

You sat in the same chair for hours. Although to you, it felt as though days have passed. Yoda sat you down and stayed with you for a while, which you assured him was unnecessary. The threat was eliminated, which means not only are you in any harm, but also that there would no longer be a need for Anakin being with you.

“Alone right now, I do not think you should be.”

“With all due respect Master Yoda, alone is all I want to be right now.”

“Fine he will be. Guilt, you have. Very troubling indeed, but not your fault, this was.”

“He’s been with me every day, every minute, for the past couple months. Knowing his reputation I thought he’d get bored and break the orders he was given. But he never did. This was my fault, I asked him to take me there. I wasn’t listening when he said there was a threat. I did this.”

“You did nothing, Senator.” Obi-Wan spoke, although you didn’t even notice when he walked in. “This is no one’s fault. He followed orders, he protected you, also allowing us to catch this assassin.”

You sighed, running your hands through your hair.

“Maybe you should get some rest, Senator.” Obi-wan suggested.

“I want to see him.” You said, ignoring his comment completely. You weren’t trying to be rude, and all three of you knew that. But you couldn’t erase the rush of terror that filled your body when the events of the night unfolded before you.

“One must be mindful of their feelings.” Yoda said, studying me.

“I’m no Jedi, Master Yoda. I respect you, I respect all the Jedi for what they do. Anakin and I were pushed together by the councils doing. And in these long months he became my friend. So I mean no offense when I say tonight, I don’t have to mindful of a damn thing. I want to see him, I need to see my friend.”

You’ve heard about Yoda’s extraordinary wisdom and ability to read people. So he could probably read right through you now. Something about the young General made your heart skip a beat, yes, he was your friend, one of your best friends. But he was something more, a bit of happiness, and he reminded you of home.

You could sense Obi-wan and Yoda gazing at each other, a silent conversation over what to do.

“I’ll take you to him.” Obi-wan finally spoke, offering a soft smile. You only nodded, no longer trusting your voice.

The walk was silent, but quick. You had been ushered to change earlier, Anakin’s blood on your other set of clothes. The blue dress was simple, but elegant. More acceptable to see a senator in versus pants. As you came to the door Obi-wan stopped in front of it.

“He’s a little out of it, but shouldn’t cause an issue.”

“This is Anakin Skywalker, when has he not caused an issue?” You quipped.

“Right as always, Senator Y/L/N.” Over the months Obi-wan had also become more present in your life. Of course, not as much as Anakin, but you noticed him around more. You tried to get him to just call you by your first name, no formalities, but it never worked. Obi-wan was a rule follower, a senator you’d always be to him. As Master Kenobi walked away, you stood in the doorway and stared at him. He was sitting up right, and not bandaged like you thought. The wound looked more healed, like it happened weeks ago. It was still an angry shade of red, but it looked … old.

“Force healing.” He said calmly. You looked up towards him, peeling your eyes away from his chest.

“Ani- I.” You started your apology to him.

“Don’t. I don’t need an apology, and I don’t want to hear one.”

“You could have died. You could have died because I pushed you to do something. I pushed you when all you wanted to do was keep me safe.”

“I did my job, and even if it wasn’t my job, I would still do the exact same thing. If you haven’t picked up on that already, I’m afraid you aren’t using your head Senator.”

“You’re never allowed to do that again. Do you hear me?”

He chuckled, his normal, sassy, Anakin chuckle.

“Come here, Y/N.”

You sat down on the bed, slightly facing him. You didn’t want to stare at his chest, but it was right in front of you. His skin tanned, and his muscles rippled around with each breath he took. But you also didn’t want to stare at the wound.

“Thank you.” You whispered, looking down to your fingers. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for. I did it today, and I would do it all over again tomorrow. If that’s what it takes to know you’re protected. That’s the price I’d pay, because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make sure you’re safe.”

“So stay with me. Don’t go, just live with me, be with me.” He was silent for a moment, taking in the words you effortlessly spoke.

“You know for a Senator you sure wear your feelings on your sleeve.”

“You know for a Jedi you have formed an attachment.” He laughed, a wince of pain flashed across his face but he barely let it show.

“Will you always fight me, Senator?”

“Until my last breath.” You confessed. He smiled, motioning you towards him.

“You sure you could keep this a secret?” He questioned, causing you to scoff.

“Yes.” You responded. “But only if you could keep this secret.” Before giving him the chance to respond, you turned his face towards yours and pressed your lips against his. They were softer than you’d think for a man who was just shot, and you smiled. You could feel him smile too, pulling back ever so slightly to gaze at your face.

“I don’t know if I can keep this secret, I must find a way to keep my mouth occupied so I won’t spill.”

“That was the worst thing I’ve ever heard.” You say, holding back a laugh.

“Kiss me, darling.”

This was Anakin Skywalker. The man, the myth, the legend. A name known in every corner of the galaxy. And you couldn’t be any happier to have his lips pressed against yours.

#Anakin Skywalker #star wars anakin #star wars #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin imagine #Anakin #anakin x you #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin fluff #anakin x fem reader

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fettuccin-e · 1 year

Text

Pretty, So Pretty

Kinktober Day 9: Pegging

Tags: Poe Dameron x Reader, afab!reader (no gendered pronouns), pegging, strap-on usage, kind of sub!Poe, oral (r!recieving), idk I see poe's bubble butt and i go crazy i don't know what to tell you (w/c: 910)

A/N: So I know that pegging is not everyone's thing but it is definitely mine okay because have you seen oscar isaac's ass?? How do you see that and not want to tap that okay. (I am using prompts from this list by flightlessangelwings!)

Stars, he’s pretty. So fucking pretty.

He pretends to hate it when you call him that, his cheeks flushing red, swatting your hands away and chuckling. But you know the truth.

“Perfect, baby, just like that,” you croon, and Poe whines beneath you, body twitching uncontrollably with the compliment. “So pretty like this, Poe.” You thrust deep, enraptured by him as he writhes against the sheets, practically glowing in the soft light of your bedroom.

It’s taken you both a while to get here. For Poe to submit to you like this. You know that it was hard for him at first, letting you take control, letting you own the most intimate parts of himself. But you also know how much he needed it, how much he still needs it. He holds the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders, calling the shots, making the tough decisions when no one else will. And this, in the comfort of your shared bed, is where he can let it all go. Let you take care of him, let you fuck him until every thought and worry flies from his mind.

His skin glistens with sweat as he moans for you, and stars, you feel lightheaded just looking at him. Your harness wraps tight around your thighs, a dildo that you had him pick out just for nights like these attached to it. He gasps like he can’t fucking breathe every time you fuck into him, his thick fingers digging into the sheets. You ache with how hot he looks, how you’re the only one that gets to know him like this.

You lean forward, grabbing his hands in yours and pulling them up above his head, meeting him for a long, obscene kiss that has you both moaning. You shift your hips, angling just a little differently, and Poe’s back rockets up like he’s been struck by lightning. You grin, knowing you’ve found that perfect little spot inside him that drives him wild, and hammer your hips forward into it, again and again and again.

“Maker, ah- fuck!” Poe moans, his hips twitching as you fuck him so hard, so good, that tears spring to his eyes. He doesn’t trust anyone to see him like this, to have him like this, but you make him feel so pretty, even when he’s ripped apart and ruined beneath you.

“Good boy, Poe,” you murmur, “you’re doing so good for me.” His head spins at the praise, and you only fuck into him deeper.

“Please, please,” he whines, not even sure what he’s begging for. But you smile anyway, thrusting in at that same angle, that same pace that makes him feel like he’s losing his fucking mind.

“C’mon baby, do you want to cum?” you say, releasing one of your hands from his iron-clad grip and tracing it down his heaving chest, over his stomach, taut with tension. Your dexterous fingers draw so close, so infuriatingly close to his cock, red and leaking against his skin. “All you have to do is ask.”

Maker, had he known it was that easy, he would have asked, no, he would have pleaded, ages ago.

“Fuck, baby, please. Please let me cum. Please, please, please-” He moans, hips rolling against yours. You wrap your hand around his cock, pumping him in time with your devastating thrusts into him, and he’s gone. His back arches beautifully, his eyes clenched shut as his cock throbs, painting his stomach with his cum.

“Stars,” you breathe, eyes wide and watching him twitch through the aftershocks of his orgasm, “you’re so pretty, Poe.” You chuckle softly as he somehow flushes even redder at the compliment.

You lean down to kiss him as you pull out of him, hoping to distract him from the discomfort. You can’t help but smile against his lips as his hands come down from above his head to cradle your face. Thank you, he says with his kiss, I love you. You hope that he can feel every bit of adoration you have for him through the way you kiss him back.

You loosen the harness around your hips, slipping it off and letting it fall to the floor behind you as you lean down to curl your fingers into his hair, licking into his mouth like you’ll never get enough.

“Good?” you whisper against his lips, and you can feel his gorgeous, beaming smile.

“Perfect,” he breathes. You settle against his warm body, breathing against him.

“But,” you hear him say, and you don’t have time to react before he’s wrapping you in his arms, rolling you over until he gazes down at you from above in an entirely new position. He pecks you on the mouth, once, twice, every bit the cocky, fun-loving pilot you know and love.

You can only watch as he crawls down your body, licking and sucking little marks as he goes, before he finally settles between your thighs. You feel your body flush with heat, looking at him with his curls sticking to his forehead, his lips bitten ruby red.

“I definitely haven’t gotten my fill yet,” he croons, and you can only moan as he lowers his mouth to where you’re throbbing, aching for him. He licks a long stripe against your cunt, tongue teasing around your neglected, needy clit, and you can’t help how you tremble at the feeling of it.

“So fucking pretty for me, baby,” he murmurs into your skin.

#poe dameron has an ass that kills #also he has fuck me eyes #love him for that #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron smut #poe dameron x y/n #star wars x you #star wars x reader #star wars smut

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 8 months

Text

Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Part 2

Summary: Wolffe's wife suddenly dies, leaving him a single father in the middle of a war.

Pairing: Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Characters: Wolffe, Plo Koon, Cara (child OFC)

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, grief, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 911

Author's Note: Well, I made it into a series based off of the feedback I got from the poll. I also gave Wolffe's daughter a name and updated the previous chapter to include it. Uh, forewarning, it gets worse before it gets better. We still have several parts of angst to get through before we ever start seeing glimpses of happiness, but it will happen eventually!

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"CC-3636?" a nurse called as she entered the waiting room carrying a data-pad.

"Yes, I'm CC-3636," Wolffe said and quickly wiped his face. He stood up from the bench and approached the nurse.

"I need you to fill out this form so we can alert the next of kin to claim the body," the nurse said.

Wolffe knit his brows together. "I am the next of kin. I'm her husband."

The nurse bit her lip. "I'm sorry, but according to current Republic statutes your marriage is invalid, which makes you a family-friend, not a next of kin."

"Friend?" Wolffe scoffed. "We live together. Have a child together. I'd say that's more than friends."

The nurse sighed. "Cohabitation and bearing a child does not constitute a legal binding marriage in the eyes of Republic law."

Wolffe's breath was stolen as he stared blankly at the nurse. She couldn't be serious. There was no way. They couldn't get a marriage license. It was impossible. He tried and it was futile. Every which way he attempted failed. He couldn't get around the fact that he wasn't a legal citizen. He didn't even have a legal name that could've been put on the marriage license. They had the ceremony, did everything else they were supposed to do, but no one would give them an official license.

"Speaking of which," the nurse added under her breath, as if her own words pained her to speak. "We'll also need to contact child services since Cara is now considered a legal orphan."

"Orphan?" Wolffe exclaimed. "But I'm her father!"

"Is your name on the birth certificate?" the nurse asked, as if she already knew the answer.

A lump formed in Wolffe's throat and he clenched his fist. "No… It's not. But my DNA… I'm still her biological father."

"I'm sorry," the nurse said. "But legally you aren't. She will be placed in a children's care facility pending a familial investigation, and if no family is found, she will be placed into foster care."

"You can't take my daughter!" Wolffe yelled. "I've already lost my wife tonight! And now you want to take my kid from me too? What is wrong with you people!"

The nurse was startled at Wolffe's emotional outburst.

"She needs me!" Wolffe continued as he raised his voice higher. "I'm all she has left!"

"Sir," the nurse said. "I'm so sorry, but there's nothing I can do. We're bound by the laws."

"I swear to the Maker if you lay a single hand on her I'll–"

"If I may," Plo interrupted. He carefully handed the sniffling child back to Wolffe, then ushered the nurse down the hallway. "Perhaps you and I can discuss the details of this form privately."

"Very well, Master Jedi," the nurse agreed and followed him.

Wolffe collapsed back onto the bench and pressed his daughter against his chest as tightly as he could, terrified that at any moment someone would walk through the med-center doors and rip her out of his arms. He'd never let them take her. He'd rather die than let them take her. She meant everything to him, and with his wife gone, Cara was the only piece of her he had left. He didn't think his night could go from bad to worse, but his nightmares were quickly becoming a reality.

Wolffe felt Cara squirm in his arms and he loosened his grip. She didn't say anything between her quiet sniffles, but settled herself onto his lap to get more comfortable. Her face was red and puffy from crying, and she looked exhausted. Wolffe pulled up the edge of his sleeve and wiped up the snot dripping down her face, brushed a piece of her black curly hair away, then let her settle comfortably against his chest. He tilted his head down and kissed the top of her head while he rocked her back and forth the best he could.

"It's going to be okay," Wolffe whispered into her hair. "I won't let anything happen to you."

After a few more minutes, Plo returned with the nurse. They exchanged a few more words that Wolffe couldn't hear, but the nurse was smiling, so he hoped it was good news. Maker knew he couldn't handle anything else going wrong. As Plo approached the bench, Wolffe felt a new knot forming in the pit of his stomach. As tired and emotionally drained as he was, he would find a way to protect his daughter, even if it went against all of his training and every GAR regulation.

"General?" Wolffe questioned as Plo approached him, his exhaustion seeping through his voice.

"I have taken legal custody of Cara," Plo said. "She will reside at the Jedi Temple for the time being, and your wife will receive proper funeral rights as well."

Wolffe leaned his head back against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank the stars."

The fact that his general would take custody of his daughter, just to keep her from being taken away from him, touched Wolffe's heart deeply. The arrangement was still not ideal, but it was better than what he hoped for, considering the alternatives of foster care or next of kin. At least at the Jedi Temple, Cara would be primarily safe and cared for, and he could see her unrestricted by laws. It wouldn't be enough when he got deployed, but for right now, at this moment, it was more than enough.

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kaybreezy3000 · 3 months

Text

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

Sometimes your fanfic best friend gives you a shout out in an anon ask reply, and then you get excited and make your quickest Five fanart and first-time sort of animation based on a pairing she mentioned and that you wrote years ago. 😄

Link to Bad Kitty's ask

Link to my other art and stories on Tumblr

Link to my long read/3-part Five Centric TUA story with Five paired with a character similar to the one above (and yes-she has Harley Quinn vibes but don't worry if you don't like her-she is not her, I just borrowed some of her wild and fun and qualities. 😉)

------

Updated note added late 6/28/24 after a continuous thread of harassing comments from one user that now has been blocked. No this is not 'AI' made or traced like that person repeatedly said it was. I did not steal someone else's art like they accused me of with no back up other than ripping me apart with more mean comments about what looks so bad about this. They also said my other art posts are 'AI,' and that I have no drawing skill or understanding of how clothes fold.

The AI accusation is a very mean thing to say and it's happening to so many people on here and in the actual profession art world. I do agree that I am not great at art or writing but that doesn't mean I am using AI and claiming it's mine. It's very sad that people feel the need to attack art in this way when it's clearly not even good like mine.

This picture/animation was done with me doing a very bad, very fast sketch, and then hardly correcting my lines before I quickly color filled the drawing that I MADE based off the fact that I have drawn Five in a suit more times than I can count and I have basic drawing skills, not great skills but basic. The reason the hard lines are both gray and black in some spots is because I went in after to correct stuff like gaps that needed to be filled for color filling and I did that in a different layer with black rather than the gray I used the first time. It's an error but one I was aware of but didn't care about because this was supposed to be fast and messy.

So yeah... this is NOT TRACED, and from what it was supposedly traced or 'stollen' from, I have no idea what this user thought that was because they never backed that up with some image that they seem so sure I used. This was based on Five with one of my original characters, so that image they claim I stole didn't exist until I made it.

I'm just trying to have fun with my friends on here while learning to draw better digitally. I am not an artist, and I definitely don't get paid or try to make people support me.

To those like the user who did this, please just chill with the mean comments and be kind to art makers on here and writers and all content posters. If you don't like something ignore it or keep your negativity inside instead of spreading hateful intentions and saying things that are not true about people and their work or their ideas.

Sorry to go off about that on here when it was just supposed to be silly and fun, but this stuff isn't okay and needs to be shut down. I am not always going to post 'proof' pictures of my works in process. I have done that before, but it's not what this is about for me, so I don't even think to do it normally. I have other art posts on AO3 with hand drawn stuff so I figure I don't need to prove I can draw. If someone wants proof, it isn't hard to find it through my posts.

I know most people are only here just for the fun stuff and let's have more of that. ❤️ Peace and love to you all.

#number five #five hargreeves #number five fanart #tua fanart #number 5 #number five fanfiction #five hargreeves fanart #the umbrella academy #Daddy's Lil' Monster 😄#kaybreezy-on-a03 #number five hargreeves #number five x oc #tua number 5 #umbrella academy number five #my oc art #my first animation #procreate #fast and sloppy digital painting #opposites attract

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absurdthirst · 1 year

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Love to Hate You {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: Cheating, divorce, face slapping, name calling, insults, angry sex, hate fucking, rough sex, biting, scratching, unprotected sex, sub/dom dynamics, mentions of pregnancy, angst, mentions of drug use

Comments: Married to Dieter Bravo, you lash out when you find out the man you helped become a star is cheating on you. Taking him to cleaners divorce wise, you never thought you would run into him the day the divorce was final. Leaving you two to decide to work the hatred you have for each other out in bed.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Dieter frowns when the taxi pulls up outside of his house, clothes scattered on the lawn, and he quickly pays the driver to get out and see what the fuck is going on. He’d called you from the airport to let you know he’s on his way home and now you are throwing his clothes out of the house. “Babe. What the actual fuck are you doing?” He demands when he sees you come out of the bedroom, carrying an armful of his clothes.

“You motherfucker!” You shriek, dropping the clothes to rush up to slap him. He flinches, barely managing to grab your wrist before you can make contact.

“Not the face. It’s the money maker.” He demands and you clench your fist, ripping your arm from his grasp.

“You fucking cheated on me! You - you bastard!” You shriek and he shakes his head, “what the fuck are you screaming about?” You shake your head, tears streaming down your cheeks and you rush over to the magazine, clearly showing him and his co-star kissing outside of a bar, shoving it towards him. “Explain this then.�� You demand with a scoff

Shit. He had thought he had gotten away with that. “It’s not what it looks-“

You scream and fling the magazine at him. “It’s exactly what it looks like!” You yell. “You aren’t filming! You promised me! You promised me that nothing was happening with her!” You had expressed your concerns with him getting too close to his co-star, he was constantly talking about her. “Just last night you promised me and you had already fucking cheated on me!” You don’t give a damn if he had only kissed her, he lied to you. “Get out! Get out! Get the fuck out!” You grab another handful of his clothes and fling them out over the balcony.

Dieter ducks as you toss a shoe at his head. “Baby. Baby. Stop. No! She - she didn’t mean anything. You’re my fucking wife! I love you. Not her! I don’t - I fucked up.” He tries to plead but you throw the other shoe at him.

“You fucker. We - we had phone sex last night and you promised me she was just a costar. You fucking bastard!” You scream and he holds his hands up, “baby please. Don’t do this.”

“You’re an asshole!” You had cried, wept and wallowed in misery over the fact that the man you absolutely love had betrayed you. Until you had shifted from despair to rage. Now you want to make him pay. Every fucking cent you can squeeze out of him. You had married him when he was nobody, had supported him when he quit his shit waiter jobs because they wouldn’t let him off to audition and he fucking cheats on you? Now you’re going to take everything. “Guess what Dieter?” You hold up his precious Oscar, from its place of pride on the bedside table.

“No- no baby, not the Oscar!” Dieter begs, clapping his hands together as he pleads.

“We don’t have a prenup, you cheating fuck.” You hiss, grinning cruelly at him. “And I gave the best goddamn divorce attorney in the state.”

Dieter shakes his head, “you can’t- you can’t divorce me. I’m fucking Dieter Bravo. Who the fuck will compare to me? You are a nobody, no one is gonna give a fuck about you. You are nothing without me. Good luck to you sweetheart if you think you’re gonna make it alone.” He scoffs, suddenly getting defensive and cruel, crossing his arms as he tries to act like he doesn’t care when he hates that you are leaving him.

You freeze, staring at him for a moment before you hurl the Oscar at his head making him duck and it shatters the mirror behind him. “Fuck you, you no talented, limp dicked prick!” You shout, turning around and grabbing the papers you are to give him and flinging them outside. “Go fucking live with your costar! She can put up with your needy ass.”

Dieter picks up his Oscar, knowing he won’t kick you out of the house but he has to take his clothes. “Can I ask least have a fucking suitcase?” He whines and you toss a roll of trash bags at him. “You’re gonna regret this.” He growls, “you’ll never have anyone as good as me.” He spits and storms out of the house, ready to pick up his clothes and drive his car over to his co-star’s house, hopefully she will let him stay. She knows he’s married and she knew that before they even started filming. He shouldn’t have cheated but he’s a movie star, that’s what being famous entails. You knew he wanted to be a movie star when you first met, this shouldn’t be a surprise that he’s cheated on you. Everyone he knows in the industry cheats. He isn’t the exception. He gathers his clothes and gets into his car, speeding out of the driveway and he swears he will fucking ruin you.

****

“We’re here today to try to mediate the division of assists between my client and Mister Bravo.” You glare across the table where Dieter is sprawled in a chair and try not to care that he looks tired. The fact that you still love him and hate his guts at the same time infuriates you. Making sure you dress to impress and remind Dieter what he’s losing, you smirk slightly when he turns and looks over at you before you turn back to your lawyer. “We’ve already drafted a settlement that we believe is more than fair considering my client helped Mister Bravo’s career become what it is today.” The demands your lawyer insisted be more that what would ever be awarded to you is produced and handed to whoever Dieter’s manager had hired to represent him. You doubt he had found an attorney himself. Hell, you had done everything for him, was his unofficial assistant after his fame had taken off. Not anymore.

Dieters lawyer grabs the settlement, reading through it to the number and his eyes widen. He leans in to whisper in Dieter’s ear and his eyes widen behind the obnoxious sunglasses he’s wearing. “How fucking much? You- what the hell? You can’t take the house? And how much a month? Jesus Christ baby.” He shakes his head. “You’re trying to take everything I own.”

It’s hard not to soften towards him, especially when he’s looking at you like he’s wounded but you remember the picture of him kissing his co-star. Your smile is vicious. “Remember when I was supporting you because you didn’t want to wait tables so you could have the flexibility to audition.” You remind Dieter sweetly. “And then after you starting getting jobs, I had to give up my job to be your unofficial assistant.”

Dieter sighs, “you had a nice life with me. Never wanted for anything. Why do you want to take everything I own?” He shakes his head, scratching his jaw, “she - she wasn’t you. She never was you. I- please don’t do this.” He pleads, conscious of his estate now that he has an Oscar and the money he’s made. He doesn’t want to lose it all to you.

“Did you fuck her?” You ask, leaning forward and staring at him. Dieter guiltily looks away and confirms what you already knew. He had slept with the co-star that you ‘didn’t have to worry about’. “I thought so.” You cross your arms and bite your lip so you don’t cry.

Dieter hates the look in your eyes, and he knows he owes you the truth. “It wasn’t just her. There were others.” His lawyer hisses in annoyance at his admittance even though more than one affair won’t change the settlement. “The co-star for Hunger Strike. A few fans. A model-”

You cut him off with a choked “stop.”

He leans back in his chair and you swallow harshly, tears now flowing freely. “I thought you’d want to know.” He says and you shake your head.

“Just sign the papers. Please. Let me go.” You beg and he shakes his head.

“I don’t want to let you go. I love you baby. They didn’t mean anything. You - you are the love of my life.”

“You don’t know what love is, Dieter.” Your chin trembles slightly and you shake your head. “I never - ever - cheated on you and I had opportunities to.” You reveal. “Your co-star on your movie last year. But I didn’t, because I loved you.” Your voice cracks slightly. “Now? Now I hate you. I hate you, Dieter.”

His heart breaks but he knows he has ruined your marriage. His shield comes back up and he pushes his sunglasses up his nose. “Whatever. You hate me? I fucking - I hate you for resenting me for my success. Just because you never made it as a painter. Fuck you, sweetheart. I’ll go find a new, younger pussy to fuck in a new house in Sherman Oaks. You’ll be bitter in that shitty house, drowning in memories of us. I’ll sign the papers and we will be done here.” He answers coolly, crossing his arms as he stares at you from across the table.

“Mister Bravo-“ his attorney is wide eyed and shaking his head but Dieter interrupts him.

“I’m signing the fucking papers.” He tells him coldly. “She wants to move on and so do I.”

You glare at him, aware that he’s just shit on the life that you had built together, the ‘shitty’ house was one that he had been giddy to sign the papers on, making love to you in every room. “Good.”

Dieter signs with flourish, using the autograph he’s perfected over the years. “Good luck to you baby, you’ll need it if you ever want someone to make you cum like I did.” He snorts, shoving the papers over to you. He wants this done with so he can go snort some coke and start home shopping to get out of his rental. He just signed another movie deal so he’s ready to move on from you and his old life.

****

You hadn’t been trying to run into your newly minted ex husband. You really hadn’t been. A week after the papers had been signed, the judge approved them and as of today, you were officially Dieter Bravo’s ex wife. The irony had been that the day of your divorce was also your wedding anniversary so many years ago. You hadn’t wanted to sit at home, slowly going through and getting rid of all the evidence that Dieter had once been the main focus of your life, taking down pictures and throwing away old hair brushes. So you had decided to go out. Making a reservation for yourself in CUT, inside the Beverly Wilshire, you never expected to find your ex husband walking into the restaurant, wrapped around a starlet.

Dieter clicks his fingers and the maitre ‘d rushes off to go get him a table and that’s when he sees you. His eyes widen behind his ever present sunglasses and he drops his arm from the young woman who is trying to cling to him. He pushes her away gently and he tells her to wait for the table, lying that he will be right back. He strides over to the table, “fancy seeing you somewhere like this, sweetheart. Not really your kind of scene, is it? Shouldn’t you be at home…knitting? Changing the cat litter for the five cats you’ve likely bought since I left?” He taunts you as he looms over you.

Your smile is vicious and you pick up the martini you had been nursing to toss back and signal for another when the waiter comes up to you. “No, no cats.” You hum, glancing up at him and hate how you still find him sexy. “Decided I need to have a little red meat tonight, to make sure I was up for later on.” You smirk and give a small shrug before you peer over at his waiting conquest. “She looks…..limber.” You offer, not seeing what he found appealing in the girl, except youth. Your martini is delivered and you smile at the waiter, picking it up and moaning at the first sip.

Your moan makes Dieter’s cock twitch and he fucking hates it but nonetheless he invites himself to sit down at the table opposite you. “She’s a fun time, but she’s too eager. You know I like a little bite.” He shrugs and he looks at you over the rim of his glasses, eyes dipping down to your cleavage. You’re still so infuriatingly sexy despite taking all of his money. “What’s later on?” He asks, raising his eyebrows.

Setting your drink down, you pick up your knife and fork to cut another piece off the perfectly seared steak. “I have a ‘date’ with Patrick.” You offer, reminding him of your conversation in the lawyer’s office. “He asked if he could come over after finding out we got divorced.” You’re lying, but it serves the son of a bitch right for sleeping with half of Hollywood. “Trying to decide if I want to book a room, or break in the new bed I bought.”

Dieter narrows his eyes, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Patrick doesn’t know how to fuck.” He admits, leaning in to smirk, “I know that because his ex wife told me that before I fucked her right.” He never got along with Patrick. “Maybe you should book a room, see if she was lying or not.”

“I should.” The knife to the heart twists deeper when you learn about another person he cheated on you with but you don’t let him see it. “Who knows? Maybe your little tartlet will be one of those silent moaners so you can hear me scream again.” You snort, smirking at the thought of your ex-husband hearing you having sex with someone who wasn’t him.

Dieter scoffs just as Anastasia comes over and caresses his shoulder, “the table is ready baby.” She coos and doesn’t even spare you a second glance.

Dieter pushes her hand off of his shoulder, “I’m not hungry anymore. I don’t want dinner.” He says coolly.

She frowns, “you wanna go to my place?” She asks and he shakes his head.

“No. You’re boring as fuck. Go home and find some Ken doll to copulate with.” He waves his hand to dismiss her and her face falls. She punches his shoulder and storms off, furious at his rejection. “Now where were we? Oh yes, something about you screaming my name?”

“Your name?” You laugh and shake your head. “I don’t want to catch something.” You hiss, making Dieter frown.

“I’m clean, I’ve been tested and you aren’t going to scream Patrick’s name, you’re going to scream mine. Just like you always did. No one makes your legs shake and your pussy gush like I do.” He brags and damn him, he has a fucking point. He has been the best fucking sex of your life.

You smirk, deciding you want to work him out of your system. “Go rent a room, Bravo and if I feel like it, I’ll come up.”

Dieter smirks, “really?” You stare at him and when you don’t say no, just continue to stare, he scrambles to stand up. He strides over to the front desk, demanding a suite, and pays for it on a shiny credit card. He signs the papers and gets the key before he comes back over to you. “Here to make all your Pretty Woman dreams come true, baby. You want me to fuck you? I’ll be in room 1021. Don’t keep me waiting.” He leans in to kiss your cheek, sloppily, and struts off to the elevators. As much as no one made you gush like he did, no one ever made him cum as hard as you do. He’s missed you, even if he hates that you took everything from him. Tonight, he wants to indulge in the bittersweet memories of the past.

You take your time, knowing how impatient Dieter is. It will drive him crazy to wait and wonder if you will come up or if you will just leave him hanging. So you slowly consume the rest of your dinner and have one more martini before you pay the check and stand to make your way over to the elevators. You’ve decided that you aren’t going to fuck Dieter, but you wanted him to pay for an expensive suite, just so you can slap him when he opens the door.

When you knock on the door, Dieter grins and strides over to open it. This could either go horrifically wrong or epically right. He stripped down as soon as he got into the suite, thinking it would be funny to open the door naked. When he opens the door, he waggles his eyebrows and your jaw drops, eyes dipping down to his cock. He chuckles, “you missed me, baby?”

You react quickly, hand coming up to slap him, the hit echoing in the large suite and Dieter’s eyes widen.

“What the fuck?” He gasps and you slap him again. “You fucking bitch!” He growls and steps towards you, his hand grabbing your wrist and you falter but he surges forward to press his lips to yours.

You had meant to fight him, to push him away and tell him you would never fuck hum again but the second his lips touch yours, it’s like you’ve lost all reason. The neediness that is inherently Dieter is right there on the surface, wrapping around you and begging for you to touch him. Moaning, you sink your fingers into his curly hair and yank on it hard enough that he yelps into your mouth, cock jumping where it’s pressed against your hip. You’ll fuck him, but it’s going to be angry, just like you feel towards him. “Bastard.” You hiss, biting down on his lip and pulling. “Couldn’t- couldn’t be faithful.” You yank on his hair again and make him whine before you crush your lips to his again.

Dieter groans into your mouth, hands sliding down to squeeze your ass, and he licks along your jaw. “Because of your cold cunt. You kept pushing me away.” He grunts, kissing along your neck and he can’t resist biting down on the juncture between your shoulder and your neck.

Your eyes flutter and you whimper softly, “bullshit.” You argue, twisting your fingers in his hair. “I fucked you whenever you wanted. Never turned you down, you’re just a greedy asshole.” You reach down with your other hand to wrap it around his hard cock and you squeeze a little harder than you would have before you discovered his infidelities.

He hisses at the way you grip his cock, “fuck you. You wouldn’t have any passion. You’d just let me rut into you. There was no reaction, you moaned and faked it. Did - was my cock not good enough for you?” He demands to know, reaching for the zipper of your dress to roughly drag it down.

You snort and roughly start to jerk him off, not caring that you haven’t spit in your hand or smear lube on him. You hope it’s painful. “You mean all thirty seconds of thrusting before you came?” You taunt, stomach lurching at the way his fingers peel your dress away in a frantic, needy manner. Where had this been while you were together? Why hadn’t you been good enough?

Dieter grunts, “it wasn’t thirty seconds.” Your grip is tight and it’s dry but he’s so desperate for you he doesn’t even care. He shoves your dress down your hips, leaving you in lacy underwear that has him drooling. “Who was this for?” He demands to know as he slides his hands under the elastic so he can rub your clit.

“Not you.” You bite back, knowing that it had just been to make yourself feel better. If it makes your ex husband jealous of who you were going to model it for, even better. “Fuck, Dee.” You hiss, hips jerking forward at the pressure of his fingers. “Maybe- fuck, maybe I’ll just make you eat me out.” You pant, pressing your thumb against the drooling head of his cock. “Not let you cum.”

“You know you can’t resist me inside of you. Never could end it at oral. Always had to fuck you into the mattress. Even if you made me cum down your throat. You waited until I was hard again.” He pushes two fingers inside of you, groaning at how wet you are. “Guess you’re wet over this mystery man too?”

“Shut the fuck up.” You aren’t going to admit that Dieter turns you on. Even as your pussy flutters around his fingers. “So fucking cocky for so little performance.” You smear the spurt of precum around the head and reach down to fondle his balls, probably a little firmer than before but you don’t squeeze. You’ve finally admitted to yourself that he’s going to fuck you.

“You’re always such a bitch. Can’t just admit it, can you?” He growls, pulling his fingers out of your cunt and he pushes your dress down to the floor, reaching out to try and rip your panties. “Shit.” He growls, tossing the material to the floor and he slides his hand up to remove your bra with one hand. “Get on the fucking bed.”

You want to push back, to argue just because you can but your legs are shaking and you stumble over towards the bed. Laying down and spreading your legs to show him your dripping cunt. Smirking, you slide your fingers through your folds. “Maybe I should just take care of myself. Since I’m just letting you rut over me and not enjoying myself. Hmm?”

Dieter snorts, striding over and he grabs your hand to snatch it away from your pussy. “Is that what you want? DIY job?” He mocks you, using your hand to push two of your fingers inside of you, keeping his grip on your hand to guide your fingers. “Do they feel better than mine? Do they stretch you out properly?” He coos, smirking when you whine when he pushes them deep inside of you using his own hand.

Dieter is a cocky shit, but he makes you hot. You let him pump your fingers into your cunt until he finally tires of that and makes you stop. “Don’t you want to fuck your ex wife?” You taunt. “Since I fucked you out of your money? Your house?”

He grips his cock, pumping himself after he pulls your fingers from your pussy, and he pumps himself. “You want me to fuck you? I’m gonna need you to beg for it baby.” He orders and your upper lip curls, “as if. I’ll never beg you to fuck me again.”

He chuckles and kneels on the bed, pushing your thighs back and lifting them over his hips. Gripping his cock, he rubs your clit with the head and you moan, “you were saying?” He smirks, teasing you.

“Fuck you, Bravo.” You hiss, glaring at him and that’s the moment that he decides to push inside you. Making you cry out from the thick stretch of him. The thing about Dieter is that his cock is fucking thick, making it hard to take if you aren’t stretched out, but you are wet enough that it only pinches slightly. He pushes in hard, making you gasp as he pushes the air out of your lungs when he hits the back wall of your cunt.

Your gasp makes him chuckle and he doesn’t give you time to adjust. You want him to fuck you, he’s gonna ruin you. No one's gonna compare to him. He rocks into you, hard and fast, setting a devastating pace while he looms over you. “You have missed this cock, haven’t you baby?” He mocks you, eying the way your eyes roll back onto your head.

You hate that he’s right, you’ve missed him. You’ve missed sleeping beside him and having him wake you up for sex during the middle of the night. Instead of answering, you reach up and pinch his nipple, knowing how much he likes that. “I shouldn’t let you fuck me.” You pant. “Who knows where your dick has been?”

“Always wear a condom.” He promises, “you’re the only one I trust.” He admits, “don’t need a fucking baby mama chasing child support on top of your alimony.” He scoffs and leans down to bite your nipple, pushing your thighs back even further so he can sink deeper inside of you.

It’s fucking pathetic that his confession makes you happy. That he would trust you and not those other assholes. He could be lying but you doubt it. Not now. “Fuck Dee.” You whine, closing your eyes and reaching up to dig your nails into his arms above his tattoos, wanting to leave marks he would carry for the next few days from you.

He loves hearing you whine for him. No one else seems to moan his name like you do and he shudders above you, shifting to your other tit, he bites down and loves the way your nails dig into his arms. His manager will bitch about it but he doesn’t care right now. His cock pushes deep inside of you and he groans when your walls flutter around him. “Always been so easy to wind up.” He taunts you, kissing your sternum.

You huff, rolling your eyes and you wrap your legs around him so you can squeeze him tight. Making him hiss at how tight you grip him. “You’re a bigger asshole now.” You moan, closing your eyes so you don’t start to cry at the sudden rush of emotions. You hate him, you hate him so much.

“You’re a bigger bitch now.” He counters, sliding his hands under you so he can bury his face in your neck, breathing you in. He hates you, hates how you drag him back under the emotions he tries to bury. He misses you, of course he does, but you don’t understand him anymore. You don’t understand the world he operates in. If he was an average Joe with an average job, you would’ve been married still. “Fuck.” He hisses, dropping his hips to grind deeper inside of you.

You aren’t clinging to him because you want to, it’s because of how he’s fucking you. Gasping and whining in his ear every time he punches deep against your cervix and makes you clench around him. “Keep- keep it up and I -I might actually cum this time.” You pant into his hair and tighten your hold on him when he hisses into your neck. “Fuck, Dee, so close.” You moan.

Dieter grits his teeth, desperate to make you cum on his cock again, he wants to show how good it was. He groans when you clamp down on his cock after a few more thrusts. “Fuck baby. So good. So good.” He groans, “missed how you cum around me.” He confesses and lets go, ramming inside of you before he stills, cumming like he hasn’t since you first got together.

“Deeeeee.” Your head tilts back and you cry out, body tightening up underneath him as you start to cum. Loving and hating how he can make you cum and it’s always better than anyone else you’ve ever been with. Feeling the heat from his own release flooding your cunt and making you whine at how good it feels as he tries to rock it deeper with every roll of his hips.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He bites out, groaning when he pushes deep and leans over you, pressing his lips to yours despite the risk that you could bite his lip. He has regrets, of course he does, but he knows that his career would destroy you in the long run like it has him. He knows he would freak out if you were hounded by paps like he is. He pulls out of you after a moment, shifting off of the bed to redress. He needs to go. He can’t fall back in love with you, he can’t risk it. “I’m, uh, gonna go. Order whatever you want from the room service. Stay the night.”

You hadn’t expected soft words or love, but Dieter has always been a snuggly, cuddly person after sex. Sprawling all over you and insisting that he sleep inside you. Sitting up, you watch as he hastily dresses like a husband will be after him with a shotgun. “Whatever.” You snort, standing up and grabbing your bra so you can redress. “Enjoy your next conquest.” You smirk. “I know you need to book another movie to make the alimony payment.”

****

Dieter glances around the expensive suite of the Beverly Wilshire, waiting for you. It’s been 3 years since that night you spent in the hotel room together and it’s become a tradition of sorts, a revisit to your marriage. He knows he can’t give you his loyalty, and you won’t give him his freedom, so this is a compromise. Meet every year on your wedding anniversary to fuck each others brains out then leave and resume your daily lives. It scratches an itch, you once said. His knee bounces and he waits for you to arrive, maybe you changed your mind this year? He would never admit the relief he feels when he hears the knock on the door and he opens it to find you looking gorgeous as ever. “Took you fucking long enough.” He gripes, knowing you still hate him.

You roll your eyes and step into the suite, your palm itching to slap him again. You secretly wonder if Dieter likes it because he doesn’t try to stop you when you do. “I could have stayed home with my toys.” You snark, raising a brow and shaking your head. “Strip and lay down on the bed. I’m riding you this year.” You order, wishing you had brought handcuffs to tie him to the bed so you could stuff your panties in his mouth.

“Such a fucking bossy bitch. Jesus Christ.” Dieter huffs and pulls his ragged shirt over his head. Ever since he made it big, he wears shitty clothes so the paps don’t want to take his photo. “Were you this fucking bossy during our marriage?” He asks, pushing his sweats down to expose his semi hard cock. He’s always half hard just thinking of you. He kicks them aside and lays down on the bed as per your orders, folding his arms behind his head.

“Yes.” You start to strip off your clothes, fully aware that his eyes are glued to every inch of skin you start to reveal. As much as Dieter says he wanted younger, better pussy - he keeps coming back for yours. Thrilling you in a way, since he always rises to the occasion on your little anniversary interludes. “You liked it. ‘Yes ma’am. Whatever you want, just please suck my cock’.” You mock, revealing the lacy teddy you had worn underneath. You would swear it’s not for Dieter but you’d be lying. Wanting him to regret leaving you. “You hate it now, but that’s okay, because I still hate you.”

Dieter’s stomach twists at hearing you still hate him but he ignores that to watch your beautiful body as you stand there in the teddy. “If you wanna be bossy, then be bossy. Tell me what you want. Use me.” He demands, cock twitching against his stomach at the thought of you riding his face or his cock.

You give a small laugh and tilt your head as you look at him, “wrap your hands around the headboard.” You order as you move towards the bed. “Don’t touch me. You're going to make me cum on your face and then I’m going to ride your cock.”

He nods, cock leaking a drop of precum at the thought of you riding his face. “Fuck yes, baby. Come on, wanna taste that pussy.” He orders, knowing he should be rude and demand you suck he cock but he can’t. He wants you to fall apart on his face. “Hurry up!” He whines when you take too long to straddle his chest.

“So impatient.” You slap his cheek gently and smirk at the way his cock twitches behind you. “Open that dirty, cheating mouth of yours, you bastard.” Pulling the cloth covering your cunt to the side, you shuffle forward to drop your lips onto his mouth.

He groans when your tang hits his lips. His hands squeeze the headboard, wanting to touch you, but he’s had his orders. He works his tongue through your folds, flicking your clit, and he closes his eyes as he savors the taste he knows so well.

“Fuck.” You won’t admit it, but he’s still the best fucking lover you’ve ever had. Switching between demanding and submissive, it’s always fun to fuck Dieter. Reaching behind you, your fingers wrap around his cock and squeeze. “Good boy,” you moan quietly.

“Fuck.” He groans into your folds, cock twitching in your grip and combined with your praise, he’s leaking onto his stomach. You rock your hips and he licks at your cunt, suddenly ravenous and ready to make you cum. He wants to hear you cry out his name in pleasure instead of anger.

If you were still together, you would twist your body around and wrap your lips around his cock. Last year he had made you blow him until your throat was raw and the fucked you until you screamed his name. Getting another noise complaint like you do every year. You miss the weight of his cock on your tongue but this is your time. His fingers grip the head board desperately as you grind down on his face. “Maybe- maybe you should do a porno.” You pant out, looking down at his desperate eyes.

He chuckles into your flesh, knowing he would retort with “might have to do that to pay your alimony” but your pussy is smothering him so he can’t respond. He pushes his tongue inside of you instead, making sure his nose rubs your clit while he curls his tongue deep. The headboard creaks as he struggles to keep holding it, wanting to touch you instead.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck Dee.” You whine, rocking your hips harder and throwing your head back. You love how deep he can get into your soaked walls and how perfectly his tongue curls into you. “You’re gonna make me cum.” You pant. “Gonna soak your stupid face.”

He chuckles at your jab but pays it no mind as his tongue keeps curling inside of you, waiting for you to cum on his tongue for him. His hands squeeze the headboard with the need to touch you and he presses his nose against your clit.

When you cum, you cry out his name, hating that you can’t make yourself call him someone else. Anyone else. That would piss him off. Your thighs shake around his head as you flood his tongue and face with your release as you pant over him.

Dieters hands fly off of the headboard to grab your hips, keeping you pressed into his mouth so he can lap up every drop of cum you can offer him. “Fuck baby. Fuck.” He groans into your flesh, sliding his tongue through your folds until your thighs shake.

When you finally pull off his mouth, you are breathless. Desperate to have him inside you as your cum smears down his chest when you slither down his body. Wrapping your hand around his cock again to position him at your entrance, you lean forward and crush your lips to his while you sink down on his cock.

Dieter groans so loud, he’s certain the entire building just heard him. “Fuckkkk baby girl. Shit.” He hisses, eyes rolling back into his head with how wet and hot you are around him. You’re the only woman he fucks raw, no one else gets to feel all of him. He doesn’t trust anyone else with the birth control, knowing he has too much on the line for them to take from him. Also, he would never admit it to his therapist, let alone himself, that the only woman he has ever imagined having a kid with is you. “Gonna ride me?” He asks when you remain still on his cock.

Slapping your hands down on his chest, you start to move. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t cum immediately.” You snark, circling your hips and lifting off his length just to sink back down on him with a moan. You’ll go get tested, just like you do after every anniversary you spend with Dieter. Not able to trust him to not lie to you anymore, even though you know you can. Catching something was always something he had been scared of, the man couldn’t handle a fucking cold without being a baby. An STI would lay him out. “Know it’s been awhile for you. Since that model dumped you.”

Dieter huffs, sliding his hands up to squeeze your tits, and his eyes drift down to where you are sinking down on his cock, making him groan at the sight of it. He wants to admit the real reason why he was dumped but he can’t. How could he say that the model dumped him because he’s ‘still in love with his ex wife’ and instead he says “she’s like you. Couldn’t handle me being famous. Well, more famous than her.” He scoffs, closing his eyes so you can’t read him like a book. “But she rode me better than you do.” He lies, pinching your nipples, “more flexible.”

“Bastard.” You huff, clenching around him just to make him hiss. “Sorry I’m not as flexible.” Your nails scratch down his chest and you make sure that you swivel your hips even more. The idea that someone fucks him better than you to making you competitive. “Maybe I’ll - fuck, maybe I’ll take lessons on sex from that- that guru then.”

Dieter’s eyes open so he can glare at you. His old friend, the sex guru, Josh, who he fell out with after he indicated he wanted to fuck you, was not Dieter’s favorite person. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He makes shit up - to - to sell books.” He grunts when you bounce on his cock and he hits deep inside of you, taking his breath away.

Instead of arguing, you moan as he hits perfectly against your g-spot. Making you lurch forward and try to make him hit that perfect position again. “You- oh fuck, you feel so good, Dee.” You whimper, leaning in and biting his shoulder and then sucking on the skin to make sure you leave a mark for him to remember you by. Something he sees since his management sends you the alimony checks. You doubt he even knows how much he’s got or where it goes daily.

“Jesus Christ.” Dieter curses even though he changes his religion every week depending on his aura. “Fuck. You feel so good. Fucking hate that no one ever feels as good as you.” He huffs, rocking his hips up to meet yours as you grind down onto him. He knows you hate him, would never want to be married to him again, but he fucking misses this, misses you, despite knowing you can’t accept or handle his life.

If you were the bitch Dieter claims you are, you would bring up that his ex supposedly felt better, but you don’t. Secretly loving that you give Dieter what he can’t get anywhere else. Especially since you hate that no one else has ever fucked you like he can. You never let men stick around because you know you will be in this suite with him the next year like clockwork. Tied to him in ways that you can’t, or won’t, examine. You miss him, and hate that you miss him. “Dee.” You whine, biting his pec right over his heart and kissing up his jaw to his lips. “Gonna cum baby.” You moan. “You- oh fuck!” You squeal when he hits just right, clamping down on his cock as a wave of pleasure threatens to drown you.

“Yessss. Oh fuck yes!” Dieter growls when you clamp down on his cock. He fucking loves it. Loves when you cum so hard you nearly cut off his circulation. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you, and he begins to rock up into you, seeking his own orgasm. “Fuck. Oh fuck. I’ve missed you. Miss you so much baby. Jesus Christ, missed this pussy.” He rambles without really thinking about it.

Closing your eyes, you listen and whine as he pants praises into your ear. Wishing it was real, but that’s just Dieter when he is pussy drunk. He hates you for divorcing him and making him pay you. You kiss his jaw and moan his name again when you feel his thrusts get sloppy. “Cum for me, baby. Cum for me Dee.” You beg.

He groans, thrusting into you a half dozen more times before he cums, pushing deep to paint your walls with his hot seed. You are so tight and wet, he can't help it. He bites down on your neck, cock twitching inside of you as he rides his orgasm.

“Fuck.” You clench down around him, enjoying the come down from another amazing orgasm. Aware that it will only be a minute or two before Dieter is ready to move on for the year. “Not bad.” You pant, kissing his shoulder before you start to sit up. Looking down at the disheveled mess that is your ex husband. “I guess the rumors of you getting too old aren’t true.” You pull off of his cock with a moan and roll to the side, knowing you need to get up and get dressed.

He sighs when you shift to get up from the bed. Dieter watches you rush to the bathroom to clean up and he rubs his cheeks, wishing he could cuddle you one more time, just hold you and breathe you in like he used to. “I’m not too old.” He shouts out at you, looking up at the ceiling of the expensive suite.

You snort as you look at yourself in the mirror, shaking your head. “There he is!” You yell back at him, washing your hands and coming out of the bathroom and walking over to pick up your dress. “What starlet are you planning on dating this month?” You ask as you start to get dressed again. “Anyone I know?”

“My PR team wants me to date some new actress to help her PR and get the press off of my back after the coke in the club photos. Some innocent thing, new to the industry, and from some podunk town.” He huffs, shifting off of the bed, “she’s gonna be so boring but it’s what they recommend.”

“Oh god.” You roll your eyes and sigh. “Try not to ruin her, Dee.” Asking him not to fuck her is an impossibility, but hopefully he won’t get her hooked on anything. “No drugs for her. Especially if she’s young.”

“She’s not that young. She’s just innocent and well…she’s younger than me. I’m getting old now.” He admits softly, reaching for his nearly threadbare boxers. “I- I am getting tired of the PR schemes, the constant dating. It’s exhausting. No one knows the real me. No one except you.” He admits softly, standing up to pull the boxers on.

Zipping up your dress, you pull it down and nod. “So forge a real connection.” As much as Dieter’s infidelity hurt you, you wanted him to be happy. It obviously hadn’t been with you, but you wanted him to find whoever could give him the life he wants. “Don’t date who they want you to. Date who you want to date. Be open, honest.” You stress. “Deep, deep down, beyond the petty, shallow bullshit, you are a good guy. A cheating bastard, but a good guy.”

Dieter pulls on his sweatpants and reaches for his t-shirt. He sighs when you tell him to go find someone who makes him happy but that’s impossible. He pulls his shirt over his head and watches you put your shoes on. “I’m not a good guy. I- I’m an asshole. I take drugs to forget about the fact that I lost the best thing in my life.” He admits softly as he pulls his cardigan on.

“God, Dieter.” You roll your eyes as you pull on your shoes. “You told me you hated our house.” You remind him. “Said you were going to go live in Sherman Oaks and be happy and I could have our shitty house.” You know he’s not talking about the house, you aren’t dumb. “You get to live in a nicer house, snort all the Coke you want, bang whatever piece of ass that catches your eye, your life’s great.”

Dieter sits down to pull on his Uggs. “Great.” The word sits heavy in his mouth, “yeah. It’s great. Being alone. People only want me for what I can give them. Not liking me for who I am. Yeah, it’s fucking fantastic.” He scoffs and stands up. “Whatever. Same time next year?” He asks you as he walks over to the door to open it.

You know that he’s wanting you to say something, to comfort him, but this is what he wanted. Or at least it’s what he chose when he decided to cheat on you. “Yep.” You pick up your purse and slide the strap over your shoulder. Walking over to him, you pat his chest and then his cheek. Leaning in and kissing his lips, you smirk and drag your finger through his patchy beard. “You’re getting grays in your beard, Bravo. You old fuck.” Turning, you walk down the hall, pretending like you don’t have a care in the world.

Dieter huffs and slumps down on the bed again, staring up at the ceiling. He feels so fucking alone now. Maybe he needs to consider getting a real partner. Someone who understands his lifestyle and his career. Who’s he kidding? No one wants him.

****

“No. No. I can’t take that movie. Not if it’s filming in London then.” Dieter shakes his head and his manager frowns, “what do you mean ‘no’? This is a potential second offer.”

Dieter’s manager tells him and Dieter shakes his head, “I can’t. I- I have another appointment during that month.” He doesn’t expand on his reason but his manager shakes his head.

“Unbelievable. What could possibly be more important?” He asks Dieter who answers softly, “it’s my wedding anniversary.” His manager frowns and Dieter stands from the seat, “get the filming changed or I’m not doing it.” Dieter says before he exits the office. He won’t miss your anniversary.

****

Dieter rubs his hands on his pants as he waits for you, the normal suite in the Beverly Wilshire, and he checks the clock. You’re late. He frowns, you’re never late. He sighs and wishes he had your number memorized. He waits another hour until he gets mad. “Fucking bitch.” He growls, standing up and he decides to head over to the house and confront you, see why you stood him up.

When the doorbell peels, you curse at your kitchen sink, turning off the water and grabbing a dish towel to wipe your hands as you rush towards the door. You need to get a damn sign to put up to just leave packages on the doorstep instead of wanting to alert you. It’s been a hectic day and all you want to do is have five minutes to sit down, maybe a nap. Most definitely a bath, but a nap most of all. “Sorry, I- Dieter!” Throwing open the door, you had been about to apologize to whatever delivery driver was standing there when you freeze, shocked by the sight of your ex husband on the doorstep of his old home. He hadn’t been back since you had kicked him out nearly five years ago. “What- what are you doing here?” You demand, glancing back into the house before looking at him nervously.

“You stood me up!” He whines and stomps his foot when he sees you standing there on the doorway. “Why? I- It’s been years that we have met up today. Hell, I turned down a goddamn movie for you - my manager said it was a possible Oscar winner - and you’re here. I want an explanation.” He demands, crossing his arms as he glares at you.

“That was today?” Your eyes widen, having lost track of the days but that’s easy to do now. “Shit, I meant to text you.” You had been planning on texting him and telling him that you felt like you needed to end the meetups on your anniversary. “Why did you turn down a role? I never asked you to do that. I would never-“ From behind you, there is a loud squawk, making your eyes widen even more because you know that’s just the beginning. Immediately followed up by the loud, frantic cry of your son, demanding to be fed like he’s been starving, rather than just waking up from his nap. “Shit.” You turn around and leave Dieter standing in the doorway. Knowing your son is more important than your ex husband’s tantrum.

Dieter’s eyes widen when he hears the baby cry. It takes a moment to sink in, the baby is yours. He shakes his head and steps into the house after you when you rush off, leaving the door open. He walks into the living room to find you coddling a baby. It’s tiny, definitely newborn. His eyes widen and his heart breaks, expecting a man to come out into the living room at any moment. “I- I didn’t know you’d moved on.”

“What?” You are busy trying to soothe the baby, the bottle that you had gotten ready earlier was waiting for him. He hadn’t latched properly and you hated missing out on breastfeeding but it was better that he ate. You were pumping, so that was helping. Looking up, you find Dieter staring at you with a sense of hurt and anger. “Moved on- are you- oh….” You finally figure out that he doesn’t understand. “Dieter…this is our son.” You admit quietly. “He’s three months old. We- uh, my birth control failed.” You hadn’t been with anyone else for some time before meeting with Dieter and definitely not after. Your son could only be his child.

Dieter’s eyes widen when he steps closer to the feeding baby, watching him drink the milk, and he recognizes his features mixed with yours. “No.” He gasps, shaking his head, “no. I- fuck. It can’t have failed. It can’t have. I’m not - I can’t be a father. I can’t - shit.” He’s having a panic attack now, hyperventilating as he stares at the baby in your arms.

You stare at Dieter in shock, never expecting him to react like this, although you never planned on telling him. “Breathe.” You order him softly, heart breaking when you take a step towards him only to have Dieter jump back like you are attacking him. “Dee, you need to breathe.”

“No! No!” He shouts, shaking his head as he backs up even more. “I can’t be a father. I can’t. I’m not - I’m not good enough. I can’t do it.” He chokes, knowing his worst nightmare has come true.

That pisses you off and you glare at him. “You are not a father.” You hiss. “You are a sperm donor. You aren’t on his birth certificate. I’m not going after you for child support. This is my child, not yours. I am a single mother.”

Dieter narrows his eyes as the panic recedes, “good. I didn’t want to be a fucking father anyway. I see now how it is between us.” He’s hurt that you didn’t even tell him when you found out you were pregnant. “Get the fuck on with your life, sweetheart.” He growls and storms out of your house. He’s hurt and upset and he needs to get lost in booze and drugs. He can’t be reminded of what he’s lost. The price he’s had to pay for his career, for his fame. He won’t ever be able to be who he once was, who you met. That eager, young wannabe actor from Oregon. He’s never going to be that guy again. He’s an Oscar-winning actor. He’s Dieter fucking Bravo.

The door slamming makes your son cry out again, you jumping slightly at the sound but he soon settles down to hungrily gulp down the bottle again. “I’m sorry, baby.” You coo to your son, trying not to cry. “I’m - I didn’t think he would- I’m trying to protect you.” It might be wrong, but you know how Dieter can be, his reaction just proved it. You don’t regret having his child, you get to keep a piece of the man you love and the alimony more than covers your expenses. You’ll be fine and so will he. Without Dieter.

****

Dieter has lost track of the drugs he’s taken, the amount of booze he’s drunk. He doesn’t remember most of it but he can’t get the image of you holding the baby out of his mind. It’s early morning, he hasn’t slept, and he can’t take it anymore. He gets in his car, barely sober enough to drive, and he makes his way over to your house, stumbling up to the door and ringing the doorbell.

Groaning, you turn your head to look at the clock, huffing when you see how early it is. Wondering who the hell is at your door and tempted to ignore it when the bell rings again. “Shit, shit.” You huff, dragging yourself out of the bed after a rough night with your son to go down the stairs and open the door, not caring that you are only wearing your nightgown.

Dieter stumbles when you answer the door, eyes wide, and he falls to his knees. “Baby. Oh my baby. Let me - I fucked up. I didn’t want a divorce. I didn’t want to lose you. I fucked up. I miss you. I love you. I love you! Please, let me in our house!” He begs, loud enough that the neighbors can hear.

“Jesus, Dieter!” You hiss, looking around in embarrassment before looking down at the jumbled mess of a man at your feet. “Shut up, people are sleeping. Are you high?” You demand, wanting to know if he’s hopped up on chemicals.

“No. I’m not. I- I had a few drinks. I- I can’t lose you. Please. I couldn’t - I don’t want to lose you baby. I need you. I need you to be my wife again. I want…I want to be a father. I don’t want to abandon my family anymore. I’m sick of it. Hollywood. The people. The drugs. The - the fucking fake bullshit. I don’t want it. I shouldn’t have thrown you away for it.” He sobs, tears now streaming down his cheeks.

Dieter looks pitiful and yet you see the honesty and desperation that is seeping out of his eyes. Looking up at you and begging you to believe him. “You- Dieter, I don’t want to be with a man who is going to cheat on me.” You caution. “Especially since I have Robin. I can’t raise him in a household that is chaotic.”

He shakes his head, “I am done. No one compares to you. No one makes me feel like you do. I want you, only you, and - Robin? You - you named him Robin?” He swallows harshly at hearing his son’s name.

“I did.” You nod. “Robin Harrison Bravo.” You had given him Dieter’s last name since you had never changed yours after the divorce. You had wanted the extra connection to his father but honestly never expected there to be a relationship between your son and the man who helped create him.

He shakes his head, knowing he’s messed everything up. He has destroyed any chance he had at having this family with you. “Baby. I- I’ll go. I - I know I’m not good enough to be a father, to have a second chance to be your husband. I’ll go.” He stumbles as he stands up, swaying from the emotions and the booze.

“Dieter-“ You reach out and grab ahold of his arm. “You are in no shape to go anywhere.” You frown. “You shouldn’t have even tried to come over in the condition you are in. Come inside. I’ll make some coffee and we can talk?”

He sobs, letting you drag him inside your home - his old home - he remembers choosing it with you after he got his first major movie deal. He was so excited to be able to provide for you…finally. After you helped him, supported him emotionally and financially through his desperate attempt to make it in Hollywood. He remembers making love to you on every surface, even painting the bedroom with you since you said he’s a good painter and you didn’t want to spend money on a decorator, you wanted to do it all yourself despite him offering to pay someone. He slumps down on the sofa, watching you walk into the kitchen to get him some water.

You sigh, setting up the coffee maker for a pot and grabbing a bottle of water along with a muffin since you don’t know the last time Dieter has eaten. Bringing it back to set down on the coffee table, you pat his leg. “I’ll make a bottle since I am anticipating Robin waking up soon. We had a long night last night.”

“You did?” He asks breathlessly, opening the bottle of water to down half of it, wanting to be somewhat sober for this time he has with you before you send him away. “I- I don’t want you to do this alone.” He admits, “I want a chance to be his father.”

“You can’t half ass it, Dee.” You warn him, not being nearly as harsh as he deserves. “You’ve already said you didn’t want to be a father and now you do? What’s changed? Is this some kind of mid life crisis bender? Afraid of being alone? Our son isn’t a pet that can be ignored when you’re bored or you want to snort Coke off a model’s ass.”

“I know. I know he isn’t. I don’t want to snort coke anymore. I- I don’t want to act anymore. I- I want to produce. I don’t want to be away from you…or our son. I’m old. I just want to settle down and be with my family…if you’ll still have me. I love you. I’ve always loved you. It’s always been you. I have never wanted anyone like you. I want you. I love you. Please, give me another chance. I was selfish, an asshole, but I’m sick of being selfish. I wanna be your husband again.”

You sit down and reach out to take his hand. “Is that what you really want?” You ask softly, aware that you shouldn’t give him another chance, but you still love him. You’ve always loved him and despite it being a bad idea, you don’t know if you would ever stop. “You want to be together again? Just me and you? No one else?”

Dieter squeezes your hand, “I want you and I want Robin. Nothing else. I don’t want the fame, or the drugs, or the lovers. I want my wife. I miss you. I- I have never spent a night in a bed with anyone but you. Anyone I’ve slept with…I’ve always kicked them out before I went to sleep. I’ve only ever held you in bed. It’s only ever been you. I wake up in the middle of the night and reach for you. I love you baby. So much.”

You can’t help the tears that slip down your face. Wishing that you had heard all of this years ago but happy to hear it now. “I- I love you too. So much. It’s why I was so fucking hurt. You ripped my heart out, Dieter.” You confess softly. “But- I want to give us another chance. With therapy. And a prenup with a cheating clause.”

Hearing you say you want to give him another chance makes his heart pounding and he leans in to nudge his nose against yours, not wanting to kiss you without permission. “I love you. I’ll do whatever you want. Therapy. Prenup. I just want you and our son.” He promises, kissing your forehead as you lean against him.

You sigh quietly and close your eyes. “Are you sure you’re not saying this because I didn’t show up for our yearly hate fucking date?” You joke, wishing that this had happened years ago, that you had him around when you were carrying Robin.

Dieter shakes his head, “I mean, I did book our normal suite so we could have sex but no, I’m not just saying it. It’s…it’s been on my mind for months, remembering how we used to be. I miss you. I am still in love with you no matter how high I get, how drunk I get, or how I try to bury myself in someone else. It’s always been you.

“And I love you no matter how many times I slap your face, call you a bastard or insult your prowess in bed.” You huff, laughing at yourself. “I’ve - I kept all our photos together. They are in the attic but I couldn’t get rid of them.” You confess. “I couldn’t get rid of you.”

Dieter smiles, leaning closer to you. “Can I kiss you?” He asks softly and you nod, looking into those dark brown eyes. He brushes his lips against yours, cupping your cheek, and he sighs when your lips meet his, eager to kiss him. It’s like coming home after being away for so damn long.

****

The front door opens and Robin just lights up, fully aware of what that means as he drops the toys in his hands and screams, “Daddy!”, as loud as he can. The joy blooming over his face as Dieter rushes through the door and throws his keys down into the bowl on the entryway table. You smile as your son can’t quite speed over to his daddy on steady legs but Dieter is the one who is running into the living room to scoop Robin up into a big hug.

“There’s my boy.” There’s kissing and squealing as your heart stops when Dieter tosses Robin up in the air. Of course he catches him, but you always worry.

“How was your day?” You ask, standing up to quickly pick up the living room of the toys since dinner was already in the oven. Dieter had moved back in almost immediately and true to his word, he had changed completely to put you and your son first.

“Boring as ‘shit’.” He mouths the curse word, “director is being an ‘asshole’ who wants us to produce the world's most expensive movie.” Dieter rolls his eyes, knowing his new job as a producer was hard but it kept him in town and allowed him to have normal working hours to be with his family while still allowing him to indulge in his passion and career. “Hey buddy. You been good for your mama today?” Dieter asks Robin, who wraps his arms around his father to hug him. “How’s he been?” Dieter asks you, knowing the little boy can be too much to handle sometimes.

“Energetic.” You laugh. “I’m really thinking that we need to get a playset in the backyard soon.” You tell Dieter. “He’s always wanting to go to the park and spend all day.” There’s a park down the road, but maybe a set away from the pool would be a good idea. “But he was really good.”

“We can order you a play set, huh little man? Daddy will order it tomorrow and set it up.” Dieter has discovered he’s surprisingly handy. Robin cheers and Dieter grins, kissing his son’s cheek. “Come on bud, I gotta say hello to mama.” He sets the little boy down and he smirks as he walks over to you, cupping your cheeks. “Hi, Mrs. Bravo.” He coos, pressing his lips to yours while Robin rushes over to grab his toy car.

“Hi.” You grin at your husband, having renewed your legal commitment to each other quietly at the courthouse a few months ago. He had wanted to make sure that adding him to Robin’s birth certificate went well and you didn’t want to deny him. Pulling back, you wrap your arms around his neck and look at him lovingly. “I’m happy you’re home.” You coo softly.

“Me too baby. Listen…” He trails his fingers along your arm, “it’s our wedding anniversary this Friday. I booked our usual suite at the Beverly and your mom said she would come and stay the night to look after Robin…what do you say sweetheart? Wanna recreate our sexy times?” He murmurs, kissing along your neck.

You whimper, knowing it would be nice to have sex without worrying about waking Robin up. “Let’s do it. Are you ready to hate fuck me, baby?” You tease and Dieter smirks, “I love hate fucking you, baby. Always have.” He winks and pulls you close, relieved to have his wife back in his arms, to have his son laughing as he plays with his toy truck. Dieter was always chasing the next best thing when he was first married to you but now he knows that the best thing was right there all along.

#pedro pascal #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo imagine #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo the bubble

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hellhound5925 · 1 year

Text

Nicknames

Welcome to my Headcanon series about nicknames! I’m going to do a few different clones so check back for the others 😏 I’ll also take requests!

Warning: Smut…yeah…smut

Commander Wolffe

The minute 'Wolffie' came out of your mouth he wasn't sure what to do so in typical Wolffe fashion he grunted. For a second you thought he was mad and decided it wasn't worth him being annoyed or angry. One day it slipped out of your mouth and you tried to move on like it didn't happen. Stopping what he's doing, he slowly turns to face you, the expression on his face unreadable.

"What did you call me?" His gruff voice sending a chill down your spine. "Wolffie" You say rather coyly. He tips his head down slightly and stalks over to you, like an predator stalking it's prey. Your eyes grow wide not sure of what to expect next. I mean it's not like he would ever hit you - Maker he would probably kill anyone who did try to hit you - but sometimes he can be so hard to read. His brown and cybernetic eye roam your face, you immediately try to apologize "I'm sorry, it just slipped and—" he cuts you off with a gloved finger to your lips.

His action sparks something inside of you, something a little dark and definitely needy...needy for him. But before you could even muster out any type of words let alone a sentence, Wolffe slowly traced his gloved fingers over your lips, down under your chin, tipping your head up with a sudden sharp movement. A loud gasp leaving your lips, heart pounding with the anticipation.

"Say it again" he snarls. "W—Wolffie?" You stutter out. His grip on your chin tightens. "Like you mean it" his voice is gruff and harsh. Swallowing hard you collect yourself, before a devilish grin tugs at the corner of your lips. Batting your eyes lashes and biting your lip, laying it on thick you say "Wolffie" flicking your bottom lip. His eyes dart down to your lips.

"If you call me that in front of my men...I will ruin you, do you understand?" He breaks away from you, chest heaving as your eyes linger hungrily over him. Making eye contact, your mouth slightly parts. "Maybe I want you to do that Commander" your voice laced in lust for this man.

That was Wolffes invitation, he crashed against you pinning you against the wall his breath hot fanning over your face. His fingers achingly making their way down your body, it was like torture until he reaches your core slowly, skilfully playing with your heated sex.

The passion was building up more and more like a wildfire unable to be tamed.

You grab the nape of his neck pulling him in for a longing kiss, his tongue ran across your lips asking for permission you gladly accepted. Fumbling at his pants while your tongues entwined with each other was sending a contestant surge of pleasure through you.

"Ohh Wolffe just fuck me!" You beg breaking off the kiss nails clawing at his broad shoulders.

Wolffe stays silent his eyes burning with desire say it all. Bending you over his desk you feel him rip off your bottom layer of clothing, the cool air hits your fluttering core.

The stretch of Wolffe is something you've never felt before you feel so full you block out the slightly painful sensation, his hips roll into you, his thrusts slow before picking up a relentless pace. The room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping against each other and your sweet moans.

Thanks @cloneloverrrrr again for the assist. Also, sorry for taking to long to post it 😅

Masterlist to all here.

#commander wolffe #the clones #star wars clone wars #star wars the clone wars #104th attack battalion #104th battalion #smuttyclones #clone troopers #sw the clone wars #clone trooper headcanons #clone wars #the clone wars

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thrawns-babygirl · 1 year

Note

Hello there lovely, is there any chance that you could write something - anything really idc if it's a drabble, hc or oneshot- involving tatted Crosshair and his send nudes tattoo?

No pressure of course. love your stuff and keep it up^^

have a nice day <3

This was only meant to be a drabble but I got carried away.

And yes I know this fic starts off almost identically to one of my other fics (I think it was one of the follower celebration ones) but for this specific fic I needed to reuse an old trope dont @ me please I've had writers block （；¬＿¬)

This is also another one of my classic medic!reader fics because I wanted it to be gender neutral and doc is the easiest gender neutral nickname I can come up with.

I am not a creative person lmao.

anywho, this is based off of @cloned-eyes absolutely sinful art, which is honestly some of my favorite Crosshair art of all time.

Rating: E (18+) Warnings: Sexting (I think that's it lmao) Words: 2200+

Been a while since ive written anything this long so i hope my writing is still up to snuff

Masterlist

Where could he be? Where on this maker forsaken facility could he possibly be? You storm through the halls of Kamino looking for Wrecker, the errant clone needing to come and see you for updates to his immunisations before he or the rest of clone force 99 are allowed back out into the field.

It’s not surprising that he’s avoiding you, out of all of them, Wrecker is by far the worst with needles. The man can’t stand them, avoids you like the plague when he knows that it’s time to keep his vaccinations up to date and for what its worth you can’t really blame him. No one enjoys needles.

You huff and place your hands on your hips as you think about where the lovable giant could possibly be. You’ve already checked the mess, the armoury, the Marauder and the training centres with zero sign of him. When you got to the marauder Tech just gave you that look that says, “I understand you need to find him but I’m not going to rat him out” and while you often applaud clones for their loyalty to one another, when it stops you from doing your job it makes you want to rip your own hair out in frustration.

You make your way over towards their barracks, hoping and praying to whatever deities that will listen that you’ll find him and be able to get on with the rest of your job. You take a deep breath, standing out the front of their doors, before keying in your medical override and stepping inside.

You don’t find wrecker, and you wish you had knocked.

Standing in front of you is Crosshair, in just a towel, dark lines of ink on full display over his tanned body. You’ve never actually seen him without his shirt on before, never needed to. The sniper usually manages to stay out of trouble and doesn’t need any assistance when the boys return to Kamino so you had no idea he was covered in tattoos.

You run your eyes over his chest, taking in all the impressive art that litters his toned form. The silhouette of his beloved 773 Firepuncher that stretches along his chest, the artfully done letters of aurebesh that stretch above his stomach, the other smaller words and phrases that extend down his hips, tantalizingly low, slightly obscured by the fabric of the towel that’s gripped in his left hand.

You run your eyes up his arm towards his face, knowing that he’s going to be wearing that sickeningly infuriating smirk of his and wanting to avoid the cliché “Like what you see?” you know he’s going to drawl at you like you’re in some terrible holodrama.

As you brace yourself to face him, your eyes catch on a single phrase tattooed on his left arm, slightly more patchy and faded than his other ink as if it were the result of a drunken night out in some shady tattoo parlour in the Uscru District of Coruscant. Two simple words that have a profound effect on your physiology causing even more heat to rush to your face, deepening the blush that you know is already far too pronounced on your cheeks and ears.

“Send Nudes”

You finally have the courage to snap your eyes up to his and just as you expected you’re greeted by his frustratingly handsome smirk, his eyes boring into yours, as if he’s waiting for you to say something, as if this is going to be the final nail in the coffin for your poorly hidden mutual attraction to one another that’s been simmering the last few cycles that’s threatening to reach boiling point as you maintain eye contact.

You lamely open and close your mouth trying to find something to say to the barely covered man in front of you before he decides to end your suffering, breaking the silence with the just as cliché “See something you like doc?” he raises an eyebrow at you before walking over towards his bunk, reaching into a pouch on his discarded armour and producing a toothpick, slipping it between his lips as he looks you up and down.

“I um-” you finally look away from him, suddenly finding the old training posters above his bed intensely interesting trying to figure out what to say to him as if you weren’t just ogling his naked chest and arms for an unprofessionally long amount of time.

You clear your throat “I was just looking for Wrecker… he needs his shots” your eyes dart around the room, avoiding his smug, self-satisfied face for as long as humanly possible.

You cringe at how your voice falters, yours and Crosshair’s interactions are always a battle of wits and snark, constantly trying to one up each other as the rest of the batch endeavour to ignore your vague attempts at flirting with one another. Both of you trying your best to goad the other into making the first move, dancing around the invisible line you’ve both drawn in the sand but never crossed.

From the corner of your eye, you see him walk towards you, you see his arm adjusting the towel around his hips and your eyes are drawn to that stupid tattoo on his arm again, the one that makes you want to throw professionalism out the window and jump his bones regardless of any regulations or rules that would get in the way and muddy the waters.

“Wrecker’s not here” his voice has dropped an octave, as if getting you alone in his room has made him realise that there is nothing physical stopping the two of you from muddying the waters of your relationship and taking that final step. You swallow the saliva that’s started pooling in your mouth, attempting to remind yourself that you’re on duty, you’re in the barracks, any one of the rest of his squad could walk through those doors at any moment an interrupt whatever lewd and improper things you both want to do to one another.

While you were wrestling with your own thoughts and feelings you miss how close he’s managed to get to you, his silent footsteps bringing him directly in front of you and you stare up at him. Has he always been this tall? You lock eyes with him, neither of you saying anything as you just stare at one another, each of you silently willing the other to close the distance between the two of you and take the leap.

He begins moving his face closer to yours, his warm breath brushing over your face, it smells minty you vaguely register as you move your face closer to his, closing your eyes and the distance between the two of you when suddenly you hear loud, boisterous laughter approaching from the other side of the door.

You curse under your breath. Despite this being the whole reason you’re in the barracks to begin with, you would give anything for a few more moments alone with Crosshair. Both of you pull away from one another, Crosshair grabbing a spare change of blacks and walking back into the refresher before the door to the barracks opens and you see the wayward clone himself stare at you with wide eyes. He knows he’s got nowhere to run now as you fix him with a glare that one would assume is because of the amount of time and effort you put into finding him and not because of the fact he just interrupted… whatever was about to happen between you and Crosshair.

You walk out of the barracks with Wrecker in tow, attempting to push whatever it was that was happening with Crosshair to the back of your mind, at least for now.

After another few hours on duty, you finally return to your quarters, sore exhausted and replaying the interaction you had with Crosshair over and over again in your mind. No matter how you try to distract yourself, whenever you close your eyes, you see the dark lines of ink that cover his sculpted body. Does he have more tattoos? Do the go lower? You mind is reeling, and you can’t focus on anything else, you can’t even sleep all you can think about is stupid Crosshair with his stupid tattoos and that stupid send nudes tattoo he has on his stupid arm.

You sigh, picking up your datapad in a vague attempt at tricking your brain into doing something productive when you get an idea. Arguably a terrible and stupid idea that could have a negative affect on your career but… an idea, nonetheless. Sighing and shaking your head you throw your datapad down onto your bed as you stand up to take a shower.

No… this is a terrible idea.

You undress and stare at yourself in the mirror. Maybe… its not a terrible idea? Your mind keeps going back to his tattoos and you decide to throw caution to the wind. Walking back into your bedroom you snatch up your datapad and open an encoded chat with Crosshair’s personal frequency double and triple checking the recipient to make sure what you’re about to do doesn’t end up in the wrong hands before steeling your nerves and standing in front of the mirror. The lighting isn’t the most flattering but you don’t let yourself dwell on that for too long before you strike what you hope is an appealing pose and taking a series of pictures, attempting to highlight your assets.

You flick through the pictures selecting the ones you think are the most flattering and before you have a chance to second guess yourself you send them through to Crosshair with the caption “As instructed”.

You wait for a moment, encrypted chats don’t have notifications for when the recipient has seen the messages so you wait with baited breath for a response. When one doesn’t come immediately you throw your datapad down onto your bed and run your hand through your hair, deciding that maybe he’s just not looking at his datapad right now you finally take your shower, attempting to wash away your nerves and embarrassment, pushing your fear of rejection out of your head as you let the warm spray wash over you.

When you exit the shower and towel yourself off you look at your datapad and see a reply from Crosshair. Your breath catches in your throat as you move to open the message and see that it comes with an attachment.

Holding your breath, you open the attachment only to be greeted by a picture of Crosshair, standing in the refresher in his barracks, wearing only a pair of loose fitting black pants that are pulled down to his thighs revealing what can only be described as the nicest cock you have ever seen. You’ve never thought that cocks were attractive before, but somehow he’s managed to change your mind. It’s long and thick and the way his slender fingers wrap around his girth makes your mouth water.

After spending far too much time searing the sight of it into your memory you read the text that he sent along with the photo just one simple word; “More”.

You dive into bed, datapad in one hand, legs spread however before you get a chance to take and pictures you receive another message from Crosshair, this time there is no text, only a video. You open it and press play.

You watch in pure delight as the recording of Crosshair’s hand moves over his hard, weeping length, his fingers tightening as he gets to the tip creating more pressure around the head. Small sighs and choked breaths can be heard from the audio as his hand works his cock and just as the video ends you swear you hear a whisper of your name.

You scramble to return the favour, attempting to capture the best possible angle as you manoeuvre one hand down between your legs to begin working yourself over. You have the luxury of not needing to share your living space with anyone, so you put on a bit of a show, moaning and whimpering and gasping his name as you touch yourself and push yourself over the edge with a final long moan of his name. Your chest rising and falling as you hit send before you can change your mind or second guess yourself.

Not long after that you receive the final video of the night, your mouth waters and you can feel heat rushing down south again as you watch Crosshair vigorously stroking his cock, muffled gasps and groans coming from his end as he works himself, the head of his cock is so red it’s almost purple and you can see beads of precum leaking out of the tip and running onto his hands as he brings himself closer and closer to the edge. You watch as he bites his lip, face contorting in pleasure as the lines of ink on his skin move with the rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to stay quiet.

He screws his eyes shut and bites his lip so hard you think you see him break the skin, as he stifles a moan of your name, spilling ropes of cum over himself, his hand and his chest, panting before the video ends.

You get one other message from him on the encrypted channel.

>Might need to see you in medbay tomorrow for a busted lip

@where-is-my-mind-tho@antishadow2021 @healingskywalker @crosshairlovebot@ilovestarwarsmen725@vincentferard

#bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #crosshair smut #crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader smut #crosshair x you #tbb crosshair smut #bad batch crosshair smut #bad batch x reader #bad batch x reader smut #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair #tbb smut #bad batch smut #the bad batch smut #tbb x reader #crosswifewrites

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ronearoundblindly · 1 year

Text

Eighty-Three Kisses

CEO!Steve Rogers x CEO!Reader

an It Had To Be You tale of tender first aid requested by @anika-ann who thought: I'm not sure why but my heart would MELT upon seeing Steve giving Precious some ⛑ (as such, warning for mentions of blood) WC 1.3k

Not your favorite way to wake up…

Roused in the morning dark of New York winter, Steve’s mom calls him bright and early. She is one of only four people who can evade his Do Not Disturb setting, and as much as you enjoy Sarah, you groan in irritation when Steve has to untuck himself from beneath you in the sheets.

But that’s not where it ends.

He takes the call and walks out to his kitchen. His voice only just becomes inaudible when your mother calls.

Chatty. Mom is chatty way too early this morning, and she wants participation in her gossip.

You get it; your parents are pure balls of excitement about their upcoming trip to NYC to see you and officially meet your boyfriend for the first time, but 6:50 in the morning on a day off is not a great moment to get reciprocation of any amount of energy.

It’s not even five in the morning where your mom is. Come on now.

You hold the phone arm’s length away to scream into your pillow before heaving yourself out of bed. Maybe if she hears Steve’s voice in the background, your mom will think you’re busy and need to get off the call? Maybe standing up will help keep your eyelids raised? You’re so tired, you’ll try anything.

As soon as your butt hits the couch cushion though, your eyes shut again, too comfortable, too quickly. You jump up and meander over to the exercise bike, muttering something about the neighbor Mom’s had this same beef with for a decade, but she’s on a roll now. You barely need to interject an “uh-huh” or “yeah.” Your mother just keeps going.

So you sit on the bike, lazily putting one foot on the higher pedal, and you nudge it. Nothing happens.

Steve rustles the coffee beans into the maker and pulls down plates because if he’s awake, he wants breakfast. He’ll go back to sleep if he can, but if he’s conscious, food should happen. That’s the Steve Standard of a morning ritual. He also has very little input for his conversation, mostly humming every so often.

You hear the crack of eggs against the bowl’s rim and yawn, hiding that sound as best you can from your mother.

Your dad is equally grumbly in the background. He chides his wife with you in solidarity.

The pan sizzling acts as white noise countered by the first whiffs of brewing coffee.

“Of course, I’m listening,” you rush out, leaning forward on the handlebars and mock-bashing your head.

Steve must have turned to watch you because you hear his deep chuckle from across the room.

Absently, you step onto the pedal, thinking it will start rotating as you press down. You don’t realize how high Steve has turned up the resistance until it’s too late. You stand with your full weight on the tiny, shifting pad, and your foot slips right off when the mechanism caves.

Off-balance and crash-landing on your foot, your ankle tweaks out harshly, and the hard plastic grooves for friction scrape all along your bare calf. It hurts like hell but happens so fast that you hardly make a sound aside from hissing.

The phone drops out of your hand as you untangle yourself from the bike and trip down to the floor.

“Honey?” Steve clearly hasn’t seen until “shit” and you hear the pan torn off the burner and his own phone tossed to the counter. “Precious, you okay? What—“

Thin gashes are already red and bleeding all up your leg. The pain is such a tense sting that you can’t manage much else other than biting your tongue and clutching at the wound, but Steve peels your fingers away, ripping the kitchen towel from over his shoulder to apply pressure.

“It’s fine,” you still hiss. “I’m fine, Steve.”

His huge palm and fingers splay across the fabric, his other hand guiding your over to replace them after he coos, “I know. I’m just gonna clean it up. I’ll be right back. Can you hold this? Just there. Good girl. Ok.”

He jumps up and thunders to the bathroom.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on? Hello?”

You look up to where your phone dangles in the water bottle holder by the bike’s handles, but you can’t reach it without harsh sensations shooting around your foot and leg.

“I’m fine, Mom,” you yell toward the phone. “I just fell. I’ll call you back later.”

There’s an incoherent fuss, your dad’s voice joins what sounds like muttering but is more likely a heated argument on the other end, and then the screen lights when the call disconnects.

Steve returns with a little box and a white bottle.

“Ok, precious--" he leans to kiss your knee "--you ready? This part is gonna hurt.”

You pull back the stained towel, lip lodged between your teeth, and Steve soaks a cotton ball. He bares his teeth when you react to the bite of alcohol.

The excess drips down to the mat.

“I know, honey. You’re doing so good though. Just a little more." He tries to move the foot. "Can you—“

“OW!” Like a shot, your ankle cries all the way up to your hip. “Sorry,” you say through threatening tears, “I landed on it wrong.”

Steve’s hand cradles the joint, keeping it still even as he lowers to kiss there, too, his blue eyes worried. “Okay, I’ll get ice for that, but first, we cover this.” He wipes gently at the deepest gash by your Achilles tendon before ripping open a packet of antibacterial ointment. “Just another minute, alright? You’re doing great.”

His rough morning voice and soothing tenor nudge your heart rate back in the right direction.

At least the medication doesn’t hurt. Between treatment and bandaging, he lifts your wrist to his lips and plants a double tap of encouragement.

"So good," he rumbles.

Steve carefully unfolds and layers some gauze across the whole area and carefully tapes the edges. On instinct, you bend your knee to get yourself up, but the tape pops right off when you flex.

“Uh-uh, precious. You’re not doing anything until we get some ice on that.”

You think he means to leave you sitting on the ground, but Steve pivots to a squatting position, tucks his arms beneath your knees and around your waist, and lifts you straight into the air, kissing your cheek for good measure.

Well…all that gym equipment’s been good for something…

He carries you all the way back to the bed, kissing your forehead to force you to relax backward and excusing himself to the kitchen again. A few drawers open and shut. There’s a racket of ice clattering into a bag.

Another light scuttering noise.

“Ma, I gotta go. Yeah, I love ya. Okay, bye.” He rounds the doorway again, compress and coffee at the ready.

Steve wraps a fresh towel over your skin before arranging the ice to lay just right, covering as much curve as possible without too much pressure. By the time he’s satisfied, he’s created a majestic-looking nest of sheets and blanket around your foot.

You chuckle as you blow across the hot liquid in your toasty mug.

This is his near-military precision and focus again, except this time, you are the mission.

Finally, his equally warm gaze meets yours, dawn breaking outside the wall of windows surrounding the corner room.

“Want your phone back?” he asks softly.

You shake your head. “They can wait.”

Everything still aches, the dull throb seeming miles away when Steve grips your thigh before straightening.

“You know, precious, if you wanted breakfast in bed, you could have just asked.”

You shrug, a little embarrassed but very appreciative. This certainly hasn’t been your favorite way to wake up, but it’s not the worst either. Plus, the morning has just begun.

“Sometimes the only thing that gets your attention is a crisis, Captain.”

from this game of "Comfort My Characters"

Thank you for asking!

@bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @rach2602 @patzammit @royalwritersoftheuniverses @supraveng @1950schick @yiiiikesmish

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#ro answers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers au #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve x reader #ceo!steve rogers #ceo!steve #ceo!reader #it had to be you #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x female reader

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Note

Oh my gosh!! Congrats on the milestone!! You’re writing is amazing and you absolutely deserve it!!

Can I request Din Djarin + 72?? 🩵🩵

[a/n: thank you! also, special shout out and thanks, i know i'm bad at replying but i see your reblogs and your tags always kill me lolol thanks, my friend🥰]

Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: smut lite lol, language (ish)

Word Count: 500

Dialogue Prompt #72: "There is something I wanted to tell you..." + "And here we go..."

Din had never been one for arguing. Now, he wasn’t oblivious. He was aware that he was stubborn and had a ‘his way or the highway’ kind of attitude. Din knew this because the people in his life told him this. Constantly. The one exception to this was you.

The concept of constantly arguing with someone should be annoying, but Din found it to be the opposite. Every time the two of you got into it, regardless of the topic, Din couldn’t help but bite back every retort you threw your way. There was a thrill in it.

Din climbed up the ladder into the cockpit after getting Grogu to sleep. When he stood behind you, he spoke, “There is something I wanted to tell you…”

You scoffed and, without even turning around, muttered, “And here we go…”

“Excuse me?” Din felt the back of his neck bristle in irritation.

“What?” You spun in your seat to raise an eyebrow at him. “What do you wanna tell me, Djarin?”

Din set one hand on his hip and the other on the back of your seat. “I came to apologize, admit I was wrong, and I already regret it.”

“You? Admit you’re wrong?” You pushed to stand with a forced laugh. “Oh, please.”

“I was!” Din barked. You scoffed again and Din sucked in a sharp breath. “Maker, you are the most frustrating, hard headed woman I have ever met.” He stepped closer. “You know that?” You rolled your eyes and tried to steer past him, but Din stopped you. “You’re not leaving. We’re not done.”

You crossed your arms in challenge, the smug smirk making his anger burn brighter, “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do, Djarin?” You took one singular step closer, chest nearly against his, and shook your head. “Move.”

It finally dawned on him as he realized the building anger was more than just an inability to get a grasp on his temper. As Din’s eyes traced your features, he recognized the fire in your eyes. Din’s breath caught in his throat and when he spoke his voice came out hoarse. “Turn around.”

“Turn⏤ What? Why?”

“Atin dala. Turn the kriff around right now.” Din grabbed you by the hips and spun you around. You let out a gasp of surprise as Din shoved you forward until your body was pinned between him and the Crest’s console. He reached over, hitting the button to close the ships’s shutters making the cockpit fill with darkness, then ripped off his helmet. He buried his lips into the crook of your neck tasting your soft skin. The sound of your moan made him chuckle, “Maybe I just need to fuck the stubborn out of you.” Din pulled back on your hips to grind against your ass and he could feel your body tremble against him. “How’s that sound?”

You chuckled and reached back to bury your fingers into his hair, gripping tight, “You can try, Djarin.”

atin dala: stubborn woman

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #reader insert #mando x reader #mando x you #2130 celebration!

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cevansbrat0007 · 6 months

Note

You’re writing is so amazing, literally love everything you put out!! Do you have any romance book recommendations?!? Literally anything, I fully trust your judgement lol😌

Omigosh! First, thank you so much for the compliment. Second, I got you.

*whips out Kindle*

I've broken it down into categories. Here we go:

Contemporary Line of Duty Series, Tessa Bailey - If I want something quick, down, and dirty I reach for her. I recommend starting with her Line of Duty Series, which features the most delicious rough and tumble cops finding love.

The Coppersmith Farmhouse, Devney Perry - I adore this small town, enemy-to-lovers romance featuring a single mother and the local sheriff. Sheriff Jess can be an ass, but he grovels well. The Game Maker Series, Kresley Cole - Centers around three Russian brothers who have ties to the mafia. While each man is different and beautifully broken in his own way, they all believe in taking what they want. And once one of the Sevastyan's have set their sights on you, they will not take no for an answer. They're also not opposed to kidnapping either. The Italian, T.L. Swan - What happens when a summer fling ends up being so much more than that? This romance tells the story of an Italian mafia boss and his forbidden love with an Australian tourist. There's sex, angst, danger and so much more.

Historical *Outlander Series, Diana Gabaldon - Claire and Jamie's love literally transcends both time and space. This series contains an amazing romance, well researched historical descriptions, elements of magic, and so much more.

Paranormal The Psy Changeling Series, Nalini Singh - If you love stories about shifters and people with psychic abilities then I totally recommend checking out this series. Slave to Sensation is the first book, and premise goes something like: the ruling Psy prefer to exist in a world devoid of feelings and emotions, but what happens when one of their own finds herself craving something only Lucas Hunter, the alpha of the Dark River Shifters, can provide? *The Guild Hunter Series, Nalini Singh - Think Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but with Angels. This series is amazing and the love story between Raphael (the Archangel of New York) and his precious mortal, Elena (who is a badass in her own right). The world building is fantastic, the romance is hot, and each book only gets better. And believe me when I say, these are not your grandmother's angels. I also love the fact that you get to watch their relationship grow and evolve across multiple books. *The Night Huntress Series, Jeaniene Frost - Also has a Buffy the Vampire Slayer vibe, except the heroine is actually half-vampire herself. Bones, her eventual love interest, reminds me of Spike. Just a little bit. And just like the previous series, their romance spans multiple books. Also the love scenes are fabulous. *The Fever Series, Karen Marie Moning - If you love reading about heroines trying to solve mysterious disappearances, the Seelie and Unseelie Fae, and a delicious Alpha Male that could just easily rip you apart as well as fuck you - I'm looking at you, Jericho Barrons - then check this out. This series requires a little commitment because the romance, while hinted at, doesn't start until you're a couple of books in. But it's so worth it because you're rewarded with a territorial, possessive, darkly handsome anti-hero. *The Highlander Series, Karen Marie Moning - If you're a sucker for men in kilts, ancient curses, time travel, and drop-dead-sexy highlanders who fall hard for their modern day mates then please read. Also, some of these heroes go on to appear in the Fever Series as well. Immortals After Dark Series, Kresley Cole - Another great one This one features characters from every corner of the lore. I'm talking vampires, witches, valkyries, berserkers, demons, werewolves, succubi, and more. The men are swoon worthy and the women are badass. But what I especially love is the creativity and humor she manages to weave throughout her stories. She uses the fated mates trope quite a bit, which I love. However, what makes it great is that a lot of times the men show up like: "You belong to me now. I'm ready to take you to home" and their brides-to-be are like "Fuck off. Come any closer and I will stab you/shoot you/light you on fire". And what's more...they absolutely follow-thru. Those heroes have to earn their women. Oh, and the sexy times are good and spicy.

Hope this helps! If you or anyone else decides to read a book from this list, please let me know what you think!

*Indicates Book Boyfriend

#cevansbrat0007 asks #book recs #author recs #author recommendations #book boyfriends #go read these literary masterpieces

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honestlywtfisgoingon · 2 years

Text

You’re My Moon — An Obi-Wan Kenobi Fall Fic

OBI-WAN KENOBI x READER

description: you and obi-wan are sent to a planet during their annual masked festival where they celebrate the moons, a perfect date for two jedi secretly in love.

warnings: language, alcohol, smut, minimal editing, creepy guy (yes he’s a zabrak bc maul) obi-wan’s rat tail slander

a/n: ok no surprise the “masked festival” is supposed to be halloween lol. this is 1/4 fall fics that i’ve planned tho and i’m kinda hyped. also i don’t usually write for padawan obi but it just felt?? so right?? also the smut is a lil rough for obi bc i imagine young him to be a lil more, well, rough lol. i’m sry if this particular fic is mid tho i had to deliver a speech, take tests, basic time-consuming college shit yk the drill

words: 4156

"What about this one?" you looked back at Obi-Wan dramatically, your brown robe swishing around. He looked up from the display of masks to see you holding one up to your face.

"not a big fan of the uh," he stepped forward, "the horns," he touched the tip of the pointy horns that extended out. "can't kiss you without being stabbed," he lifted the bottom of the mask up to reveal your true face, the one he had grown to know so well that not even a mask could hide you from him. He leaned forward to give you a small kiss, but you batted him away.

"Obi, no! We're still in our robes," you urgently whispered. You were clearly in Jedi garb, and the few on the planet who knew about the Jedi also knew that two of them shouldn't be kissing each other. He sighed, knowing you were right but still buzzing with anticipation for tonight. He was going to parade you around in, well, an actual parade.

It was luck that sent you to this small planet on the very week they reserved as an extended holiday to celebrate their three moons. They held a festival for each moon; tonight was the first of them. In the past, it was common practice to use face paint or a mask to decorate the face with lunar symbols and motifs. Over many years, the tradition became an opportunity to dress up and disguise yourself as whatever you liked, moon-related or otherwise.

The masks, plus the fact that the neutral planet was relatively unfamiliar with Jedi, made this the perfect date for the two of you. The only thing that could give you away was your braids, but their image of you only included robes and a saber, making Obi-Wan look less like a Jedi and more like someone who just had a stupid haircut. You were far from anyone who would let your relationship get to the council. There was Qui-Gonn, who you suspected would keep your secret, rebellious master as he was. But Obi-Wan was still nervous as his padawan, so it overjoyed him when he realized he would have the ability to hide from him among the throng of mask-wearers if need be. You were working on Obi-Wan being a little less uptight, but being the prudent Jedi he was, he needed a foolproof plan not to get caught on your date, and he had found one.

"As if robes have ever stopped us before," he whispered in your ear before stepping back with a little smirk. You resisted the urge to rip his off then and there. There was something about how he acted so cocky that both pissed you off…and completely turned you on. Perhaps it was the knowledge that when he was a show-off in front of your peers before you were together, the only one he was really trying to impress was you. It could also be that this trait made it so easy to rile him up before he touched you. Maker forbid you show even the slightest bit of satisfaction after he's made you see stars. He only sees it as a challenge and guarantees you won't be able to walk the next day. You would never let him know the effect he had on you in this way, but of course, he could tell anyway, but you liked to pretend he didn't in order to save your pride. You didn't want to admit that with only a particular voice, he could have you on your knees in front of the damn council if he wished.

To preserve any sense of self-control you had left, you merely rolled your eyes and went back to rifling through the racks of the little shop. You stopped when your eyes landed on the black fabric. With a flourish, you pulled it off the hanger along with the mask it came with and held the sheer black robe over your body to show Obi.

His brows rose a little in shock when he saw you. He definitely was a fan; his…approval was made very obvious through the force as you held the matching intricate black mask up to your face and batted your lashes at him.

"I'm going to wear something under it, Obi," you clicked your tongue. He threw his hands up with a little shrug as if he wasn't just screaming his fantasy of you in the sheer robe and nothing else in your heads. Maker, he was such a teenage boy—and you loved him.

Eventually, he found a mask that he liked, but when he showed you, you let out a little sigh at how predictable he was.

"You really don't know how to wear any other color besides brown, huh?"

"It's my color,"

"It's the standard color," you plucked it from his hands, refusing to let him go to a festival looking like a brown paper bag. He huffed in disappointment, not really enjoying shopping anymore.

Now desperate to leave, he was willing to compromise with you when you found a blue mask that you thought complimented his eyes. with a new robe to complete the look, you thought he looked quite debonair. What really sold him was when you told him he looked very handsome. His blush stood out clearly, even underneath his mask. For all his outer confidence, part of him always yearned for affirmation from you and Qui-Gonn, the two people who mattered most to him.

—

Night finally fell, and the moons had risen high in the sky. The people's laughs and shouts of celebration rose almost higher outside the hotel Qui-Gonn had found. You giggled as you stumbled out of the window Obi and you were trying to sneak out through. He shushed you aggressively, but he wore the same giddy smile you did. Once your boots finally met the ground with a thump, you took off and left Obi to run after you. His momentum caused him to run into you when you stopped abruptly in front of the market square. You lurched forward, but he wrapped his arms around your waist to hold you up, keeping one arm around you even after you became stable. He wasn't keen on chasing you again.

Pulling down your masks, you laced your hands together and joined the crowd. It was a bit annoying bumping into everyone you passed by in the crowd, but it was easy not to get past it when their joy began to infect you. You spotted a lively cantina down the way and began to make your way toward it before Obi-Wan held you back. If the two of you were walking into a cantina, he would make sure you ate first. He would carry you to the ends of the galaxy, let alone back to the hotel if need be, but he'd rather not have to at all. Before touching a single drop of anything, he worked his way over to a stand, keeping you in front of him the whole way.

The man in charge was also masked and greeted you in the native language. You and Obi just looked at each other helplessly, to which the man laughed. The two of you were relieved when he switched to basic.

"What'll you have?" He pointed to the different array of skewers, "roasted porg, roast nuna, deep fried gorb…"

"Three of the nuna please," Obi-wan handed the man some credits while he wrapped up the skewers. You gave him a confused look when he said three.

"Two of them are for you. You'll get hungry later," He smiled at you. It was rather sweet how he always thought ahead, knowing you well. You gave him a little peck on his shoulder that you were already leaning on.

"Enjoy yourselves! Don't get a lot of humans out here, especially young ones in love" the man smiled brightly at the two of you when he handed the two of you your skewers. Obi found a streetlight with a large raised base, enough for the two of you to sit on while you ate. You got comfortable sitting between his legs, leaning your back against his chest while he kicked his feet hanging off the edge of the base like a little kid.

Damn, this is delicious

Apparently, you were already pretty hungry, finishing both of the skewers while you laid back, and people-watched for a while. You saw parents chase after their kids who dashed to the people giving out candy, vendors hanging up their aprons to join in with the festivities, and even some fights, which were quickly broken up. No one was allowed to ruin the night.

Once you realized Obi was getting a little too comfortable, feeling his body slump slightly against the lamppost, you tugged his robe, signaling for him to get up. You were on his way to the cantina as soon as he was on his feet again. The music was blaring inside, and the colored lights roamed over the more adult crowd than outside. You were lucky enough to have snagged a table that had just opened up, so you sent Obi off with your drink order and a kiss while you saved the seats that were so coveted in the busy club.

"This seat taken?" A Zabrak man put his hands on the table's edge and leaned over.

"Yeah, it is, sorry," you answered politely. He didn't seem creepy or rude like most men at bars you were always wary of.

"Well, whoever they are, I don't see 'em," he leered.

And there it was. Spoke too soon.

"I didn't ask if you could see them. You asked me if the seat was taken, and it is." You said bluntly, firmly placing your hand on the table to emphasize your point.

"Well, is the pretty little woman taken too?" He pulled out Obi-Wan's seat and sat in it.

The fuck he just said?

"She is, so you better leave," you gritted your teeth, fingers dancing along the handle of your lightsaber.

"Oh, but baby, I'm only leaving if you're coming with me,"

"Where are we going?" Obi-Wan appeared next to you, placing the drinks down on the table. With his hands now relieved, he placed one on your shoulder and the other over his lightsaber, never taking his eyes from the Zabrak's once.

"You're not invited," the man huffed.

"You should leave. Now." Obi-Wan said firmly. You could tell the man was weighing his options on whether to leave or not. He took a step back when he saw the look in Obi-Wan's eyes, but not before he got in his last word.

"Well, she was asking for it in that dress."

Oh no.

Just like that, Obi-Wan had his lightsaber drawn and held up to the man's neck. Some of the people around you gasped and backed up. The man slowly backed away when Obi pressed his saber closer, breathing heavily with anger. Your hand wrapped around your saber as well.

"No fights in this cantina! Not tonight!" A short man, the owner, you assumed, shouted as he made his way into the ring of people that had formed around Obi and that absolute asshole. It took some time for Obi to calm himself enough to deactivate his saber. When he did, the man looked at you, then back at Obi with a sneer before storming off in the other direction.

While Obi-Wan's narrowed eyes trailed after the man, your head fell slightly.

"Was I really asking for it?"

"What? No." His face melted into one of soft concern. “Your dress isn't even that short—but that's not even the point. Even if you wore half of what you've got on right now, you said no. He was asking for me to chop off his head,"

I love you, Obi-Wan.

You stood up abruptly and stepped towards Obi-Wan Your face was filled with an emotion a little less…wholesome as you grabbed his collar and pulled him in for a rough kiss.

"What was that for?" He looked down at you once your lips parted, cheeks glowing red from the altercation and your affections.

"I just wanted to thank you."

"I'm still sorry though, y/n,"

"Don't be. I could've taken him by myself, though," You teased, "besides, it was…well, it was hot," His brows raised.

"Hot?" He questioned you.

"Yeah. Hot. You were ready to end that guy just because he was hitting on me,"

"Well, I—"you were feeding his cockiness once again.

"Don't let it get to your head," You laughed and sat back down, and he followed your actions with his seat.

You could only manage to have a small conversation; your voices were drowned out by the blasting music. You downed your cocktail, realizing there wasn't much point in sitting down if you couldn't even talk. As soon as the liquid poured down your throat, it hit you. You grimaced at the taste. It was a good thing this was a seasonal drink. It was way too intense to have daily. As your mouth naturally washed out the flavor, you watched while Obi-Wan finished his drink. He started hacking when he took his first sip, causing you to laugh. It really was strong stuff. As soon as he swallowed the last drop, you pulled him over to where the dancing was.

Obi-Wan wasn't a big dancer, but with a bit of liquid courage and a lot of love for you, he moved along to the music like everyone else. The lack of space had you two pressed against each other, not that you minded. That was what tonight was for, anyway. You had gone out often with other padawans, danced and drank just as you had, but not like this. You could never have your arms wrapped around each other openly, always ensuring there was an appropriate amount of space between you. Everything you were doing right now was taboo, the masks ironically the very thing that made it, so you did not have to hide.

Obi-Wan's hands slipped from your waist to grip your hips as you moved them to the fast music. They didn't stop there, dropping even further down to rest slightly on your ass. You responded by spinning around to press your ass against him, feeling him grow harder under the flashing lights as you grinded on him. One of your arms rose behind you to play with the hair on the nape of his neck as you continued dancing. Both of you were enjoying this time immensely, the alcohol causing every part of you to vibrate deliciously. But you started to overheat even in your sheer robe and the small black dress underneath.

When Obi-Wan felt his mask start to stick from sweat, you both gave each other a look that meant it was time to take a break. When you got back to the table, hand in hand, it was already taken. You'd forgotten what a hot commodity seating was, but you were still desperate for a rest. Obi-Wan nodded his head to the door, and the two of you stepped out, the cool air hitting you in refreshing waves. You leaned against the wall of the side of the building, catching your breath. When your heads rolled to the side so you could look at each other, you began to laugh.

This was your first real night together without the code on your mind. No council, no Jedi, not even Qui-Gonn around to recognize you. You were just…people. You could feel Obi-Wan's mind wandering in that direction, as it did every so often. He imagined what it would be like if you left the order, got married, and even had a family. The images he shared with you were beautiful, so beautiful that you couldn't take it. Your force told him to stop, that it wasn't the time. Thinking about that now would only make the two of you sad, and you wanted to enjoy this moment. He nodded to you in understanding, his mind moving to a very different sort of fantasy.

He was still hard from the dance floor and wanted nothing more than to remedy that by pulling up your little dress and making you cum all over him. Quite a change from his previous family-oriented thoughts, but this time you didn't tell him to stop; you told him to continue, to do exactly what he wanted to do.

It didn't take him any time to lead you and push you up against the wall in the alley behind the club. He grasped the hair at the base of your scalp and close to yanked it so that your face tilted up for him to place a heated kiss on your lips. You couldn't help but let out a little whimper at the delicious sting of your hair being pulled. It was only fair that you returned the favor by tugging at the hair that was just long enough to do so. He moaned into your mouth at your actions, only spurring him on further. He moved down to your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin he had already claimed a long time ago.

"No marks,"

"It was one time. And an accident," he mumbled against your jaw. Cutting your little dialogue short, he slipped his hand under your dress dress to cup your cunt, feeling you dripping through the fabric that covered it. He dragged his middle finger, finding the little dip where your entrance was. He circled it with the tip of his finger, making your eyes flutter and mouth sigh. It was a light feeling of pleasure, but Obi always liked the element of surprise and suddenly shoved two fingers into you, your underwear still on. Already soaked through, it didn't stop him at all. The slight friction of the fabric rubbing against your clit every time he pumped you made your mouth drop open. Stooped slightly to have access, Obi-Wan was now leveled with you and used direct eye contact to strengthen your connection through the force. His lids went heavy, experiencing a bit of what you were feeling. He also felt your growing desperation for him to do something more, and he loved nothing more than to humor you. Strong, calloused hands gripped your hips before slipping under the edge of your dress to pull it up while gliding along your silhouette simultaneously. Not wanting to waste any time, you slipped your hands past the band of his underwear, wrapping your hand around his shaft and palming him up and down, feeling the veins throbbing with blood rushing in arousal. He let out a groan, capturing your lips roughly. When he pulled back to pull down his pants, he reached up with one hand to lift his mask. You grabbed his wrist to stop him.

"Can you, uh, keep the mask on?" You asked, looking down a bit in slight embarrassment.

"Why?" He tilted your chin to let you know you didn't have to hide. He left the mask alone, indulging you but still not exactly understanding the reasoning behind your request.

"It's kind of mysterious," You bit your lip, still a little shy.

He suddenly removed his hands from you, "Sorry, mystery woman, I have a girlfriend," You couldn't help but laugh as you pulled his hands back to cup your face, the rest of him following in for a kiss. You went back to fumbling with his pants, finally pulling him out. You wrapped your hand up and down on his dick, spreading the precum dripping from the tip, red and rock hard. His large hands gripped the back of your thighs, running them up and down a few times to tell you to be ready to jump. The two of you used a combination of actual jumping and the force so that you were lifted with your legs tightly secured around his waist. With his forearms against the wall behind you, his robe draped perfectly around the two of you, a little pocket in this world created just for the two of you to feel each other. You always loved this little moment, just before he entered you, where you saw the flicker of love in his eyes no matter how soft or rough it was going to be. With a groan, he slid in easily, both of your foreheads pressed together in the pleasured reaction. As soon as he bottomed out, a feeling you'd never get used to with his size, he began to fuck you fast. Obi-Wan was never one for quickies. Sex had meaning to him, and he liked to savor it. That's not to say this didn't mean anything to him, but maybe it was the alcohol or the adrenaline from sneaking out that had him entering you hard and fast. Hitting all the right spots inside of you, this was a treat far fucking better than candy. You shared open-mouthed kisses, your movements desperate and wild. Heavy breaths accompanied each thrust; his dick pressed tight inside your walls as you began to pulse around him. The air was crisp and cold, but the shelter of his robe was filled with the heat of sex. You pulled your knees closer to you just slightly, but the mere inch of new access you gave him had you crying out his name. More moans fell out of your mouth freely before you tried to silence them into his shoulder. He shifted one arm so that he could use his hand to cup your jaw, moving your face so you could see him.

"That’s it, that's it. When you come, I want you to be loud. Don't worry, they won't hear you, but I will, and I want to hear you shouting for me," it was true. The music and people would drown you out completely, freeing you to let out what Obi-Wan said was his favorite sound in the world. You obeyed, letting out each swear and moan that he worked out of you. He knew you were close when you began to chant his name until you couldn't manage to chant anything. Every syllable encouraged him to fucking up into you, filling you up repeatedly. You felt him in your stomach and against your cervix.

"That's a good girl, taking all of me like that," He praised you in a low voice. Obi-Wan's eyes were hooded, his pupils almost blacking out the striking blue of his irises. Your head rolled back, and your mouth dropped open. At this opportunity, he painted your neck with quick kisses. You felt his thrusts grow erratic, and his head fall into the crook of your neck with a groan. With your last bit of bodily control, you tightened your legs around him to pull him close.

For a moment, you were so lost in pleasure that you thought the fireworks that suddenly exploded in the night sky above was your imagination. It might as well have been, for your connected forces created an explosion between your bodies as you reached your peak together. You gushed all over him while he simultaneously filled you up with his hot cum. It was hard to distinguish between what you were feeling and what he was feeling. Maybe there wasn't. Maybe the feeling of your toes curling and your nerves flaring as you screamed his name out into the night air was shared. Maybe the spasming of muscles and the rush of euphoria that drowned your senses was truly a one in the same experience with the force.

When the final wave of mingled ecstasy washing over the two of you ebbed, you couldn't even tell the difference between who was dripping out of you, either. He stayed in you just a moment, holding you close just a little longer.

He placed a small kiss by your ear before letting you down slowly. After he tucked himself back in and you had smoothed down your dress, the two of you shared a look and began to giggle like the teenagers you were. He slung his arm around you, leaving another one of his small kisses on the top of your head with an exhausted sigh.

“You know what, you’re my moon,”

“Such a sap,”

“No, really. I’m going to celebrate you for the rest of my life,”

“I’d like that,”

“I love you, y/n. Always,”

“I love you too,”

You leaned on his shoulder as the two of you headed dazedly out of the alley and into the party again. You weren't going to let your night's worth of freedom end just yet.

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