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lilgoblinbitch · 7 months

Note

saw your post about rick and daryl, do you think you could write a rick TOWL smut with him angry that you left your post and got yourself injured and he takes out his frustration on you? idk why just had that idea after the recent episode😫

Grimes' Dominion 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

rick grimes x fem!reader

a/n: ahhh omg yes i actually had time to think abt this for a few nights. i added a bit of plot to this because i love me some backstory & descriptions. but anyway i made this pretty lengthy so if u wanna skip to the smut part just look for the '💋'. here is your plotty smut! lmk your thoughts ₊˚⊹♡

warnings: smut 18+, PinV, unprotected sex, oral/face fucking (male receiving), slight bondage, fingering, ass slapping, hair pulling, orgasm denial, degradation (use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’), language, mentions of blood and injury, angsty angsty angst!, reader is a mother, overall Rick is very rough so you have been warned

wc: 6k

MDNI

It was training day at your post. You had recently graduated from consignee and signed up to become a CRM soldier. It took you six whole years to get to this point. While your agility and militia knowledge were already unprecedented, the CRM didn't fuck around when it came to producing the world's most unrivalled soldiers. It was serious business.

Nearly eight years ago, you trekked a long journey down from your small community in southern New Jersey. You lost everything: your husband, your friends, and the people you lived with and grew stronger with through the grisly and dilapidated post-apocalyptic world. Terrible people – which were apparently becoming more and more common – destroyed your community, leaving very few survivors. It was you and your newborn child who managed to escape safely; you weren't able to go back to see if others had made it out. For almost two years you were alone, and your only hope left was keeping your baby boy alive...

Fast forward two years after the traumatic fallout you managed to escape, you discovered, or rather you were found by, a giant military in Pennsylvania, called the CRM. A military that bordered and protected a whole city of people – 200,000 of them. Out of desperation and maternal instinct, you bargained with the militia in hopes to give your two-year-old son a stable future. The CRM agreed to place your son in a 'nurturing fostering service' within the safe confines of the protected city – known as the Civic Republic of Philadelphia – so long as you swore to abide by the military's code and regulations by becoming a consignee.

Of course you agreed, because you were nonetheless terrified of what would happen to your baby boy if you didn't play it safe with this strong force. But for a while you lost it, you couldn't bear not seeing your child – they took him from you. You became defensive of your child, throwing yourself into dilemmas with whoever refused to listen to you. Except no one ever took notice of an angry and hurt mother because the CRM showed little mercy about their policies. And no matter how much force you put into finding hope about getting to your son, you'd always end up falling right back where you left off.

Soon enough you learned from acquiring an acquaintance that not only did the CRM take the only family you had left away from you, they were the ones responsible for destroying your home in the first place.

But now, six years later, you were predisposed to fight whoever and whatever got in your way in order to see your son again. You were a force to be reckoned with.

"No, you're doing it wrong. You gotta follow through, like this—" your sweaty hand maneuvered the heavy spear, sending it soaring through the air at high speed and finally piercing the bullseye of the target. You turned to the soldier beside you, who, to say the least, looked perplexed.

"What?" You huffed, blowing a loose strand of hair out of your face. "Ya give up? Need a break?"

"’Ey! Rogers, I'mma need ya to head back inside. We're gonna start sizing you all up for your new gear."

A brooding and strict man, Sergeant Major Rick Grimes, commanded the young man beside you. "Uh, yes sir," he saluted, then jogged toward the dome-shaped building.

Rick Grimes used to be a consignee like you were, and you even heard stories where he tried escaping at least four times. No one ever fled, or even attempted to, without failing. Escaping the hellhole was like trying to fit your right shoe on your left foot, it was entirely fruitless. But you heard all the stories about Rick, and how he got to become a leader. After the death of Lieutenant Colonel Donald Okafor, Rick was trained to replace his position by virtue of General Beale taking note of his loyalty to the military. Now, Rick was scaling further up the ranks. He was Sergeant Major, and in charge of the post you currently resided in.

You looked up to him, though, not because he was your leader, but because he understood you. He recognized how it felt to have your family ripped from your hands and not be able to do anything about it. You were able to bond with him. Most nights he would invite you to his apartment and the two of you'd spill your guts to one another over a glass or two of bourbon. That is how he got to know you, and see through your clouded demeanor that you kept in check. You were fierce and obstinate, because the place you were trapped in forced you to be that way, and truthfully Rick admired that about you. He was never able to relate with someone as well as he did with you.

Feedback echoed from Rick's receiver and he lifted it to his masked face, stating his position and whatnot. You crossed your arms, waiting for him to give you an order. "Well?"

He turned his attention to you, finally. "We need to talk." His one good hand snagged a hold of your arm and guided you toward a smaller brick-designed building, which you recognized to be the building that housed the high ranking officials like Rick himself.

"What do we need to talk about? And why is Rogers getting his gear but I'm not?" You struggled against his grip, a decision that ended with futility as his clutch tightened when you tried pulling away from him. You furrowed your brows and grunted in annoyance.

"Relax, sweetheart, you're not in trouble. Actually it's quite the opposite." Once again he faced you, stopping in his tracks as you both had reached the air-conditioned building. His grasp on your arm loosened and then reached for his matte black helmet detailed with red outlining. Your eyes darted across the room, taking in the essence of prestige and momentarily locking in on the various framed photos on the walls, which depicted a few recognizable CRM authoritative figures. One particular photo caught your attention, and you carefully examined it, discerning it to be Rick himself with a shiny black name plate decorating the bottom of the frame.

Your gaze finally diverted back to Rick, whose helmet popped off in a swift motion, freeing his slightly disheveled brown and gray curls, and his stern blue eyes – the spellbinding reflections to his enigmatic soul. And this man was undoubtedly a sight for sore eyes.

The silence was disrupted by the shuffling of Rick’s boots, his curt footsteps leading him across the room. He pulled out a chair from the corner and without any trouble picked it up with one hand and set it down across from a dark wooden desk. “Sit.” He motioned to the chair, and then found a seat in the larger, more cushioned chair adjacent to it. Without a peep you sauntered over to the wooden chair and sat, folding your hands on the desk in front of you.

“You gonna keep me on edge or are you gonna tell me why I’m here and not at training and getting my gear?”

His serious eyes bored into yours now, hinting that he wasn’t in the mood for your cynicism. “I brought you in here to tell you that you’re going to become Colonel under my order.”

You scoffed comically and dropped your hands to your sides, gripping the chair with force. “That’s ridiculous. Me – Colonel? Why?”

Rick’s focus never left your unserious face – one that was twisted with amusement. With a slight tilt of his head, he spoke, “Because you’re one of the best fighters and you’re fit to start leading, I know it. And I trust you, so does Major General Beale. We both expect your habitual commitment from now on.”

While you were still preoccupied with processing this information, Rick reached into one of his sleeve pockets and pulled out a silver badge, decorated with ‘Col.’ followed by your full name. He slid it across the desk toward you and you scrutinized it before giving him a look of disapproval and sliding the badge back to him. You shook your head in defiance.

“No thanks.”

He frowned and once again his frigid stare taunted you, something you’d undoubtedly gotten used to very much over the past few years that you'd known him. He leaned forward and for a second you could feel the steam emitting from his nose as he exhaled, eyes scanning your face for any signs of possible sarcasm. You were dead serious now, though.

“This isn’t an offer you can refuse. It’s an order,” the sergeant commanded, grabbing the badge reiteratively and this time placing it firmly into your hand. “So take it, and don’t lose it.”

You remained perched in your spot, not stirring any muscle, just studying his face with the badge dancing across your fingertips. Rick was not going to take ‘no’ for an answer. “Now do as I say, and meet me in that meeting room over there, in 10 minutes.”

You snarled and swiftly rose, shoving the badge into your zipper pocket. Without even giving Rick another look you booked it out the door full tilt.

All throughout meeting with Grimes and Command Sergeant Major Thorne and overlooking your shared brigade of soldiers, your mind couldn’t escape the worry you had about your son, and how you were going to escape and find him. Your mind raced as you tried to recollect what the map of your base looked like, so that you could pinpoint which weak spots there were around the perimeter.

You recall a little while back which security took which shifts at each area of the southwest perimeter where your complex was, but it wasn’t all that simple since sometimes they’d switch shifts around. However, security officers periodically switched their attention to different areas at a time out along the walls, so you could use that as leverage to sneak your way around and cut a hole in one of the fences–

Nah. That would be too obvious, and dangerously stupid. You needed to really think this through – come up with a strategic plan. So that’s what you were prepared to do after your first night of training as Colonel.

Sweaty and disheveled, you entered your sleeping quarters and kicked the door shut, immediately peeling off your bulky armor and tossing your heavy combat boots across the floor. With a satisfactory sigh, you trotted over to the shower and flipped the handle all the way to the left – you needed a steamy shower to filter out all the stress your body had been loaded with that day. Not only that, the steam would help you think, and you needed your head clear if you were going to figure out how to leave successfully that night.

If you were going to escape – if. You needed to keep that thought in mind, because it sure as hell wasn’t going to be a piece of cake.

Frantically you shoved a handful of essentials into a black backpack – a lighter, duct tape, a pocket knife, flashlight, and a small glock you 'borrowed' from your trip with rick to the armory earlier. After zipping up the bag you threw on your combat boots and your gloves. You checked your watch for the time; 11:48 it read. The moon was scintillating in the sky and beaming with conviction. You took one last glimpse around the room to check if you had forgotten any extra tools or gadgets, and before you confirmed that you were ready to head out, you spotted something on the rusty gunmetal colored nightstand.

Inquisitively you wandered over to the table and examined a small, white folded paper. You unfolded it and inside it read, in urgent script:

“Meet me at my place at 11:30 tonight. Need to talk again.

-R.G.”

Too late now. Not happening. Besides, you were sure it was another booty call because for one, on busy task days like tonight, Rick often had a knack for ‘letting off steam,’ which meant fucking your brains out. Sorry, Rick, but my child is more important to me than easing your sexual frustration. And two, it was already reaching midnight…why else would he want to “talk” to you so late at night? Rick was just too obvious.

Speaking of Rick…

The man who shared his bourbon with you for the first time two years ago. That very night he had spilled to you CRM’s legacy and the nightmares behind it. The two of you bonded over your mutual grievance toward the antagonizing militia. Rick spurred hope in you finally leaving and finding your son; if anyone could help you escape it was him. But he changed – his interest in leaving the CRM no longer seemed to exist. After all, he was already climbing his way up the military rank. He was gaining power and respect, and that seemed to be more crucial to him then getting back to his own children.

So, screw him. He had his chance to leave with you, and it already passed – because now you were tiptoeing out your apartment and being welcomed into the darkness of the night.

You were cautious of your surroundings, turning a few corners and eluding one or two officers. You noticed the southwest wall, which didn't look impossible to climb. You discovered a hefty pile of broken shipment container parts – bingo. And that's what you used to climb the wall. unfortunately your endeavor led to you stumbling and hitting both your knee and your arm against the metal object, then landing with your hands scraping against the unforgiving concrete. Fuck. What an idiot you were. Surely someone within about twenty feet of you heard you basically eat shit.

Gritting your teeth and whimpering from the twinge that shot through your knees and hands, you managed to put every fiber of your being to use and push yourself off the ground, only to end up on your ass with a humph. You winced as you peeked at your hands, using the flashlight from your bag to examine how badly cut they were. Blood leaked from multiple crevices in your palms, and you didn’t even bother paying much mind to your bruised knee or elbows because there was no time to dawdle.

“Shit. You need to get up now!” You scolded yourself, but as you tried standing up completely, your knees buckled. Well, at least behind this building it was dark enough for no one to see you, unless they heard you already…

Your alert ears picked up the sound of shoes marching upon the solid ground, and you cursed to yourself; someone was coming, but there was nothing you could do because they had already heard you most likely. “Just play dead, or pretend you passed out!”

You heard your name being called out from somewhere behind you.

The pace of your heartbeat quickened drastically, causing your head to spin toward the voice. Well, shit. It was Rick Grimes himself. This time his helmet wasn’t on and he seemed to have abandoned his uniform. He was instead dressed in jeans and that black tee that always hugged his muscles so perfectly–

“What the fuck are you doing?” His voice boomed in your ears as he knelt down to your level, and you shivered.

You wheezed and resumed your pursuit of getting your ass off the wretched ground, to which you failed. Rick noticed the cuts and bruises decorating your injured body and his face softened. He sighed, gathering your belongings, and then in one swift motion he lifted you up off your feet, holding you bridal-style. You bit your lip to stop the tears forming in your eyes; your plan backfired, you got caught, and now everything was out of your control. You felt so stupid and useless.

Rick shifted around with you in his arms, taking one last glance at your injured figure. “Oh, honey. Let’s get ya cleaned up now.”

He had carried you all the way to his room without any hindrances, and the whole time you honestly thought about kicking out of his tight grasp, nailing him where the sun doesn't shine, and booking it out of there. But the way his strong arms cradled you made you melt into him.

Rick lay you onto his large – well, larger than your own – neatly made bed and pulled your shoes and socks off. Before he could reach your pant zipper to pull them down and examine your knee, you slapped his hand away, scowling at him.

“I can do it,” you promised, although of course your trembling hands reaching for the zipper illustrated a paradoxical story.

Not to mention, the stained blood and soreness reminded you that you needed to ease up on any further use of them. It felt like carpal tunnel. Damn, that concrete did some numbers on you. Your exasperated grunts caught Rick’s attention and he ignored your misleading comment, zipping your pants down and peeling them off himself. The look you gave him could have been detected as either annoyed or demoralized. Either way, your body was weary and your mind still raced with unrelenting thoughts.

Rick brought back a wet cloth and a first aid kit he kept under his sink. Gingerly, he brushed the cloth over your battered hands and then bandaged them up. You let out a few pained huffs while he went to work on your scraped hands and busted knee with his doctor abilities. When finished, his eyes scanned your body, being certain he didn’t miss any other wounds or minor cuts.

You, however, were busy ogling him; his beautifully sculpted figure that was outlined by the black t-shirt he wore, and the scruff that layered his defined jaw, and the way his pink lips pursed as his rough hand prodded your exposed flesh – it sent you into a trance.

He adjusted his gaze back to your face, and you snapped out of your trance promptly, painting that stern cast back on your expressive face. You recalled why you were irritated with him in the first place – he prevented you from escaping.

“Y’alright now? Gonna tell me why you were scurrying around past midnight with this bag on you?”

Your hard stare didn’t falter. He tsked at you and grabbed the backpack off the ground, unzipping it, and dumping its contents onto the bed. When he recognized the gun to be one from the armory, it was his turn to scowl at you.

“You better start talking before I get angry, sweetheart.” His body flexed as he folded his arms across his chest, eyes cornering you and making you feel small.

“I was–” you cleared your throat and sat up with your hands on your bare thighs, “I was going to escape, Rick. I… I need to see him…”

Rick lowered his head to the floor in disappointment, rubbing the bridge of his nose while his other arm rested on his hip. He paced the room. “You knew this was going to happen. We even planned it together, for fuck’s sake!” You pleaded with him, emotion spilling from your lips. You stared at his back, watching the way his muscles tensed. “I have a child I haven’t seen in years and I–”

“Yeah, so do I!” He interrupted, “But that life is over, there is no more escape plan pipe dream. Don’t you get it?!”

His pacing ceased, and he waited for your focus to meet him. When it did, he inched toward you daringly, almost wanting you to test his patience.

“I got you that ranking because I trusted you and expected you to be cooperative with me in this mission. I was planning on trying to convince Beale to let you visit your boy but that won’t be for a while. I need your trust in this,” Rick’s footsteps approached the bed, his towering figure intimidating you. “Do you understand? Look at me—” his rough hand pinched the sides of your chin to tilt your head up at him.

Your lips cracked open to speak but truthfully nothing could be said in that moment. The tension in the air was heavy and laced with despondency. You choked trying to enunciate words as you felt your shoulders drop, and your heart chugging on. Soon you gathered yourself from breaking down in front of him, masking the persistent commotion going on inside the walls of your skull, and the unabated sense of dread pouring over your body. You nodded your head in compliance and Rick released your chin.

This was a confirmation that Rick was never going to let you get away. And if he did end up finding a way for you to see your boy, living under an unlawful and controlling military organization was not something you stood for. With or without Rick, you needed to escape with your son, using any proper chance that swung your way. But if it was going to be without Rick, you needed to be secretive.

You batted your eyes at him, aiming to give him a reason to believe that you were officially yielding to him. The way you looked under him, all battered and desperate, made a spark ignite in his brain. You belonged in this position – underneath him, following his lead, and obeying his orders. He was going to need to show you how insistent he really was.

Your attention remained undivided. Rick stepped backwards a foot and took in the sight of you – your whole body and the way your thighs begged to be kissed and touched.

“I’m assuming you saw the note I left you, right?” His tone dripping with vehemence and his southern drawl rasping, relaying a yearning to your eager core, which you attempted to ease by clenching your thighs. He certainly did not miss that.

“So you were planning on not only ignoring my note, but being reckless and trying to leave this post and then, what? Risk getting caught and dying and never getting to see your son ever? You need to get your head on right, and I’m telling you this from experience, because it’s never going to work out the way you want it to, no matter how perfectly you think your plan will go.”

You gulped and studied your hands, which were thankfully stinging much less. You fiddled with the bandage, until Rick demanded your attention with his authoritative tone.

“This is the last time I’m gonna ask you to cooperate with me. Keep that in mind,” he warned.

Your front teeth bit into your pouty bottom lip as you struggled to make yourself look uncritical of his “plan.” Rick’s eyes targeted your every move as you, this time successfully, propped yourself up and off the bed, bending down to grab your pants which were sprawled out next to your feet.

💋

“What were you gonna talk to me about, y’know….if I ended up showing up earlier?” You flipped the pant legs so that they were no longer inside out.

“I was gonna do this—” Your heart quickened as he neared you rapidly, his arms finding themselves exploring your body and causing goosebumps to multiply across your vulnerable skin. He dexterously greeted his lips to yours, catching you by surprise. The man was quick with it.

You melted into the kiss while his hands continued to trace your curves, eliciting longing whimpers from your throat. You craved his touch.

Breaking away from the kiss, the Sergeant gave you no time to protest, spinning you around so that your back was facing him. Taking your jaw prisoner in the tight clutch of his hand, his hot breath fanned against your ear, making the hairs on the back of your neck come alive. “Originally I was going to fuck you gently, make you relax from your big day—” His hand slid to the middle of your back and he forcefully bent you over on the bed, scoring a small grunt from you. He took your pulled back hair into his hand and with a tantalizing tug of it, he pushed his clothed hips against your bare ass. “But now I’m not gonna be so easy on you, because you decided to go and put yourself in danger. Well, I’m gonna have to punish you instead of reporting you, hm? For your own sake…”

Your heat practically leaked through your panties and down the inner part of your thighs. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you loved when he was rough with you. It stirred you up with the perfect concoction of salaciousness and angst.

Still, your alacrity temporarily repressed your aroused state and you barked back at him, “All I want is to see my son…you have no goddamn right to take that from me, Rick,” you cried, with your trembling hands supporting your upper body as he gripped your hips.

Rick delivered a firm slap to your ass cheek, then promptly straightened you up and turned you around to meet his sifting stare. You gulped, feeling submissive under his touch. You watched the way he contorted his face in vexation and you abruptly felt overpowered by him.

“In case you’ve forgotten you are under my command, and if you disobey me I have every right to correct you where I see fit,” he eyed your pout, huffing, “and I fucking told you already – you have to be patient, it’s gonna take a while.”

The hope you had was dwindling slowly, even though you really wanted to trust him. It almost felt like putting your full trust in him was equivalent to playing with fire. You couldn’t tell the difference between the two anymore. But ultimately Rick was right, you were under his command and the very least you could do at this moment was take his word.

His leer intensified. “Get on your knees.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and felt the command jolt through your body with a cogent nudge. You conformed to his request and scrunched your face in slight discomfort from your bruised knee making contact with the floor, but it was still tolerable. With urgency he unbuckled his belt and wasted no time in freeing his thick, throbbing length. The sight of his cock was not something foreign, as you’d slept with him many times; but the way he was so much more ambitious in getting his cock inside your mouth and feeling you gag around him, made you squirm.

The restless man bucked his hips forward, enjoying the way your soft pouty lips hugged his shaft so magnificently. You moaned softly, the vibration inciting a groan from Rick as he grabbed at your hair. “Gotta do more than tha’. I know you know how to be a good slut f’me.”

You took his whole length in your throat, feeling spit drip down your chin as you choked. You started to bob your head back and forth, becoming accustomed to the size of his dick and how it collided with the back of your throat incessantly. He took it upon himself to grasp your head and guide you up and down as his hips pushed against your needy mouth. Your tongue traced the veins that protruded across his length, as your head quickened its pace. His grunts echoed in your ears and you prepared for his sweet release when you apperceived the twitch of his cock against your tongue.

“Fuck, yes…good slut,” Rick sung out as he thrusted thrice more, shooting his thick warm seed down your throat and riding out the remainder of his orgasm. He pulled out and stared intently at your lips licking up the remnants of his juices while panting. His hand patted your head in approval.

“You think you deserve to cum tonight?” He taunted, his hold on your hair taut.

You didn’t respond, but instead observed the way his muscles flexed when he lifted his shirt off his back, and how he flattened his hair back with the palm of his hand. You were getting wetter by the second, shifting your thighs in anticipation.

You stood up, tracing your hand over his bicep and fluttering your lashes at him enticingly. He smirked, recognizing that look to be your calling for him to fuck your brains out. Your hands reached down to lift your own shirt off, but he swatted them away in protest, throwing the shirt across the room hastily. All you desired was for him to make love to you, to comfort you and promise you that everything was going to work out, and frankly your sore muscles from training could use as much appreciation as they could obtain. But love-making wasn’t on the agenda for tonight.

Rick flopped you onto the bed, and effortlessly your panties were torn off and thrown next to your shirt. He kneaded your tits with his hand then bent over top of you to hungrily kiss your lips. Your fidgety hands stretched up to tussle through his hair but he broke from the kiss to pin both your hands above your head, rousing a dissatisfied whimper from you. The carnal man bent down diligently to grab his belt and release your hands for a moment, before grabbing your wrists and securing the belt around them.

Bondage wasn’t necessarily unfamiliar to you but you had never expected Rick to ever want to partake in it with you. Nonetheless, your core ached further for his touch. His hand went back to pinching your sensitive nipples, while keeping his ferocious eyes locked onto yours, and lowering his head down to your throbbing heat. The lewd mewls escaping your parted lips sent Rick into a frenzy. You bucked your hips up in an attempt to get him to do something, to give your desperate parts the treatment you longed for, except he just remained concentrated on the way you jerked and crumbled beneath him – he wasn’t even touching you anymore, and yet he had you folding already. How pathetic you looked.

“Rick, please do something!” Your pleas left him unphased. The only thought in his mind at that moment was how rough he was eventually going to fuck you.

Finally, his finger swiped up your soaking folds and came into contact with your swollen clit, giving it a soft pinch, stimulating a ribald whimper from you and inducing your back to arch off the bed. “What d’you want, sweetheart?” His husky tone intimidated you.

“Need you, please. ‘M lonely,” You sniffed, overworked from all the teasing. He cooed in a mocking manner, and with two fingers he plunged into you, sending you into the clouds.

“This sweet pussy needs attention, dun’it?” He curled his fingers upward, activating that sweet spot inside your squelching sex. With his thumb he circled around your sensitive bud, accelerating the speed of his thick fingers inside your tight, wet hole. Bliss clouded over you, and your head lulled to the side.

Rick hissed, dissenting your lack of eye contact. He yanked his fingers out all the way, giving a slight tap to your voracious cunt.

“Nuh-uh, eyes on me.” The glazed-over look you gave him was enough for him to give in and slide his digits back into your heat, this time being merciless by the way he finger fucked you with racking momentum.

Your walls clenched rhythmically around his fingers, legs syncing with the rhythm of your swirling hips. Rick sensed your orgasm approaching – he ascertained that you didn't get to reach its peak by ceasing his thumb's labor and plucking his drenched digits out of your weeping center.

Your sensual clamors didn't go unnoticed; instead he hushed you, and bringing his mouth near your ear he rasped, "I decided that you don't get to cum yet. Not till I feel like it."

Rick really loved tossing you around, especially tonight. He arose, untying the belt around your wrists – almost as if he was showing mercy, but that thought was surpassed as he effortlessly flipped you around so your bandaged hands were gripping desperately onto the sheets, as if that'd prevent you from losing your grip on reality from what was about to go down.

Your begging hole cried for his further attention, causing you to become more agitated by the second. That is, until you felt his hard cock slap against your ass cheek, and his hips striking the back of your shaking thighs. The grumpy commander pressed his leather-sling gloved fist slightly against your upper neck, just enough pressure to ensure you stayed where he wanted you. You didn't plan on leaving, though – not until he fucked you to your heart's content.

He could take a picture right now, the way your ass pushed against his solid member so hysterically, as if your pussy lived to be stuffed by his cock. In that moment, it did. Rick grabbed his cock and lined it up with your welcoming entrance, collecting the condensation on his tip.

"God, just fuck me–"

One rigid thrust was all it took for you to fully engulf him. Your eyes rolled to the ceiling, stars eclipsing your vision while his thrust followed another one, this time much deeper.

Your whines bounced off the pale room's walls, alerting Rick, who hushed you with a growl, "Shutch'er mouth, the whole building's gonna hear ya."

A third thrust ensued, with the sound of his pelvic bone smacking against your backside and the echoing of your sodden cunt being governed by his greedy shaft. The wet squishy insides of your walls hugged Rick so magnetically, he almost gave in right there.

His pace picked up with each ram of his hips, and his assault to your clit. Your grip on the sheets tightened, bandages likely slipping off but that wasn't a concern. Shy whimpers were trapped inside your mouth as you gave it your all at keeping your lewd blubbers and cusses at bay. Your soft, muffled cries continued as he pounded into you strenuously and tirelessly.

"You're not gonna try to leave again, not ever." The thumping of his hips on your ass and him fucking you into the mattress was all too much for your brain. "I won't fucking let you."

You felt fuzzy. The dauntless rebel attitude you once had vanished, and now your were a blubbering hot mess under a relentless leader. His bulging biceps flexed as his leather arm continued pushing on your neck, the other hand groping your hip and then going back to flicking your clit as his cock rutted into your core. He fit you like a puzzle piece.

Your walls were pulsating and you sensed your climax approaching quickly. "Oh, fuck, Rick!"

"Don't you even think about it. So help me god, if you do..."

Rick's demands only filled you closer to the brim with pleasure, and you weren't assured how much longer you could hold it. His thrusts became sloppier and sloppier, indicating that he was probably close too.

"Mmmph–" You focused on grasping desperately at the sheets again, trying to fixate on the way the soft fabric felt against your hands and your face which was pushed into the bed.

Rick groaned out, whispering filthy affirmations as his pounding became more jagged and his grunts more urgent. "Wanna fill ya up, but you don'need another baby, not yet."

One last press against your clit and the band finally snapped, your juices releasing all over his cock, and his orgasm causing him to grasp your hips roughly as he used your dripping hole to help him ride out his own orgasm. He pulled out, releasing onto your back with a few strokes of his slippery member.

The bottom half of your body gave in finally, collapsing and being suffocated by the plush mattress. Your eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open. He truly fucked the energy out of you.

"You gonna try that shit again with me?"

With half-lidded eyes you simpered and muttered, "Not without you."

219 notes · View notes

yoitsjay · 3 months

Text

Hands On (MDNI 18+)

Pairings: Tech x Fem!reader

Summary: Tech can't keep his eyes off you, so you decide he needs to give you some private demonstrations of why.

Warnings: unprotected sex (p in v), rough ish smut, porn with a loose plot, Tech jealousy, cream pie, pussay eating, squirting.

Word count: 3,176

You had a special affinity for ships, and metal parts which was rare for the Jedi, but even though you were a good fighter, you typically busied yourself underneath a ship’s console amidst the wiring. It wasn't hidden that the jedi thought you were… strange, but you didn’t really care what they thought, you just fixed ships and even modified them.

You had been fighting with the 501st since you first became a jedi knight, but the council had decided that three jedi for one battalion was too much, so they placed you with a different squad.

That’s how you ended up with Clone Force 99, your newfound family who were oh so grateful for your mechanical skills, repairs on the marauder went ten times faster with you on board, and you created some pretty special bonds with each of the men on board.

You and Tech have an especially unique bond, both very smart when it comes to useless information on subjects the other bad batchers didn’t need to know. But you and Tech often had some very thoughtful conversations about which jedi was more likely to trip in battle, or about mechanical parts on ships and speeders.

You ended up becoming a permanent part of their unit after a year, and because of that connection you had between the 501st and the bad batch, it opened up some teamwork opportunities. Like today for instance.

Captain Rex had commed you, and requested your presence specifically on the planet of Aeos Prime which was under attack by separatists, and had requested aid from the republic. But the separatists apparently had a new cannon that could disable ships and speeders, and so they needed you to come fix the speeders and teach some of the clones what to do in case it happened again.

So that brought you to now, helping Tech pilot the MArauder as it was shot down from the sky by one of those cannons. “It's gonna be a bumpy landing!” You called out to the boys behind you as you and tech pulled the steering controls upward to try and glide over the water to reach the island that the 501st was beached on.

The Marauder shook violently, but with a press of a button and pull of a lever you momentarily restored power and tech was able to somewhat land the ship before power was lost again. But you were on ground and that's all that mattered.

You stood up, grabbing your large tool box as you grinned at Tech. “I’m going to go help the regs if you wanna start getting the ship back online.” You suggested, and when he nodded you walked off the ship, jumping off the ramp since the ship was at an angle and the ramp was more up than it was down.

A couple clones were already waiting, clones you recognized as Kix and Jesse. “Hey boys! called for a pick me up?” You joked as you reached them, letting out a happy squeal when Jesse ruffled your hair which was currently down instead of up in a braid or ponytail.

Tech noticed the way you immediately got comfortable with the other clones, and something sparked inside his chest, foreign and uncomfortable… He sighed, and turned away as he pried off a panel on the outside of the panel, and got to work like you suggested.

Soon you were with the majority of the 501st and they all greeted you with hugs and smiles. Anakin and Ahsoka were there as well and waved quickly before going over whatever plans they needed. Jesse and Kix lead you to a group of speeders, and to fives who is trying his best to rewire one of the speeders but is failing miserably. “Your wires are too messy, and you're touching the wrong colours together.” your voice carried out, and Fives sat up immediately to greet you, only for him to smash his head into the bottom of the speeder.

He grunted, but sat up regardless, grinning at you. “Hey, it's my favorite jedi!” He exclaimed, standing up to pull you into a tight hug which you happily reciprocated, pulling away to fix your glasses with a grin.

When you worked alongside the 501st fives always flirted with you, and it was cute but you know it would never go past flirting, as much as he tried you always turned him down. “Hey fives, Rex said you needed my help, so i'll show you how to rewire the speeders and then you can do it on your own!” You explained happily, setting your toolbox down as you knelt down, Fives following your lead.

You started instructing fives, and a few shiny clones on how to rewire the speeders, and once you fixed one, fives booted it up, and it worked, revving into action with no issue. “Ta da!” You exclaimed and made your way to another speeder that a shiny seemed to be struggling with. And with some gentle instruction he managed to get his speeder started too.

Fives whistled in appreciation, standing by your side as he flashed you a grin, and you knew what that meant. “No fives, I'm not getting drinks at 79’s with you.” You huffed, rolling your eyes and adjusting your glasses as he huffed. “No fun… but uh listen- i could use some more help on this speeder, i don't think i did it correctly.” He spoke, a sly tone lacing his words.

You raised an eyebrow but followed him regardless. By now the heat of the sun had started affecting you so you unzipped the top part of your coveralls, and wrapped the arms around your waist which left you in your spaghetti strap tank top, and you were already sweating through that too.

regardless you worked through the heat, showing fives how to rewire the speeder again for the upteenth time. In the meantime, Tech had almost finished with the ship, his brothers were off talking with Rex and Anakin so he decided to take a small break to go find you.

You were by the speeders still, but as Tech approached he noticed Fives extremely close to you, his hand resting on the small of your back as you instructed him, that focused look that Tech loved sprawled across your face, sweat dripping down your brow. He saw you adjust your glasses again, and then wipe the sweat off your face.

As he got closer, he heard Fives follow your instruction to the letter, and then grin at you with a mischievous look in his eyes when he asked what was next. Tech then stepped forward, the flash of his armor catching your attention. You moved away from fives, and Tech noticed the frown on his lips when you moved to Tech.

“Hey honey, are you done with the ship already?” You asked, but Tech should his head. “No, I am doing what you advised and I am taking a designated pause in my work.” He replied, almost melting when he heard the giggle that left your lips, and the sweat that dripped down past them. “Cool, maybe you can tell fives that he doesn't need my help and that he can start teaching the shinies what to do.” You joked, nudging Fives with your hand.

“Hm, if she says your work is adequate then i believe her, best let her fix the rest of the vessels.” Tech stated, tapping on his datapad before hearing fives scoff. “I mean I could totally get something wrong in the wiring, it's best if Y/n just shows me one more time, right?” Fives asked you.

You huffed, and opened your mouth to speak, only for Tech to speak up before you could. “Do you even know how to take what you’ve learned and apply it to your work, reg? At least I know what a regulator is on an A9-51 spacecraft.” Tech snarked, and you turned to look at him with slightly widened eyes. an A9-51 was your favorite type of ship and how he knew that caught you off guard since you never told anyone.

He could have guessed… but that’s such an intricate ship to guess… It kind of made your heart flutter, knowing that he knew about such intricate work…

You snapped back to the conversation when fives finished replying with something snarky, mentioning something about a repulser core which had nothing to do with spaceships or speeders. You scrunched up your nose slightly, crossing your arms over your chest as they bickered back and forth about ship parts and weapon parts before you finally spoke up.

“Okay boys settle down, there's only one of me.” You joked and gently placed your hand on Tech’s shoulder, biting down on your bottom lip as you thought of what to say before turning to look at Fives. “You’ve got the speeder's fives, you don’t need my help.” you stated, looking at Tech. “I could use your help though.” You added, your eyes meeting his for a moment.

God you felt dirty looking at Tech this way, seeing the sweat drip down his face and neck before disappearing under his armor.. you wanted to see what was underneath that armor…

you exhaled, and glanced back at the bigger ships before you flagged over a shiny trooper. “start on rewiring the ships, here's a little guide for you to follow.” You explained, handing the trooper a hastily scribbled post it note on what wires to touch together and what not to touch. It was simple, nothing crazy. But once the trooper walked away you basically curled your fingers around the top part of Tech’s chestplate, and started dragging him behind you as you headed to the Marauder.

“Are you okay Y/n?” Tech asked as you climbed on board before you closed the ramp and marauder doors, leading him to the empty cockpit. “Tech, I think you need to demonstrate how to undo the bundle of wires in the Extrapolator core.” You whined out, his eyes widening as it clicked in his mind what exactly you meant. He gulped, and made sure the cockpit doors were locked as he removed parts of his armor.

“I can definitely give you a much needed demonstration, darling.” Tech nearly purred, eyes widening as you pulled off your coveralls, leaving you in tight black workout shorts and your tank top. He hastily ridded himself of the rest of his armor just as you started pulling off the last thin layer of clothes.

“Oh my-” Tech choked out once your tank top was removed, and a perfect perky set of tits popped out from underneath as he quickly realized you were wearing no bra. “kriff-” Tech cursed, gawking at your lavish thighs, and muscular shoulders. You were not thin, or tiny like a lot of the women in brothels or bars that tried to flirt with his brothers, no you were full, and strong and that's another thing he fell in love with.

You approached him, now completely naked in front of him. He felt your fingers yank at the hem of his blacks, and he aided you in pulling them off, his skin tingling everywhere you touched him, starting from his shoulders and down to his chest, before traveling even lower now.

A gasp suddenly fell from your lips as you felt Tech’s fingers make contact with your clit, your legs trembled but Tech was quick to swoop you up and place you down on the center console. He lowered himself on his knees in front of you, sliding his hands up and down your thighs as he started placing small kisses closer and closer to your dripping cunt.

“I have done much research on this subject.” he kissed a different part of your inner thighs with every word he spoke, a gasp leaving your lips as his nose just barely brushed against your clit. “I hypothesize that you will enjoy this experience, and I will make you- what women call- squirt.” He spoke bluntly, but said nothing else as he moved in and wrapped his lips around your clit.

Whatever you were going to say was cut off by the sensation, and you automatically closed your thighs around his head for a moment, grinding into his face before he managed to pry your thighs open, and get a better angle. “Fuck- Tech-” You whined out, sliding one of your hands to his hair as he glanced up at you.

Another moan fell from your lips as his ungloved fingers started circling your entrance, gathering up your fluids on his fingers before he gently slid one finger inside you, a sharp gasp leaving your lips as you tensed up. “Wait-” You choked out, and tech paused, pulling his head back as he looked up at you, panting slightly.

He removed his finger, and you whined but said nothing, looking almost embarrassed. “Darling? what’s the matter?” He asked, gently squeezing your thighs. “I- im…” You trailed off, biting down on your lower lip before blurting it out. “I’m a virgin… so be gentle please.” You muttered to him. Buttech looked unphased.

“Do not worry Cyar’ika, I'll take care of you.” He muttered, placing a kiss to your thigh which helped relax you. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, only to shoot open when tech’s mouth attached to your pussy again, and his finger gently slid back inside, unmoving for a couple seconds before he started pumping it in and out, stretching you before he added in a second finger.

A louder moan left your lips now, and you tried to cover your mouth but Tech’s spare hand had reached out and grabbed your wrist, silently encouraging you to be as vocal as you wanted.

He continued to flick his tongue over your clit and suck at your folds while pumping his fingers inside you, and you could feel something start to wind up in your lower belly, your moans becoming desperate whimpers as you tighten your grip on his hair. “Please-” You choked out, but you didn’t even know what you were begging for.

Tech seemed to get the idea however, as his fingers curled up and brushed against your g-spot, a shrill moan mixed in with a soft scream leaving your lips as you came. But you didn’t just cum, Tech had made you squirt like he said he would, and you got it all over his face.

You gawked at him, your juices dripping down his face and his chest as he pulled back to admire you, allowing his thumb to brush against your clit which made you jolt in surprise, still recovering from the first orgasm.

Tech somehow managed to find a clean cloth which he used to wipe off his goggles and face, tossing it to the side as he stared at you hungrily, pulling down the bottom half of his blacks followed by his briefs. Your eyes widened as you looked at his cock, he was thick, not long but not short either, and the tip was flushed bright pink with a bit of pre-cum leaking from it.

You licked your lips, nodding to him. “Yes- Fuck me Tech.” You begged softly, spreading your legs a bit wider, hearing him grunt in response as he walked towards you, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His hands traveled around your body, one hand reaching between you, squeezing one of your breasts while the other rested on your waist for only a moment before he reached down to guide his cock to your entrance.

You felt the tip press against you and a soft whimper was felt against Tech’s lips, he pulled back slightly, and started trailing his kisses down your cheek and to your jaw and neck, where he started sucking marks into your skin. “Relax Cyare… I've got you.” Tech muttered into your skin, and every so slowly he pushed himself into you, reveling in the soft gasps and moans that fell from your lips as you muttered soft praises to him until he had bottomed out inside of you.

You both stayed like that for a moment, just relaxing in each other's arms until you gave him the go ahead. “Fuck me Tech, make me yours.” You whispered, feeling him pull out, only to thrust back in, catching you off guard.

“You were mine the moment your clothes were off Mesh’la” He grunted, and continued thrusting into you, gripping your thighs and your breasts before his lips landed back on yours, swallowing all the moans that tumbled from your mouth.

Your hands were on Tech’s back, scratching up a storm on his skin, digging your nails into him every time his tip nudged against your cervix or your g-spot. You were starting to get close again, and you assumed Tech was too, with the way his thrusts were progressively getting harder and sloppier.

Tech groaned against your breasts, lifting his head up so he could admire the expressions on your face. “Tell me to pull out-” He grunted, but you simply shook your head. “Protection?” He asked, and again you shook your head, before whispering. “Cum inside me honey.” You whimpered, feeling him pause for a moment.

You were out to say something, until Tech had lifted you off the console and pressed you against the cold metal door of the Marauder instead and just pounded into you, your moans filling the room until a pleasured scream broke through as he came inside you, his hot cum filling you at the same time your orgasm had barreled through you.

You held each other for a long few minutes before tech gently set you on one of the chairs and pulled out, watching as his cum leaked from your sopping wet cunt, which fluttered now that it was exposed to the cold air. Tech grunted, and grabbed that cloth from earlier, pressing a kiss to your temple as he gently cleaned the juices and cum from the both of you.

After a few more minutes the both of you were back in your under clothes, and tech had moved you so you were sitting on his lap in the pilot's chair. You rested your head in the crook of his neck, letting your eyes stay closed as he held you. “Did you… enjoy it?” Tech asked, catching your attention. You grinned, cupping his cheek in your hand.

“You made me cum twice Tech, of course i enjoyed it.” You giggled, pressing a kiss to his lips, and then to his nose. “We should shower.. and probably get back to work.” You muttered, and slowly stood up. Tech’s hands stayed on your hips for a moment as your legs wobbled, but you quickly gained your balance and gathered your clothes, opening the cockpit door so you could head to the fresher.

You turned back to Tech, smiling coyly. “Coming?” You asked, and Tech gulped.

Yeah you wouldn’t be leaving the Marauder anytime soon.

➺

Tag list:

Tech Tag:

All tag:

#fanfiction #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb echo #tbb omega #the bad batch #tech x reader #tech x female reader #tech x fem!reader #star wars the bad batch #star wars #smut

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split-spectrum · 4 months

Text

Water and Rock

Chapter 15/16

Pairing: Obi Wan x FemReader

Chapter Length: 9K

Warnings/Tags: explicit content, angst, smut, unhappy ending

Description: There are only so many excuses a master and padawan can make to kiss under "extenuating circumstances" before circumstances stop arising and start being created. You are an expert at your craft - a Jedi knight in service as a spy for the Republic. When your former master Obi Wan joins you on a mission, it's clear things aren't the same as they once were. The trials you face together may break your bond, or turn it into something else entirely.

side note: can't believe we're finally at the second to last chapter :')

☆☆☆

Your breath is slow. Your shoulders are relaxed. Your muscles are decidedly loose. The temple grounds are a wellspring of the Force.

So why do you have to keep correcting yourself, bringing your mind back to center over and over again like a padawan?

You must tell me.

The sound of his voice beats like a drum, thrumming and thrumming and thrumming deep within you.

There will come a time when it is too late. What will you do then? Take comfort in the knowledge that you'd kept your promise not to speak to him?

You could break your oath to the Jedi order for selfish reasons, but you won't break your silence to save him now?

A shudder runs down your back. These are dark thoughts. A Jedi does not make decisions out of fear. Or shame.

You release the feelings, concentrating on the leaves of the vines hanging from the trellis that surrounds you. Looking for the light in any form.

A crown finch peeks through the greenery on the other side of the trellis, then flits to a branch on the tree above you. In the distance, you hear the hollow, wooden sound of a wind chime clinking. You close your eyes and imagine the wind gently pushing the chimes, playing the song within the soul of the planet beneath you. The finch chirrups over your head, and you listen to the sound of its little wings beating as it moves further away. You follow the fluttering noises until they start to sound strangely louder.

In the distance, the noise becomes more like a brushing, crunching intrusion. Like a creature larger than a finch. Your suspicions are confirmed with the sound of footsteps growing closer, and you open your eyes, sensing a familiar presence in the Force.

"Anakin?"

He's draped in long, dark robes that seem to be giving him some difficulty in maneuvering the narrow gap between two hedges that isn't technically part of the walking path. When he hears your voice he looks up, and his frustrated expression instantly softens. He gives you one of his charming, shy smiles and quickly shrugs through the bushes to greet you with an embrace.

"Hey, Pickup," he murmurs quietly behind your head. Your own smile deepens at the nickname. It's been years since you've heard it.

He'd given it to you back when your relationship with him had been mainly limited to flying the getaway ship for him and Obi Wan. You'd swept in at the last minute many times to provide an escape from whatever situation they'd found themselves in. Usually fire was involved.

Now, he hardly resembles the scrawny teenager from back then. His sandy blond hair has darkened over time into shaggy brown curls, and the scar given to him by Ventress has taken the innocence from his eyes.

As you pull away from the hug to look him over, you search his expression for a glimpse of the boy you remember. Looking deeper, you think, no - perhaps it wasn't Ventress's work that did that. His eyes hold many of the same things you've seen in your own. Anxiety. Fatigue. Too many terrible memories from the war. He's changed, the same as you have.

But despite it, he looks glad to see you.

"I had heard you might come back. It's been too long." He pauses, seeming to hesitate before quietly adding, "I've missed you."

The genuine sentiment tugs at your heart. Anakin had always gone barreling through any sense of formality or propriety, and it seems that will never change.

You give his forearm - the one that can feel it - a squeeze. "I've missed you too," you tell him. Then you look around, suddenly remembering. "What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be at the ceremony."

He looks sheepish, pulling away. "I was. I left after the awards were given. I don't think they'll mind."

You give him a mockingly chastising smile from under your brows. He absolutely knows they will more than 'mind'. They're probably looking for him right now. Which makes you wonder...

"And Obi Wan?" you ask, trying to keep your tone nonchalant as you look behind him, half expecting him to emerge from the shrubs.

He shakes his head, dark tresses bouncing over his shoulders. "No, Obi Wan wouldn't dream of leaving to find me. Not when we need to keep our relationship with the senate so close."

There seems to be a little venom in his words, and he drops his gaze to the side. You raise an eyebrow, letting the pause drag out. When he doesn't elaborate, you ask gently, "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," he brushes you off. "Forget it."

You want to push, knowing you could probably get more out of him, but you don't have that kind of rapport anymore. You don't know him well enough to navigate his volatile emotions. So you change the subject.

"Well, if you're not attending the ceremony, what were you planning to do until it's over?"

The shadow of his shy smile is back. He glances toward the temple behind you. "I have some work I wanted to take care of." He looks back at you, gaze brightening a bit. "Actually, maybe you could help me."

You study him, pretending to hesitate when you've already made up your mind to help him. Then you give a little bow, stepping behind him with your hand outstretched. "Lead the way, Skywalker."

Who knows. Spending a little time outside your head could be exactly what you need.

"Whatever happened to Jedi keeping limited possessions?" You ask him, staring at the speeder as he hands a few credits to the droid hovering at the keypad.

"Well, this is one of my few possessions," he drawls, tugging the cover off of it as the droid bustles off. "It's only a few credits a month to keep it here, and the parts weren't expensive. Most of them were damaged when I got them."

'Here' is a dingy little storage unit on one of Coruscant's lower levels. You're both still wearing the hoods of your robes to cover your faces as Anakin had pointed out that he didn't exactly want anyone to know about the space. You only take down your hoods after he closes the bay door behind you, keying in the code.

Once you're alone inside the unit, you cross your arms, walking around the speeder to take it all in. The body isn't in anything resembling good condition, but everything is where it should be. You pop the hood to take a look at the engine, which consists of some very creative choices.

Leaning over it, you start to see why he had asked you here. Some of the work would require specialized tools - or two pairs of hands. And since he isn't a Besalisk, here you are. It did beg a further question, though.

"You didn't want Master Windu's help with this?" you ask, teasing.

He doesn't answer, just gives you a sardonic look.

"Alright, then. What about Obi Wan?"

This is a more genuine question. As much as it had become a joke, there's more than a little truth behind it when people call Anakin his second padawan.

While Mace Windu supports Anakin in all the necessary ways, diligent, patient, and steady, Obi Wan has always tended to be the supportive shoulder on which he leans. During the early years of his training. Mace seemed to work under the perception that if he was indeed the Chosen One, he would not fail. Obi Wan took Anakin's training more personally, intent that he would become a Jedi knight - that he must not fail. It was for this very reason that the council had decided Obi Wan would not be responsible for his training.

But it was also for this reason that Anakin often confided in Obi Wan things that he couldn't share with his own master. They became like brothers, in a way, and despite their separation, by the time Anakin completed his training as a padawan, even the council couldn't deny how well they worked together. While you had been working solo, Obi Wan and Anakin had been paired on missions more often than any other Jedi.

So as you lean over Anakin's latest secret, you genuinely wonder why Obi Wan hasn't been made a part of it.

"Obi Wan has enough problems on his mind at the moment," he answers unconvincingly. He steps up next to you, taking the speeder's hood from your hand and propping it up. "And anyway, he wouldn't understand."

You decide to let it rest, though there seems to be more he's not saying. Obi Wan would understand having a secret project to work on - needing a little slice of freedom within his means. Though he might not approve, he would have helped if Anakin had asked. You both know it. Instead of pursuing the thought, though, you pick up a spanner.

"Okay. Then just show me where you need me."

A couple of hours later, you're slamming down the hood and wiping your hands with a rag. Anakin is raising his arm above his head, rubbing his face into the underside of his sleeve.

"I think that'll do it," he says, smearing the mix of black grease with his sweat and painting it from his nose to his cheek. "Come on. Let's go for a test drive."

You smile, tossing him the rag and watching him make a poor effort to clean himself up. "I'd be honored to be your first passenger." Climbing into the seat, you frown. "But, wait. Aren't you worried someone will see us?"

He presses a button as he gets behind the controls, and a durasteel panel starts to slide over your head. "We'll keep the top on."

Once the speeder's top half is in place and he's edged it out of the storage unit, he hops out to close the unit's entrance. As he slides back into his seat, he adjusts the steering and turns to look at you again with a barely subdued grin. "Besides, we'll be going too fast for anyone to get a good look at us."

"...We will?" is all you have time to get out before he punches it, sending you careening into multi-level traffic and gripping the side of your seat to steady yourself.

Coruscant glimmers all around you. Any surface that's not emitting its own twinkling lights, advertisement or otherwise, reflects the brilliant glare of the sun. The cacophony of light and sound echoes into the abyss beneath you, as far down as you can see. As Anakin whips through streams of other speeders without the slightest hesitation, the noises grow louder, into shrieks and beeps and the occasional curse.

You bite your tongue, glancing over at him as he threads the needle between two other speeders. His eyes are lit up with the spark of adrenaline, and there's no sense in trying to reason with him. You'd known what you were getting into as soon as you'd agreed to go along for the ride. He's quickly overcome with the gleeful look he gets when he's in complete control of utter chaos, and you find yourself cracking a smile, angling your hand out the window to catch the current of the wind whipping past.

When you've sped well past the outskirts of the Senate District, he punches a button and the durasteel above your head melts back into the frame of the speeder. The hood you'd pulled over your head is whisked away, uncovering your face.

"Anakin!" you shout over the wind, startled, "I thought we weren't going to put the top down?"

He just gives another wild smile, eyes facing forward. "It's beautiful, isn't it? We can go wherever we want."

It's like he's not even in the same dimension anymore. You watch him, hair ruffling in the breeze, eyes sparkling with some sort of blind fervor you can't quite understand.

This man - this kid, you remind yourself - is a general, with unending responsibilities. It must be a dream to let loose, even for a moment. That must be why he seems so distant; so lost in thought.

After some time sitting in silence, just letting him fly, you finally ask, "Anakin, can you take me back, please?"

That snaps him out of it. The speeder instantly slows as he seems to come back to his senses. "I'm sorry, I- I shouldn't have done that."

You smile gently. "No, it's alright. It's not that." Sighing, you rest your arm over the side. "I have... somewhere I have to be."

He grips the shifter and starts to turn back. "Sure. Of course." Then, more quietly when the wind isn't muffling the words anymore, he murmurs, "Something's wrong. Isn't it?"

You stare down over the edge, sighing softly again. He's always been so sensitive to the suffering of those around him. And as usual, he doesn't hesitate to pry. But if anyone were to understand struggling to follow traditions and ideals, it would be Anakin.

"I just... have a lot on my mind," you tell him slowly, haltingly.

There's a long, unbroken silence while his dark lashes flick down briefly, and then he stares out over the blinking lights and perpetual movement of the city. It goes without saying that everyone playing a part in this war has a lot on their mind. But there's a strange kind of intimacy in being able to say it out loud to someone.

You turn to look at him, finally deciding to push a little further past caution. "Anakin, have you ever felt like... like you don't know who to trust? Even the Force? Even... yourself?"

He seems to tense. When he answers, his voice goes soft and his tone is hard to read. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," you reply truthfully. "All my life, there's been a clear line between right and wrong. Even when things are at their most complicated, I knew which choice to make. Now... I just. Don't."

You can feel your pulse quickening, admitting these things. You expect him to dismiss you; to tell you what you would tell any fellow Jedi in such a state: Trust in the Force.

But he doesn't answer right away.

Keeping the speeder at a steady pace, he shifts his eyes uneasily over to yours. "Sometimes the line isn't as clear as it should be." He pauses. "So, I suppose you have to ask yourself, what choice can you make that will help people the most?"

You shake your head. "I wish it were that simple. But if I decide to try and help someone... to save someone for the wrong reasons..."

His eyes narrow. "I don't believe that's possible."

"What?"

"If you can help someone, the Jedi code makes it our responsibility to do so. There are no wrong reasons to protect life. No matter what anyone might say." He's talking slowly, now; deeper in his chest. It's a thing he's always done to make himself seem older and wiser than his years.

You lift your brows, staring at him. Then you collect yourself, trying not to offend him with your shock. He's always been forthright, but this is truly something different. "I wish I could be so certain. I've meditated on it endlessly, but things feel so... clouded."

He lapses back into an uneasy silence, then finally asks you, with a tentative edge in his voice, "This... person you want to save-"

"It isn't anyone you know," you answer, trying to keep your voice steady while adding the lie to the growing list of reasons you feel yourself spinning out.

He nods slowly, letting it drop. Then he finishes his thought with half-hearted encouragement. "You should have more faith in yourself. Obi Wan has taught you well. You'll do what's right, in the end."

Your chest tightens and you blink, quickly looking away.

"I'll try," you mumble, blurting out the first response you can come up with. There's a long silence, his name hanging between you.

You don't like how far the conversation has steered toward Obi Wan. You recalibrate, talking over him just as he opens his mouth to speak again.

"Have you spoken to Senator Amidala lately?"

His entire mood seems to shift, though his expression hardly changes. He's gotten better over time at hiding his crush, but to someone who knows him well, the difference in his demeanor is obvious.

"Not lately," he answers quickly. He pauses before adding, more quietly, "She's been... hard at work. Busy with senate matters. We haven't had much time to catch up."

You nod. "Of course."

He mumbles something about a sector governance decree, and you nod again, feigning interest. Then he goes totally silent, and it's awkward this time; not easily broken. You don't like pushing his buttons like this, and you feel a little guilty at manipulating him. But if he had kept prodding you for more details, you don't know if you could have kept from getting defensive.

Anakin cranks at the controls with a gloved hand, speeding up. The top comes back up a few moments later, and you make polite conversation on the way back to the storage complex; no longer two old friends, but now just two people having entirely different thoughts than the ones shared out loud.

"See you later, Pickup," Anakin says, splitting his path from your own when you make it back to the temple. Then he calls after you, "If you see Obi Wan before me, tell him I'm sorry he had to fend for himself with the politicians."

You instinctively force a smile, but looking back at Anakin, a genuine one gets away from you.

"I'll tell him if I see him."

If you see him. You check your chrono; it's becoming that time now, in fact. You have little time to rush back to your quarters and get cleaned up before your commlink is blinking with a new message.

The council has convened, and they await your arrival.

The thick mantle of your outer robe flutters behind you as you swiftly make your way up the stairs to the council chambers. You've opted for one of your older robes - a cream-colored one with traditional floor-length inner robes which are even lighter in color. You try not to think of the reason you've selected this garb. You try to tell yourself it was a subconscious decision to wear an outfit that would put forth an image of softness, of innocence, of purity.

Just in case.

When you reach the closed doors, you straighten your shoulders and do everything in your power to calm your spirit. The waiting is finally over. Whether for good or bad, you will finally know why the council has called you here.

When you push in, entering the council chambers, you find the majority of the seats empty. The rest of the council is nowhere to be seen, and sitting in front of you are only three members.

"Please, come in, Commander," Mace greets you.

You step into the center of the room and bow respectfully to each of them in turn.

"Master Windu." You dip your head in reply to his greeting, and he nods.

"Master Yoda," you address the grandmaster beside him, tipping your head down.

The wrinkled little sage makes a "hm" sound under his breath, deeply inclining his head to match you.

The third Jedi Master's cape is strewn over the side of his chair, and he bows his head before you do. His eyes are a brilliant, incandescent blue. "Commander."

Your pulse skips a few beats, and after mirroring his nod, you snap your eyes back to Master Windu before you can show any sign of hesitation.

Mace fixes you under a stare of his own. "We have much to discuss, and time is not our ally, so we will begin with a simple question: Do you believe your mission on Asar-2 was a success?"

You keep your eyes centered on Mace, though your immediate instinct is to slip a glance back to your master. "I... believe it was. Yes."

"And do you still feel you are capable of performing your duties in their full extent?"

You feel your palms immediately going clammy beneath the long sleeves of your robe. Crossing your arms slowly in front of yourself, you clasp your hands gently at your waist and nod solemnly. "Yes, Masters, I do."

"Regardless of any personal feelings you may have?"

Your throat goes dry.

Your mask slips, just long enough for you to cast a glance at Obi Wan. He locks eyes with you, holds it for a moment, then looks away.

Your heart drops into your stomach, but you try not to let panic take over. This shouldn't be so hard. You specialize in lying, after all. But there's a difference between telling lies for a cause that you believe is right, and telling lies to cover your own selfish actions. And that difference is sitting in the pit of your stomach right now.

You focus back on the question. Too much time has passed. And you know the only answer you can give.

"Yes, Master."

Despite his sense of urgency, Master Windu stays quiet, letting the moment linger. All three of them, including Obi Wan, seem to be inspecting you deeply. You feel exposed in more ways than one, under the scrutiny of the council members, surrounded by walls of transparisteel with ships and speeders passing idly by. Meanwhile, your breath is shortening with every intake.

At long last, Mace leans slightly forward. "We have asked you here for an assignment so critical to the survival of the Republic that it must remain secret to anyone outside this room." He pauses, letting his words sink in. "It will test not only your skills, but your ability to place personal relationships aside for the greater good."

Your relief at the sudden clarity that this meeting isn't a court martial is swiftly replaced with a whole new sinking feeling. The survival of the Republic. Not victory, not defense, but mere survival?

The whiplash must be all over your face, because Mace's expression hardens even further. "Commander?"

"Sorry - yes," you reply quickly. "I will do whatever is necessary. Whatever the council's orders, I'm ready."

Mace nods. "Very well." He takes on a new posture, even more solemn than before. "We have reason to believe that there is serious corruption in the Senate. More than we had ever thought possible. And..." He exhales. "We have reason to believe that the chancellor may be deeply involved."

You let the shock color your face, looking at each of them, waiting pointlessly for the comment to be corrected. There must be some mistake. If that were true...

"We have been informed the chancellor will soon be requesting that Anakin Skywalker be appointed to the Jedi council and made a master. As you know, Anakin and the chancellor have always been quite close."

You stare speechlessly. What he's implying simply can't be true.

"Therefore, we will ask that Anakin use their connection to report back on any suspicious activity he may find surrounding the chancellor or any of his associates."

He stops, seeming to gather himself before he goes on. "This council, however, does not have full faith in his ability to carry out his orders. And that is where you come in. We are assigning you to report on Skywalker's dealings with the chancellor. Some believe that it already may be too late to root out this corruption, and that Anakin himself may be too close to the chancellor to see things clearly."

Your voice comes out cracked, despite your effort to sound detached and impartial. "And what would my orders be?"

"To observe Anakin over the coming days and weeks, until we have a better idea of the nature of his relationship with Chancellor Palpatine. You will need to deliver all reports directly to one of us, in person. We cannot be certain that any of our channels of communication are uncompromised."

A cold sweat chills the back of your neck. This is wrong. This is all wrong.

"I understand. However..." You shift your stance uncomfortably. "It... may be difficult to keep an unnoticeable trail on someone as strong in the Force as Anakin."

Mace and Yoda exchange an almost imperceptible glance. It was a misstep on your part. You knew it, even as you were saying it.

You've spied on countless intelligent targets, force-wielding or not, and they're well aware from your reports that it can be done. You could find a million ways around Anakin's strength in the Force. It's a feeble excuse, and it's clear you're balking at orders to which you had earnestly agreed only moments before.

"If you don't believe you can do it-"

"No, sir," you interject quickly. "I can do it. I... simply wanted to share my concerns about the difficulties."

"Mm," Yoda grunts beside Mace. "Difficult this will be. Dangerous, in many ways. Certain, you are, in accepting this assignment?"

His bulbous eyes narrowing slightly, Yoda waits for your answer. You swallow, then nod. "Yes, Master. I am certain."

"Very well," Mace acknowledges. "You will receive our schedules of availability shortly. If you need to meet at an unscheduled time, use an encrypted channel, and codes no older than one week. May the Force aid you in your mission."

You bow your head and turn to take your leave. Two of the masters remain seated as you go, but Obi Wan stands to leave immediately. He heads for the door, outpacing you, but Yoda speaks up again, and you hold back while he hesitates in the doorframe.

"Commander," Yoda croaks solemnly, "Acknowledge your feelings for Skywalker, you must. But allow them to cloud your judgement, you must not. An easy task, this will not be."

You trade a look between Yoda and Mace - Anakin's former master giving you a meaningful look in return. You lower your gaze to the floor for a moment, accepting the truth, and then meet Yoda's stare again.

"But a necessary one," you reply.

Sadness envelops Yoda's features. "Proven right, I hope you are not. Proven wrong, I hope we all are."

Obi Wan stands in the doorway for a long handful of heartbeats, until you turn toward him, and he turns to leave.

You walk slowly in his wake for a respectful amount of time, and when you're far enough from the council chambers, you begin striding down the hall after him.

Now is the time. You won't get another chance.

He's already halfway down the stairs when you find him, cape billowing with his quick steps. From a distance, he looks more myth than man - his armored shoulders are so broad, the dark fabric draped over them reminiscent of the warriors you've seen in ancient tapestries. The fading light coming through the wide windows of the temple bathes him in glorious hues trailing one after the other, and when you finally manage to close the distance, he's at the base of the stairs.

You force yourself to call after him, not allowing yourself to hesitate any longer.

"Master."

His head turns, ripples of illumination gliding through his golden hair. Slowing his pace, he watches as you catch up with him. You nearly miss the bottom step, arrested by the way his eyes sparkle in the sunlight, despite the heaviness in his expression.

"A word?" you ask him, keeping your tone light for those around you.

He hesitates, and you can tell by his face that a word with you is the very last thing he would like.

"Of course."

He glances down an adjoining hall to a private meeting room, and you follow him there. As he opens the door, he uses one hand to lift the heavy cape from his shoulder, brushing it behind him to allow you more space as you enter.

Turning on the light, you see the room has been dimmed to better view the small holotable in the center, which is currently turned off. It's a tiny room, most of the space between the table and the walls taken up by chairs. There's a small gap where you can stand and face one another, practically up against the wall. You could move the chairs or find the light switch, but there's no point in wasting the time. You turn to Obi Wan as he comes up behind you instead, trying not to let the bare separation between you set your nerves further aflame.

"I'm sorry, I know we agreed, but this is..." you start off, immediately hearing the tremble in your voice. "I needed to talk to you."

"About Anakin?"

It hadn't been about Anakin, but now it's about so many things.

"No. I mean, yes, now I..." You take a breath. "This is so hard to believe. That the council would ask one Jedi to spy on another. One of their own members, I should say." You shake your head. "That the chancellor would even ask such a thing in the first place."

Obi Wan sighs. "It is disturbing."

"It also seems strange that the full council wouldn't have met with me for such an important task," you go on, looking for a reaction from him. "Is that not strange?"

He crosses his arms, looking down at the table, then back up at you, seeming to deliberate before giving his answer. "The council... did not all agree on this decision."

Your face drops, your mouth nearly falling open in shock. He might as well have told you that the floor beneath you had opened up into cold, empty space. The council often had differing opinions, but to outright refuse to come to an agreement? To have members sit out while mandates were issued? It's unheard of.

"We took a vote. When it was decided that this task could not be entrusted to Anakin alone, it was also decided that the identities of those who voted in favor should be protected in case there were... unforseen repercussions. Three members were selected to be directly involved, in order to protect the others."

This is making a little more sense, now. You don't have to ask how Obi Wan voted.

"I see," you answer. "You don't think Anakin..."

"Anakin would not betray the Republic. He would not betray his fellow Jedi." Both his gaze and his voice hold steady conviction. In the undercurrent of his words, a third thing goes unsaid: "He would not betray me."

You nod. "I know he wouldn't. That's why I had to take the assignment. If I hadn't done it, someone else might have."

"Yes," he says quietly. "I know."

You search his face in confusion. If he'd wanted you to do this all along, then why does he seem so reluctant?

"When you came to me that night back on Ilum, were you trying to... warn me? Did you not want me to take it?"

Obi Wan's brow creases. "On Ilum?"

You toss a glance behind his shoulder to make sure the door is locked. "When... you said I called to you in the Force."

His expression drifts from confusion into concern. "I... don't understand."

You're about to take the hint and change the subject, inferring that he doesn't want to discuss anything personal inside the temple, until he continues.

"When did this happen?"

The question strikes you as genuine, and all at once your grasp on reality feels tenuous.

"Just two nights ago," you say, lowering your voice. You still aren't entirely sure he's not feigning ignorance for the sake of possible prying ears.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says, shaking his head. "Two nights ago I would have been nowhere near Ilum."

"Not-" You try to shake off the air of unease that's settling over you. "Not in person. In a vision."

"A vision?" He still looks lost. "I've had no such vision."

You've been manipulated. That much is certain, now. By whom or what, you still aren't sure.

Obi Wan is staring at you, waiting for your explanation. When you don't answer right away, he reiterates, "Whatever you saw on Ilum, I was not aware of."

You steel yourself, trying not to lose your nerve. Ultimately, it doesn't matter. What matters is that deep down, you know the future you saw was real.

"Whether you were involved in the visions or not, the message involves you."

You take a breath.

"Obi Wan, I need to ask something of you."

He tilts his head questioningly, but doesn't respond.

You stare into his eyes, heart racing. "Don't go to Utapau. Please."

He blinks, leaning back. "What?"

"These visions... I don't know what they mean, exactly, but I do know this: You can't go to Utapau."

He seems to consider before asking, "Why? What will happen there?"

"I... don't know," you lie, breaking his gaze. It makes your stomach turn to keep the truth from him, but the reality is that foreknowledge of his death wouldn't be enough to stop him.

"If you don't know, then why must I stay away?"

"I don't know exactly why," you tell him slowly, "but I do know that the Force is telling me something, and I need to listen."

He brushes a hand across his beard. "How long have you been having these visions?"

"Only recently," you lie again. You wish you could confess everything, but admitting how long you'd deceived him would only cast doubt on your message. "A few months ago."

Technically, that is when they became more specific. You tell yourself it's not a total lie.

Obi Wan still looks uncertain, but after a long time, he hesitantly says, "I... have no need to go to Utapau."

Your heart swells with hope, until he finishes his answer.

"But I cannot agree to stay away. I don't know what the future will bring. Neither of us do."

You squeeze your eyes shut, the urgency of your last chance to make him listen a red-hot stake in your chest. When you open them again, you try not to let your voice break. "Please, Obi Wan. If you... if you have any trust in me at all-"

"It is not a matter of trust," he corrects you. His tone is still gentle, but there's a note of reproach in it. "I will follow the will of the Force. Whatever that may be."

You know it's unfair to place this burden on him. In his mind, you're asking him to choose between his duty and his trust in you. But to you, they are one and the same.

"But that's exactly what it is," you insist. "Don't you see? The Force is showing me the way. And I'm listening."

"If the Force has a message for me," he replies carefully, "why can I not see it myself?"

He looks at you, and suddenly in that moment you're transported right back to the Separatist base, where you've gone through all this before. He didn't believe in you then, and he doesn't, now.

"You don't trust me."

"I never said that."

"How?" you ask, ignoring him. "How, after all we've been through, can you still not trust me?"

"Perhaps we should talk about this later." He looks unsettled.

"Please. I need to know. If I've done something-"

"You're upset," he interrupts, turning slightly away from you in the limited space he has, putting his shoulder pauldron between you like a barrier. "We should discuss this when you have calmed down."

"There might not be time later to discuss it," you press. "Obi Wan, I don't understand. Why won't you talk to me? You touch a hand against the cold armor covering his upper arm. "Why won't you trust me?"

He jerks at your touch, and you don't know who is more surprised by your sudden gesture. He turns back to face you, not quite shrugging your hand off, but making it clear you shouldn't have done it.

"It is not you that I don't trust," he insists.

"Then why won't you listen to what I have to say? Why won't you let me help you?"

"Because I cannot trust myself," he admits, voice harsh, but eyes as soft as they've ever been. He casts his gaze to the side. "My own judgment. Not... not where it concerns you."

You stand frozen, not certain of his meaning. "Why not?"

"I would think it quite obvious," he says tightly, eyes drawing up to yours.

You're certain this time the floor really has opened beneath you. You feel like you're floating.

"And," you ask, voice half gone, "why should that affect your judgment?"

He says your name quietly, almost accusingly. He wants you to know the answer, because he clearly doesn't want to say it.

You're struck dumb, unable to reply. And you're suddenly very aware of how close you're standing. How dim the lights are. How electric the air has become.

"How can I trust myself to act with logic and reason when they've so easily escaped me before?" He goes on, soft and low. "Am I truly meant to know about this vision? Or am I defying the will of the Force right now, by speaking to you?"

You swallow, looking up at him. You don't reply. You can't.

"I must doubt everything. Especially my own thoughts. Especially where it concerns you."

Your heart is pounding so hard you're afraid it's going to climb up your throat. "You... you told me when I was in doubt, I should rely on the strength of the Force. That I shouldn't turn away. So, what does it tell you now?"

His mouth is a hard, set line beneath his beard, his eyes a torrent of emotions. Then he finally answers.

"That I cannot allow myself, at this crucial moment, to think of anything but my responsibilities. That I must bind myself to my duty. And that despite all of this, you make me weak."

You're certain he meant it as a confession of his own failing. He didn't say it for the sake of driving you to the brink of sanity, but he's done it all the same. And your mouth is on his before you can even fathom resisting.

You sink into him, tears nearly springing to your eyes as months of longing come surging back all at once. His lips catch yours, uncertain and warm and soft. His body is rigid, one hand flat on the holotable and the other hovering over - but not quite touching - the small of your back.

When you pull away, you're gasping. "I'm- I'm sorry."

He hasn't closed his mouth, and you haven't parted your bodies. Being close enough to breathe in his scent is making your head swim.

"I'm sorry," you repeat. "That... I shouldn't have done that."

He shakes his head softly, just staring at you, but he doesn't pull away. "No," he agrees.

"I've missed you," you whisper, and he closes his eyes, bringing his chin up and taking a slow breath through his nose.

When he looks at you again, there's a long, heavy, heated silence. You wonder if you've pushed past the point of breaking. If he'll send you away. You can't let this be the last time you speak. Not like this.

Then he lets out a sigh. "I... tried to forget you." It's an admission that clearly pains him to say out loud. "When I left Ilum, I thought that I could keep my fond memories. That I could accept I would never see you again, and think of you only in passing. But with time, it became more difficult. I realized if I were to move forward, I couldn't trust myself with these memories. I would need to put you out of my mind entirely."

You swallow. His words are hard to comprehend. "Obi Wan..."

"And still," he says softly, locking eyes with you again, "I found myself thinking of you, in quiet moments, when I should not."

It makes you sick, how much you want him. This time, you lean in slowly, giving him ample time to back away. He meets your lips, and you taste his sadness, his unwillingness to make things so much harder for the both of you. But there's a heat and a desperation roiling beneath his movements that neither of you can deny, either.

The room is quiet, the air practically throbbing with all the things you aren't saying to one another, lips brushing tenderly as if they'd never once parted. And after a moment's hesitation, he begins to kiss you back.

As soon as he begins to respond, your tongue is desperate for more of him, and you dip into his mouth, making him moan softly. The sound makes you pull back to bite your lip, and you murmur against him breathlessly, "We shouldn't do this."

"No," he agrees between kisses, turning his body around yours to press your back against the holotable. "Not here."

"Then tell me what you said was a lie," you whisper. "Take it back."

"It was a lie." He sucks your lip. "I take it back."

You groan softly against his mouth. "Obi Wan, you're the voice of reason," you tell him, nearly teasing and yet utterly serious. You need him to have the strength to stop, because you have none.

His hands come up to either side of your face, cupping you gently as he pushes you hard against the table.

"Darling, I am a wretched man."

He covers your mouth with his own, sliding his tongue deep and grinding his hips into yours, kissing you with a delirious, fervent hunger. You ruffle your fingers through his smooth golden hair and groan into his mouth as he parts your robes.

When he takes you in his arms, it is against every tenet of the Jedi Code. He lifts you effortlessly up onto the table behind you, pushing your heavy outer robe from your shoulders, letting it sink into a pile at your back.

"You were so beautiful before the council," he rumbles at your throat, sliding wet kisses from your jawline down, "I could hardly bring myself to look at you."

Your stomach flips wildly. You whine his name, gripping the armor covering his shoulders.

His gloved hand slides up your leg, dragging your inner robe over your knee. He grips your thigh, kneading softly, and then pulls back from kissing your neck to tear off his glove with his teeth. It falls to the floor and he looks back up at you, a lock of hair falling into his eyes.

When he kisses you again, it's long and languid. He's taking his time, feeling every inch of your mouth, drawing out every sound you try to suppress. His palm is flat against your bare skin, stroking slowly up and down while his tongue slides against yours, until he finds the hem of your robe again and pushes it all the way up.

When he dips his thumb to brush over the thin fabric between your legs, you're already dripping through it. He makes a hoarse, broken sound into your mouth, stroking his thumb over and over to feel more of it. You whimper, muscles tightening to the point of ache.

Your fingers are trembling as you drag them down the armor of his stomach until you reach between his legs. You can feel the clips that keep his codpiece in place, but after a short struggle, your desperation wins out.

"Help me," you plead into his shoulder.

He reaches down without any further urging and frees himself with reckless, hurried movements. Removing the armor and pulling down the tight blacks he wears underneath, he forces himself back between your thighs. With a steady hand, he tugs your underclothes to the side, burying himself inside you in one slow, firm stroke.

Every thought of this is so terribly wrong is instantly drowned out by the feeling of him, right where he's meant to be.

His mouth falls open and you feel yourself throbbing around him, the wetness between your legs dripping down onto the inside of your robe.

"Fuck," you bite out, overwhelmed, and he leans forward to kiss you, coating himself in your slick before he starts to move, stretching you with a deep, delicious ache.

Your own robes are falling back down around your thighs as he rocks slowly up into you, filling you so deep it makes you gasp while the heavy mantle draped from his shoulders brushes your knees. You drag your mouth away from his for a moment to drink in the sight of him as he thrusts into you, still wearing a glove on one hand and the emblazoned symbol of the Republic on his shoulder. Dashing. Regal. Covered between his legs in your dripping mess.

His body curls into you, both his hands now finding your waist and pulling you tight. The more he fucks himself into you, the more he pulls you off the table, and soon you're hanging off the edge, clinging onto him and whimpering your adulation into the hard, smooth surface of his chestplate.

"Missed you so much," you cry out as he drives his cock into you over and over, the rawness of your confession made filthy with the sound of him rutting uncontrollably into your tight, aching cunt. "Thought about you all the time."

He moans, then stifles it halfway out, seeming to suddenly remember where you both are. "Stop. Don't- don't say such things."

"I did," you tell him, closing your eyes. One of your hands is clutching at his chest and the other is fisted up into a ball, tugging his cape as he crushes his hips into yours, pounding you into the table. "I couldn't stop thinking of you."

"Ah-" he tightens his grip, hips briefly losing their rhythm. "Young one, please-"

It suddenly occurs to you that he's not scolding you for your attachment. He's trying hold off at the brink of orgasm, and your words are getting him there. The words you'd never imagined confessing to him. The ones you'd buried so deeply for so long.

"Obi Wan." You throw your arms around his neck and let him fuck you into oblivion. You kiss his neck and whisper into his ear, "Forgive me. I thought of you at night, when I couldn't help myself."

He comes, gasping, inside you. Your pussy spasms hard at the sound of his broken moans, the wet heat of his orgasm gushing into you. It sends you over the edge, your vision blurring white with pleasure. You dig your nails into his neck, sobbing senseless words as you come so hard it's almost painful.

When you start to come down, your chest is shaking with every breath, and he keeps easing his cock in and out of you until you feel the warm spurts of cum pulsing inside you finally slow. You wish you could have felt him in the Force as he came, but of course neither of you could have risked lowering your guard and potentially allowing the hundreds of Force-sensitives on Coruscant feel it, too. For now, reaching out to hold your palm to his face and pulling him close to kiss him deeply as he leaks out of you, desecrating your robes, will have to do.

When he pulls out, you're both still panting. He brushes the hair from his face and despite the guilt painted all over him, he's glowing.

"Are you alright?"

It's the last thing you'd expected him to ask, but so in his nature that you can't help but give a light laugh and kiss him again.

"I'm alright."

For the first time in so long, you really do feel it. In spite of your uncertain future and the fate of the galaxy, in this moment, you truly feel closer to peace than you've ever been. Because you finally understand - your feelings for him can't be denied, or ignored, or fought. They just are.

He holds you for a long time, kissing you softly, and when he extricates himself from your arms, it's slowly and with great care. You cover yourself, wrapping back up in your outer robes. He's dressed again soon after, armor back in place, and he bends down to retrieve his glove, then looks back at you. "Are you certain you're alright?"

You ease yourself back to the floor. "I am. Are you?"

His gaze is torn as he takes you slowly back in his arms. "Yes."

You kiss him again, softly. "Then we're both alright."

He gives a sigh. "This... this latest of our mistakes..."

"We both knew what we were doing," you assure him. "And if it changes nothing, I'm not sorry happened."

His eyes widen just slightly, and he searches your gaze. "Darling, of course it- of course it changes nothing."

His demeanor has shifted completely, and he's looking at you with such deep concern that it nearly makes you smile. You knew that things couldn't change outside of the two of you. What you had meant was that maybe this didn't have to be the end. That maybe this could happen again. Maybe it didn't have to destroy you. But before you can say as much, he's still speaking.

"My heart," Obi Wan says quietly, "Would be yours, if it were mine to give."

Your knees nearly give out where you stand, and the planet seems to spin off its axis.

"Wh- what?" you whisper.

He doesn't repeat himself. Just looks at you with such honesty that it tears you apart.

You gather all your strength to keep from begging him to explain further. There's something more important you need to ask again. Maybe, just maybe, he will have changed his mind.

"And... Utapau?"

The warmth in his gaze evaporates. There's a tense silence before he slowly answers, "I... will not make a promise I cannot keep."

"But," you start, "My- my visions... Obi Wan, you can't just ignore this."

"You are mistaking me for someone with a choice."

His words fall heavy on you. All of the hope you'd had a moment ago has vanished. He leans in to kiss you once more, but you hardly feel him touch your lips.

"We've stayed here too long," he tells you, sounding a million parsecs away. "Will you come to my quarters later? Perhaps we can meditate and find the answers we both seek."

You almost answer yes. The rest of the world seems so unimportant right now. A distant afterthought.

But you have orders. Even if it feels like swallowing glass, you have to try to let this go for now, and focus on the greater good.

"I... should find Anakin. There are a lot of things I need to get in place first."

"Right," he says, stepping back. "Yes, of course."

"Tomorrow?"

He shakes his head. "I will be with the council all day."

A quiet beat passes between you.

"We will talk again, when time allows," he says, with a finality that frightens you a little. But you remind yourself, he would not have said it if there was no hope.

You kiss him again, long and deep, before you leave.

"Be safe, Obi Wan."

He knows what you mean, and he doesn't reply. But he bows his head slightly to let you know he's heard you, as you walk out the door.

The sun has set, and by the time you've reached your quarters to shower and change clothes, the temple is beginning to quiet down for the evening. So when you hear someone moving around in your quarters, it seems unlikely to be a friendly visit.

Obi Wan would have knocked. Or he would have the courtesy to let you sense him. What you sense now is... cold. Dark. Empty.

Your lightsaber, not yet activated, is in your hand by the time you step out of the fresher. You're wrapped in a clean robe, holding it tight.

"Hello?" you call out, stepping into the main room. A shudder runs down your back when you get a clear sense of who or what it is. It's familiar, yet somehow different. His face isn't one that you recognize.

"Now, now," he says, smiling. "There's no need for that." He nods to the saber hilt. "No use for it, either."

"Who are you?" you ask, not wasting time with fear or confusion. You need answers.

"A friend, my dear," he answers casually. "Here to congratulate you on a job well done."

Your eyes are fixed on him, waiting for him to make any type of aggressive move. "What job would that be?"

He quirks an eyebrow. "The job you begged of me, of course. To save your master's life."

You hesitate. "I... couldn't do it. I tried. But..."

"Trust me, child. It is done." He looks to the side, clearly pretending a thought has just occurred to him. "Well, nearly."

You try to resist playing this game with him, of question after question going unanswered. But you need to know.

"What do you mean, nearly?"

Still holding a smirk, he strides closer. He knows he has you, now. He knows you won't strike him down until he talks. "Just what I say. That we have not yet reached the end. There is more to be done."

As he nears you, the chill that grips your spine nearly makes you take a step back. Your thumb twitches on your saber. But you keep quiet, and let him talk.

"And to do it, you will need my help."

You bite the inside of your lip, choosing your words carefully. "And if I don't?"

"Then he will suffer."

Your blade explodes into light. "At whose hands? Yours?"

He hardly seems to notice your weapon, moving steadily closer and shaking his head. "Of course not." He stretches an arm toward you in what seems to be a peaceful gesture. "I can show you."

You hold your lightsaber steady for a long time, not answering. This is foolish and dangerous. You should lunge at him. Tell him to leave. Tell all of this to the council.

You lower your arm. He steps closer, and the visions pass into your consciousness.

Flames. Lava. Cries of anguish. The pain of a betrayal so deep that it seems to wrend your heart from your body.

Flashes of blue, searing, with the intent to kill.

Hatred. Screaming. Death. No - not just death. The utter destruction of a soul.

The depth of the pain surges through you and you fall to your knees, hitting the ground with tears pouring down your face.

He hadn't shown you anything. Not really. You don't know who has done this to Obi Wan. You don't have any idea of the events that will take place. All you know for certain is that it is real. A pain so great that death would have been a mercy.

You swallow, wiping the tears from your eyes, and gaze up at the dark figure above you. "Who," you rasp brokenly, "are you?"

He tilts his head forward, looking down at you. "I have no name. Not one that can be spoken." He chuckles. "You've known my sister well. And your people knew my father long ago. So, I suppose you could call me... brother."

His answer only leaves you more lost. But there's only one thing that matters. "And you know for certain that all of these things will happen... to my master?"

He nods slowly. "Unless you let me help you."

Your chest is still pounding, throat burning hot with held-back tears. You lower your eyes to the floor, knowing the path you are taking can only lead to ruin. But a choice that would allow Obi Wan to suffer as you've just seen is no choice at all. Steeling your resolve, you meet his burning gaze.

"What must I do?"

A/N: Thanks, as always, for reading. If you'd like to be added to the taglist (with only one chapter left lol) feel free to comment or message me.

On a side note, asks are still open if anyone is interested in my WIPs as listed here.

Taglist: @cosmicsierra @projectdreamwalker @guacam011y @thriving-n-jiving @reverieisaway @cursedcatimages @honeymoon7770 @hedvighedvig @cool-ontherun-world @ladytano420 @eddythewitch @impossibleprincess35 @thegreatwicked @mostthingskenobi @millercontracting @littleredwolf @b0xerdancer

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#obi wan kenobi × reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #obiwan #fanfic #obi wan x reader smut #obi wan x reader #smut

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badbatchsprincess · 5 months

Text

Heated ~ pt. 3

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake.

Warnings: Some suggestive themes regarding heat cycles and general awkwardness. Also Layla is a playful omega causing trouble for the boys.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

A sweet scent filled your nose, drawing you slowly from your slumber. Reaching out with your hand, you were met with the softest sheets you’ve felt in a long time. A silky hand lightly traced along your cheek and combed back your hairline in a soothing manner. You leaned into the touch, finally starting to come back to consciousness.

“Hey, pretty girl,” a saccharine female voice lulled you back.

You groaned, feeling the aches returning to your body as your eyes fluttered.

With a slow blink, you winced at how bright the lights were, longing to return to the comforting darkness behind your eyes.

“Her vitals are coming back,” the voice said, moving to brush your hair away from your face. “You can get the General now.”

You finally started to adjust to the white lights. Looking around, you took in the stark hospital room, along with the massive window of stars to your left. Sitting on the stool next to you was a face you didn’t expect to see outside the field.

“Layla?” you croaked, feeling how hoarse your voice had become.

“Hey,” she gave you a sweet smile, never leaving your side.

“Where…?” you tried sitting up, but she gently kept you lying down with a small, manicured hand. “W-where am I?”

You recognized the room as a Republic vessel. This certainly wasn’t the Marauder.

“You’re on General Skywalker’s Venator,” she informed you.

You scrunched your nose in confusion. “H-how?”

“Your squad brought you here,” she kept combing your scalp with her nails. “You had a pretty bad accident.”

You stared at her, struggling to piece together the events that led you here. How had you ended up back on Skywalker's ship? Wasn't he on Coruscant for repairs?

"Why are you here? You never leave the clinic," you noted, trying to make sense of the situation.

"I wouldn't have, but I was with the boys when they received the call," Layla explained, with a sweet smile. "They thought I should come and be with you. And there was no way my boss was turning down a directive from General Skywalker."

You sighed, still grappling with confusion. Where was your squad? Was the 501st here? Your mind raced with questions until Layla offered you a glass of ice-cold water, which you eagerly accepted.

You looked down at your hands, seeing the deep purple bruises on your left wrist along with the scraps and cuts. Suddenly, you started to remember what happened. The wild look in Hunter’s eyes as he manhandled you around the ship. The way he threw you like a rag doll, trying to tear the implant out of you. You gasped and went to touch your shoulder where he had cut you.

Layla watched you with concern. "It's okay. We patched you up. The sniper did a decent job, but you passed out when they brought you on board."

"What?" you looked at her, recalling Crosshair's unexpected assistance and protection.

You remembered his uncharacteristic behavior, both his hostility and his unexpected care. It was a jarring contrast to his usual demeanor.

“Strange Alpha,” she smiled. “He snarled at us when we tried to get you to the medical wing. He only agreed to let you go when he realized omegas would be treating you. I thought he was going to take Kix’s head off. He carried you all the way up here.”

You looked at her with shock in your eyes. Crosshair? He doesn’t give a crap about anyone… Especially not you…

“If you knew him, you’d be shocked hearing that,” you tried to laugh, but your throat was killing you. She laughed.

Just then, the sound of approaching footsteps signaled the arrival of General Skywalker. With a kind smile, he greeted Layla before turning his attention to you, offering a warm embrace that elicited a wince from your still-aching body. You didn’t miss the way Layla’s cheeks flushed pink in his presence.

"Explain yourself," he teased, though his eyes held a hint of concern. "I thought you were tired of taking beatings, which is why you left us."

You chuckled weakly, feeling a pang of guilt at his playful reproach. You knew he and the others were likely unsettled by your departure. They didn’t like their pack mates straying too far.

"If I had known this was in store, I would have stayed," you joked, gesturing to your bruises. "Your hair has gotten long," you noted, observing its length.

An amused smirk played across his lips.

"Can someone tell me what happened?" you asked, still bewildered. "How did I end up here? Where's my unit? Is Hunter okay?"

Anakin hesitated, exchanging a glance with Layla before responding. "Sergeant Hunter? He's alive," he assured you, explaining the situation as best he could.

“He’s alive?” you asked confirming. “I-I had, I had to…” you remembered pulling the trigger. The sound his blaster made and the look on his face when he realized what you did. The monitors next to your head started beeping faster with your anxious heart rate.

“He’s alive,” Anakin said trying to calm you. “They had to run some tests on him to make sure the chemical compounds were out of his system. I-I didn’t know exactly what happened until your pilot informed me. He said the Sergeant was exposed to drugs that caused him to attack you…”

“He brutalized her,” Layla growled, looking you over. You were covered head to toe in bruises. Layla had cried when she saw the cut he had made, tearing out your implant, then the bruises. When she had peeled Crosshair’s shirt from you, she had sobbed seeing the bruises littering your entire form.

You lowered your eyes to the sheets, starting to feel like you were going to cry again.

“He didn’t know what he was doing. He wasn’t in his right mind,” you whispered, feeling guilty for shooting him.

Anakin sighed and placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to console you.

“You did what you had to do, Tiny,” Anakin reminded you. “He’s a soldier. He understands that.”

Layla huffed. Omegas understood alphas can be cruel. That’s just the universe we live in. But it was eating up your friend to see the damage you withstood.

“We are working with the survivor. She’s trying to help us understand what happened to your Sergeant. But until then…” he stood up and walked to the door, “You have a lot of very anxious pack members waiting to see you.”

He opened the door, and not a moment later, two blurs of white and blue came barreling into the room.

“Tiny!” Fives and Jesse flung themselves on top of you. Anakin left with a smile, leaving you to be dog-piled by his men.

“Ugh!” you barked on impact. Jesse snuggled into your side while Fives curled up on your feet. Just like pups. You winced as their armor collided with the fresh bruises.

“Tiny, I thought you died!” Jesse wailed, clinging onto your side.

“I’m okay,” you petted his head.

“I’ll get some more bacta for those bruises,” Layla giggled and stood up, leaving the boys to rub up on you with their comforting scents.

“I was worried,” Fives squeezed your ankle. “We had just gotten to the hangar when we got the distress call.”

“How did you get here?” you asked.

“We met you halfway. The cruiser was en route for Naboo. Crait was one system over, so we just met in the middle. You had us all types of worried, even the General.”

“Are you hungry?” Layla asked suddenly.

You nodded. You couldn’t even remember the last time you ate. She left the room, presumably to get something from the mess.

“What happened out there?” Fives asked.

“Hunter got hit with something and went crazy. I had to shoot him,” you felt the tears coming back.

“Aw,” Jesse hugged you, “It’s okay, Tiny.”

“It doesn’t feel okay,” you whimpered, letting the tears fall. “He’s my Sergeant. I didn’t know what else to do. I was so worried I had killed him.”

Jesse just hugged you. They all knew about your aversion to guns. You spent your days patching up the aftermath; you never wanted to participate in the violence.

“Where’s Kix?” you asked, rubbing your eyes.

“He’s treating your Sergeant,” Fives chirped.

“And the others?”

“Who? The 99’s?”

“Yeah. They’re pacing a hole in the hangar bay floor,” Jesse chuckled.

“You should have just stayed back on base, Tiny,” Fives nudged you. “Could’ve been curled up with the Commander right now.”

You screeched and slapped him, “I almost died, and you’re making jokes?” Your grin gave you away. It totally wasn’t the racing heart monitor beeping aggressively in the background.

The three of you laughed. It felt so good to have them with you; it made the constant body aches more tolerable. You missed your pack more than anything. You hadn’t ever fully recovered after Ahsoka leaving. None of you did. It felt like a massive hole every time you saw the boys. That’s why you had to go too. You had to get away for a bit. You saw the heartbreak in their eyes, but you knew it’s what you needed. But this, this was starting to make you feel like you belonged again, even without the rowdy togruta that made you all smile.

Layla returned with a steaming platter of whatever food they had in the mess. She settled back down next to you, setting it in your lap.

“Mmm,” you groaned, smelling the braised Shaak roast. You grabbed the spork and dug in. Jesse leaned over, snagging a piece of the meat and slurped it down. Layla scolded him, trying to protect your meal from their grabby hands.

You just giggled and listened to their stories about their most recent trip down to Naboo’s surface with intrigue while you finished off your food. You could have licked the plate and would have if there weren’t people watching.

While you were sipping the last of the blue milk, Layla took your tray from you and set it down on the nightstand. “The Sergeant has been medically cleared. I just wanted to let you know.”

You looked up at her, “Can I go see him?”

The three just looked at you a little uneasy.

“Are you sure?” Layla asked, clearly concerned for your mental well-being. The man did just brutally attack you not even 24 standard hours ago.

You nodded. You were sure. The guilt was eating you alive.

“Okay,” she nodded and helped you stand up. She helped you slip into a pair of loose white sweatpants and tied them around your hips. The boys turned away when she helped peel the gown off of you. You winced, raising your hands over your head, feeling every muscle burn and ache. She gently wrapped a fresh set of bindings over your breasts and lowered a loose white T-shirt, some of the physical therapy patients used in treatment. The material was soft and stretchy. You liked it. It was so much better than the cotton surgical gown.

“You can look,” you said to the boys, and they got up to help with your walk down to the hangar bay. Layla insisted you at least put on a pair of socks against the freezing floor while Fives wrapped your arm around his and Jesse supported your waist as the four of you made a slow journey down to the hangar bay. You practically let them carry you, quickly realizing you should have asked for a high dose pain killer. Hunter really had done a number on you.

“Are you sure about this, Y/N?” Layla asked one last time.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you nodded, “I just need to make sure he’s okay with my own eyes.”

Layla nodded and held the lift door open while you and the boys shuffled out into the hangar bay. Over to the left, you saw the Marauder parked next to a row of assault transports and drop ships.

“Woah,” Layla said, shocked at the sheer size of the military ships. You had forgotten she’s never been aboard a Venator before.

“Impressive, huh?” Fives laughed at her wide eyes.

They stopped when you made it around the corner. Over next to the Marauder was your unit sitting on some ammunition crates talking with the scientist from Crait, Rex, and General Skywalker. You stood there holding onto Fives when Tech noticed you. He perked up, getting Hunter’s attention. The Sergeant whipped his head around, staring at you. The first thing you noticed was the many layers of bandages wrapped around his middle and his shredded top. You could have thrown up seeing what you did to him. He still wore his lower armor, but his top was barely holding on by a few threads.

“Pip!” Wrecker yelled, getting everyone else’s attention.

You let go of Fives and slowly made your way over to the Sergeant. He stood there and lowered his gaze, unable to look you in the eyes. Your heart broke. You could see the guilt eating him up. Skywalker watched the Sergeant carefully in case anything changed suddenly; he wasn’t entirely sure how you were going to react. When you were close enough to him, you broke out into a jog, unable to bear it any longer. Letting out a low whine, you threw yourself at him, wrapping yourself into his chest.

He was shocked, standing there unsure what to do. He had expected you to tell Skywalker to execute him on the spot. Slowly, he lowered his arms and embraced you gently, still afraid to touch you. He didn’t want to hurt you again, no matter how warm your embrace was.

He smelled your tears before he saw them, and his heart shattered.

“I’m sorry,” you cried, pressing yourself further into his chest. You were desperate for his forgiveness; he could smell it all over you. But once again, he was shocked.

“Why are you sorry, Pip?” he looked down at you. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Crosshair grunted from behind them.

“I-I thought I killed you,” you sighed, feeling guilty for hurting him.

He let you go despite your protests and kneeled down in front of you. "I’m the one who is sorry, adi’ka," he said earnestly, now seeing all the damage he caused: bruises in the shape of his hands on your neck and arms. The smell emanating from him made you cry even more, and he felt terrible, the poor alpha. You knelt down with him and pressed yourself into him again, trying to comfort him. "Look what I did to you," his voice choked with emotion.

He was so upset and horrified. "You should hate me right now," he said.

"It wasn’t you, Sarge," you croaked out, trying to coax him into embracing you again. "And I hurt you. I could have— I-I—" You stuttered, looking at the side you put a bullet through, biting your lip until it bled. He let go of any restraint and wrapped his arms around you, tucking your head into his neck.

"I’m so sorry, adi’ka," he whispered, petting down your hair and holding you close.

The others watched the interaction in silence. Even the scientist, who was just getting to know these people, observed with curiosity, trying to understand your dynamic with these defective alpha clones.

"But next time," he pulled back, making you look him in the eyes, "you put that bullet in my head, or any alpha that ever hurts you. Do you understand?"

You just looked up at him, chewing on your lip, and gave him a little nod. He wiped your tears with his thumb and pulled you back into him. "You’re lucky, pip. It’s hard to stop an alpha like that. You’re a very strong omega."

You sat there shaking and bonding back with your sergeant, giving him the same comfort you needed. The others slowly returned to their conversation, but you two remained on the floor, sitting near one another. You kept yourself wrapped around his arm while he petted your damaged wrist, trying to soothe away the bruises.

"What possessed your team to go to Crait?" Skywalker questioned the scientist. She adjusted the thermal blanket around herself, appearing cleaner than before. She must have been able to shower and run a comb through her hair. It was a stark difference from when Wrecker had brought her on board the Marauder.

"We were informed that separatist forces were opening mining operations on Crait. We were instructed to figure out what they were looking for," she said. "When we realized the dangers of the compounds, it was already too late. My only speculation was that they figured out that the spice from Crait was different and it could affect your designations so drastically."

"What happened to your team?" Rex asked.

"I had a team of omegas," she said, looking at you. "They died from extreme heat symptoms. Their systems just gave out."

"And that explains what happened to Hunter?" Tech asked, noting everything down on his datapad.

"I believe so," she said, looking to the sergeant who protectively surrounded you. "It has all the normal symptoms of a spice high, but for the designations, it seems to elicit a different response. Omegas go into an incurable heat, and alphas become… something else."

You shivered, making Hunter tighten his hold.

"Why are the separatists collecting this spice?" Crosshair’s silvery voice cut in.

"I don’t have any confirmation on my theory, but—" She looked around at everyone present. "You have an entire army of Alphas. I can only imagine what would happen when they’re exposed on the battlefields… You’d all go mad."

"Thousands of rutting alphas in close proximity," Rex sighed. "They’d turn on one another."

She nodded.

General Skywalker immediately left to make a call with the council to report the findings. Hunter stood up, pulling you up with him before lifting you and setting you on one of the ammo crates. His alpha instincts were itching, desperate to care for you. He grabbed a spare blanket from under Tech and wrapped it around you before tucking you into a little cocoon.

Tech and the others watched in amusement, seeing their leader fuss about how wrapped up you were in the wool fabric.

You just smiled and let him get it out of his system, knowing he couldn’t help it. You both went through such a trauma. It was all part of the reconciliation ritual between an alpha and omega. You got a little emotional, realizing he may even view you as a pack member with how he’s acting. You’d make sure to ask him later on.

Then Layla dumped a metaphorical ice bucket on the two of you. "There’s something else I have to tell you, Y/N," she said, stepping forward, careful not to get in Hunter’s way.

"Hmm?" you asked, starting to feel a little giddy with all the attention.

"I-I…" Her face betrayed her soft-spoken nurse voice. She looked anxious. "I wasn’t able to give you a replacement implant… neither of you."

Hunter stopped what he was doing and looked at the medic.

She continued nervously, "We tested your hormones and found alpha pheromones in your bloodstream. It’s sending you into a breakout heat. We can’t give you another implant until you do."

Hunter suddenly lifted his hands from you and stepped back, realizing what he was doing. The two of you didn’t have effective suppressants and were acting like a bonding pair. It was your scent driving him to do all of this. He flashed back to him licking at your wounds on the ship. He could shoot himself at this very moment; the guilt was setting in again.

He looked at the medic. "What does that mean?"

You were a little annoyed he wasn’t touching you anymore, but you looked to your friend. "I have to have a heat?" You could cry.

She nodded, still keeping her distance from the alpha, not wanting to be perceived as a threat. "I was going to wait a bit and hope you’d have more time, but you’re both displaying traits that have me a little concerned."

"Well then we’ll have to keep them separate," Fives pointed out.

Hunter made a low growl.

Layla made a face as Hunter proved her point. Rex just crossed his arms and walked forward. "We can’t have an omega in heat on this ship. We have suppressors for a reason. She’ll force everyone into a rut, and then it would be a disaster around here.”

Layla also didn’t like the idea of being trapped on a ship full of horny alphas.

“So then what do we do?” Wrecker asked.

Hunter moved to get closer to you again, but Crosshair tutted, flipping the firepuncher to stun. The sergeant stopped and looked at his brother challengingly.

“You take her down to Naboo,” Crosshair said, keeping his weapon trained on his brother. “Leave her at a heat center and put Hunter back on his suppressors.”

You whined, not liking that idea either.

“Absolutely not,” Hunter and the other 501st boys objected.

“You don’t have a choice,” Crosshair drawled. “She’s slipping quickly, and there’s no other solution. I can smell her through the suppressants.”

“Crosshair would be correct,” Tech agreed. “I see there are five locations just in Theed. And while I acknowledge that heat centers are not ideal places, there is no one here equipped to assist Y/N without mating with her. Which we also know is not an option.”

You gulped when they all looked at you. Suddenly, you were starting to feel warm, knowing Crosshair was correct. You realized you didn’t have much time.

“I’ll take her,” Layla offered, knowing Hunter would put up the least resistance with her.

“You need a pilot,” Echo stood up. “I’ll come with. We’ll keep an eye on her,” he said to Hunter, trying to convince him to stand down.

Hunter’s scent was getting stronger by the second, and they knew you wouldn’t budge without his direct consent.

“Vod,” Crosshair urged.

Hunter looked at you with soft eyes. “Is that what you want, adi’ka?”

You tightened the blanket around yourself. “They’re right. I don’t have a choice,” your voice was meek.

He knew you were scared; he could hear your heart fluttering and your anxiety filled his nose.

He begrudgingly stepped to the side, allowing you to slide off the crate and limp over to Layla. She gave a quick goodbye before helping you over to one of the smaller transports. Rex gave the clearance while the other boys ran to fetch your clothes and shoes.

Crosshair kept his rifle aimed at Hunter while he fought all of his instincts to board the transport with you.

“It’s better this way,” Crosshair offered his consolation.

Hunter was devastated watching the transport leave the hangar bay and make a direct line to Theed.

“Alright, buddy, open up,” Wrecker tossed the bottle of suppressors at Hunter, who caught it and groaned before popping two in his mouth with a growl.

The heat center was nicer than you imagined. Everything in Naboo was actually so beautiful. You haven’t even been but you’d heard stories from some of the troopers. The whole planet was stunning, but the care put into all of their buildings was hypnotizing.

You stared up at the art inside the dome ceiling while Layla and Echo checked you into the system. A protocol droid waddled up to you taking your small amount of belongings before walking you to your designated suite. You waved to Layla and Echo before disappearing down the stone hallway. Everything was starting to get foggy in your mind. You couldn’t even remember what Layla had said to you before she left.

You were a little nervous. You had two years of suppressants to work off. You knew this was going to be a grueling week.

“Here you go Mistress Y/N” The 3PO- Protocol droid opened the door for you, “This will be your home for the week.”

You stepped inside smelling the sterile cleaning supplies inside the lush room. There was an area with a holoscreen, a small living room, a kitchen, bedroom, and full bath. This was way better than any place on Coruscant. You looked around getting familiar with the space.

“Food will be delivered three times a day, but the door will remain locked until you’ve been cleared. It’s a safety precaution for the other guests.” The droid rattled on setting your things down on the dresser top.

“There will be round the clock medical care if needed. If you need anything please let us know.” It finished its routine before scuttling back to the door and closing it behind it. You heard the locks slide into place and settled in.

It didn’t take long at all for the warmth to shoot up through your body again. You changed back into the comfier therapy clothes you had in the hangar bay before settling onto the couch to turn on the holonet. You preened at the smell of Hunter still lingering on your clothes. You had rubbed up against him leaving his smokey scent all over the soft fabric. You picked up the front of your shirt and brought it to your nose inhaling the scent.

Shit. You didn’t remember it feeling like this. The warmth became scalding forcing you up onto your feet. You made a beeline for the bathroom turning on the fresher to cold. You stripped out of your clothes and stepped into the glass shower letting the cold water drench you.

You sighed feeling the relief. That was then the slick started to produce between your legs. You whined trying to wash it away. When you were satisfied with being somewhat clean. You shut the water off and grabbed a towel wrapping it around yourself.

A wave of cramps hit you making you yelp and double over.

“Kriff.” You shouted feeling like you’d been hit by a bantha. What the hell did you sign up for.

Crawling over to the bed you brought the clothing with you feeling the urge to start forming a nest. The cramping began to ebb the more you leaned into instinct. You rearranged the pillows to surround you along with the comforter and sheets. You placed the scented clothing right up against your nose obsessively breathing it in like oxygen.

You groaned feeling more cramps churning your insides. You reached down between your legs feeling the wetness spreading everywhere. You ran your fingers through your folds before settling on your clit. Desperate for some relief you began circling the nerves making yourself twitch. Your orgasm came quickly but it barely took the edge off. You were craving more. You needed to be filled and stretched. You craved a rough fucking. You tried again but once again it didn’t do much. You wailed and tossed and turned praying for relief. You really had wished you stayed with the Commander or let the Venator to fall into madness because right now you needed an Alpha. A big, strong, powerful alpha.

You wanted the Sargent…

~~~

When Layla came to collect you eight days later, she said you looked like a drowned rat.

The cleaning droids had come and gone, leaving the place sterile once again. They had washed your clothes, repaired your uniform, and shined your boots, leaving them outside the bedroom in a neat pile.

You felt yourself come back to yourself on the sixth day, but you weren’t totally back to normal. The box of toys left for your convenience had been thoroughly dirtied, along with all of the soft fabrics in your nest. You had even shredded the clothing scented by Hunter on one particularly bad night. The droids had pried the ripped-up fabric out of your pathetic grip and disposed of it, insisting it was a safety hazard, whatever that meant. On the seventh day, a medical droid determined you were out of the thick of it. The droid had also informed you that your bruises had healed entirely.

You were starving and dehydrated. The droids had left food, but you didn’t care one bit during the week. You couldn’t snap out of the frenzy long enough to eat anything anyway. Usually, an alpha has to command you to eat, and without that, you were lost to the madness of the heat.

Layla had helped brush your hair after your final bath. You had scrubbed down in scent-neutralizing soaps before slipping into the repaired Republic uniform. She put your hair in a simple braid, trying to keep the knots out. You munched down on the lunch served to you and happily drank the water, making your friend happy. You popped two bacta pills for the soreness and called it a mission complete.

When it was officially time to go, you thanked the droids before stepping outside with Layla.

“I’m almost scared to ask,” she sighed, interlocking your arms.

“It was horrible,” you shook your head, “Like the place was nice, but it’s been so long I almost forgot.”

She hummed, “That’s why you gotta find a hot alpha.”

“Well, I almost had one, but everyone tore us apart,” you nudged her playfully.

She gasped, “You’re a little-”

“What?” you laughed, “You said it first.”

“He looked like he was going to bend you over that container before I said something,” she pinched you and you squealed.

“Maker help us,” you smiled, noticing Echo waiting awkwardly in the lobby.

“I wonder what he’s like,” she whispered before Echo could hear. You just gave her a playful look. You had a feeling Hunter was a more dominant Alpha. He was a sergeant, after all. But especially since you’ve been on the receiving end of his full strength, you know he could manhandle you like you weighed nothing.

“I had a whole week to think about it,” you thought about how you had run your voice hoarse crying out for your sergeant. The omega in you had nearly snapped from him not being present. The scent on your clothes acted as a cruel torture.

“Hi Tiny,” Echo smiled sweetly. You skipped forward and hugged him.

“Miss me Echo?” you beamed.

“Always Tiny,” he ruffled your head, “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you laughed awkwardly, “Do I smell?”

“No, you’re all clear,” he took your shoulders in his grip and led you out of the building towards the waiting transport.

“Yay,” you were excited to get back to the Venator. You were hoping Anakin would let your unit stay until you received a new mission. You missed having so much personal space.

The ride back to the Venator was short from the surface of Naboo. Echo pulled into the hangar bay and set the transport down softly. You suddenly got a little nervous to face your unit. Not saying what you went through this past week was shameful by any means, it was just a bit awkward that they knew what had just happened. They knew way too much.

“I want to get your new implant in if that’s alright with you, Y/N,” Layla said, stepping off the ship with you. You nodded and opted to follow her out of the hangar bay and into the medical wing.

“I’m heading back to Coruscant now that I know you’re okay. Fives and the boys said that General Kenobi was supposed to be arriving soon with his unit. I just wanted to let you know. I think I’m heading out tonight after dinner.”

“Aw, okay,” you sighed, wishing you had some more time with your friend, “How was living on a Venator for a week?” you nudged her.

She smiled, “I don’t know how you think straight with so many hot alphas running around.” The troopers posted at the doorways perked up.

“It was weird at first, but most of them are alright,” you smiled, “Especially Rex’s boys. They’re very sweet.”

“Sweet?” her tone shifted to something sultry, “I wanna ride that captain.”

Multiple troopers walking by whipped their heads around to stare at your friend as you passed. You turned red and ducked your head laughing.

“Layla!” you chastised.

She just smirked, “I got a thing for blondes.”

“Oh my god.”

“…and authority.”

“Layla!” you screeched, turning down towards the medical wing.

“Have you seen the way he holds that gun?” she bit her lip, “Ugh, being an omega around all these soldiers is really difficult.”

“I’m going to throw you into a cold shower,” you pleaded for her to stop.

She loved making you loosen up and gossip with her. You had seen her during your trainee days and knew she was a little wild omega. The way she had those alphas in the club wrapped around her manicured finger always kept you entertained.

“I saw him out of the armor,” she mused, “Right after training. Mmm. I almost fell to my-.”

You rounded the corner to the medical exam room, finding said Captain and his boys waiting in the lobby, helmets in hand. They all turned to face the two of you, making you stop in your tracks and snap your mouth shut.

“Oh, hi Captain,” Layla’s voice was saccharine as she gave him a little wave and a once-over.

You giggled, walking forward through the crowd stifling both of your laughs.

“Layla,” he gave her a proper nod, “Tiny, you’re back?”

You panicked, “Yes, sir,” it came out more flustered than you had wished.

Rex raised a brow.

The boys watched you two disappear behind the divider curtains. You turned to her and silently made a funny face at her which she returned, “Yes, sir?” she mimicked silently before grabbing her injector kit.

“What was that all about?” Kix asked, looking up from his datapad.

You didn’t miss the way some of the boys tried to silently laugh at the very awkward interaction.

“Nothing, Kix,” you smirked.

Layla bit her lip, “Up,” she patted the table.

You jumped up, moving your collar out of the way. She sterilized the injection site before placing the mechanism up to your skin. As Layla finished administering the implant, she couldn't resist adding a playful jab.

"Try to keep this one inside you this time," she quipped, her tone laden with mischief.

Kix, caught off guard, choked on his own breath, nearly dropping his datapad in surprise. His eyes widened as he struggled to compose himself, realizing the unintended innuendo.

Tiny yelped at Layla's crude joke, a mix of embarrassment and amusement coloring her cheeks. She shot a quick glance at Kix, who was now sporting a flustered expression, his cheeks flushed..

More snickering erupted from behind the privacy curtain, where the other troopers couldn't contain their amusement at the exchange.

"I'll try my best," Tiny replied, her voice tinged with laughter, trying to diffuse the tension. But the mischievous glint in Layla's eyes hinted that she was far from finished.

Before Kix could recover from his embarrassment, Layla leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You know, Kix, I've heard suppressant injections can be quite stimulating."

Kix's eyes widened even further, if that were possible, as he struggled to find a response, his mind clearly racing to keep up with Layla's playfulness. She bent over giving him a good look up her uniform skirt when she grabbed the bin of implant cartridges.

Tiny, trying to contain her laughter, shot Layla a warning look, silently pleading for her to stop before things got even more awkward. But Layla, clearly enjoying herself, wasn't about to let up.

"Just be careful not to get too excited," Layla added with a mischievous grin, before finally pushing Tiny out of the exam room.

As they emerged from behind the curtains, Tiny couldn't help but blush furiously, knowing that the entire 501st garrison had likely overheard the entire exchange. But Layla seemed unfazed, her playful demeanor still intact as she greeted the troopers with a sly smile.

The sight of Kix, still visibly flustered, only added to the amusement of the moment, as the troopers exchanged knowing glances and suppressed giggles. Just as you passed through the curtains, she gave you a sharp slap on the ass and a wink before turning back to her injector. Your cheeks burned hot pink as most of the 501st garrison looked at you with varying smirks.

You gasped and covered your mouth, refusing to look Rex or anyone in the eye before scurrying out of the lobby. You could feel everyone’s eyes glaring into the back of your head. I’m going to kill Layla.

“Alright, who’s here for a replacement?” you heard Layla’s teasing voice behind you. Then a symphony of troopers were suddenly vying for her attention, just begging to go first.

With a sigh, you’d had your fun, you realized you needed to show face with at least one member of your unit so they knew you were still alive.

Even though you had absolutely no clue where they could be. If it was up to Wrecker, they’d be in the mess. If it was Tech, they’d be in the engine room, probably causing curiosity-based chaos. Crosshair would be in the armory, and Hunter? He’d probably be in the barracks somewhere. You decided you weren’t in the mood for guessing and just pulled out your com device, “Hey, is anyone there?” you asked.

You waited a few seconds before Wrecker answered, “Pip is that you? Are you back?” he sounded happy.

“Yeah, Wrek, where are you guys?”

“We're in the barracks,” Tech replied.

“Okay, I’m coming,” you turned around, walking in the other direction.

The walk to the barracks was short. A couple of nice troopers pointed you in the right direction, and before you realized, you were there. The massive blast door was hard to miss. The door slid open, revealing your unit lying around in various bunks. Tech sat, legs crossed, leaning against the headboard of a lower bunk, messing with the electronics of his helmet, while Crosshair took the top. He was tossing and catching what looked like a silver ball into the air while swinging his long leg off the side in front of Tech’s face. Wrecker was in the center of the room, chowing down on a ration bar, while Hunter and Echo sat facing one another in the middle of a conversation.

“Pip!” Wrecker put down his ration bar and ran over to you. “Hi, Wrek, ahh!” you screamed as the big guy wrapped his behemoth arms around you and lifted you off the ground like a little tooka cat.

“Wrecker, put her down,” Hunter chastised.

“Ugh, fine,” he settled you back down gently before stepping back and grinning down at you, “I missed Pip. The pack wasn’t the same without you.” Your heart fluttered at the thought that he saw you as pack.

“I missed you too, Wrecker,” you smiled.

“How was the heat center?” Tech asked, looking up from his tools.

You shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed, but you had to clear the bantha in the room. You knew they had to be curious. “Ehh,” you bit your lip tilting you palm side to side, “It was far better than any place on Coruscant but nothing I’d like to repeat anytime soon.”

“It had good reviews on the holonet,” Tech replied.

You giggled. Of course, he studied the reviews.

“You look thin,” Crosshair pointed out, displeased, “Did they even feed you?”

“Thanks, Cross,” your mood soured, feeling a little self-conscious, “And yes, they gave me food.”

He snarked and went back to tossing his toy around in the air.

“I’m shocked the GAR didn’t send you guys on a mission somewhere while I was gone,” you said, realizing how bored they appeared. Had they really been here the whole time?

“Command heard about what happened. I think they felt bad and decided to give us a small break until you got back,” Hunter said sympathetically, standing up from his bunk.

You just nodded. He looked at you strangely. You were hoping he didn’t still feel guilty.

“And,” he shifted to one side, looking uncomfortable, “They want to know if you desire a unit transfer after everything that’s happened…” he looked deflated.

Wrecker whined from behind you clearly upset with that possibility. You looked at him and the others, realizing how sad they looked at Hunters news.

“A transfer?” you clarified.

Hunter nodded his head.

“They want to know if you don’t feel comfortable,” Echo said calmly.

You just stood there a little in shock.

“We’d understand if that was the case, Y/N,” Hunter said, trying to be the good sergeant. You gave it a moment of thought before turning to look at Wrecker, who looked dejected.

“No.”

“No?” Hunter repeated, sounding relieved.

“No,” you crossed your arms, “I’m not leaving… Do you want me to leave?”

Hunter shifted a little, “I don’t want you making a decision based on our feelings. We’ll be okay if that’s what you want.”

“You’re my pa-…you’re my squad,” you stood your ground, feeling a little insecure. You didn’t miss the way Crosshair stopped for a moment at your slip up. Did they not want to work with you now? Did you and Hunter mess up the dynamic? You couldn’t smell it, but you were certain Hunter could pick up on your stress.

“Pip is staying!” Wrecker was jovial. He was pumping his fists in the air like a little kid.

“I’m relieved to hear you are still wanting to work with us, Y/N,” Tech looked at you.

Echo got up and gave you a hug, “I was worried I was going to be losing my favorite stakeout buddy.”

You hugged him back, “I’m not going anywhere as long as you’ll all have me.”

They just smiled and started to settle back in.

“So what do we do now?” Crosshair asked. Clearly, none of them have ever been trapped on a Venator for long periods of time with nothing to do.

“We wait for orders,” Hunter said, sitting back on his bunk.

You slipped off your boots and curled up on the bunk next to theirs. You had a week of sleep to catch up on, and frankly, you were just excited to have a proper mattress to sleep on and you could move on from this horribly awkward situation.

You were positive the missions would come rolling in soon. You guys were the best after all.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

I loved writing the Layla scenes so much. I'm hoping now that we have a baseline for the story I'll finally be bale to start working on Y/N's relationship with the bad batch.

To join the tag list comment down below!

@substantial-exposure

#abo #badbatch #abobadbatch #polybadbatch #clonewars #rex #hunter #tech #wrecker #crosshair #echo #anakin #smut #omega #heat #starwars

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wanderer-six · 1 year

Text

In Need

NSFW (MINORS DNI)

AN: hey im so sorry i was possessed by a Dark Entity and therefore cannot be held liable for the Sin beneath the cut (reader be advised this was written under DEMONIC INFLUENCE, god is NOT present in this text!!!!!!!!!) i genuinely do not know what happened but I hope u all enjoy nonetheless GHSDJF ♥ (also HUGE THANK U TO @starrylothcat for being exposed to this early, u are a hero and a star!!!!)

Relationships: Hunter x Fem Jedi!Reader

Summary: While travelling with the Bad Batch, you find yourself overwhelmed by a certain need. Unable to deal with it, you try to wait it out in hopes it will pass. But you come to find that your arousal has been unintentionally torturing your poor sergeant.

Warnings: scent kink(?)(Hunter Advanced Senses fuckery); oral (f! receiving); dirty talk; unprotected PiV sex; praise kinda; overstimulation; choking; outdoor sex; y/n and hunter are both Extremely thirsty, minimal plot mostly smut

Word Count: 4k

You don’t know how you’ll survive another night.

The Havoc Marauder had come to rest in the pleasant evening air of some forest world after a long day of battle. Rarely do you and the boys get to enjoy such a beautiful night during this war; you sit in the ship’s cockpit, the gangplank open to allow the cool air into the vessel, and you chat about whatever comes to mind. As usual, Wrecker and Tech are the most talkative, and you’re happy to listen.

Although, admittedly, you don’t listen as closely as you normally would. As has been the case for a few days now, you find yourself… distracted. Years of training at the Jedi Temple have pushed you to overcome your baser instincts, and though such a feat never came easily, you’ve managed for so long. But every now and then, it would become too much to bear.

Try as you might to ignore it, to focus instead on the bright smiles and warm laughter of your friends, your mind fixes solely on the burning heat between your thighs.

When Wrecker smacks the back of your chair hard, you’re ripped from your thoughts and back to reality. Something has gotten your traveling companions in a fit of amusement—though what, you haven’t a clue.

“What do you think, General?” Wrecker’s gruff voice booms. “I say Tech’s got his goggles on too tight if he thinks I can’t wrestle a rancor!”

“I did not say you would be unable to,” Tech quickly interjects. “I merely noted that the odds of us encountering a situation that would require wrestling a rancor are slim, to put it generously.”

A wide grin spreads on your lips, and you pray they can’t see the heat beneath your face.

“If the Republic isn’t assigning us missions where wrestling rancors is a requirement, I’m not sure why we’re even fighting this war,” you tease, eliciting a roar of laughter from Wrecker.

“You got that right!” he chimes.

From across the cockpit, Echo scoffs.

“You’d better hope the Seppies don’t add rancors to their ranks,” he mutters. “The droids are already bad enough…”

“If Wrecker thinks he can handle it, why not?” Crosshair smirks.

As the men begin to chatter, you find your thoughts turning inward once more—or downward, more specifically. This tension has been building within you for days now, and no amount of meditating or distraction has offered reprieve. Your body aches, begging to be touched, and all you can do is wait. Sharing a cramped ship with five men has never been your ideal living condition, but you could tolerate it. When you felt like this though—when you neared the brink of insanity from how desperately you craved something to fill you—life on the Havoc Marauder turned from tolerable to torturous.

Again, the men erupt in laughter over some remark you missed entirely. Awkwardly, you cross your legs, the friction from your movement causing your body to tense up. A shaky sigh passes your lips. Maybe tonight, you could find the courage to do something. With the state you’re in, you haven’t been getting much sleep, anyhow. Perhaps in the dark of night, while everyone else got their rest, you could have your release…

Abruptly, the movement of one of your men catches your eye. It’s Hunter—he shoots to his feet, startling you out of your thoughts. He had been so quiet all night that you’ve nearly forgotten his presence—not helped by the way he seemed to brood in the darker corners of the ship. He treads wordlessly through the ship, suiting up with a few scant pieces of gear over his blacks.

“Something wrong, Hunter?” Echo asks.

Hunter can’t even meet his brother’s eyes, shaking his head with a stern frown.

“Just need to clear my head,” he mutters. He passes through the cockpit, not dignifying any of you with his gaze he heads to the gangplank. “I’ll be back.”

With that, he descends into the night, leaving the rest of you utterly perplexed.

The conversation takes a moment to start again, leaving Wrecker to break the odd silence.

“...what’s with him?” he asks, earning a collective shrug from the room.

“I don’t know,” Echo mutters, “but he seems… testy, these past few rotations.”

Tech tilts his head, already back to his datapad. “This is not entirely unusual. Hunter’s heightened senses often lead him to seek isolation. I’d say the only one of us worse is Crosshair.”

The sniper in question growls, plucking the toothpick he holds in his mouth to flick at his brother.

Standing to your feet and ignoring your aching core, you smile.

“I can go check on him,” you offer. “I think I could use the fresh air, anyway. But don’t stop having fun on our account, okay?”

You flash Wrecker a smile as you head to the door, and he obliges you with a laugh.

“We won’t! Trust me!”

With a final wave goodbye, you head out into the night. The chill in the deep forest does wonders to calm you, though the heat nagging in your stomach does not entirely abate. Gently, you reach out into the Force, finding Hunter’s signature with ease. You meander along the trail he left, taking your time in hopes of giving him whatever space he seeks. You have no interest in troubling him; just ensuring that he doesn’t have something else on his mind that he’s reluctant to reveal.

Though maybe you’re just projecting, you think bitterly to yourself.

You emerge into a beautiful clearing, more picturesque than any holo you’d ever seen in the Temple. A lake expands over the horizon, waves rippling and glittering in the light of the moons above. From the treeline to the lakebed, a myriad of wildflowers dance on the breeze.

It all looks so perfect, leading a very sour Hunter to stand out more than you ever thought possible.

Your sergeant leans against a tree trunk, body tense as he spins his vibroblade around and around in his hand. When you approach him, he stiffens, despite his best efforts to appear casual.

“Hey,” you smile, voice soft to match the quiet of the night. “I thought you might want some company.”

Hunter manages a half smirk, tilting his head to acknowledge you wordlessly. With every step closer to him, you feel his heart rate spike in the Force. What is going on with him?

“I just figured I should check in on you. You seem really tense these past few days…” you note.

Only when you look up at him, finding him awkwardly avoiding your gaze, do you realize you’d come to a stop far closer to him than you intended to. The nearness you share does little to quell the heat throbbing inside of you, but you stifle it down as best you can.

Hunter struggles for a moment, lips parting and closing as he searches for what to say. After a long silence, he sighs, meeting your gaze at last.

“It, er… it’s you,” he confesses.

Worried, you tilt your head.

“What about me?” you ask. “Did I do something?”

Your ignorance of the matter seems to work Hunter up even further. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, awkwardly tapping the armor on his thigh to shake off his nerves. You can’t say you’ve ever seen him so out of his element.

“I… know what you’ve been going through these past few days,” he explains. He gestures awkwardly up and down your body. “I can sense it. It’s, well…” He huffs. “...distracting.”

You think for a moment, still unsure of what he means. But something in the way his eyes find yours conveys exactly what he’s trying to say.

He knows about the way you’ve been feeling lately. He knows…

Immediately, your face burns. Your eyes fall to the ground, and shame rises in your throat. You think about just how many hours you’ve spent these past few days, thinking the filthiest thoughts and riling yourself up without any hope of reprieve—and knowing now that Hunter could sense every second of it…

“...oh,” you breathe, quiet as a mouse droid.

You meekly catch Hunter’s gaze one more time, but the grimace he wears drives your eyes away immediately. Stars, you just want to run and hide… How could you have been so stupid? Hunter can sense a disturbance entire klicks away; you really thought he couldn’t smell your desperation?

A million thoughts race through your mind—a million different ways to apologize. Should you apologize? What if that just makes the situation even more awkward? Maybe you should forget you ever asked, but you don’t want him to think you don’t care about his feelings…

Before you can fully spiral into hypotheticals, you hear a sharp sigh from Hunter’s lips. Your eyes land on him again. His eyes are shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Do you… need… help?”

If your heart had been racing before, it’s jumped to lightspeed now.

“...what?” you ask.

“Look,” Hunter grunts, “until you’re… taken care of… I won’t be able to focus. I’ve barely gotten any sleep these past nights; it’s… overwhelming.”

He tucks away his vibroblade, the hilt snapping against the sheathe with a satisfying click. When he takes a step closer, now looming over you, the need deep within you flares like a star. Judging by the way his body tenses—how his hands ball into tight fists—you know he can tell.

He raises a shaky hand, setting it on your cheek. His touch burns on your skin. You want nothing more than for him to ignite you.

“Do you want me to take care of you?” he growls.

His gaze has you paralyzed. You fear to even breathe, worrying that the wrong move might shatter this illusion and leave you embarrassed and alone. But you know he would never do such a thing. You trust Hunter with your life… how could you not trust him with this?

Besides—judging by the way he stares at you, hunger in his piercing eyes, you suspect he has a need all of his own.

You nod, and before you can breathe, his lips are on yours.

Hunter’s rough hands explore your body, not at all timid in their desires. They tug at your shirt as his tongue presses against your lips, and you readily grant both of his wishes. His tongue toys with yours while his hands grope at your chest, drawing a pathetic whimper from your lips. So little of his attention already has your head reeling, drowning in delight. The need in your core overwhelms you now, and it seems to spur him on, all the same.

Abruptly, Hunter spins you around, pressing your back against the firm tree trunk. He deftly strips you of your top, tossing it into the dirt. You didn’t care—couldn’t care. You were far more concerned with working his thigh between your legs, desperate for something to relieve the agonizing tension there. Hunter comes to your aid, pressing his thigh against you before he moves his lips to your chest.

Whining his name, you grind your hips against his leg, over and over with no will to stop yourself. When Hunter’s teeth clasp onto your nipple, you gasp, biting your lip to cope with the sensation. He’s quick to release you, though, instead sucking you into his mouth as his hand gropes the other side of your chest.

When he’s had his fill, he pulls away, treating you to another hungry kiss—one that soon parts from your lips and trails down your frame. You stare in awe as he kisses along your sternum, your stomach, before reaching the waistband of your pants and settling onto his knees. With little regard, he tugs your pants down. You help by hurriedly kicking them off, unwilling to waste a moment when the release you crave is so near.

Standing above Hunter in nothing but your panties leaves you vulnerable in a way you’ve never known. But that vulnerability only worsens the throbbing tension inside you. Your body begs you to give in to him, and the overwhelming pleasure mounting in your stomach has you in no mood to disobey.

Hunter’s piercing gaze hangs on you for a moment, before moving to your still-clothed cunt. Your face burns; by now, your panties are completely soaked through, and you have no doubt he can tell. He wraps his hands around your thighs, gently prying them open. When he presses his face between your legs, his mouth and nose just barely putting pressure against your sex, you nearly pass out.

“H-Hunter…” you whimper.

Wordlessly, he breathes you in. Overwhelmed by your desperation, his eyes flutter shut, a ragged exhale crossing his lips.

“Fuck… you’re driving me crazy,” he growls.

Roughly, he hikes one of your thighs onto his shoulder. Before you can even hope to react, he pushes your drenched panties aside and presses himself against your cunt.

Shockwaves rout your entire body, pulsing from your core to your every extremity. Your hands find Hunter’s hair, tugging at his dark locks. He doesn’t mind—that is, if he notices at all. He attends to your aching cunt with unmatched discipline, drinking from you as though you were water after a thousand parched days beneath the Tatooine suns. His lips close around your clit, suckling at it, all the while swirling over it with his tongue.

He laps at you so hungrily that you can barely utter a sound, your whole body tense with the way he works you. Your every mewl catches in your throat, strangled into a breathless whimper. Still, you need more of him, tugging at his scalp and rutting your hips into his face.

“Hunter…!” you gasp. When he groans against you, the vibration sends a shiver up your spine. “Please… I-I need more… please, Hunter…!”

Hunter’s eyes flash up to meet yours. His pupils are blown wide, focused fully on you. Reluctantly, he pries his lips off of you, though not without a parting mark on the soft flesh of your thigh. He wipes his mouth clean with the back of his hand before standing up once more. At his full height now, you quickly recall just how imposing his stature is—and just how badly you wish to experience it.

Supporting your neck with his gloved hand, he leans over you, kissing you deeply. You love the taste of yourself on his lips, tongue toying with his in need of more. When he pulls away, he lingers by your ear.

“Turn around,” he demands.

You swallow hard, nodding and obeying. Once you face away from him, he places his palm between your shoulder blades, pressing your top half against the tree while your hips remain close to him. Carelessly, he slips your panties down your legs, exposing you fully to the cold night air. A low rumble reverberates in his chest as he looks you over; you can practically feel the burn of his eyes on your skin, trailing over every inch of your needy body as you present yourself to him.

He grasps your hip firmly, and with his free hand trails his fingers along your cunt. You gasp, body reacting fiercely to even so light a touch.

“Kriff… you’re so wet,” he remarks, his low voice doing little to help matters. “Have you been like this all week?”

You nod, desperation written on your features.

“Mm-hm,” you murmur. “Please, Hunter… I-I need you.”

He smacks your ass, earning a startled moan from you. Taking a step back, he quickly shuffles off his gear and his blacks, with you watching him over your shoulder all the while. When his cock is finally free of his pants, you nearly drool. He’s already so achingly hard… your cunt clenches around nothing, hopeless at the need to be filled by him.

When he spots you staring, an awful smirk forms on his lips. He closes the distance between you, leaning over you and pressing his chest to your back. You arch against him, hips grinding against his with overwhelming need. Stopping briefly to mark your neck, Hunter’s lips settle at your ear.

“I’m going to ruin you,” he growls.

You mewl, utterly and hopelessly his. “Please…”

With one last kiss on your shoulder, Hunter lines himself up with your slick entrance. When he pushes into your aching cunt, your eyes light with stars.

His hips persist, splitting you open until he’s buried to the hilt. His hard cock twitches inside of you, hitting that sweet spot deep inside. When you flex around him, he hisses through his teeth.

“Fuck, your little cunt is so tight,” he rasps. “I don’t think you’re ever gonna let go of me…”

Hunter’s thick cock overfills and overwhelms you, straining your walls to their limit as he thrusts deeper into you. His hands keep your hips in a vice grip, not allowing you to challenge his excruciatingly slow pace. He bottoms out inside of you, then pulls out, dragging himself along your walls. When he’s finally free of you, he repeats the process, sheathing himself again. Your wetness engulfs his every thrust, with more than enough to spill down your thighs as he tortures you.

“Hunter!” you beg, voice wavering as he strikes deep inside you again. “Please, go faster…!”

Breathless, Hunter chuckles.

“What, you want more?” he purrs through a smirk. He smacks your ass again, and you cry out. “You want me to fill up this needy little cunt?”

Before you can answer, his hips collide with yours, reducing your words to a moan.

“Say it,” he demands.

“Yes! F-Fill me up,” you beg. “Fuck… I’m gonna lose my mind…!”

“Heh… now you know how I feel,” he mutters. As he picks up his pace, he groans, biting into the tender flesh on your shoulder. “Ah, kriff… I just might lose my mind, anyway.”

Hunter pounds into you, sending you spiraling with every relentless thrust. Though you had begged for him to take you harder, faster, you feel thoroughly unprepared for the way he fucks you. With how close you’ve grown to him, you find it easy to forget sometimes that he isn’t just a man. He’s a soldier—a supersoldier—and you’ve never been more aware of that than right now.

Hunter leans in close to your ear, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“You’re being a bad girl,” he growls. “A Jedi getting fucked by a clone? What would the Council say?”

To your utmost surprise, your face burns like a starship engine. You bite back a whimper, though the way you squeeze around Hunter’s cock does not go unnoticed. Through shaky breaths, he chuckles.

“You like that?” he asks, half inquiring and half observing.

Biting your lip, you nod. “Mm-hm…”

He interrupts his pace with a pointedly rough thrust, forcing a mewl from your lips. One of his hands moves from your hips to your throat, pulling you into him and trapping your back against his chest. You feel so defenseless, so exposed… you can’t say which has your head lighter: the way his fingers put the faintest pressure on your neck, or the shame of your actions. You suppose it doesn’t matter which—both are merely driving you higher and higher.

“Maybe we should call them,” Hunter continues, “let them watch their perfect little Knight getting fucked like a whore on Daiyu.”

Your eyes shoot wide. If he merely hopes to rile you up with such a statement, he succeeds.

“N-No!” you utter, emphatically shaking your head. You hear Hunter’s breathy laughter behind you before he picks up his already breakneck pace, his body smacking against yours so forcefully that the skin on your thighs and ass begins to sting.

“I think you’re right,” he grunts, his labored breath tickling your ear. “I think I’ll keep you all to myself.”

At that moment, you want nothing more. Your eyes are rolling back in your head, mouth agape as the tension mounts inside of you.

“You belong to me,” he growls. “You belong to this cock.”

You can barely form a lucid thought, so very close to reaching euphoria.

“Yes!” you whine. “Yes, Hunter!”

As he forces you over your peak, your vision goes white. Your orgasm thrashes through your body, tearing a moan from your lips. Your cunt shudders around his cock, overflowing with wetness and burning up inside. He reaches deeper inside of you than he ever could before, striking your sweet spot again and again, drawing your ecstasy out to a maddening duration.

“Fuck,” Hunter groans. “Fuck me, you’re so fucking tight!”

Try as you might to call his name, you can only babble, rendered absolutely cock-dumb by the man fucking you. By now, your entire body is covered in a slick of sweat and flush with heat. You struggle to stand, quivering legs barely able to hold your weight. From the way his body trembles around you, Hunter isn’t faring much better. But evidently, he still hasn’t had his fill of you.

Hunter doesn’t let up, thrusting fervently into your abused, throbbing cunt. Your eyes begin to well with tears, head swimming with arousal far too much to bear. Your head lolls back, cheek pressing against Hunter’s. Despite the way he fucks you within an inch of your life, his hand moves from your neck to your face, gently cradling you as he dots a kiss on your lips.

“Think you’ve got one more in you?” he rasps, pressing a lazy kiss on your ear.

Though you hesitate, you eventually answer with a weary nod. With a loud moan, Hunter sinks his fingers into your hip so hard you fear your skin might bruise. The hand he holds on your face slips down between your legs, drawing tight circles around your swollen clit.

“Come on my cock, beautiful,” he breathes. “Come on my cock one more time, and I’ll fill this pretty pussy up with cum.”

Though you can barely hear him over the ringing in your ears, his words push you over the edge. With the only pathetic whimper your hoarse throat can manage, you come once more, cunt spasming around Hunter’s length.

Thankfully, Hunter isn’t far behind you this time. Just as he promised, when you finish around him, he spills his hot cum inside of you, filling you so much that it quickly begins to seep from between your legs. He keeps his length inside of you, managing one or two more thrusts before he begins to soften.

The only sounds you hear now are the two of you gasping for air and the gentle lap of the lake against the shore. As all your adrenaline subsides, your legs threaten to give out underneath you. But before you can topple over, Hunter catches you, holding you around your waist.

“Easy there,” he warns, a chuckle buried in his words. You look up at him, finding a flustered smile on his lips—every sign of that dirty-talking casanova gone from his eyes. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he asks, “Are you… feeling better?”

You narrow your eyes at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you really asking me that?” you smirk. Though it’s hard to see through his tanned skin, you swear Hunter’s cheeks darken. “Yes. I’m feeling much better… thanks to you.”

Hunter grins, resting his forehead gently against yours.

“Yeah… I’m feeling better, too,” he sighs. “Sorry for being short with you before.”

“Sorry for driving you up a wall all week,” you giggle.

Hunter smirks. Gently, he lifts you up in his embrace, tucking one arm under your legs and the other under your back. When you meet his eyes, he tilts his head towards the beautiful lake illuminated in the moonlight.

“Why don’t we wash up?” he suggests.

With a heavy sigh of contentment, you nod. “That sounds wonderful.”

As Hunter carries you to the water, you smile softly, closing your eyes and resting your head on his chest.

“By the way… I think we need to have a discussion about your language, Sergeant,” you tease him.

He chuckles, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I’ve been reprimanded for worse,” he shrugs.

AN: im 3/3 hunter smut i dont think i should ever write a normal fic for him at this point. Anyway i hope u liked and/or it sated your demonic possession as well!!! ✨✨ (also im literally not doing my usual 'taglist' for this one cuz im so GD embarrassed sHGHGHS)

#tbb x reader #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #hunter x reader #hunter tbb #tbb hunter x reader #Hunter/Reader #reader insert #reader #W6Fic #tbb smut

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citruswriter · 4 months

Text

The Echo of a Warrior

Pairing: Reader x Anakin Skywalker

Reader Is: Afab, gender neutral, former Jedi, firebender, trading merchant.

Anakin Is: Sith Lord, Uncharred (sorry ladies, no BBQ crispy Sith for you).

Citrus Rating: Orange, Lime if you squint

Warnings: They/Them pronouns, angst, little to no paragraphs, sloppy writing (been forever since I written), slavery mention.

A/N: This is solely based off a dream I had + me filling in the gaps and fuzzy parts. Lol. It's gonna be put into two parts. This is essentially the backstory, pt 2 will be the smut.

Listen in with me! ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

"Hey Anakin?" You rolled over onto your stomach and poked his face, causing the young Jedi Knight to crack his eyes open and side eye you. "Yes?" He questioned. "Do you think we'll be friends forever?" You asked. Anakin laughed softly, causing butterflies to flutter around in your tummy. Oh how you loved his laugh... "Of course we will, silly". He said, poking your face back. You held up your hand, raising a pinky. "Prooooooooomise?" You asked, causing Anakin to laugh again before lazily hooking his pinkie around yours. "Promise".

Chaos ensued at the temple. What was going on?! You had been peacefully sleeping when you were awoken by blaster fire. Without even dressing properly, you grabbed your lightsaber and ran out of your room, clicking the blade on. Was the Temple under a Separatist attack? You ran out only to find the clone troopers shooting up everybody in sight. Taking a step back in horror you froze. It was only until a trooper close to you raised a gun to your head did you really snap out of your trance. You swung your blade at him, cutting his gun in half. When he went to grab you with his bare hands, you slashed again, cutting them off. You fled out of plain view. This was bad. Really bad. You ran back to your room so you could quickly dress but was knocked down the ground by a body crashing into you. You yelped as you were thrown to the ground. Struggling to scramble to your feet, a hand gripped your throat and threw you against one of the Temple pillars. You looked up in panic. "Anakin?!' You gasped. The boys grip on you loosened. "A-Anakin. Anakin what the fuck is going on!" You panicked. "The Jedi Order had betrayed the Republic". He answered, eyes downcast. You stared at him. "You're lying". You muttered and the boy looked back up at you with his blue eyes. "When have I ever lied to you?" He growled, grip around your throat tightening, eyes glancing down briefly to take in the silk gown you were wearing. Your breath hitched as his eyes flickered back up to yours, anger and hurt at your mistrust in him swirling in his gaze. "You're right, you're right! I'm sorry!" You agreed. You couldn't explain the rush you felt in your body. You had such trust in this man, he could tell you to jump off a cliff and you would. And he knew this. So why didn't you trust him now? His other hand went to grip your hip, causing you to swallow thickly. "I saw Master Windu attempt to murder the Chancellor myself," he spoke in a low and dangerous tone, as if he dared you to question him again. "You need to run, (Y/N). Because of the Master Jedi betraying him, he's ordered the killing of all Jedi. I know it may seem a bit overkill. But he doesn't know who can and can't be trusted. Please. Please, pretty girl. I'm begging you. I'm giving you this one chance to run away". Your heart fluttered at the nickname. "But Anakin.. If I run, I betray the Jedi Order. They rescued me from slavery. Anakin I owe them my life". Anakin pulled you in for a tight hug, him gripping you as if you'd disappear before him. After a few seconds he pulled back. "But if you stay here. You betray me." And that's all he had to say. He immediately saw you soften before nodding. "Ok... Ok I'll go. I'll run and I'll never turn back. I'll swear off the Jedi Order." You murmured and Anakin hugged you again, inhaling your scent for what could very well be the last time. "Thank you..." You let him pull back first. And when he did, you stared up at him before turning around and running off into the night.

You awoke with a start. Memories of old plaguing your dreams. With a groan you sat up. You wish the dreams would stop, but alas they didn't. Rubbing your eyes you glanced over at your old lightsaber. It hadn't been turned on since that night at the Temple. You didn't know if it even still worked at all. You swore off all things Jedi but your lightsaber was still very dear to you. So you held onto it and it became a decoration. Sighing as you rubbed your eyes, you stood up and wiggled your way into the teeny tiny bathroom your ship held. Looking in the mirror, you dipped your hands into the bathroom water reserve and washed your face before touching up your hair so it didn't look like complete shit. Looking at your torn and dirty clothes. You decided that it would do you some good to dock soon. Set up shop for a few weeks. Get some new clothes and a hot shower. You drew the hood of your cape up as you walked up to the cockpit. Pushing buttons and flipping switches, you set a course for a nearby planet before hitting the button to jump into hyperspace. While you waited, you grabbed some juice and some junk food. Not the best of breakfasts but it was all you had right now. You tidied up your bed and went to do a quick inventory. Making a list of everything you had and coming up with prices you deemed as fair on your holopad. When a beep alerted that you were close to the planet, you stretched and walked your way over to the cockpit. Dropping out of hyperspace as you clutched the steering wheel, you paled as you almost came face to face with a Republic starship. "Fuck!" You shouted, jamming the wheel down, causing your little ship to dive. Unfortunately for you, the starship noticed as blaster fire began to head your way. A string of curses left your mouth as you dived and evaded. Smashing a button to open a comm you almost shouted, "Stand down! I'm a friendly ship! I'm only a merchant! Plea- FUCKING SHIT! Please hold your fire!" Soon the fire stopped and you heard a voice back, "Apologies. We're tractoring you in now to check your cargo and question you". You sighed in annoyance as you allowed the large starship to pull you in. You had a bad feeling about this...

"That was some skilled piloting". The officer in front of you said as he eyed you suspiciously. You fiddled with your now damp hair. The officers had been kind enough to give you a room with a shower and some fresh robes. You had taken your time freshening up until you had been summoned for questioning. "Thank you, sir. I learned from only the best." You replied. The officer only hummed back in response. "We found some Jedi things on your ship, care to explain". You attempted to hide your nervousness as you felt your old lightsaber dig into your back. You couldn't leave it on the ship, so you stuffed it into your sash and hid it. "I'm a merchant. I buy, sell, and trade. Sometimes Jedi artifacts come into my possession. People are more than willing to pay a hefty sum for such a rare item, or trade something equally as rare". You replied with a casual grin and the officer rolled his eyes. Obviously he didn't think highly of merchants. "I suppose you're correct". He replied coldly. "What's up with all the questions anyways? I've been questioned by officers before and it's never taken this long". You said casually, which was a lie. You had never been questioned by Republic officers. In fact you avoided them like they were an incurable plague, but you were curious. The energy of the ship felt... off. "If you must know, we have some dangerous prisoners on board. Don't want any of their friends coming to save them". He sneered and you nodded your head. "Well if that's all, I'd like to get to the planet's surface. Respectfully, I have business to do". The officer rolled his eyes once more and two troopers stood on either side of you, ready to escort you back to your ship. You had only turned onto your third hall when the whole ship suddenly shook. You and the troopers almost crashed into each other but you quickly recollected yourself as you heard screams. "Red Alert! The prisoners have escaped!" A voice on the intercom screamed. The two soldiers immediately abandoned you. After all, you were just a merchant. Right?

♡⑅*˖•. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .•˖*⑅♡

Anakin fumed as he power walked the halls of his ship. "How the FUCK did one of them manage to blow a hole in this ship?!" He practically screamed. "I'm not sure sir! We think it may have been a Rebel spy!" A trooper responded. "There was also a merchant that recently boarded! We don't believe they're involved but it's not impossible!" Anakin grabbed his lightsaber, clicking the blade on. "Well? What was their name?!" He asked. The trooper grabbed the gun tighter. "(Y/N), sir!" Anakin froze and whipped around to face the trooper. He never expected to hear your name again, especially not in this context. Did you betray him finally? Or was this simply wrong place, wrong time. "Find them!" He spat. As much as he'd love to go after you himself, he couldn't. Rebel blaster fire shot his way as the trooper darted off. Two young individuals sprang forward, blue lightsabers in hand. They weren't Jedi, far from it. He could tell by their fighting style. He battled the two of them. The sound of saber clashes mixing in with the blaster fire. A girl lunged forward and attempted to pierce his side. He dodged just in time and slashed his blade forward, cutting her arms off. "Master run!" She screamed. Jerking his head, he saw a taller man run off. Growling, he jumped over crates and ran after him.

♡⑅*˖•. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .•˖*⑅♡

Another explosion rocked the ship and you stumbled into the wall. This ship might be going down. You needed to get off. Running down another hall, a body crashed into you, causing you both to stumble. Your old training kicked in and you immediately dropped into a fighting stance, hands ignited with flames as you assessed the possible enemy. "(Y/N)?" The man questioned. You recognized the voice and immediately put your flames out "Master Ulic?! I thought you were dead!" You gasped. "Old, but not dead." He rumbled. "I'm here on a mission with the Rebel Alliance". He stated. "Actually, I could use some help. Some of my men were killed and I don't know if I can do this alone". He continued and you winced slightly. Anakin came skidding to the end of the hall. His eyes flickered between you and Master Ulic and rage immediately coursed through his veins. Of course you betrayed him. How could you? How could his sweet (Y/N) betray him? The audacity you had to- "I appreciate the offer, Master Ulic. But I'm a different person now. I swore off the Jedi a long time ago. I'm just a simple merchant now." You replied as politely as you could. The Master frowned down at you slightly. Anakin noticed his focus was all in you, not his surroundings. He took this chance to spring forward and attempt to strike. Snapping his head up, he shoved you behind him, causing you to crash to the floor and smash your head against the floor. You groaned as your head began to swirl with pain. Shakily you attempted to find your bearings. Gripping the floor, you pushed yourself up onto your knees before attempting to gather yourself onto your feet. I need to get out of here. You thought as you stumbled into the wall. Fuck I need to get out of here. You attempted to lean forward so you could flee once more but a voice tore your thoughts back to the situation at hand. "(Y/N)!" A voice called, causing you to turn around. It was Anakin... The now Sith Lord had overpowered the Master Jedi and he was now calling out to you. "(Y/N) please! You don't have to join the resistance, but at least don't let me die here!" He pleaded. You turned your gaze to Anakin, who seemed to be observing you. He could just kill the Jedi. But he wasn't. No he wanted to see your reaction. You felt as if Anakin could see straight through you. You took a step back and the look on Master Ulic's face immediately changed. "No! No, no, no! You stupid girl!" Master Ulic roared. His newfound rage gave him the adrenaline rush he needed, smashing Anakin into the wall he stood up and began to stalk towards you. You tried to turn tail and run but the man used the force to draw you in. "I always knew you were loyal to the stupid Skywalker boy. Not even the High Jedi Council saw the deep attachments you had to him. But I did! Ooooh I did". He scowled and gripped your throat when you were close enough. "Why can't you see it? He didn't love you then and he doesn't love you now! He never will! He doesn't care about anybody but himself!" And with that you snapped.

"You shut your fucking mouth," you spat with such venom that even Anakin himself was in shock. In a fit of rage you did the one thing you promised never to do again, you drew your lightsaber. Master Ulic barely dodged your blade as you drew it in a backwards handle grip. Dropping you, you dropped gracefully before spinning around to face him. You launched yourself at him, the golden-yellow glow of your Jedi Sentinel blade meeting the angry green of his Jedi Guardian blade. Blades clashed as the two of you fought. You were now fueled by an absolutely primal rage that tore through your veins. Flipping your blade to a forward hilt grab, you put your strength into the next slash, causing him to stumble backwards. Wasting no time, you clipped your blade once again before dropping down into a stance. Drawing in a breath you focused your energy into your pointer and middle fingertips. A bolt of lightning shot from your fingertips, landing square in his center mass. He flew backwards and you exhaled sharply. Unlike force lighting, which was a dark side ability, your lightning was simply an extension of your flames. It took a lot of practice and focus, but it was deadly. Rising out of your stance you stumble forward slightly, it had been some time since you exerted so much energy and, unfortunately for you, you were rather out of shape. You winced as you felt the stitch in your side that had already taken the liberty of forming. Sighing you went to turn once again. It was time for you to leave. Or so you thought. A guttural scream ripped from your throat as a dark green saber struck you through the chest. Master Ulic, although injured, wasn't dead yet. He had used the force to launch his lightsaber and plunge it through your chest. Another shriek left your lungs as the Jedi Master recalled his blade to him. He had a job to finish. You heard a scream from somewhere, but you didn't know who it belonged to. You crumbled to the floor, wailing in pain. You wouldn't die, much to Ulic's dismay. Your species had regenerative abilities and were infuriatingly difficult to kill. Your vision began to blur as you felt your body begin it's self healing process. Wailing in pain, you still attempted to flee. Clawing at the floor and dragging yourself forward, your whole body shook as you sobbed. Eventually, the pain became too much and you rolled onto your side, wailing until your throat became hoarse. Your vision began to black out as you felt your body be lifted. You could barely hear the man above you as you began to loose consciousness. "Hang in there, pretty girl. You'll be ok. Please be ok. I can't loose you again..."

Tag List: None Yet

Anywayyyyyyys. That's the first partttttttt. Might write the other part tonight. Probably will bc I'm not feeling the best so might as well put that into smthn yk? Sorry again for the sloppy writing, it's been literal ages since I've actually put effort into some writing.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars x y/n #anakin skywalker #star wars anakin #anakin x reader #anakin x you #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x female reader

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vodika-vibes · 6 months

Note

Congratulations on 500 followers!

May I please request a Captain Rex x f!reader piece with ruby or ruby and diamond? I’m very partial to smut and spice, but I can live without it too, lol.

Time setting: during any season of the bad batch. Our boy is trying so hard to save his brothers, he needs to remember his partner too :)

Time For Us

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Prompt: Ruby - Passionate Love

Summary: Several months after the fall of the Republic, little has changed for you, save for the addition of your boyfriend on your ship. But, you recognize that everything has changed for him, and you’re worried.

Word Count: 619

Warnings: Spicy-ish. (It doesn't feel that way to me, but I've been focused on it too long so there's no spice there for me anymore)

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Thank you! I hope this is close to what you wanted. I'm trying, really hard, to keep these under 1000 words, and so far I'm managing it! I hope you like it! This takes place sometime during the first season of TBB.

You’re lucky.

The fall of the Republic didn’t affect you, personally, in any massive way. Your job remains secure, and you’re not in any danger of losing your job in spite of the regime change.

Luckily, the new Emperor has little care as to what a massive magazine does…so long as it continues to focus on wildlife and natural landscapes. And, as a wildlife photographer, you didn’t even need to get a minor talking to, unlike some of your co-workers who often interview people.

So you’re able to continue on as you are. On the private ship that you personally own, traveling the galaxy to take pictures of natural wonders and wildlife.

That said, the fall of the Republic was…awful.

The death of the Jedi is a tragedy that even you don’t have the ability to put into words.

But your grief is nothing compared to the grief of your boyfriend.

You shift in bed, rolling over to cast your gaze over the hunched over form of Rex. He’s sitting at your desk, his gaze locked on the datapad in front of him, and you hope he’s not watching more news stories about the Purge.

Slowly you sit up, the thick blanket you prefer pooling around your waist as you watch him push his fingers through his hair. He’s let it grow out slightly, it’s now long enough that he can push his fingers through it.

“Rex?” You keep your voice light, “It’s late, why don’t you come to bed?”

“In a bit, cyare.” His voice is rough as he answers, and you frown at his back as you pull your knees up and rest your arms on them.

You should be patient with him. He lost so much…but you fear that he’s in danger of losing himself if he doesn’t take a break. Your gaze flickers to the side, as you try to come up with a way to help him.

Absently, you rub your fingers over the thick material of the shirt you’re wearing, one of his shirts, and then you pause. You look down at the material as half an idea starts to form.

You kick the blanket off your legs, and swiftly peel the shirt off, leaving you totally naked, and then you stand and walk over to him, your arms sliding around his broad shoulders as you press a light kiss against his neck.

He sighs, one of his scarred hands coming up to press against your bare arm, “Cyare-”

“You have been working, nonstop, for days.” Your voice is soft, “Am I to watch you work yourself to death, love?”

“...I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.” You kiss his neck again, and then you feel his fingers trailing against your arms, and you lean over slightly to get a look at his face, he looks, adorably, puzzled.

“Weren’t you wearing a shirt?”

“I was.” You reply lightly, “I decided that the best way to get you to take some time for us was to lose it.”

He spins the chair and his dark eyes scan your body, even in the dim light there’s still enough for him to make out all of the detail. Rex tilts his head back, a look of hunger on his handsome face, “I suppose I have been ignoring you,” He murmurs as he pulls you down to straddle one thigh.

“Only a little,” You reply lightly.

He lazily grinds you down against his thigh, before ghosting his fingers up your sides, “Are you going to give me a show, cyare?”

“Is that what you want?” You ask in turn.

Rex chuckles and pulls you into a deep, passionate, kiss. “Go on, angel. Show me what I’ve been missing.”

#star wars #tcw #vodika-vibes 500 followers celebration #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #18+ fic #clone thirsting #answered asks

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kaepop-trash · 1 year

Note

not sure if you’re still taking requests for chance encounters but i just read the whole thing in one sitting and love it sm!!! i love your more angsty drabbles so i was wondering if you’d do one where yn and johnny are on a “break” 🥹

Give Up, Give In

There were a lot of requests for going back to the club so I'm just adding some of my favourites:

Anon: I'm just a girl standing here asking for more Johnny (CE) yearning. Make him suffer ma'am 🙏🏻 [Yes ma'am🫡]

Anon: The club is your Chekhov's Gun and it's still lying unfired on the table. [This is the best ask I've ever gotten since this account started]

Anon: Just. More. Dom. OC. [Short and sweet. How can I refuse?]

Mini Masterlist

I was in quite the headspace when I was writing this and you can tell. In contrast to most other things I've published, I edited this painstakingly. Somewhere in the middle I watched Casablanca again and you can actually tell where.

This is just very intense. Idk what came over me, I think the characters came back to me like past lovers do in a dream. I wrote this in a daze. I also surprisingly like this. I'm posting it with love instead of just shrugging responsibility of it. Enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, Angst, Angst; A lot of references to a movie older than the Czech Republic; (There are just a lot of sexual warnings in this one girls) Smut, Voyeurism, Friction play, Light BDSM, Handcuffs and Whipping (not the main characters), Dom! OC/Sub! Johnny, Dom! Johnny/Sub! OC (They are switches in the most literal sense of the term), ribbon play (male receiving) [is that even real?], Abs riding, grinding, Dirty Talk, Degradation; Intense, INTENSE; So much angst like what was I thinking; Johnny's a bit of a babygirl in this lol idk how else to explain it; Pussy-whipped Johnny you are my #1; OC is mean, but Johnny actually likes it (He told me); A lot of misplaced anger and resentment (in a sexy way); Alcohol; Johnny has the kind of sadness in him that you only see in east european gay porn; There is some homosexual themes in this, don't forget that in this world everybody is bisexual (except Tenmin, they are full fruit loops); Bisexuality(?).

WC: 18.6 k (Honestly this can and should be read as a standalone.)

Her focus came in and out of the moment, mostly being drawn back by the occasional whimper or hiss that echoed loud against the cement walls.

It was a mistake coming here tonight. she knew it the moment Hyuck bought it up.

"You look lethal." Yuta crossed his arms the moment she walked into his house, equally confused and somehow proud. Beside him, Hyuck whistled. Both of them eyed her top to bottom, taking in the very nice dress she bought herself this week.

“Absolutely deadly.” Hyuck agreed, crossing his arms in front of him, “So where are we going?” He looked between the both of them.

“For dinner. A bar maybe, judging by how our friend is dressed.” Yuta mused, turning to (Y/N) for confirmation of the plan she laid out.

“What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?” She frowned.

“What?” Hyuck looked between both of them, confused, “We aren’t going to your club?”

Yuta chuckled, “No (Y/N) is staying away from the hallowed grounds.”

“Why?” Hyuck turned to her, looking offended. “I shaved my balls for this.”

Both Yuta and her turned to the boy, incredibly confused and horrified by the information he willingly volunteered

She cleared her throat, deciding it best to ignore it outright, “That’s none of your business, Lee Donghyuck.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I just told you I shaved my genitals and you’re bringing up personal businesses?”

“You volunteered that information.” She grimaced, wondering why she didn’t see this coming. “You can’t just go to there on a whim. There’s a list that’s fixed a week in advance.”

“Aren’t you literally friends with the owner?” Hyuck mirrored her arms.

“The owner's friends gets benefits." Yuta shrugged, "You're roped in by extension, it seems.”

The very mention of the person who was not to be named made her spine straighten, “We are not going to the club. I don’t want him to think I am in his space, I don’t want him to think I need to. It’s a horribly petty thing to do.”

“He might not be there at all.” Yuta offered.

“We are not going.” She repeated herself, looking at the both of them with a sense of finality.

They ended up at the club less than two hours later. After dinner, entering a “normal” club reminded her exactly why she stopped doing this after undergrad. She wanted to just go home but Hyuck and Yuta were both slick menaces. And now she was here.

One of the men in front of her cursed, bringing her attention back to the present.

Her original reasoning to slip into the basement the moment she entered the club was to mitigate even the most remote possibility of being confronted by Johnny. Another part of her was overcome with intrigue once the idea materialised.

The basement was one place she hadn’t had a chance to explore. Initially, Johnny would tease her with the idea of it, but he never lived up to his own promise in that department. A couple of months in, their visits to the club reduced considerably as work got harder and their apartments got more comfortable. Then the matter was never brought up again.

Sitting in it now, she tried to imagine what Yuta meant when he compared it to the few dungeons he frequented in Amsterdam. A few with Ten even— back when he was still single of course.

The place was a lot more elegant than the floors above, divided into confined rooms that felt larger than they were owing to the incredibly tall ceilings. Unlike the rooms on the second floor though, there was no pretence. Instead of looking like hotel rooms, each room was mostly minimal. Despite the baroque display of velvets and satins, each only had one tall bench and a few chairs. The lighting was also much brighter than the intimate dimmed ones above. The lights here were yellow and brazen, nothing hid under them. The most apparent of which were the contraptions and tools displayed audaciously on the walls, ranging from curious to downright frightening.

Despite all that attention, the rooms were also open: no door, not even a curtain to lend privacy to the inhabitants. If she was clueless about what the requirements on this floor were, taking a walk down the length of the corridor gave her the clarity she needed.

Pain of this magnitude wasn’t something she was ready to give or receive from a stranger. But she did gather that spectatorship was a part of the experience on this floor. The chairs in most rooms had at least one person seated, watching as other people made use of the various instruments available.

That is how she ended up here.

One of the rooms seemed to be void of any onlookers. Two men occupied the bench inside, looking at each other with tender trust. She stopped at the entrance, deciding that this was the palatable option. She might even learn a thing or two, she wagered.

At first, they seemed unaffected by her presence. She pulled a chair and sat down at a considerable distance, still feeling trepidation about the intrusion. She watched as they got comfortable with each other, imagining that they met here for the first time today. They decided to trust each other despite, was what she decided.

Sometimes she wished that was how her initial visit to the club went.

“What should we use?” One of the men asked the other, the yellow sleeves of his shirt brushing over the man's cheek. The other looked to be the one calling the shots, so she was waiting to know as well. But he surprised her, turning to look at (Y/N) instead.

Her eyes went wide for a moment, not sure why she was being acknowledged.

“Well? You’re wearing silver aren’t you?” The man asked, his hooded eyes impatient.

Oh.

Her hand went to touch the chain that Yuta had so creatively woven into her hairpin. It was supposed to be half a joke.

Owing to the spontaneous visit, they were unaware that there was a theme tonight. It was classic movies night and none of the three were dressed for the occasion. So they decided to keep the spirit, deciding on pursuing otherwise uncustomary situations. Hyuck said he'd do anything the first person he met told him. Yuta claimed that today would be the day he pursued his favourite bartender. And she put on the silver chain and walked into the basement. A decision taken for the interesting stories it would birth. Much like this one, she relented.

She chewed on her bottom lip, trying to think of what she could possibly say.

“I don’t think–” Yellow shirt began to speak, probably sensing her panic.

“Did I ask you?” The other was quick to interject, keeping his eyes on her.

She looked at the two men carefully, the more compliant one much taller than the one clearly in charge.

“Take your shirts off.” She said first, “You’ve been rubbing against each other like kids at church. It’s pathetic.” Hooded eyes smirked, pleased to get what he was looking for.

“You heard her little boy.” He turned back to his partner, reaching out.

“You’re own clothes. Not each other’s.” She clicked her tongue, expressing her disapproval through her tone.

And that was how it began. They were excellent at following her instructions and slowly she began to take more liberties.

People came and went behind them. The first hint of another presence had surprised her. After that she started ignoring the sound of occasional shuffling.

Except one that spoke with a voice she could not ignore. A familiar one.

Johnny was comfortable in his corner, pretending to listen to Ten explain the theme again.

“I was watching this movie with a friend while she was recovering from a broken leg. And it came to me!” He told yet another person, “Unfortunately, she isn’t here today.”

“What are you talking about?” One of Ten’s friends sat up at that, “I saw (Y/N) an hour ago.” She looked at Johnny for confirmation.

Johnny looked up, at least two pairs of eyes already on him. He shrugged, trying to play off his nonchalance by taking another sip of his drink.

“Babe,” The woman continued, poking the man beside her. “You remember seeing (Y/N) downstairs, right?”

Johnny snorted, “You must be confusing her with someone else.” He said with utter confidence. She would not be anywhere near him if she had the choice. Not after what he said.

“She’s in a white dress today, right?” He asked his partner, who nodded.

“Yeah, she’s downstairs. Martin told me when I went for a cocktail. I wasn't looking or anything.” He added quickly. “Don’t glare at me man.”

Johnny looked away, not realising he was. His mumbled apology wasn’t even trying to be genuine.

“There’s Yuta,” Ten raised his arm to call the man. “Let’s ask him.”

“There is no need.” Johnny groaned, but Ten ignored him with ease.

“What?” Yuta came up, looking thoroughly annoyed. No doubt being interrupted in the middle of something.

“Is (Y/N) here with you?” Ten asked.

Instead of answering, Yuta turned to Johnny. The cautious look he gave him gave him the answer he was looking for.

“Yeah.” He turned back to Ten.

“Where is she? It’s her theme tonight!” Like most other people, Yuta too did not care about Ten’s theme.

“You would not guess.” He said with a grin, sitting down with a conspiratorial chuckle.

And that's how Johnny ended up in the basement for the first time in a year. He walked past each room, looking in to find what he was looking for.

Johnny wasn’t sure what he’d even do when he found it. Would he stop her? Would he watch? Or would he leave her alone like he had himself wanted?

Johnny slowed his steps, only for a moment. Why did she have to come to the basement now? If she wanted to, why didn't she mention it to him? He thought she wouldn't like it. Or maybe he wasn't the one she wanted to share that with. That last thought was alone to add a spring to his step.

His thoughts only spurred him on as he passed more rooms without her in it. Almost crossing one, he stopped to take a few steps back. He had to be sure that the back that was facing him was the one he was seeking.

She was in white like Ten's friend had stated, a dress he never had the privilege of seeing before tonight. Head rested on her hand, she was watching someone else. He relaxed, walking further into the room. Once her side came into view, the relief that came over him seemed to piss him off. Any thought of leaving her alone evaporated with it. This was supposed to be what he wanted.

“I had to see it for myself.” He scoffed, the novelty of the situation only just coming to him. (Y/N) turned in her chair, looking up at him with surprise in her eyes. “Trying new things? You could have told me if you wanted to come down here. At least I know what your limits are. You were never the best communicator.”

“I would assume that I know my own limits best.” She turned away from him, back to the two men in front of her. Not a hint of kindness in her eyes.

He really must have said too much that night.

One of the men sat quietly on the large wooden bench every room had, yellow shirt hanging over his shoulders, in place because his hands were cuffed behind him. The other man stood over him, a flog in his hands. His white pants matched her dress.

“Has he stopped asking for more?” She questioned the one standing. Both the men were watching her, waiting.

“Then why did you stop?” She questioned, voice impatient. “Does the little boy want something stronger?” Yellow shirt nodded like he was waiting for the question.

(Y/N) chuckled, getting up to walk to the small chest of cupboards. She leaned over, making Johnny finally notice the length of her dress— high above her knee. Pure instinct made him turn to the other people in the room, watching her with undoubtedly the same thought on their minds.

“Someone isn’t on theme.” Johnny clicked his tongue. It made the guys turn to look at him, then between the two of them.

Suddenly Johnny felt like they were the spectators, and he was the one on display with her.

“I didn’t plan on coming here tonight, so I didn’t receive the memo.” She didn’t even look at him, standing up with a thick whip in her hand.

“Eyes on me boys.” She turned to the boys, “Do you want this?” She questioned and the one meant to be on the receiving end nodded eagerly.

She chuckled, walking over to them and handing the tool over.

“Such an obedient boy, aren’t you?” She cooed, hand on his chin. Yellow shirt nodded enthusiastically. Giving in to her so easily that it nauseated Johnny. That would get them nowhere.

Keeping her eyes on his face and her fingers stroking his cheek, she handed the whip to the other guy.

“Start slow. You’re being too hostile.” She turned to the man with a warning.

“He likes it.” He defended, her hooded gaze remained bemused.

“I’m the one who’s calling the shots, am I not?” She raised a brow. The man swallowed, giving her a quick nod. As complaint as his companion.

This was no fun.

Johnny scoffed rather loudly, but she ignored him and as a consequence, the boys ignored him as well.

“What will you tell me you'd do?” She continued, focused on the man.

“I will listen and follow instructions.”

“Like a what?”

“Like the slut I like to pretend I’m not.”

She smiled, letting the one in yellow go to run a hand through this one’s hair. He closed his hooded eyes to enjoy the feeling.

“Good. Now do what you’re told.” He nodded and she let go, turning around to walk back to where she was.

Her eyes met Johnny’s finally.

“Can I help you?” She asked him, the tyrannical tone bleeding into the question. Johnny’s cock twitched for the first time that evening.

“You can start by reminding yourself who you’re speaking to, pet. Or do you need assistance?” Johnny tongued his cheek, shoving his restless fingers into his pocket.

She looked at him with disbelief for a moment. When she rolled her eyes, he was sure she was taunting him.

“You can keep your reminders to yourself.” She rubbed her hands together, “I didn’t come here to play with you.”

“Why are you here at all?” Johnny raised a brow, unable to hide the vexation in his voice. Why didn't she tell him she wanted to come to the basement?

It earned him the first flash of anger in her, so far, apathetic gaze. “I didn’t realise you were marking territory? Am I barred from coming here now?”

“I was asking a question.” He took in a cautious breath, realising that she thought he meant the club. Perhaps, the alternative made him look less bothered.

“Can't you see?” she pointed at the two boys, “I'm simply minding my own business. Why have you come down here? Looking for me?” She leaned against the head of the chair she was seated in before, waiting for his response.

Johnny let out a humourless laugh, “Who said I was looking for you?”

“I haven’t known you to come to the basement before.” She pointed.

“Just because I haven’t come here with you, doesn’t mean I’m a stranger to the place."

The words did what they were intended to do, her anger flared with an inhale she tried to play off. Johnny had to bite down his smile.

“Okay, be on your way then.” She flicked her hand towards the exit, dismissing him. "There are other rooms."

Johnny took a step towards her instead, “I stopped at this one because I could not believe you could be a watcher. I wanted to see for myself."

“She told you to leave man, why are you ruining our night?” The boy in yellow whined, making Jaehyun turn to find both men watching the exchange. The other one kept his eyes on Johnny.

She turned to meet his gaze, “Did I say you can speak?” She questioned. The boy gulped, shaking his head. “If you’re that impatient then get on with it. I didn’t say you can stop.” He nodded, turning back to the man in white pants with a demand, his eyes still watching Johnny. He looked familiar.

Johnny whistled and hissed, bringing her attention back to him. “Look at you. Even I almost believe that look on your face. What’s wrong, baby? You sound mad.” He cooed, mocking her.

“What’s wrong is that you’ve sauntered in here to ruin my night.” She failed to hide her frown.

"Ruin?" Johnny's voice raised in taunt. "I'm sorry to disturb your little pageant. You must have been enjoying just how easy this was before I walked in. They're eating up your every word, you must be elated."

Her jaw flexed and Johnny had to resist the urge to close the gaping distance between them.

"If you're done with your tantrum. You can leave now." She aimed her gaze at the door, a single and final order. It was Johnny's turn to flex his jaw. Tantrum.

"If you think this is a tantrum then what should we call your fucking fits?" He clamped his jaw the moment he heard the edge in his voice.

"We don't have to call them anything." Her volume rose, taking a step forward, daring him to continue.

"There it is." He smiled victoriously, "Why don't you stomp your foot while you're at it. Let's show everybody what you're really like under this act."

He could see the way she got blinded by her rage. For him he realised, that was something only he was capable of pulling out of her.

He should have backed off but Johnny stayed pinned in place, momentarily consumed by his sick desires to always get a rise out of her. He knew she wanted it too, her breathing hitched but eyes stayed glued on him. It was deranged but this is what he has signed up for with her.

“Fine," She said after a well contemplated silence. Johnny's lips quirked, knowing he was right as usual. Finally she was going to give in to him. For once. "Take off your chain and I’ll give you what you want.”

His smile faltered, brows furrowing. He regained himself quickly, reminding himself that he was being foolish to believe it would be that easy. Not after he was the one who told her they'd be taking a break. Not after the unnecessary things he'd said.

It was a silly thing that he regretted the moment he proposed it. But the tone she had ignored him for no reason still made his blood boil. At least he had the decency to lay down his intentions in front of her. She had absolutely no right to be angry. And yet, she was furious at him. It was evident in how she refused to so much as look at him since he had made the proposition, acting like he wasn't even there. Refusing to share an elevator, refusing to bring papers to his office.

He wanted to be civil but she went to great lengths to stay out of his path. Even reminding him that he wanted this when he asked her why she was sending interns with tasks that were done easier without the middleman.

It was infuriating and it only offended Johnny further. Even now, he was the one to come here with his pride between his legs. He told himself that he would not give in till she relented first.

“And what is it that I want, Kitten?”

“What you always want.” She turned to walk back to her chair, pulling the object closer to him, letting it grate against the cement floor harshly. “Me.”

Johnny's teeth against each other. Taking his hands out of his pocket, he folded his arms. No, it was her turn to give in.

“I will give you what you want if you take that chain off.” He pointed at her head.

“What I want is for you to leave. If you can’t do that, I will have to abandon my new friends.” She pointed behind her.

They reached a stalemate with her words, silently sizing each other up. In the back, the boys had forgotten about the commotion all together. The sound of clicking locks signalled the introduction of the bondage frame. The next sound was the clean crack of a whip, followed by a harsh inhale once it touched skin. Johnny took in a sharp inhale himself, the sounds tempting him.

“What good will taking mine off do?” Johnny spoke through raspy breathing, “You give up too soon anyway. You don’t know how to be in charge.” Another slash echoed against the walls, this time Johnny exhaled slow. “You only know how to be a brat.”

Despite his words, she smiled, watching him shift on his feet. “Two weeks without being inside me and you’re already forgetting things.”

“Has it been that long already? I didn’t even notice.”

“Sure. The last time you went this long, you were throwing tantrums like this.”

It was Johnny’s time to be racked with anger, his exhale slow, dangerous.

The whips increased in frequency and moans filled the large roam, bouncing across the walls with urgency.

“Go slow.” She lashed, turning her attention back to the couple.

“Sorry." Both of them said together, the one whipping dropped his arm. The other opened his glazed eyes.

Johnny should have brought (Y/N) to the basement himself.

“Sorry what?”

“Sorry, miss.” They said in tandem.

Johnny scoffed, “I never realised what a good teacher I was.”

“What do you fucking want?” She turned back to him, lips twisted with irritation. “You wanted a break, didn't you? What was it that you said?” She finally sat down, leaning back and crossing her legs. “That’s right. “You wanted a change. What happened, are you bored already?"

"No," Johnny shrugged, unclasping his arms from his chest to walk towards her. "I just wanted to see what you were doing with your free time. It's such a pity to see you waste it. The only person bored here is you apparently." This time he did smile, enjoying the way she averted her gaze, "So I came to offer you a game just for tonight."

"Not interested. You need to come up with better excuses."

Johnny hummed like he didn't believe her, shadow falling over his entire form as he came closer. Her brows knit, gearing up to defend the truth. He cut her off before she could even speak.

"Stand up." He ordered, stopping his stride only when his knee touched the chair.

She blinked, practically rendered silent by his audacity. What pissed her off more was how she almost did it, the chair audibly screeching back before she could reign her instincts in.

(Y/N) crossed her arms, mirroring his stance from earlier as she sat back to play off the slip, pretending she was just trying to sit back.

She knew it didn't work when Johnny smirked. She was busy preparing herself for when he asked again, to stand her ground with more conviction. Instead, he leaned down, kneeling in front of her. The act was in sharp contrast to his previous words, giving her whiplash and leaving her out of depth.

His fingers brushed her dress, staring at her lap in a way that made her think he would rest his head against it. It was a thought that had no place in the given circumstances. Slowly he looked up with a tender gaze that was equally out of place.

"What game do you have in mind?" She asked, mostly to distract herself from the way her heart leapt when she met his eyes. After all this time, he still had the ability to make her feel so excruciatingly timid.

"It's movie night." His voice was soft, "Let's pretend to be different people." He ran his tongue over his cheek.

She wasn't sure what to make of the statement. After all this time he never stopped being an enigma.

"Who are you dressed as?" She looked down at his white shirt, making a note of the undone bowtie, "Roger Moore as James Bond?"

"I prefer Sean Connery."

She took the bowtie between her fingers, "You don't have his raw sexual magnetism."

Johnny's lips twitched and she couldn't help the way her own mirrored it.

"If we're going to be playing parts," She sighed, not entirely sure how he'd managed to lure her in. Then again, she was always too ready to give in to him, "Let's play ones different from who we really are. Something to keep this night out of our," She failed to hide the sliver of indignation in her deep inhale, "Current situation."

Johnny licked his lips, looking somewhere between amused and rattled. Yet again, she was stunned by his audacity.

"In that case, I have the perfect thing." He took her hand in hers, bringing it up to kiss her palm. This time her indignated inhale came before a pained exhale.

He came closer instead of finishing his thought, leaning till their noses touched.

"Let's pretend we're in love."

Her eyes froze over in an instant, a foreign gasp making her turn back to the people who were now spectators to her vulnerability. Both of them watched with bated breaths, their own preoccupations long forgotten. They watched her, waiting for her response.

She pushed Johnny without looking at him. Predictably, he did not budge. When it happened the third time she did turn back, liquid rage dripping from her glare. Her mind mulled over a response multiple times, the sort of words that would express her outrage without hinting at her agony. It fell short, not finding the right ones to express how deeply unkind his words were. Not without betraying her closely guarded secret.

He was still close to her, close enough to let her count the lashes that framed his amber eyes, to see the stray one that fell on his cheek. This close it was easy to see that he was the most beautiful man on earth, easy to forget everything and just fall an inch closer. It was easy to want nothing more than to press her lips against his, to forget they were meant to be apart. This close she didn't need to pretend to be in love.

"Oh god." She heard Yuta's voice, cutting through the haze of lust that began to overcast her decisions. "(Y/N)." He marched up to them.

Only when she heard his footsteps stop beside did she turn from Johnny.

"Let's go, babe." He pointed his thumb at the door, whistling to play off the urgency.

She turned back to Johnny, who had moved back a few inches now. Miles, as far as their usual proximity was concerned.

She sighed, pushing her chair back.

"What do you need (Y/N) for?" Johnny asked casually.

"I need to keep her away from you." Yuta clicked his tongue, laughing awkwardly when Johnny turned to frown at him. "Nothing personal, buddy. She made me promise I would." He pointed at her.

Johnny turned to her, raising a brow. Waiting for confirmation.

"Don't bother. My instructions are to take her away whether she likes it or not. You know how crazy our (Y/N) is." Yuta chuckled like he was making small talk. She got out of her chair with a loud screech.

"Let's go." She grabbed Yuta's arm to turn him around, "I need a fat drink."

"You need a fat something." He scoffed, knowing himself that he deserved the smack she landed on his arm

"At least try to think before you speak sometimes." She groaned.

"Just tell her man." One of the boys spoke up, reminding Johnny of their presence. It was the one in yellow, his brows furrowed in deep thought. His companion scoffed, shaking his head.

"Did anybody say you can stop whipping?" Johnny raised a brow at the guy with the object in his hand. "Did you tell him to stop?" He asked the one tied up. Both shook their heads.

"In that case, you need to focus on your own endeavours." Johnny stood up from the floor, brushing the dirt of the knees of his good pants. "Enjoy your night."

As he turned to walk away, the sound of a whip cracked through the silence.

(Y/N) seemed to find more than a few merits in the basement. On top of being less crowded, the basement bar also housed some interesting liquor choices. A tequila bottle with a worm and some Baiju with an entire snake sat side by side on the shelf at eye level. While she would not be trying them, she could respect Ten's sense of humour.

Yuta also swore that this was the bar with the best cocktails. Martin, the bartender, was a legend on the premises if her best friend's claims were true. Patrons would sometimes grace the floor to only stop for a drink. She was sufficiently intrigued.

Nails tapped against the stone surface of the bar as they waited for the cocktails in question. She also waited for Yuta to speak, getting impatient and agitated from his stare.

"I just don't understand why you keep doing this." He huffed. Never one to express any overt opinion on the matter, she was caught off guard by his frustration. "If you really want to stay out of his way then do it."

"I'm trying. He came to me."

“You and I both know that you can enforce a boundary when you want to.” He groaned, looking away like the whole thing was making him uncomfortable. “Look, I don’t want to sit here and act like I can give you any real advice. I just want to ask you if you’re sure about what you’re doing.”

She could never lie to Yuta, not in a convincing way at least. She stopped tapping her nails, rubbing her fingers together and watching the bright lights above reflect on her nails.

“I know what I'm supposed to be doing. What it’s supposed to be like.” She mumbled the confession, spotting a chip in her nail enamel. “But it’s confusing with him. Everything is confusing with him.” Teeth ground against teeth as she let the words wash over her. She needed a manicure. She needed to stop doing this to herself.

"This has started to feel self-inflicted to me." Yuta assessed with accuracy.

"It needs to end." She spoke, the words rattling her to the core.

It was the only way left now.

"Then do it? What exactly are you waiting for?" Yuta raised a brow, making it blatant that he was baiting her.

Her lips parted, answer ready on her lips. She bit her tongue the next moment, putting the thought away.

"How do you just expect him to notice that you're this in love with him when you put so much effort into hiding it?"

She looked up at him fast, "I’m not–"

"Spare me, (Y/N)." He cut her off, "The only person who can't tell is the man himself. And that’s only because he’s too busy being in love with you.”

“Stop.” She shook her head, “That just isn’t true.”

“Are you stupid?”

“Fuck off, Yuta. You don’t know all of it. You’ve seen him be nice, you’ve seen him take me to the orthopaedic’s, seen him get me drinks. But you don’t know how he is. If Johnny loved me, he would say it.”

“Like you say it?” His brows furrowed, looking angry. She had never seen Yuta angry at her.

“It’s not the same.” She took a deep breath, her lungs fracturing from the force. A sound of wood cracking filled the air, followed by the laughs of multiple people. She turned back to see the cause of the commotion. Someone shouted that a bench broke, followed by a reassurance that everybody was fine.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yuta spoke after, “You keep torturing the guy because you don't know what to do about how you feel. And you torture yourself because you don't want to make a decision." Yuta paused, giving a sympathetic sigh. "I love you, but it's not fair, you know that. He drops everything for you, I can’t believe you don’t see how he lets you toy with him. He’s always at the mercy of your whims and he doesn’t even mind it. Do you want to be the kind of person who does that to someone? He’s a decent guy."

She knew he was right. But he also didn't know all of it.

"I don't want to torture him." She admitted, keeping her eyes fixed on the white bar top, “He's always trying to get a rise out of me and I just,” She paused to sigh, yet again feeling confronted by her own state. These were things she’d never said before. “So I give him what he wants, a fair fight. I don't know how this ended up being the kind of thing where we keep pushing to see how far it can go.”

Yuta frowned, visibly bothered by the notion. She couldn't blame him. It seemed to be like this all the time now. Both of them looked for reasons to fight lately, like they were testing to see who would get up and call it off first. Loving him made her angry and picking fights made it easier to pin that anger on the right target. He had begun to find her frustrating as a result.

"Why not just talk it out? It can't be worse than it is now?" Yuta questioned.

About this, he would be wrong. She knew Johnny too well by now. He would try to play it off, say that they can give it a shot without meaning it. Johnny was used to being admired, he would never understand its intensity. He would take it as easy as he took most things and it would ruin her.

"I think," She paused, looking up at the ceiling with a groan. "I'm not afraid of rejection. If he said no it would hurt, but I'd move on." She looked back down at her friend with a heavier heart. "What I'm afraid of is that he would say yes without meaning it. He's okay with everything. If I asked him for a relationship he'd say okay, if I ask him I never want to see him again he'd say okay too. If I asked him for the real thing I'd want it to work. But I don't know what he wants."

She sighed, thinking about how complacent he was about everything. When she decided to ignore him on a whim he left it alone, when she decided to spend the last week of her recovery at Yuta's he was okay with it. He was okay with her sleeping with Doyoung and when she told him they don't anymore he was okay with that too.

"Johnny is just always okay with everything." She spat the words, before she sighed again. "I know that's not fair I just–" She paused again, entirely lost on what she even wanted. "If he loves me, he does a terrible job showing it."

“Oh,” Yuta said. To his credit, she could tell that he was trying to understand. “That does sounds complicated.”

That was what finally made her laugh. Complicated was exactly what she’d spend her entire life avoiding. It was why she spent her weekends with her friends and why she was insistent on keeping things casual with Johnny.

She nodded in agreement, a pitiful smile lifting her lips. "I'm ready to take all of it too. That's how afraid I am to be without him. I keep playing his games and I keep making new ones. Hoping it will keep him interested. Hoping that for once he'd say more than okay. Even if it was a no." She groaned, once again angry at herself.

"What happened to you?" Both of them laughed, her face scrunching.

"I don't know, man. I've tried so many times to figure out how I let a person rattle the peace I’ve spent my entire life protecting. A man who could replace me without any effort."

"No one can replace you." He sounded offended.

She scoffed, mostly finding his reassurance touching.

"I get that you're moping, but you make no sense." Yuta's brows furrowed, "He's wrapped around your fingers."

"That's just because I keep him on his toes." She shrugged, "To overthrow predictability is to strive for more compelling experiences." She repeated the words Johnny had said to get once, the words leaving her tongue bitter.

Yuta tapped his knuckles on the bar with a frustrated groan, pointing an accusatory finger at her. " I told you to not play fuck monopoly. You've gone and turned it into a tournament." Yuta groaned, knocking his shoulder against hers.

"I should have listened to you.” She admitted, lips twitching when Yuta looked surprised at the confession. “Sometimes I wish it wasn't so combative. If I wasn't so afraid of losing him every second he's with me, then maybe I'd love him without fighting it all the time."

The words left her heavier than she imagined, wishing she really could do it. When she wasn't so busy fighting it with all her might, she knew that loving him was worth all of the things it came with.

"You can just love him." Yuta's words made her close her eyes in denial, "Everybody is at the risk of being lost, no? Nobody comes with a guarantee, why should he? I could have a heart attack tonight while having the best sex of my life and you will never see me again. You don't fight our friendship? Why fight this?"

She looked up a little at loss, unnerved by the wisdom Yuta suddenly imparted.

"What?" He asked.

"I can't believe you just live, laugh, loved this." She snorted. Despite everything, she felt more grateful for Yuta now than she ever had before. "I appreciate this. Really, you are my ride or die." She gave his hand a squeeze.

"Aw, you're so sentimental. Do you still want me to keep you away from Johnny?"

"Yes."

Yuta sighed, "I guess I was also being too optimistic expecting you to change overnight. Think this through when you can."

"I will." She promised.

"That's good enough for me."

Leaning against the bar, head resting on her palm, she took in another deep sigh. (Y/N) had lost count of how many it had been. A deep melancholy had settled in her bones and it could neither be shaken off nor be cured.

"What can I get you?" The bartender came up to her.

Her order came to the tip of her tongue like it was second nature, a glass of whatever red was the best. But she stopped herself when she realised that it was Johnny's second choice, not hers. Then she thought to ask for a whiskey but immediately realised that it was Johnny's first. Maybe making a simple decision shouldn't be so complicated.

"A gin and tonic for the lady, Martin. The one you make with the lavender gin." Johnny spoke as he took the seat in front of her. "Since she walked into my gin joint of all places."

The words made her finally realise what he meant to dress as, a humorous smile tugging at her lips.

It had been a while since she'd seen him properly. Johnny had spent most of the past few weeks on a work trip, spending the remainder of his time on the recording floor. The rest, she took the effort of being out of his way, taking his need for a break to heart. A break from her, he meant. It was the least she could do.

Right now, in the depths of her despair and with two glasses of two different liquors in her, she allowed herself a good look.

To her misfortune, he looked as he always did. As breathtaking as the first day she walked into this club. He was different behind these walls too; always at ease, not exhausted, not burdened by the condition of his position. In here Johnny was always just a man.

She seemed to understand then. He wanted a break to get back to this, to be carefree and fun. Without the predictability and bitterness that had settled into what they had. Her fingers squeezed the edge of the bar.

Johnny ran his index finger over the rim of his glass, mixing the sound with the tapping of his shoe— making some unknown melody. The action brought her attention to the flicker on his wrist, from where hung a single gold chain. Her eyes wandered to his collar, where the silver chain from earlier was missing.

"What brings you here, Miss?" He sat back in his chair, his eyes sparkling under the sparse lights.

She took a moment, taking his words in. His question was an open ended request. She could be anybody she wished right now, say whatever she wished. She could be carefree and fun, be as unpredictable as she liked.

She could make him stay.

"A miscalculation. I thought it would be an enjoyable night. Yet I'm stuck making boring small talk with a man who thinks he can order drinks for me." She couldn't help the words, the anger from before still remaining. If he wanted time away from her then why did he keep coming in her way? Why did he make it hard for her to walk away from him?

She could be anybody at that moment. Yet, (Y/N) chose to be herself.

Johnny's eyes danced with embers, tongue darting out to lick his eager lips. He chose to be himself too.

"My apologies, Miss." He tipped his head, not meaning it in the slightest.

"You seem to know my tastes." She picked the drink up once Martin placed it in front of her, giving him a quick smile.

"I am a man of many talents." Johnny answered.

"I was talking to the bartender, Sir." She turned to him, nose raised high. Martin chuckled, apologising to Johnny almost immediately after he could. The title was meant to mock the one he used for her. Yet the very formation of the word on her tongue reminded her that it was a word between people they were trying to run away from at the moment.

Johnny's lips twitched and she couldn't tell what it implied, what he was reacting to.

"What brings you here?" She asked, humouring him at last.

"To this place?"

"To me."

Johnny chewed his bottom lip, clearly a little frustrated at her adamant need to be difficult. In truth, she couldn't be sure why she was being like this either. But Johnny liked when he was cornered, rendered retortless. And the distress marked so clearly across his face made the depths of her belly twist in a way it hadn't in weeks.

"Do you gamble?" She asked him, once again steering the conversation away from the dead ends she sent them into herself.

"I did once, lost everything I had."

"That must have been hard. My condolences to you."

"It doesn't matter to me. At least we'll always have Paris." He gave her a smile that was uncharacteristically warm. It pulled her out of the act, reminding her of what she was missing.

(Y/N) remembered making Ten and Johnny watch the movie. One of her all time favourites, she had warned him when he complained about the cliché premise. She knew that was why he was doing this. She just couldn't tell if it was out of spite or affection.

"My husband is waiting for me upstairs. I must go to him." She stood up, breath catching in her throat when he caught her wrist.

"Your husband is gambling."

"My husband doesn't gamble."

"We all gamble, my love."

She jerked her hand out of his hold, the words stinging her like a live wire. Sucking in her teeth she couldn't help the way her face twisted, seething.

"You will be back." Johnny sat back, face neutral.

"Why would I?" She tapped her hand on the bar, lifting her drink into her free hand.

"Because we all have something at stake." He let her hand go, eyes shifting with sorrow. She wondered if he'd always been such a good actor.

Johnny played her face over in his mind so many times that he hoped it would dull the pang in his chest. Could it really be that bad? Did she hate the idea that much? Was being in love with him that unpleasant a thought to her?

He groaned, sitting up on the sofa. The sound earned his friends attention, Ten turning to him with a particularly impatient gaze. He looked ready to say something.

"Can you just–" He began, his husband's hand coming up to stop him.

"Johnny needs another drink." Taemin gave Ten a warning look, turning to Johnny after. "There's a good Japanese whiskey out today." He offered with a smile, pitying him.

Johnny wanted to scoff, but he was aware that he had successfully over wrung everybody's patience. So he nodded and got up to leave.

He realised that he had become the reason he avoided the fancies of things as tedious as love, sitting here by himself drowning his aching sorrows in alcohol too expensive to be drunk so copiously. Just like the movie he had made fun of, Johnny was yet again a cliché.

"This needs to stop." He mumbled to himself, not remotely drunk enough to pull half the antics he did tonight.

Johnny had always believed that he’d find love when the time was right. He never sought it out because he believed that these things happened on their own. The fact that he spent the entirety of his twenties building his company was something he was proud of. He didn’t believe he had wasted the time.

In truth, Johnny had spent his entire life working towards something. Too occupied to ever feel loneliness in the way it was perhaps meant to be experienced. Which was probably why he wasn’t prepared for it. Love had finally found him and Johnny was plunged headfirst into wanting something that he failed to work towards. There was nowhere to go. What he wanted was right in front of him. He just didn’t have the courage to grab it.

He heard the hesitant intake of breath he’d recognise anywhere. The sound dragging him out of his musings.

"You were right." Her words pierced through his thoughts.

Johnny halted the urge to whip his head immediately at the sound.

"Are you here to finally gamble?" He spoke to his glass. She came around to stand in front of him, shaking her head.

Her hand reached out, moving the few stray strands off his face, When he flinched at the touch, she retreated her fingers quickly.

"You aren't the only one to have lost everything in Paris." She spoke carefully.

He sighed, the sound more like the wince of hot sand when it finally rained. Looking up, his eyes met her vulnerable ones, the ones he’d keep making the same stupid mistakes for. The ones he'd happily run into a million dead ends for.

Johnny put his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She didn't fight it and he was sure that his relief was written across his face as he rested his forehead against hers.

“Who are you really?” He sighed.

“We said no questions.” She sighed along with him; caressing his hair, playing his game.

"We have to stop doing this to each other. To ourselves." He let the liquor speak for him, soaking up the courage it came with. Johnny took a breath, telling himself to take the leap; to say what he needed to say, to ask for what he yearned to have.

Her hand landed on his arm, squeezing. “Johnny.” Her whisper trembled past her lips.

“Hmm?” He said with incredible caution, squeezing her tighter and bringing her closer. Slowly he opened his eyes, waiting for her to speak.

“Let me go. I don't like this game anymore.” She tried to get away from his hold.

Johnny’s brows furrowed, “What?” He breathed out, not expecting that. He was being serious, he needed to speak before he lost his nerve.

“Just,” She huffed. “Move. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” She hit his shoulder when he didn’t listen.

“You came to me.” He reminded her.

“Yes, and now I want to go.” She grit her teeth. “Please.” She pleaded, practically whimpered in pain, and his hands relaxed the very next moment, letting her go.

“Whatever, (Y/N). I’m tired of this.” He turned away from her.

Despite her earlier insistence, she faltered. He could see her watching him from the corner of her sight, hesitating. Just as he turned to call her out on it, or to finally ask (he wasn't sure), a voice called his name. Both of them turned.

“Hey Johnny,” It was Jessica, the model. “Can you come with me for a moment?”

Johnny turned his gaze to look at (Y/N), finding her jaw gritted and eyes fixed on the girl. His lips quirked despite himself, tongue sliding over his lower lip as it lifted.

“Sure.” He sat up, “I was done here anyways.” He stood up from his seat.

“What?” Johnny stopped in front of Ten. If the way he snapped didn’t betray his irritation, he hoped his face did. “Why did you send Jessica to call me?”

Ten turned to Johnny, taking in the apparent displeasure with a frown of his own.

“Yuta mentioned that he’s meant to keep the two of you apart. I thought I would add to the effort.” Ten shrugged.

Johnny ran her hands through his hair, “Okay.” He groaned, sounding anything but. “But why did you send Jessica?”

“She was passing by and she knows you.”

“Yeah but now (Y/N) thinks–” He paused, exhaling in a way that sounded like another groan. “Nevermind. Did you even want anything?”

“Not really.” Ten smacked his lips, “If I avoided all the people you’ve slept with in my club then I would have had to go call you myself.”

“You should have since you’re so passionate about this. (Y/N) can make her own decisions, just leave it alone.” He flicked a pillow from behind Ten, making the guy fall back into the sofa.

Ten turned around, eyes laced with intention.

“You’re a coward Johnny.”

“Ten.” Taemin cautioned but his conviction did not falter.

“You need to grow up and have a real conversation with the girl you love.” He continued, giving his best friend a pertinent look. “You’re just punishing yourself and that girl for no reason.” His face softened for a moment, looking like he was pitying Johnny. “Sometimes we ruin things beyond repair by letting it be.”

“You need to,” Johnny took a step closer, “Leave it alone.” It was a plea, partially because he knew Ten was right.

“He’s right.” Taemin interjected, “You can’t meddle in his matters.”

"I'm not meddling." Ten hissed at his husband, "I'm tired of watching my best friend wallow in a misery of his own making." He looked at Johnny, "It won't go away if you ignore it. And it won't change till you do something about it. So why?" He asked.

Johnny rubbed his hand over his face, not in his right mind or place to have this conversation. “You don’t get it.” He said with a lost voice.

“You have to do something, Johnny. Do you expect to live in limbo?” Ten added.

He expected her to deal the death blow. Something he would not say out loud. This entire time he had expected— practically hoped— that she would be the one who would have left by now. He would have accepted it, he would have swallowed it as an inevitable, and he would have taken solace in having been right from the start. That she would get bored of him.

He had been so sure of it that he wasn't prepared for this. He hadn't accounted for ever making it this far.

Johnny nodded to Ten, a silent promise. His friend was right, no matter how much it pissed him off. Johnny knew he would at least have to make a decision soon.

(Y/N) walked away from Johnny with cold hands. This was it, her steps faltered. She walked as far away as she could. All the preparation she had done for that exact moment had evaporated with his words. She couldn’t believe that she ran away like she did, only delaying the inevitable.

He was ready to do it, she could feel it in her bones. She could read it all over his face.

I’m tired of this.

That was the exact indifference to the matter she had feared most of all.

Whatever.

It was like being stabbed by a rusted knife— messy and unnecessary in its cruelty.

Whatever, (Y/N).

Her head hurt, she pushed through to get deeper into the club. To somewhere she could not be found. She needed to prepare herself better for this. She was afraid she’d beg him to say, afraid she’d cry. This wasn't the place or the state of mind she needed to be in for this.

Whatever.

She took a deep breath. No, she needed to prepare herself better.

She couldn’t believe that he would do it here. And he would have. Her exhale came out irate, he would have held her in place and told her he was tired of her.

He would have finished the thought had it not been for the model. Miss belly button herself. Her next breath came out utterly furious.

She was tired of this too, she coaxed herself. Tired of being stuck in limbo with the most elusive man she could have possibly laid hands on. She was tired of loving him too, she lied to herself.

She stopped, realising that she was in the emerald alcove. Yuta’s favourite corner. It was a cosy spot lined by arches that circled the area, littered with chairs that were closer together. Each arch had large and thick curtains that were never drawn, but nonetheless served as a visual policy that added to the sense of seclusion it was meant to emulate.

It was also the part of the club where Johnny had fucked his blonde companion on that night.

(Y/N) shoved the thought out of her head as fast as it emerged. The first order of business would be to stop thinking about him all the damn time.

She picked up her drink from the bar, a sweet and potent cocktail this time, her kind of drink. Looking around to find a corner to sit in, her eyes landed on a man at the bar. One she recognised. One of the guys from the basement. The rough one with hooded eyes.

"The glasses really change your face." She sat down on the bar stool beside the one he occupied. The man looked up, surprised to see her.

"Usually people tell me how used to my glasses they are, that my face feels empty without them," He smiled to himself. "But I suppose we met under extraordinary circumstances." He tapped his glass, still giving her an odd look.

"You look disconcerted by the memory." She pursed a smile.

"Not particularly, I just didn't think I'd see you again. I'm a little surprised in all honesty." He commented.

"It's a small world." She shrugged.

"It's an even smaller guest list."

This time she did smile.

"I do finally understand why new faces are such a sensation around here." She continued into a new territory, enjoying the confusion on his face.

"Isn't it so?" He snapped back into a casual retort almost immediately. "It gets awkward really fast when everybody is a friend of a friend."

"Speaking of, where's your friend?" She looked around, wondering if he was close.

The guy smiled, almost like he was expecting it. "Why? Would you prefer his company to mine?"

She looked back, "I'm just curious." Her shrug was noncommittal.

"He must be around here somewhere." The man shrugged back, equally evasive. "We aren't friends, we just fuck sometimes. These big, important men and their secret need to be in the palm of someone's hand." He told her like she somehow knew what he was talking about.

She gave him a puzzled look that made him chuckle.

"I thought Johnny Suh used to wear copper as a joke." This time he steered the conversation into new waters, "But you, I always knew were the silver type." He pointed a finger at her, more victorious than accusatory.

"Nonsense." She laughed.

"You're a natural. I knew it on the day the man spent the entire evening on the floor with your foot in his lap."

"I," She paused, stunned at the mention of the day. From the perspective of a virtual stranger nonetheless. "I can't believe you saw that." She blushed, the memory coming back. It was a joke, something they did to see how their friends would react. It never occurred to her before now how it might look to an onlooker.

"Small pool." He shrugged, "When I first started coming here, I had my eyes on him. But it's easy to tell that he's not the surrendering type. So when I saw that, I couldn't help but have my eyes on you."

She was surprised by the easy confession, an effortless breeze .

"Did I live up to your expectations or was it disappointing?" She questioned, playing her surprise off as flirtation.

"Yes and no." The man smiled, pushing his specs higher up. "On one hand I've finally solved the mystery that is Johnny Suh."

"Oh.” She stopped to wonder if she should ask him to elaborate, thinking against it immediately after. “And on the other?" She asked instead.

"I really wish you did more than just watch."

Her mouth opened with evident surprise, the words so easily said. An absolute and uncomplicated request. The man laughed, clearly enjoying the surprise on her face. It made her snap back.

"Maybe in a few months, we can get back to this." She half joked.

"Months?" He winced, "Are you going on a trip?" He sniggered.

She smiled, not willing to elaborate any further.

"Something to look forward to nonetheless." He raised a glass, "I think your usual is waiting for you." He pointed over her shoulder, making her turn.

Her usual was sitting on one of the sofas, at a considerable distance. She wouldn't even have noticed him without the prompt.

"Well, your glasses work for sure." She squinted. "Trying to get rid of me?" She asked while trying to gauge Johnny's expression. She was unfortunately not wearing her own glasses.

The man laughed, "No, I just believe that some things are best left unbreached." His voice was careful.

She turned back, "And here I thought you were flirting with me."

"Oh I absolutely am. I just have different tastes. Also best left unencroached." He licked his lips.

Her eyes fell on the movement, "I have ears and an open mind." She looked up deliberately slow.

"I don't know, will you just using me to make a point?" He teased, eyes darting behind her.

"You don't seem to mind being used."

His cheeks turned red and it made her lips twitch. She had been denying herself the extent of what the club had to offer, (Y/N) realised.

The man's eyes went behind her again just as she heard shuffling. She rolled her eyes to the heaven's themselves. Eventually, she'd tire of Johnny's predictable antics. Maybe then she'd tire of her own too.

"Is she bothering you again?" Johnny put a hand on her waist, effortless and clear in its intention.

"We were just getting to know each other." The man smiled.

She realised that she hadn't caught his name yet.

"Are you finally socialising?" The question was blatantly aimed at her. But she pretended not to understand, turning to call the bartender over instead.

"A repeat?" The server pointed to her glass but she shook her head.

"Water."

"Time for us to go home, babe?" Johnny leaned down, his breathy question warning her neck. The heat from his hand burned her through her dress as well. The assumption in his words burning her pride.

"You're intruding." The words slipped from her tongue. She didn't look at Johnny but the other man looked up at him with a glint in his eyes.

Johnny laughed again, this time a little more nervous. Good, she thought. She was done pretending to take him in stride.

"(Y/N)–" Johnny began, his words careful.

"Go home, Johnny." She interrupted. "Didn't you say you were tired?" She turned to look at him. Johnny looked down at her with a heavy frown. She braced herself for some dreaded response. But he said nothing, just watching her for a fleeting moment in a way that gave her hope. Hope that immediately soured when he looked away.

"I'm actually tired." She said simply. "You might have to go look for belly button again. What was her name, again?"

"You never asked her name."

"Right. It's for the best, I suppose." She grit her teeth, hands tightening around her glass. "It would be a long day if I tried to keep up with them all."

His eyes glimmered with ill intention as he leaned closer to her face. Pride made her stand her ground, not look away.

"I've done it to you too. If you want me to do it again just ask." He licked his lips, a heated reminder of a few months ago when things were so very different. Every inch of her skin flushed.

"Fuck you." She spat, the implied consolation in the words enraging her from head to toe. Especially when he didn't sound consolatory at all.

She turned when she heard the chair beside her move.

"Leaving so soon?" She asked the man. He shrugged, adjusting his glasses and giving her a nod.

"Come on." Johnny nudged her, "We're done."

"No, I'm just getting started." She met his gaze from the corner of her eyes, You can go back to whatever cunt you crawled out of." She eyed Johnny's unruly hair, ruined by god knows what, truly at the tail end of her patience and pretence.

She turned back to give the man a smile, "I'm sorry, please just ignore him."

He gave an uneasy laugh, looking up at Johnny before back at her. Before the man could get another word in, she felt Johnny close in again. This time his fingers slid down her arms.

He did it so deliberately slow, so expertly, that apart from breaking into goosebumps, she also visibly shivered. His lips part against the shell of her ear, the sound rattling her spine.

"The only cunt I'm crawling in or out of is yours. I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure that out by now." He kissed the skin under her ear, making her shut her eyes. The words and the action did exactly what he intended. She melted against him, heart soaring at the confession.

The chair beside her slid back further, making her eyes open. "Never a boring day in this club." The man chuckled to himself, walking away after giving her a last wave and Johnny an amiable nod.

"I hate you." She spat at Johnny once he was gone.

"Okay." Johnny said, not even pretending to take her seriously. "Come, I want to fuck you." He brushed his fingers over her knuckles. The words made her stomach twist and clench. "I even wore your favourite little chain." He took her hand in his, the gold chain hanging from the wrist.

Her lungs slammed her heart, no doubt exhausted by its flightless fancies. He was giving her what she wanted. It was all she would have. Johnny was giving in to her for once.

Fuck. She cursed in her head. Just this once.

She still didn't turn to look at him, "Will you honour it?" The words came out easier than she would have liked. Johnny hummed against her ears, lifting her hand to his lips.

"Anything you want." He kissed the tips of her fingers one by one.

"Are you still playing your game?" Doubt made her ask the question, finally daring to turn just enough to see his face. She wanted him to say no. He looked up and remained silent instead.

Her ensuing exhale was one of surrender, "Fine, let's play."

A game was all it was, she supposed.

Johnny lay back in bed with a kind of cocky smirk that looked like he had already won. She couldn’t fathom what he was so proud about. But then again, he had no clue what was to come.

“How will you have me?” He asked, undeterred by the weight of any consequences. He put his arms behind his head, relaxing further into the bed. She didn’t answer him, turning her back to him to peek through the amenities drawer. After rummaging through all the intriguing objects, she settled on a long satin cloth. Running it between her fingers she closed her eyes to feel it, deciding that this would have to do.

When she turned, his eyes were waiting, taking the object in.

“Are you going to blindfold me to deprive me of your pretty face? Or will you do it to yourself to pretend I’m someone else. The man from earlier, perhaps?” He raised a brow.

She said nothing, keeping her eyes roaming and on anything but him. Gently, she put the cloth down at the very foot of the bed before walking into the washroom.

When she returned, Johnny’s brows were furrowed. He tried to smooth it out when she came into view, but the subconscious frown on his lips remained. It made her purse a smile.

For all his menacing ways, Johnny was a generous lover. His intention was to push her beyond the edges of her flimsy patience, going a little further each time till she was surprised at her own limits.

But he was also kind in a way that he didn’t realise. Johnny would take his time, but the man always gave in before he intended. True to his personality, he went with the flow and stayed starkly aware of his partner. She could always trust that he would never push her beyond a limit she could not handle.

She however was not the same. Not as seasoned as he was, she was driven solely by her need to stake a claim on his bottomless patience.

Her need to control him was unique to him only. (Y/N) had never desired to conquer a man like she wanted to conquer Johnny Suh. It made her petty and it made her unpredictable. He had known how to push her buttons from the first day she walked into this place. Even before that, Johnny always knew how to push her professionally. He drove her to blinding rage that left her vulnerable.

It made her mean in retaliation. Her method was to distress him in an effort to shatter his usual easygoing resolve. She liked to watch him beg as much as he did her, but more than that she liked to watch him as he let her get away with it all.

She was always at his fingertips. But he was also wrapped around her fingers. And she'd take every opportunity she had left to remind him of that.

He turned to look at her, trying to hide his growing impatience. She untied her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders with a sigh.

She stopped at the edge of the bed, eyes going over his entire form. Her eyes halted at his legs, returning to his waiting gaze with a silent instruction. Johnny decided to play dumb, raising both his brows in clueless question.

She didn't move, watching him with such impassive patience that a part of her was impressed by her own restraint. There was a silent stare off that she promised to win on account of the indignation she'd been holding at bay for two weeks.

Johnny smiled, a thought sparking his eyes.

"You do it." He stared at her, "Please?" His voice dripped with his taunt.

She turned away from him, walking back to the foot to pick up the sash she left. His eyes followed her as she came back. Sitting beside him, she placed her hand across his torso. Tilting her head to her shoulder she watched him for a second, eyes storming with contemplation.

"Come here." She finally said, fingers brushing over the buttons of his pants. He moved so fast that he almost threw them both off the bed. Her lips twitched and she had to look away to bite it back.

"We don't know each other." She said softly, fingers flicking the button off. When she looked up, Johnny's brows were furrowed in confusion. "We're strangers who met here today. That's the people we can pretend to be."

Johnny chewed on his bottom lip, looking like he wanted to say something.

"It's my turn. That's the part I want to play." She reinforced her idea, taking his silence as agreement.

Johnny nodded, confused but intrigued by where this was going. She was angry, it was plain to see. Johnny had never really seen how her fury looked when it boiled over. But he hadn't expected it to be this silent. He tried to push down the fear it brewed deep within his bones. With all his pushing, Johnny also knew how to pull back. So he allowed himself to go along with the game, hoping he hadn't pushed her too far.

When she did pull his pants down, Johnny's dick stood up like it was peering to catch a glance. As usual, a traitor. She unclenched her fingers, the sash falling on his legs. Still unsure of its purpose, he extended his hands to her, wrists held together.

She looked up at him with cold amusement, "Do you want to be restrained that bad?"

"What else could it be for?" He asked, voice betraying his impatience.

"You don't need to be tied, Johnny. You never do. It's not like something so flimsy would hold you anyway." He watched her toy with the object, gingerly wrapping one end of the cloth around her palm a few times. The other end still resting against his thigh.

"Then?"

"What? Don't trust me?" She raised an expectant brow.

"Right now, I'm not sure what you're going to do." He gave her a cautious gaze, yet again failing to gauge her state of mind.

"Just lie back."

So he did, he listened to her and relaxed back against the pillows.

She raised her hand flicking the sash up, the material brushed against his dick, making it twitch again. She did it again, moving it back and forth against his tip till he was clenching his thighs.

"What are you doing?" He asked between rapid breaths.

"Don't like it?" She questioned, meeting his gaze. When she moved it again, the smooth cloth brushed over the underside of his cock, grazing the vein that was now bulging. Johnny's hips lifted off the bed. "You seem to like it." She hummed.

She looked back down, spinning the sash around this time. The thing wrapped around his cock in hypnotising circles, covering the length with feather light brushes. When it brushed over his tip, Johnny had to close his eyes.

He had been so on edge all evening, so excruciatingly hard, that his dick was beyond sensitive. It made the delicate friction shoot liquid electricity up his legs, fresh blood pumping into his already stiff dick.

Then she tugged the ribbon with one harsh pull, the entire thing tightening around his length in one exquisite clench.

"Fuck." He groaned, hips bucking up again. "That's–" He began, but the material was already coming loose, making his eyes shoot open just as she let it fall slack.

Before words could form in his mind, before Johnny even tried, she was moving it back and forth again.

"What are you trying to do?" He asked, feeling as confused as he did aroused.

"I'm going to get you off. That's what you want, right?" She blinked up at his face, giving him an innocent look.

He wanted her to touch him. But that felt like a confession of subjugation.

"I'm not going to get off like this." He said instead. Her lips twitched, the glint in her eyes telling him that he'd said the wrong thing.

"Are you assuming, or is that a promise?" She questioned.

Johnny didn't respond, knowing well when he'd walked into one of her traps. She knew it too, returning to the task at hand with a chuckle.

"I'll take that as a promise then." She spoke softly, words as gentle as the satin that brushed against his dick over and over.

With each stroke, he felt the skin get more sensitive than he thought possible. His hips squirmed more frequently, eyes fluttering shut, the fabric edging him to insanity. The precum that was beading at his tip began to make each brush a little harsher.

It wasn't enough to even pretend to search for the beginnings of a build up. Yet it made his cock twitch a little more with each brush, just enough to feel good in what it was denying him. Johnny's lips parted when she wrapped the ribbon around his dick again, brows creasing as she tugged the thing tight around his length. He would have laughed at his state had he not felt so incredibly turned on.

"You love this." She seemed to choke on her own realisation, just as he felt the cloth begin to wrap around his dick again. Knowing what was coming, he braced himself. "Look at you, Whore." She clicked her tongue, "Your fingers are going to tear the sheets."

Heat spread from his forehead down his chest, suddenly too aware of the effect this was having on him.

"I'm trying not to grab your hair and put your mouth where it belongs." He opened his eyes, just in time for her to pull the sash taut again. A moan slipped past his open mouth.

"Where does my mouth belong?" She goaded him, "On your cock?" A dismissive hum slipped past her lips. "Looking at you now, I think my mouth is too good for you."

With that, Johnny could agree. Her mouth was too good for anyone. He wasn't sure that he wouldn't come the moment she so much as brushed her lips against it.

"You've kept me hard and waiting all night. There's only so much a man can take." His thighs unclenched as the ribbon released his length, falling around the base in circles.

"I told you to go bury your busy cock in some other hole."

"And I told you I only want to bury myself in you." He raised a brow, annoyed that she refused to believe him.

He saw the shift in her gaze and the red that tinted her cheeks.

"Let me feel how wet you are." The words rushed out with desperation, taking the liberty the moment gave him. Slowly, he dragged his hands closer to her. Despite the caution she was menacing, tightening the cloth against his base with a swift jerk. The friction made him wince, his hips lifting off the mattress again.

"Take your time with your game. I just want to see how much your pussy missed me."

Her breath came in and out in sharp waves, never too far to not be affected by the right words. Words he knew best.

"Behave." She warned him.

"No." He sat up, enjoying the uneven rise and fall of her chest.

"Alright." She said, letting the sash go entirely.

Johnny raised his head, a little surprised by her agreement. He also couldn’t believe the pang of disappointment that racked through him at the loss of the touch.

"Take your shirt off." She pointed her chin to his chest.

Experience told Johnny that there was a catch, but it also told him to do what he was told. He took off his buttons rapidly, afraid she'd change her mind.

“You’re very eager.”

“I’ve had a long night.”

She got off the bed, bending over to pull her panties off. Johnny licked his lips before he could truly understand and control the urge. She caught the sight, lips cocking in an arrogant smirk. Both of them turned to catch his dick twitch.

She stood up once the garment was off, walking back towards him while Johnny curbed the urge to demand she take her dress off too.

Slowly, she got on the bed. Resting either knee over his waist, Johnny put his arms behind his head to watch her straddle him. Feeling cocky himself, he let a smirk light his lips. When she caught it, her own smirk looked to pity him.

“You’re also very presumptuous.” She started moving forwards. His tip brushed against her clit as she moved, both of their breaths seizing in tandem.

To his surprise, she got a hold of herself before he did, lifting herself higher to avoid a repeat.

Having already lost the upper hand in the situation, Johnny parted his lips. “Do it again.” He asked shamelessly.

She ignored the words, not even refusing or reminding him of his current station. When she sat down, it was on his abdomen. For a moment, his senses blurred.

Johnny could feel the smooth glide of her wet slit, practically slipping.

“Fuck Kitten, You’re so wet.” He hissed, stomach clenching tight along with his fist as he resisted the desire to grab her waist.

“I’ve always wanted to do this.” She breathed out, the shake in her voice betraying the intensity of the sentiment.

“Just listen to your sopping pussy squelch for me.” He groaned, head falling back as he heard the sound of her pressing against him. “You just love using me, don’t you?”

“How can you tell? Are you used to being used?” She questioned.

Johnny thought it was a joke, lifting his head with humour in his eyes. But upon meeting her gaze, he saw it bore into him, looking displeased.

Right.

He forgot they were strangers.

“I know the type.” He answered after several moments.

“Oh? A lot of experience in the area?”

“Mmhm.” He hummed.

Both her hands pressed against his chest, “Eager and presumptuous men should be used once in a while. Keeps you grounded, don’t you agree?” Her hips slid forward, head falling over almost immediately.

She bit back a moan. Johnny smiled.

“I’m not sure I do.”

“No?” Her next glide came as Johnny flexed his stomach, pulling a hiss from her. “You need a change in perspective.”

“Is that what you’re here to do? Enlighten me?” He raised a brow.

She nodded, eyes fluttering closed. With each glide of her hips, it got harder for her to hold still. Soon, her legs were tightening around his waist. They still shook, despite the tight grip.

“Your legs will be sore tomorrow.” Johnny warned.

"You should be more concerned about yourself right now."

"I think I'm doing good." He sighed, lips lifting in a relaxed smile.

"That's unfortunate. We can't have that." Her breath stuttered as Johnny flexed his stomach in retaliation.

Johnny scoffed, "You just love to make it harder for yourself, don't you? Just wait till later."

"Later?" She hummed, hips coming to a halt. "Do you think you'll see me again?"

Johnny chewed on the inside of his cheek. That was not funny to him at all. It leeched what little enjoyment he had and he had to close his eyes to take in a furious breath as she began humping into him again.

(Y/N) couldn't tell why he had gone quiet all of a sudden. She wasn't supposed to care, she wasn't going to. He was doing what she had intended to do. She told herself that his silence was also a tactic. That is why she felt bothered. Her hands pressed against his chest with more urgency, the movement of her hips getting faster.

"Enjoying yourself?" He asked after so long that she gasped at the sudden sound. She nodded, her pace increasing as she felt the knot in her stomach tie itself tighter.

She looked up at his eyes, this close the building pleasure in her core muffled her brain further. (Y/N) leaned in, eyes fixed on his lips. Everything aside, she always missed kissing him the most.

She didn't expect his hand to move at all, nonetheless to grab her chin. He squeezed her cheeks harshly, lifting her face to meet his gaze as he sat up.

"I don't kiss strangers." He reminded her, making her crumble inside. "Understood?" He raised an irate brow. She nodded and he let go as fast as he had grabbed her, bringing his hands back to his sides and relaxing again.

Her pace slowed down a little despite herself. She felt rattled by the words.

Right.

She forgot that he could be cruel too when he wanted to be. At least in these cases, they were true equals.

After losing her rhythm, the tightness in her belly slipped away. No matter how fast she moved her hips, what angle or pattern she tried, she felt frustratingly far away from the build up that never came.

"You don't seem to be doing too good. Need help?" His words were a taunt. She thought it best to ignore it, moving down to sit atop his length. Johnny's head fell back as a sigh left her.

"I think I can manage." She muttered, too distracted by her own frustrations.

"I don't think you can." He spoke through a tight jaw, "Ever used a man before, honey? I don't think you know how to do this." He continued to provoke her.

"And you do?" She asked, sliding over his length. Both of them gasped when his tip nudged her clit, leaving his length wet from her leaking insides. "You look too busy being pussy drunk."

"I'm nothing if not a multi-tasker." He groaned, hips bucking once before he pressed it back down with the sheer force of his will.

She smiled, "That's a lot of promises."

"Give me a chance and I'll show you."

She thought about the first time he was at her mercy like that, the time feeling like it was years ago instead of just one. His every overconfident claim drove her mad, even more so when he lived up to each claim and more.

She thought about her first night here, not even strangers back then. She thought about the first time she had met him. About how she knew him as the man who had built himself a monolith.

In truth, Johnny had never been a stranger to her. She walked into her interview the same way she had walked into the room much like this one a year ago.

Absolutely enamoured by him.

She stopped moving entirely, "Fine."

Johnny lifted his head to look at her, "What?"

She thought about the little things that could have been different the first time around. Whether they would have produced a different outcome.

"Show me." She lifted her arms, surrendering to him.

His hands came to her back in a flash, lifting her and dropping her down in a heartbeat. Her head fell on the very edge of the bed, knocking the air out of her.

"Are you sure?" He asked, eyes boring into hers.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, "Have you known me to offer anything if I wasn't?"

He raised a brow, forehead gathering. "I thought we didn't know each other."

"Your turn." She told him.

The words made him chew on his bottom lip, his free arm tracing up and down her leg and driving her wild.

"Alright. Sit up." He nodded, pulling back.

Confused, she regardless did what he asked. As she sat up, his hands came to her waist, keeping her on his lap.

Her nose knocked into his, the proximity to his stormy eyes making her dizzy.

"First thing," He whispered, hand coming to her hair. "We don't need these." He unclasped the pin that held the chain in her hair, taking the one on his wrist off right after.

She gave him a confused look but didn't question it.

"We play my parts now." His breath hitched, "There are no winners. I don't want to fight, I don't want to win. I don't want to be strangers." She heard the small clink of the two chains being placed on the table, his eyes coming back to hers right after, "I want to make love to you." He kissed her eyelid.

Her chest crumbled at the words, caving in and grinding itself into pieces. Helplessly, she nodded.

He shifted, gently placing her head on the pillows.

"Wrap your legs around my waist." He whispered, words as delicate as his actions. She did what she was told.

"Why are you doing this?" She couldn't help but ask, needing an answer.

"You said you wanted to be furthest from who we are. We're already strangers, (Y/N). Despite everything, I still don't know you."

"You could just ask." She whispered, brushing her knuckles over his chin. "I'd tell you anything you want. All you have to do is ask."

Johnny's eyes steeled over at the words and she bit down on her lips hard, cursing herself for letting her sentiments get ahead of her.

"You were truly born to drive me crazy." He groaned, leaning down to kiss her jaw. She froze, expecting him to kiss her. But his lips moved lower instead, hands coming up to the ends of her bunched dress.

"Taking this off." He mumbled against her skin. She nodded.

He pulled back to do the task, watching her with intoxicating intensity as she lifted her hips off the bed.

"So beautiful." He sighed, "I don't understand how you're mine." He breathed out, making the growing cavity in her chest swarm with butterflies. The lines between pretence and reality blurred long before they even existed.

"The same way you're mine." She dared to say, the thought itself as devastating as it was euphoric.

Johnny groaned with approval, hands slipped between them to pull her panties off, "Should I ease you into it?" He asked, finger brushing over her entrance.

Despite seeing white spots in her vision at the touch, she shook her head. "No, I'm good."

His head lifted, eyes coating with tenderness, something she didn't realise she had been yearning for, "Still, it's been a while."

She tugged at the edge of his shirt, bringing him closer, "Your dick is inside me more than it's outside it." She wiggled under him, her impatience already fighting with her need to cherish this moment, "I promise you, I can take it." She huffed.

"What a filthy mouth," He curled his smiling lips, leaning forward till their foreheads touched. She held her breath, again expecting him to kiss her, but he just brushed his lips over the corner of her mouth. "Did you miss my cock?"

"Johnny," She whined, "Please. I need you."

"Answer me, (Y/N)." He asked and she nodded.

Her eyes screwed shut, "I–Fuck." Her words jumbled, when she felt him nudge against her writhing hole.

"Did you?" He asked with a wispy voice, stuttering.

More than anything else, she missed him. All of him. The confession at the very tip of her lips, threatening to flow.

They were playing a part she reminded herself. For a few moments, she was safe behind it.

She forced her eyes open, "It was you I missed. God I miss you so much I might just go mad."

Johnny forsake his control, slowly beginning to ease himself into her. Every muscle in her body went stuff, endless mutters leaving her lips.

"Really?” He asked through his teeth.

"Every goddamn day." She responded with the same gritted jaw.

He hummed, sounding infuriatingly unconvinced. "Why didn't you come to me then?" He stopped after only a few inches, pulling back out again.

"You told me you wanted a break. From me. What was I supposed to do? You weren't even here. You did everything you can to avoid me."

"You did it to me too." He muttered. To her surprise he pouted, the gesture giving her whiplash as he entered her again a little further this time. "You're so wet, baby. So tight." He groaned, eyes shutting for a moment like he was taking it in.

Baby. It was something he had never called her before. Her insides clenched around him in the same way her heart squeezed around those words— holding the moment as tight as she could. He'd used an array of words to refer to her, to call her, to praise her and degrade her. Yet nothing ever felt like this one. As unassuming as it was. Maybe she was actually mad.

"I can't come and just demand your attention. I'm not like you, I just can't do it." She huffed, frustrated and relieved at the same time.

"You're always demanding my attention."

"That's untrue."

"Is it?"

It wasn't. She did always make an effort to be at the forefront of her mind. Of course like many other things, she'd assumed she was good at keeping it covert. In actuality, like most other things, he was just letting her get away with it.

But this was different. This wasn't about teasing him or toying with his need for excitement. This was him wanting a change. She knew that because he told her as much. It hurt her beyond consolation and she couldn't be in front of him with that.

It had been a year and she had probably become stale to him.

"Why are you fighting with me?" She said instead of acknowledging those things, "I thought you wanted to be in love?"

"This is how love feels like," He looked over her face. "So I'm told." He marched the words with the slow retreat of his length.

On this, she could agree with him. Of all the things people had to say about love, no one warned her how gut wrenching it could also be. She'd hate it if the good parts hadn't made up for it and more.

Her overwhelmed mind made the next question spill, "What does it feel like to you?" She asked him, not sure what she was expecting.

"Like this." He sighed, beginning to push so slightly back inside her. "Like being inside you."

The words made her clench around him yet again. She wanted nothing more than for him to mean those words. Moments like this made her wonder just how she had managed to mask her real feelings for so long. Especially now, when every inch of her seemed to be bursting with it.

"Kiss me, Johnny." Her eyes fluttered open, swallowing whatever remained of her pride to ask for what he already denied her. “Show me just how much you love me."

Johnny’s eyes softened like they melted— glistening despite being in the shadow.

Then his lips pressed against hers and she felt like her entire being lit up with the brunt of her relief. Her hands came to his neck, his to her hips, holding each other like it was the only thing they knew.

She sighed into his mouth without meaning to, the faintest moisture collecting in the corner of her eyes. She had truly missed kissing him. He had ruined the act of it. He had given her the privilege of kissing her, and now she considered it a privilege outright.

It would also be the thing she would miss the most. That and his smile, the sound of his voice when he laughed, the way he said her name. (Y/N) wondered if she'd ever truly be able to kiss another person again.

Johnny's lips moulded over hers like they were completing a puzzle. His hand stroked her thigh gently as her head tilted up to deepen the kiss. He kissed her slow and he kissed her fast, taking his time to navigate each familiar crevice. His sigh was touching, one of relief and comfort. She could get lost in that alone, locking the sound away in her memories.

She'd miss him so much when he was gone that she missed him already. Her arms pressed him closer to her, with more urgency. When he trailed his kisses down her neck, she used the opportunity to wipe her eyes against her shirt, still hanging on his shoulder.

Now Johnny entered her completely, and it took her breath away. Her arm squeezed his neck, his shoulder muffling her moan.

"Good?" He questioned, more as a gauge of her state than to fish for compliments.

"The best." She couldn't help herself if she tried. When he probed the thicker part of her walls she moaned his name so loud that she was sure it could be heard all the way to the basement.

"Yes right there." She added once the stars in her vision dulled.

"Yes, I know." He chuckled, peppering kisses all over her neck and cheek. "I know." He reassured.

"Don't stop." She whined, the pleasure mixing with the flurry of emotions to drive her mad. "Johnny, please."

"I won't." The words accompanied a tender hush. "I've got you." He promised.

"Johnny, I'm so—" He cut her off by grabbing her chin, lifting himself higher and making her look into his eyes.

"I love you. You." He tripped over his words. "I love you so much. More than life itself." He groaned, brows furrowing. "Fuck, you were just made for me and I spend all my time thinking about just that." His thrusts started to get sloppy, only spurred on by her tight grip around him. "That and just how much I fucking love you."

Her lips parted on their own accord, "Johnny, I–" But the words were cut off by a moan as he came with a sudden shiver. The feeling of his come shooting inside her sending her into her own orgasm as he kept up his ridiculous pace.

(Y/N) had never felt hollow the way she felt when he pulled out of her after what felt like hours of just laying there. She couldn't even feel the relief of his weight lifting off her chest.

He was staring at her from the side, she could feel his eyes looking her over, analysing each movement on her face. When he took in a breath— to say something, she got out of bed. Once again fear grabbed at her, mind filling with every possible explanation he would have to dismiss everything that had just happened.

"I should get cleaned up." She mumbled to the floor, not even bothering to gather any of her clothes. She just went into the bathroom and stayed in the tub. Long enough to be sure he was asleep.

Or gone.

(Y/N) woke up to the feel of Johnny’s hand sliding up her legs, resting on her hip. She smiled, pulling her head back to look at him through her slitted gaze.

“Morning.” Johnny’s voice, as deep as it was on most mornings, was too cautious. Her brows knit, confused for a moment. Then the previous night came back to her, reminding her that this wasn’t most mornings.

She hummed in response, “Where did you get pajamas?” She asked, eyeing the dark green t-shirt and pants that she was certain weren’t from his closet.

“The bottom drawers in the dresser always have a pair or two.” He informed her, the first she heard of this.

“Why didn’t I get one?” Her brows gathered. Johnny just gave her a cheeky grin.

“We haven’t spent a night here before, have we?” He questioned her.

“I haven’t.” She mumbled, shifting to bury her face further in his neck then she found it when she woke. But the reminder had ruined the harmless mood.

Pulling away felt too awkward to pull off so she just tried to shift again. Johnny must have read her mind because his arm came back to her leg, pulling it up on his own and leaving a chaste kiss on her forehead. A sigh left her lips, finding comfort in the familiar situation despite the circumstances. The air in the room was, nonetheless, tense. She told herself she'd take away these moments as relics.

None of them spoke to fill the silence. In truth, there was nothing to say. Only when it got too hot did she pull back from him.

Silently, (Y/N) slipped out of bed, looking around to spot her clothes. A knock on the door made her rise, grabbing one of the robes that always hung from the bathroom door.

She opened it to find Charlie, one of the servers, standing with her things in his hand.

“Mr. Nakamoto sent your things.” He reached his hands out with her bag, “I took the liberty of bringing Mr. Suh’s things as well.” He handed her the paper bag as well.

“Thank you, Charlie.” She smiled, “I heard that you’re getting married?” She beamed and the man blushed in response, giving her a shy nod.

The overnight bag she had packed for Yuta’s house was heavy and made it difficult to open it with both hands full. She reached into the packet in which Charlie handed over Johnny’s belongings, taking his wallet out to pick out a note to hand to the man for his efforts.

“Next time you’re manning the bar, I want to know how you met your partner.” She smiled at him and he thanked her for the tip. Once she closed the door, she could put the bags down. Sighing from the release of the burden, she opened her bag to fish her own wallet out, replacing the money she took from Johnny.

“You didn’t have to do that.” His voice came from behind. She turned, finding him leaning against the wall and watching her carefully, arms crossed in front of his chest. She just shrugged in return, coming up to hand him his things before walking into the bathroom.

When she emerged, she was dressed for the day. Johnny was laying in bed with his feet on the floor, looking up from his phone when she walked into his line of vision.

“Where are you going?” He asked, brows furrowed like he was somehow expecting her to stay.

“Yuta and I are supposed to have brunch today. Hyuck too.” She spoke while clasping her watch.

“The breakfast here is pretty good. You can just eat downstairs.” Johnny sat up, phone dropping on his chest and then on the bed.

She looked up at him, lost. Breakfast was another thing she did not know the club provided.

Johnny seemed to catch on, eyes lighting up with amusement. "Really, it's like a hotel if you can ignore the large bowls of condoms everywhere."

She laughed under her breath, “Ten’s more entrepreneurial than you are.”

“I’ll have you know that it was my idea.” He said defensively, smiling nonetheless.

“Oh.” She chuckled, “My apologies. The condoms or the breakfast?" Picking up her shoes, (Y/N) sat down at the edge of the bed.

"The breakfast. The condoms are more of a legal failsafe. Your department more than mine."

Both of them laughed.

The next several moments were silent till she finished putting on her shoes, his hand coming to her waist as she started getting up.

He snaked the arm around her to halt her efforts, “Stay.” It was a single word packed with a heavy request. She could feel his eyes on her in the mirror in front of them, keeping her own gaze fixed on the floor.

“I can’t.” It was an equally simple response, laced with a heavy implication. She looked up at the mirror, meeting his gaze. “We have reservations.” It was a flimsy excuse that seemed to get a rise out of him.

His soft eyes hardened, “You came prepared to stay the night, it seems.” His eyes drifted to her large bag.

It was a petty thing to say and for a moment she wondered if she should lie, give him the shot of provocation that he was seeking when he said the words. But the antagonism that filled the previous night had weighed down on her. She was tired.

"My original plan was to go for dinner and crash at Yuta's. It was Hyuck who insisted on coming here.”

Johnny hummed, the sound heavy with the words he held back, unconvinced. It made her turn to him, “I have no reason to lie to you.” The words were the simple truth and she could tell that it did the very thing she was trying to avoid.

Her eyes wandered over his face, taking in the way he was trying to hide his outrage. She wondered if it was his ego or if she wanted to delude herself into thinking he actually cared. “All this time and I still don’t understand you.” She bit the corner of her mouth, regretting the words for the argument it would spur.

“It’s not like you ever ask.” He slid closer, nose knocking against hers. His eyes looked up from her lips expectantly.

She wondered if he wanted a question or a kiss.

Her phone rang while she debated and she told herself it was divine intervention. Except it was just her best friend.

“Ask Johnny if he wants to go for brunch with us.” Yuta skipped the greetings to land the poignant jab. Of course he already knew who she was with. There was never going to be anybody else.

“No.” She got up from the bed, gathering her things.

Despite every ounce of sense telling her otherwise, she turned to look at him, meeting his gaze to give him a silent farewell. There was the brimming fear of this being the last time, afterall.

The thought made her still. She had to shake her head and look away.

“Meet me downstairs. Did you find Hyuck?” She asked, walking out of the room.

Another week passed and (Y/N) had begun the process of mourning. Taking the last two days of the work week off, she had holed herself up in the safety of her apartment for three days now. The time had been spent consuming enough sugar to remind herself that she never had a sweet tooth, before shifting to the store of sour candy that was seemingly endless. Putting the first one in her mouth made her eyes well.

Finally, she started looking for a different job, her constantly blurring eyes making the task take much longer than intended.

That Saturday night, she fell asleep trying to imagine how she would hand in her resignation to him. What could she even say? How would she avoid explaining to him that she couldn’t be around him.

She simply was not as aloof as she wanted both of them to believe.

The building phone never rang. The day doorman never had to see people come to her apartment unless they were with her or he knew them as her regular guests. The one on the night shift was new.

Her first thought was the most obvious one. It was Johnny, it had to be. But she reminded herself that she had other people in her life. It could be Yuta with some ridiculous situation that only he could have. It could be Doyoung since she had let it slip that her non-relationship with her boss was beginning to sizzle off.

“Hello?” She finally answered the phone.

“I’m sorry Miss, there’s a man here that refuses to give his name. He says you know who it is. I told him that you don’t take visitors this late.”

She huffed. That reduced her guesses to two of the three. Nonetheless, she was grateful for the man’s caution.

“I’ll be down in a moment.” She sighed.

The elevator dinged and she clenched her hands inside the pocket of her hoodie. The one that was not hers. Despite her reasonings, she of course knew who was the moment the phone rang.

Johnny stood in the lobby with his hands on his hips, a frown set deeply on his face. His hair glistened under the lights and her eyes drifted to the doors behind him.

It was raining.

“Your new place is definitely high on safety.” He remarked, lips still downturned. "Your doorman thinks I'm a thief who'd walk through the front door." He pointed behind him, a small grunt leaving his frustrated lips.

She loved him, she realised for the millionth time. This time with a sudden jolt. Despite every rational thought begging her to do otherwise. She loved him so dearly and so hopelessly that she didn't know what to do with it at all.

Johnny looked restless, his feet tapping against the floor. She could understand and she could forgive it. That was how much she loved him.

She loved him. A sigh of relief left her, like the crashing of waves on a rocky shore after it finally met land. It was useless to pretend otherwise. She loved him and she'd let him in anytime he showed up.

He was in a suit, the rain ruining the fabric permanently. She wondered why he was in one on a Saturday at midnight.

His hands dropped to his side, “You haven’t been coming to work.” He said as the gap between them began to close with each stride. “I was preparing for the quarterly distributor meeting and Kun’s notes made no sense. He’s on a work trip too. I had to call the entire legal team into work today because all of the copyright issues seem to be funnelled through you.”

She stopped a few metres short of being in his personal space. “I’m entitled to my leaves.”

“Then you should brief the team properly so work doesn’t stop when you aren’t around.”

He was right, she gave him a nod to affirm it as well.

“Did you get what you needed?” She asked, flexing her fists in the safety of the deep pockets of the hoodie.

“Yes. The intern, Hendery, had a decent idea. I hired him tonight.”

“Good. He’s good enough to replace me with enough training.”

Johnny’s frown went from expressing discontent to a confused one. She'd put the hint in his mind now.

“HR said you’re sick.” Johnny mumbled after a moment of silence, shuffling.

“It’s a cold. I just needed the time off to feel better.”

Johnny nodded, hands coming back to his hips. He kept nodding, deep in thought.

“Is that the reason you came all the way here? I was sleeping.” She finally huffed, feeling the brunt of her own indignation suddenly.

His brows knit, arm coming up so he could glance at his watch.

“Oh.” His face smoothened in one go, “I didn’t realise it was this late. I was just driving around to clear my head.” He slowly put his hand down, biting down on his bottom lip.

She finally took her own hands out of her pockets, only to cross her arms in front of her chest. She knew why he was here, but she wanted him to admit it. She needed him to confirm so she could act like she wasn't giving in without a fight. Her dignity was the one thing she wanted to walk away with.

“I’m sorry!” He finally huffed, following with a groan that came from somewhere deep inside him. She blinked, incredibly surprised. “Is that what you want me to say?” He huffed again.

The last part ticked her off, “I don’t want you to say anything. What are you sorry for? Is it for waking me up because that is fair, but it’s not the first time you’ve done it.” The words were deliberately cautious.

Johnny groaned, running a hand over his face. “You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be.”

“What are you sorry for?” She asked, raising her chin and burying her brimming hope.

He gave her a look of furious disbelief.

“For once,” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was second guessing himself.

“What?” She asked with more anger bubbling in her words, taking two steps closer. He took notice, his own two steps closing their gap. Now they were in each other’s personal space.

“For once, can’t you give in to me?” There was a desperation that made the edge of his words blunt.

She stared at him with disbelief. "From the moment I met you I've only ever given into you."

"I'm not talking about that. I'm not talking about work, or bed. I mean your pride. Put it aside for once. Tell me you want me. Give in to me." He took just another step closer.

Remembering the place, she turned to the doorman, “You can let him in next time.” She raised her voice enough to be heard by the man.

Her gaze softened when it came back to Johnny and she prayed to god that he couldn’t see the glisten in them. Finding a real touch too scathing to execute, she settled for hooking her finger through one of his belt loops.

"You wouldn't be here if you believed I don't."

"I'm here because I'm giving up. I'm done. I don't want a change, I want you."

The confession washed her in a flood of relief. She would love him as long as he'd let her.

"And I came down here because I'm giving in. I don't want a break. Either leave me once and for all or never say that to me again."

Johnny chewed on his bottom lip, taking in the tempest in her eyes.

“Take me upstairs.” He asked like that wasn’t exactly where she was taking him. Like it wasn’t the inevitable outcome he had in mind when he walked into the lobby. For all his claims, he knew how quick she gave into him. “You can sleep, you look so tired. I don't want anything, I just want to be here.”

“You will sleep too.” She announced, turning away to pull him towards the elevator.

Once on the elevator, a thought made her freeze, “The place is a mess.” She warned him, remembering the cave she had turned the place into in the past week.

He gave her a cautious look, “(Y/N). Baby.” He laughed, her gut kicking up an assault at his tender tone. “Your place is always a mess.”

She frowned, taking her hand out of his to smack his chest.

“Hey!” She huffed.

Johnny groaned, a grin tugging at his lips after.

#johnny #nct johnny #johnny x reader #johnny scenarios #johnny smut #johnny drabbles #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct drabbles #johnny suh #nct au #ceo au #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv #miscellenous #chance encounter #angst

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imnotasuperhero · 2 years

Text

Some feelings, they can travel too.

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, the greatests love stories come to an end.

TW: Cancer, grieving, major character death. A doze of smut just to add to the angst (I set it in cursive, so you can scroll past it if you don’t mind the little bits of feels)

A/N: My dudes. I don’t know what to tell you. I’m here once again with a request that was too hard to decline since it hits home and I thought it might work for some overdue catharsis. I cried my eyes out resulting in a headache, so pardon any mistakes I made. I’ve been working on this for several hours and babysitting a 3 y/o is no calm job. Hope you enjoy this over 6k monster of mine (I reached anotehr milestone and I couldn’t be prouder) And like I say, if I hurt, it’s only fair you do, too.

Looking up at the imponent building in front of her, Wanda readjusted the straps of her backpack and followed the commands of her twin, doing some breathing exercises to calm her erratic heart.

Being the new kid at school was never something Wanda enjoyed, no matter how many times she had to transfer thanks to her dearest father. She hated feeling so small and the fact that she wasn’t the best at making friends did nothing to ease her anxiety.

“Come on, Wanda!” Pietro grunted annoyed, backing his steps and grabbing her hand to drag her along.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” Wanda sighed, trying to escape his tight grip to no avail.

“I do. And if we don’t hurry, we’re gonna miss our first period.” At the annoyance tinting his voice, Wanda decided to shut her mouth and follow him to the reception.

After getting each of their class schedules, the twins headed back through the path they walked.

“Okay, your classroom is at the next hall, third-”

“I heard what the lady said. I know where to go,” Wanda rolled her eyes at the need to punch her exasperating brother.

“Okay then, I’ll see you in the next period,” Pietro kissed the top of her head, trotting towards his own class.

Looking through the small window of the door, Wanda could feel the baby hairs of her neck spiking up at the new faces unaware of her presence.

‘Please, may this year be nice,’ She begged silently to whoever God was out there.

Wanda had to remind herself not to run the small distance that separated the teacher’s desk from the door at the numerous heads turning to her simultaneously.

“Hi,” Wanda handed the white schedule to Mr. Chadman -as she read in the tag at the door. “I’m Wanda.”

The old man inspected the paper for a few seconds and nodded quietly. “Welcome, Wanda. Please be seated and enjoy.” He gave her a smile that reminded her of her late grandpa.

Looking over the classroom, she walked hunchedly to the only seat free, beside some girl with unique glasses.

“Hi,” said girl gave her a toothy smile, making Wanda smile. “Name’s Y/N,” she turned back to doodle something on the blank page of the boy behind her before fully turning to the front. Her head leaned to her expectantly.

“I’m Wanda,” the brunette mumbled as she took a seat and slowly took her books, as if trying to seem unbothered by the stare burning the side of her body.

“It’s not all the time we get new students,” you said in a whisper, for Mr. Chadman had started the lesson already. “Where are you from?”

“Um… Sokovia,” Wanda braced herself expecting the typical questions that followed, but gasped when you surprised her.

“That’s near the Czech Republic, right?” You asked thoughtfully.

“Yep,” Wanda couldn’t help but smile. Maybe this won’t be a hard year, after all.

The rest of the school day was spent with minor inconveniences, except for Pietro’s teasing when he found out she might have made a friend.

Thought that was confirmed when she heard a familiar voice calling over her.

Looking to her left, she saw you standing on a table waving at her with that characteristic smile she learned to like.

“Hi,” Wanda smiled timidly at the 6 smiling faces staring at her.

“Guys, she’s Wanda. Wands, they’re… my friends,” you giggled sitting back down, scooting over to leave room for Wanda.

“Natasha,” the redhead spoke, sending daggers to you, to which you just threw a small piece of bread at her. “Nice to meet you,” she now turned to Wanda, showing her white smile.

“How’s school treating you?” The tall, brunette boy sitting adjacent to her spoke next. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

Before Wanda could answer you gasped, earning your friend's attention.

“Right! Wands, he’s from near your country,” you smiled brightly, almost excited.

“Wait. Where you from?” His blue eyes lighted up expectantly.

“Sokovia,” Wanda dried her sweaty hands on her jeans, gathering all the confidence she could muster.

“Not that near, but I'll take it!” Bucky raised his hand.

Laughing at the glee plastered on his face, Wanda high-fived him.

The passing days had Wanda relaxing by the minute as it seemed she had met the right people thanks to you. Granted you all could be a little too much for her to handle, but she was expectant of what this school year could bring to her.

What she didn’t expect though, was discovering you in a new light as you busied yourself with a well-used notepad. Be it because of curiosity or something she wasn’t familiar with, she wasn’t able to take her eyes off you for the past few minutes.

“What are you working on?” Wanda scooted over, sitting beside you on your bed. “Seems like your life depends on it.”

Pausing for a second, you sighed calmly as you turned to look at her. “Remember how you told me you loved to sing but you sucked at writing your own songs?” You asked cheerfully.

“Yes,” Wanda’s face contorted into one of suspicion.

“Well, I’m finishing a song you might like to-”

“You what?” Wanda all but took the notepad from your hands, reading through the black letters contrasting against the white pages.

“As I was saying, I thought you’d like to participate in next month’s talent show.

“I- No.” Wanda shook her head. “Not happening.”

“But why,” you whined, taking her hand in yours and Wanda felt an electricity wave travel up her arm. “You have a beautiful voice and it’s unfair the world doesn’t know it.”

“I appreciate your willingness in sharing your talent with me and I love this song already. But I don’t sing in public.”

“You really like my song?” You asked, your eye shining with something Wanda couldn’t put her finger on.

“Are you kidding? It’s amazing!” Wanda smiled proudly.

“Thanks,” you looked down, but Wanda could notice the rosy tint in your cheeks. But as soon as the shyness came, your stance was taken over by mischief.

“Tell you what,”

“Oh, no. I know that look and I don’t want-”

“But Wanda! I promise it’s a good thing!” You pleaded and Wanda could only sigh.

“Okay,” you paused confidently. “You sing this song in the talent’s show and I show you the tons of songs I’ve written.”

“Absolutely not.” Wanda nodded in the negative repeatedly.

“But Waaaaaands!” You whined deeply, conjuring the best pout you could, and Wanda only raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

“Besides, you dream of being a famous singer,” you continued when the silence had stretched for way too long. “How you’d make it if you don’t get out of your comfort zone?”

Wanda hated when you used her future to have it your way. But if she was being honest, she knew the day would come sooner or later, so she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.

“You better show me all of them,” Wanda laughed joyfully when you threw yourself at her, hugging her.

“I knew you’d come to your senses.” You spoke toothily, looking down at her comfortable smile.

But said smile turned into a thin line when Wanda realized how close you were. So close she could feel your small breaths colliding against her lips like a needed breeze on a hot summer day.

Poking your side, Wanda scurried from under you. “You’re squeezing me,”

“Blandy,” you rolled your eyes, sitting up.

“I- That’s not a wo-”

“I’m the creator here,” you shrugged her off to which Wanda poked her tongue at you.

The following weeks passed in a blur as you both worked on the song Wanda would sing. Long nights on the weekends turned into a constant between you two and Wanda couldn’t help the peace she felt when you were by her side. Despite the bubbly, -hyperactive at times, charming persona you held, you were like a soothing balm to her conflicted insides, silently healing the wounds her demons left her with.

“I can’t do it.” Wanda panicked, turning to her best friend.

“You can and you will,” you grabbed her by the shoulders, making sure her eyes stayed locked with yours, making Wanda hold her breath for a little longer than necessary. “I believe in you, Wands. You’ll do great!”

“What if-”

“Nope. I’m forbidding you to go there.” You chastised. “You said you trusted me, right?”

“Always,” she answered nervously.

“Then believe in yourself, babe. You’re capable of amazing things if you just cross the line,” you smiled comfortingly, fighting Wanda’s inner shadows away.

With those words, Wanda hugged you before she stepped onto the stage after hearing her name, adjusting her guitar trying to avoid the public’s eyes.

Looking at you one last time with your supportive smile grazing your features, Wanda faced the crowd with her eyes closed as her fingers played the right chords expertly.

Picture a place where it all doesn't hurt

Where everything's safe and it doesn't get worse

Oh my

We see through bloodshot eyes

Wanda’s soft voice accompanied the soothing notes from her guitar, creating a spell that hypnotized everyone in the room.

Jump with me, come with me, burn like the sun

We'll talk, then we'll cry, then we'll laugh 'til we're done

Oh my

It's like we're out our minds

We've been runnin' for our lives

We've been hidin' from the light

We've been far too scared to fight

For what we want tonight

Wanda dared to open her eyes as she gained the confidence needed and smiled something proud at the faces full of calm in front of her.

Close your eyes and leave it all behind

Go where love is on our side

It's a trust fall, baby

By the time Wanda realizes she’s been staring at you, the last few chords come to its end. Feeling her heart burning from something she wasn’t sure of, Wanda played the last note smiling as everyone clapped and cheered at her. The adrenaline of the moment took over her, making her run to you after she walked off the stage.

“That was amazing!” Wanda giggled, closing her arms tightly around you.

“You are amazing,” you stood there, patiently holding her.

Breaking the hug, Wanda looked at your eye and felt the fire inside her burn stronger at the utter pride she found.

Before she could react, her lips touched yours, like a magnetic force dragging you together.

“I’m sorry,” she freaked when she realized what she just did. But the dreadful feeling disappeared when this time, you leaned forward, kissing her painfully slowly.

Smiling through the kiss, Wanda encircled her arms around your neck as you hugged her waist, bringing your bodies impossibly closer.

“Let me take you on a date?” You smiled when you parted for much-needed air.

“I would love that,” Wanda smiled as calmly as you, hugging you one last time hiding her face in the process, as she heard the voices of your friends nearing at a fast pace with the promise of celebrating after the show.

The stars shining over reminded you how small you were. Your small body was nothing compared to the cold rocks twinkling up in the black sky and a pang wounded your heart as Wanda shifted beside you, feeling the right side of your face burning under her intense gaze.

“Can I ask something?” Wanda’s voice was barely audible, afraid to break the calm.

Turning your head, you leaned forward pecking her lips. “Go ahead.”

“Why there’s a tinted side on your glasses?”

Closing your eyes, you sighed defeatedly. You knew it was too good to be true. Yet, you wished for the ask to never come.

“I’m blind in my left eye,” you pursed your lips, awaiting a reaction.

The gasp that escaped Wanda’s lips had you bracing yourself for the worst. You weren’t ready to give up on this living dream.

Before you could dwell too much into your sadness, Wanda’s hand cupped your cheek, as if inspecting her following actions were safe.

The burning sensation you felt on your left cheek started to prickle upwards your face as slender fingers were dragged agonizingly softly -a featherlight touch, really. Your breath stopped mid-exhale as Wanda lifted your glasses, caressing the skin beside your eye. You were thankful for the dark of the night around you, making it harder for Wanda to notice what could easily shine with the light.

As Wanda’s intense gaze shifted from one eye to the other, you closed your eyes to stop the forming tears. But what happened next had you choking a cry as Wanda kissed your broken eye and you could only wrap your arms around her waist as you hid your face in the crook of her neck, trying unsuccessfully to hide your pain.

“Detka,” Wanda mumbled with her lips against your head.

Seeing you did not move, Wanda just stood there, holding you at a weird angle that provided you the comfort you needed and you silently thanked her. You weren’t ready for this part of your story to see the light and being honest, you didn’t think you’d ever will.

“Detka,” the brunette tried once again after a few moments. This time, you complied. And the look you saw in those green eyes had you inhaling sharply.

“What happened?” She asked, combing some locks off your forehead.

“I had an accident when I was little,” you lied. “I was helping my dad with a project and a splinter got in my eye, leaving it useless.” You spoke confidently, having used the lie for so long.

“It suits you,” Wanda winked and you laughed something small, appreciating the fact she didn’t pity you. Or that she didn’t show it if she did.

“Can I have my glasses again, please?”

“You can,” Wanda carefully placed your glasses in its place, kissing your nose to move to your lips.

Humming at the contact, you allowed yourself to relax for the time being. More than ever, you decided to live your life the best way you could without thinking of the looming ghost over you.

It was a Wednesday when the fact you were a few weeks away from graduating high school hit you. And with that, the rainy day felt even more gloomy as the thought of another milestone so close, yet so far away given the condition you were in.

But that thought was pushed to the back of your mind when the honking car outside signaled your ride had arrived.

You had planned to go bowling with your friends as the last gathering before finals started the following week, determined to cherish every single second you had with the people you loved.

That’s how you found yourself fighting with your left shoe as the lights were dimmed.

“Let me,” Natasha squatted in front of you, making a quick job of your shoelaces.

“Thanks,” you smiled toothily, hooking your arms together as you walked to your friends a few feet away rooting for each one of the Maximoff twins in some game you didn’t care to pay attention to.

Once everyone was in your booth, you started the game as Pietro decided he was going first.

The afternoon was filled with laughter and playful banter and you couldn’t be happier having your friends and your girlfriend by your side.

“You’re up,” Bucky cheered you. “Show speedster how we do it,” he winked, causing you all to laugh while Pietro grumbled something you couldn’t hear.

Walking to the line, you chose the purple ball and measured your distance with precision. Balancing forth and back until you felt confident enough, you sprint to the limit line throwing the rolling ball as hard as you could.

“Wooh!” Wanda and Natasha cheered as you dropped all the pines in one shoot.

You smiled proudly as you walked back to your friends, waiting for Pietro’s commentary.

“Pretty impressive for having one eye,” he rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed that you were leading the charts.

“Who says I just have one?” You frowned, hiding the giggle in your voice. “Tony gave me a bionic eye.” You shrugged, earning a chorus of ‘ooh’s’ from the youngsters.

“What!” Pietro looked shocked at the boy adjacent to him.

“What can I say? I like helping my friends,” Tony high-fived you as you sat beside him.

That night you held onto the toilet bowl as if your life depended on it with Wanda holding your short hair up in a ponytail as you had woken up with a sudden need to empty your guts.

“What can I do?” Wanda asked on the verge of tears as she never stopped the circling patterns on your back.

“It’s okay, love.” You sighed deeply as you stood up on wobbly legs. “It was the fried egg, probably,” you opened the mouthwash and gargled the nasty taste away.

Turning around, you couldn’t help but hug your girlfriend at seeing her so small. It was at that exact moment that you knew you did good in not telling her the truth.

“I don’t like seeing you sick,” the brunette pouted.

“Having you by my side makes it bearable,” you kissed her nose. Something that had become usual between you both whenever the other needed reassurance.

“Come on, let’s go back to bed,” you encircled her waist with your right arm, walking her to the bed.

The next minutes were spent in silence, enjoying each other’s warmth. Until the air around you started to weigh.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You turned to the body beside you.

“You think we’ll make it?” Wanda’s voice trembled and you felt your heart constrict at the not-so-positive prospect of your life.

Raising your hand to her face, you allowed your fingers to caress her soft skin, tracing her features with the lightest of touch, admiring her natural beauty and the dreamy way her eyes shone with the moonlight casted over her.

“It’s just college, baby,” you reassured her, pecking her lips.

“Far away schools,” she pouted something that had you all mushy.

Pausing, you decided to bite the bullet. “I was waiting till graduation,” you sat up, rummaging through your nightstand until you found the black velvety box.

You smiled softly at the choked gasp that left Wanda’s mouth as her eyes landed over the small square.

Opening the cube, you took out the small chain, holding it between your faces, absorbing all of Wanda’s emotion at that moment.

“Oh my,” Wanda grabbed the silver object, smiling watery at the pendants in her trembling hand.

“I know how much music means to you and is no secret it’s what bonded us,” you spoke calmly. “This is a reminder that no matter how far we are, we’ll always be connected.”

You quietly admired Wanda’s eyes glued to both musical notes, the eighth note hanging lower than the sixteenth note.

“Thank you,”

The sudden weight on top of you had you laughing as Wanda peppered your face with kisses while she repeated the same two words after every kiss.

“I love you,” the brunette cried with a smile before she locked your lips against hers in a searing promise. Of what, you didn’t know; but you surely won’t stop her for anything in the world.

But what started as an innocent kiss filled with promises of a future you might never see, shifted to something passionate that burned your body from the inside out and the clothes hugging your body started to suffocate you.

“Wands,” you moaned as your hands toyed with the end of her shirt.

The brunette sat quickly, discarding the clothing on the floor and you couldn’t help admiring the pale skin that invited you to emboss random patterns on its surface. And you did.

Your hands cupped her breasts, massaging them gently as you sat up to meet her lips, drawing out her moans.

At the tug on your shirt, you parted to take it off before you attacked her lips once again, grabbing her waist to guide her against your cunt, enjoying the every sinful sound that escaped her mouth.

Not having enough, you rolled over, landing on her as you started to trail wet kisses down her body, applying everything you learned during these three years, determined to allow her to remind you when your time had come.

The primal moan she mouthed when you bite on her hip bone had your hunger increasing ten times.

“Detka, please,” Wanda grunted in a gasp, bucking her hips up trying to find what she needed.

Grazing the tip of your nose against her mons pubis, you inhaled her intoxicating essence.

If the sound Wanda freed were sinful, the guttural sob she gifted you with when your tongue lapped at her folds had you in paradise.

Repeating the action once, then twice, you gathered as much wetness as you could, moaning between every lick. As if you licked your favorite lollipop after a bitter taste.

Deciding to finally give her what she wanted, your kisses ascended up, wetting every single patch of skin you could reach, smiling at the neediness of her voice.

“I need you,” she cried as she grabbed your head and brought you to her level, devouring your lips just to moan when she tasted herself.

Taking advantage of her dizzy state, you pumped three fingers inside of her as her head rolled back breathing something so sinful that you thought you’d been cursed for life, and you didn’t complain. Moving your digits in and out of her entrance at a slow pace you groaned at how tight she felt.

“You feel so good,” you praised. “Taking me so well.” Wanda could only moan at your words, too focused on matching your movements.

Sitting up, you stilled her with your free hand, never stopping your action as you looked down at her. The immaculate way in which her body writhed under you was something you could never forget. The perfect shifts in her face’s muscles with every pleasure you provided her had you wishing for your reality to change. You wanted nothing more than to live forever just to have her this way. A vulnerable mess under your touch, trusting you her soul.

Muffling a painful cry, you leaned over to kiss her devil’s lips, hoping the knot in your throat would go away.

“I love you forever,” you cried as you increased your pace, feeling her walls clenching around your fingers. Your hips pushed your hand deeper inside her as your fingers curled up, hitting the right spot.

“Oh, fuck.” Wanda cried arching her back, unaware of your inner turmoil.

“Cum for me, love,” you commanded, stilling your shivering voice.

She didn’t need much more than a few extra pumps to cum all over your fingers, panting her way down the high.

Opening her eyes, the lust in those green orbs turned into concern as she looked at you.

“Why the tears?” She asked, bringing you to lay on top of her.

‘I’m dying’ “I love you,” you sobbed, placing your ear on her chest, desperate to hear her heartbeats full of life.

It was all so unfair. You deserved a lifetime with the love of your life. You deserve to have a family and to grow old with the woman that had stolen your heart out of the blue. You deserved to see her in white walking down the aisle. You deserved to see her achieve her dreams.

But all you had was a sand clock emptying itself by the minute and an excruciating pain taking over your stiff body. Breathing was becoming harder and harder as the will in you fought in vain to win a war you had lost time ago.

Wanda’s sobs joined yours as she hugged you tighter, unaware of the fact that the love of her life was nearing the end of her path.

The morning came and you were thankful Wanda didn’t comment on your breakdown from the previous night, for if she did, you weren’t sure you’d be able to keep the lie much longer. You knew she deserved the know, but you also knew she’d be willing to glue herself by your side and give up on her desires, and you never wanted to be that person. She deserved to fly and you could only support her with pride.

The following weeks provided little time for you and Wanda to spend time together since finals were kicking all your asses. But Wanda consoled herself knowing that you all would celebrate after graduation, proud of having achieved a milestone together. That and the prospect of having you for herself the whole summer had her squeezing her fuel tank to no end.

To say all of you had nailed the exams was an understatement as your glasses clinked together on your designated booth.

“I can’t believe we did it, guys!” Natasha smiled toothily, proud of herself.

“Next step, a week off at my beach house,” Tony proposed, earning all of your cheers.

“You sure your parents will let us all together?” Steve raised an eyebrow, always the reasonable one.

“They will. Leave it to me,” Tony winked.

“Make sure you don’t bring any toys,” you smirked as everyone laughed at the memories of last summer’s escapade.

“You wound me,” Tony faked being hurt.

Wanda’s hand rested on your bare thigh, smiling peacefully as she enjoyed the banter between you all.

Her mind took her back to the first day at school when she prayed before entering your classroom and she silently thanked all the gods out there for having you in her life. With your differences and disagreements, all of you conformed a tight-knotted group that she was sure would last a lifetime.

Kissing your cheek softly, she stood up with both your empty glasses in hand, walking to the bar for a refill.

“You’re Wanda, right?” A tall brunette took her out of her reverie.

“Yes,” Wanda frowned as she waited for her beers.

“I’m Maria. Maria Hill,” the lady introduced herself, stretching her hand. Once Wanda accepted it, she continued. “I saw you on stage the other day and I’ve been waiting to meet you,” her words had Wanda’s attention.

“I’m a music producer and I know how to spot talent,” she explained. “I’d like you to sing at the upcoming festival next month.”

“Are you serious?” Wanda’s eyes opened wide at the offer the woman was giving her.

“Dead serious,” Maria nodded curtly. “If the public likes you, we can talk business.” She handed her a business card. “Call me if you’re interested.”

With that, the woman smiled politely and walked away, leaving Wanda in a frozen state until Tom called her name.

“Warm beer doesn’t taste good,” the young man smirked.

“Right. But did you hear what she said?” Wanda’s smile grew bigger by the second.

“The only way is up,” he winked before moving to another customer.

Wanda walked back to your booth in an ecstasy state after the short encounter. She could be signed up.

Feeling your eyes on her, she looked at you, unable to hide her happiness.

“I’ll tell you later,” she mumbled to you, kissing your cheek and you smiled contently.

To say you were excited was an understatement. When Wanda told you about her offer you didn’t pause to think about your words.

“You should’ve said yes!” You smiled toothily with your own body vibrating from happiness and Wanda couldn’t help giggling at your reaction.

“I was kinda shocked,” she scrunched her nose.

“My baby is getting famous!” You launched yourself at her and Wanda burst out laughing at your eagerness.

You’ve always been her biggest supporter. Always by her side in whichever gig she got and always fighting the anxiety that sometimes took the best of her.

She’ll never forget when she showed you her first song. Your eye had lighted up like the fourth of July and the pride reflected in it had her insides warming up. And the jokes of having to quit your job but still waiting to get paid had her stomach flipping at the wondering of how you’d celebrate this time when she told you she accepted to play at the festival.

But all of that flew off her mind when she got the call from Natasha saying you’d been admitted into the hospital.

All her dreams and wishes shifted into one.

‘Please, may you be safe’ she begged to any deity willing to hear her.

Stomping through the hospital doors, she rushed to the front desk asking for your whereabouts, just to sprint the two floors that separated you both.

The air filling her lungs had become toxic and it hurt to breathe. Her trembling legs burned from the sudden running from the parking lot to your hospital bed.

“Detka!” Wanda cried entering room 274.

What she saw had her heart jumping on freefall down a cliff.

Your weakened form looked at her without the life that was so characteristic of you. All the little traits that adorned your happy features were erased as if they never existed.

Her legs menaced to give away and she wasn’t strong enough to fight back. Knees collided against the cold floor as her hand grabbed yours as if the act alone would transmit to you some of her light.

“Detka,” she sobbed as her world started to tumble.

“It’s gonna be okay,” you spoke calmly as your free hand cupped her cheek.

She placed her hand over yours, holding it tightly as she tried to understand.

Two days ago you were laughing gleefully about your vacation together and now… now you looked like a ghost.

“Come here,” you commanded weakly as you scooted over and Wanda didn’t need to think twice.

Careful not to step on any IV, she cuddled against you, choking at the warmth barely existent.

“What- Why,” she cried defeatedly as she crumpled your hospital gown in her hand.

Your arms held her trembling body, spasming with every sob that escaped her. Kissing your head, you mumbled against her. “My eye,” was all your broken voice allowed to communicate.

“It wasn’t an accident. Was it?” She should’ve caught the signs. The random sickness and the vomiting, all had an explanation she was too oblivious to note.

“It’s a retinoblastoma,” you paused, trying to steady your voice. “It had reached the majority of my organs,” you tightened your hold and Wanda’s soul cried with her at the barely change in strength.

“You can’t leave me!” She screamed between sobs. “You- You’ve- You have promised me,” her whole face contorted as another pang ran through her heart.

The news had left her weak to speak, so she stood there, laying by your side in your hospital bed, crying her pain away as she tried to process how her life would change soon. You were slipping through her fingers and she could do nothing about it other than see you leave.

“I’m gonna call Maria and cancel-”

“What?” You cut her off, looking down at her.

She sat in bed, sighing at the refusal from her body. “You’re dying,” she groaned.

“That doesn’t mean you have to pause your life,” you frowned sternly and Wanda felt herself becoming small, like a little kid being chastised because they ate too many sweets before bed.

“You’re the one abandoning me! You can’t tell me how to spend your last moments on this earth!” Wanda spits venomously, rage taking over her.

The resentment only grew stronger as you stood quiet, your sight staring at your lap.

“You have no right when you’re the one giving up!”

By the time she realized her words, your cheeks were already marked with tears running freely.

“I-” Wanda paused as a fresh wave of tears burned her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she launched herself towards you, holding you with all the will she possessed just to anchor you here. She refused to let you go.

“I’ll always be with you, Wands,” you cried, hugging her with what little force you had left.

“I’ll love you forever.” She vowed sincerely.

And she did. Every day for the next two weeks she stood by your side, telling you about the song she was writing for the festival and watching your favorite movies along with her favorite sitcoms. Even planning gatherings with your friends as you all enjoyed the last moments together.

Against her will, the day of the recital had come sooner than she expected and her heart ached knowing you won’t be there. It was the first time you missed one of her presentations and everything in her broke. Her heart shattered and she knew a part of her would go with you.

But she had promised you. And she would never break her word, no matter how hard it was to comply.

Looking at her reflection one last time, she smiled tearily as she saw your image in the mirror by her side, with the proudest toothy smile you only reserved for her. And that alone was enough to enlight her willpower.

She stepped into the white light as everyone cheered something she could really understand and she couldn’t help the rush of adrenaline running through every cell in her body.

“Good night, Westview!” Wanda smiled cheerily when the crowd erupted. “I hope you’re having a wonderful night. I wrote this song thinking of someone special and I hope you enjoy it.” She spoke confidently, feeling your joyful energy surrounding her. Finding Natasha’s eyes, she nodded as the redhead raised two thumbs up.

As the first tunes filled the silence looming over them, Wanda breathed deeply, reassuring herself.

I've tried to leave it all behind me

But I woke up and there they were beside me

And I don't believe it but I guess it's true

Some feelings, they can travel too

Wanda sang slowly, evoking every emotion into those lines.

Oh there it is again, sitting on my chest

Makes it hard to catch my breath

I scramble for the light to change

You're always on my mind

Her intrusive smile hung crookedly on her lips, feeling your presence by her side.

And I never minded being on my own

Then something broke in me and I wanted to go home

To be where you are

Wanda allowed her mind to travel back to the moment she first heard your voice for the first time. Back then, she didn’t know that her heart could feel so strongly for someone.

But even closer to you, you seem so very far

And now I'm reaching out with every note I sing

And I hope it gets to you on some pacific wind

Wraps itself around you and whispers in your ear

Tells you that I miss you and I wish that you were here

And boy, how she wished to see your face in the crowd, with your toothy smile lightening her path.

And if I stay home, I don't know

There'll be so much that I'll have to let go

You're disappearing all the time

But I still see you in the light

For you, the shadows fight

And it's beautiful but there's that tug in the sight

I must stop time traveling, you're always on my mind

You're always on my mind

Wanda sang her soul in those lines, hoping somehow you knew.

We all need something watching over us

Be it the falcons, the clouds or the crows

And then the sea swept in and left us all speechless

Speechless

Her eyes watered at the realization you’d be the one watching over her. Always guiding her, even if she couldn’t see you. And she couldn’t feel more blessed.

And I never minded being on my own

Then something broke in me and I wanted to go home

To be where you are

But even closer to you, you seem so very far

And now I'm reaching out with every note I sing

And I hope it gets to you on some pacific wind

Wraps itself around you and whispers in your ear

Tells you that I miss you and I wish that you were here

As she sang the last words, she allowed her fingers to take over the melody, imagining said notes floating away to you, for all she wanted now was to see your proud smile one last time when she rushed to your side shortly.

But she never saw you again.

By the time she met her friends, her legs gave up as she saw the tears running down their faces, confirming to her what her soul had felt when she saw you in the mirror was nothing more than the bond that linked you breaking as you left this world.

The arms of her friends surrounding her meant nothing at the realization that you had left her. All alone to pick up the pieces of her heart scattered around.

Sadness reigned over the group of people gathered by your casket. Each one with their own thoughts and feelings, but if Wanda was sure of something it was that everyone there asked the same question.

How come the nicest people are the first to leave? Seeing your picture over the easel with that big smile that had taken her captive and your eye shining with that unique light it held, enlightened a wave of anger roaring free. It wasn’t fair.

“Wanda,” your mom spoke softly once the funeral ended.

Looking up, Wanda couldn’t help her cries as the woman hugged her tightly, crying along with her.

“She loved you,” she spoke against the brunette’s hair. “Until her last breath, she loved you.”

Those words played in her mind like a mantra. Maybe if she repeated them enough, it wouldn’t hurt that much.

“She asked me to give you this,” the woman gave her a white envelope when they parted away. “And one last thing? Thank you for loving her.” She kissed Wanda’s head before walking away, leaving a broken Wanda by your grave.

Sitting down, she let the silence surround her, almost like a bubble that would pop with even the softest touch, breathing twice, thrice before opening the letter.

Wands, if you’re reading this it means my body is no longer by your side. But know that my soul will always be linked to yours, for a love like ours is hard to die.

Thank you for all the great moments you shared with me. Unbeknownst to you, every single smile and laugh you gifted me added time to my sand clock and that blessing is something that kept me fighting till the end.

I know you’re suffering right now and you need to mourn, like any loss. But when you’re able to truly smile again, I beg of you not to close your heart. Life is too magical to be lived alone.

Allow yourself to feel love again, don’t fight your heart. Yes? Promise me you’ll keep your head high and not let my departure keep you from enjoying the little things in life.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner about it, but I know you and I didn’t want you to leave your life on standby while you worried about things no one could solve. Know that till the last breathing of my heart, I lived. And I hope to live forever in your memory.

The necklace I gifted you holds a meaning. I knew it deep in me the first moment I saw you that you were my forever love. And I wished with all my heart I lived long enough to grow old with you. But as the latest didn’t happen, I found the right totem to keep our love for the end of times.

The sixteenth note means the union of our souls and the sincere love we held for each other. The eighth note holds the reminder that even though I'm not present, my spirit will always guide you through your dreams, helping you achieve them. Always silently rooting for you in whatever challenge you face. Just like I always did.

No matter what, bet your ass I’m so, so, so proud of you, baby. And I always will. You were my biggest love and I’m forever thankful for you had taken me.

I love you forever. Until we meet again.

Wanda hugged the letter tightly against her chest, silently crying her pain away as she stared numbly at your whereabouts buried three feet underground.

“I’ll love you forever,” she cried, mustering all the love she held for you in those three words, hoping the wind would let you know.

As always, coments and reblogs are appreciated (:

Taglist: @summergeezburr @red1culous @wandabear @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @mitarashi-san

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #requested #my writing

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dystopicjumpsuit · 1 year

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Watch and Learn, City Boy (Taylor's Version)

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Sergeant Hound x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings: fluff; SMUT; oral sex; PIV; playful partners; sex in a tent; dirty talk; Grizzer has seen some shit.

A/N: This was originally written for the Writer Wednesday week 1 challenge, and if you'd prefer to read a smut-free version, you can find it here. If you like spicy lemons, keep reading!

Want to read more Hound goodness? Check out this fic by @imarvelatthestars

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“Remind me why we’re doing this, again?” Hound grumbles as the two of you wrangle a pile of tent poles and canvas.

“Because the hotel didn’t allow massiffs,” you say, grunting a bit as you struggle with the heavy tent.

Technically, the hotel doesn’t allow clones, either, but you leave that unsaid. You had booked the room, paid the pet deposit, and traveled from Coruscant to Alderaan, only to be abruptly turned away at check-in. Before you left, you told the hotel concierge your opinion of their corporate bigotry, and now you are also banned for life. And so here the three of you are, setting up an ancient, decrepit canvas tent that you dug out of your parents’ attic.

Well, technically the two of you are setting up the tent while Grizzer explores your campsite, sniffing the lush greenery of Alderaan with interest. The massiff is accustomed to the hard plastcrete and rancid smells of Coruscant, and you wonder if she’s ever been in nature before.

“Relax,” you say. “I did this all the time growing up. It’ll be fun!”

“Sleeping in the dirt and eating rations is your idea of fun?” Hound asks.

“The tent has a floor,” you point out, “and believe me, we can do better than rations.”

Eventually, you wrestle the tent into submission and get two bedrolls laid out inside. The scent of old canvas, saturated with woodsmoke and memories, pulls you right back to your childhood: camping under the stars, swimming in the lake, lying in the sand and exploring the world around you. You can almost hear the shrieks of laughter and your father’s deep baritone as he sings a lullaby to you and your siblings.

You hang up a few strings of twinkle lights, and then, satisfied with the cozy little retreat you’ve created, you go back outside to get a campfire started. Hound is standing with his arms crossed, looking decidedly unimpressed with the entire situation.

“Has it occurred to you that there are wild animals in these woods?” he asks. “Gree told me about the wolf-cats of Alderaan.”

“Grizzer will keep us safe,” you reassure him. “Won’t you, girl? Who’s my sweet baby?”

Grizzer wiggles happily over to you and nuzzles into your chest as you squat to scritch behind her ear holes.

“Grizzer, have some dignity, for kark’s sake,” Hound says. “You are a soldier of the Republic, not a pampered lap-tooka.”

Grizzer ignores him and flops onto her back to beg for belly rubs. Seeing the way you fawn over the massiff, Hound can’t help but smile, remembering the day he met you.

“Grizzer! NO!” Hound chased after the bolting massiff as she charged an unsuspecting civilian in the middle of Monument Plaza. Grizzer had yanked the leash out of his hands and was running full-tilt through the scattering crowds. Too late, he saw her target: you. You were standing in the sun, laughing with a street vendor, and Hound would have taken a moment to appreciate your beauty if you hadn’t been directly in the path of certain doom. “Grizzer!” he shouted again. “Heel!” You turned toward the commotion with only a few meters between you and the charging massiff. Hound fought the urge to close his eyes before Grizzer launched herself and savaged you, but then something completely unexpected happened. You called out a word in a strange language, and the massiff skidded to a halt in front of you. You allowed her to sniff your hand, and then you pulled something out of your pocket and offered it to her. She took the treat and licked your hand as Hound finally caught up, heaving with exertion. “Sorry, ma’am,” he panted. “She slipped her leash. I don’t know what got into her.” You smiled up at him, and his heart thudded with more than just adrenaline when he saw the way your eyes sparkled. “She just smelled the treats,” you said with a shrug. “We always had massiffs when I was growing up, and I never got out of the habit of carrying a few treats in my pockets. I hope it’s all right that I gave her one; I really didn’t want to lose a hand.” In that moment, Hound knew he was utterly lost.

“Awww, is Daddy grumpy?” you coo at Grizzer as you rub her belly. “Is he a Cranky McGrumperson? Is he spreading his grumpy energy all over our campsite because he’s afraid to get his hands dirty?”

You shoot Hound a teasing look, and he stalks over to you, pulling you away from Grizzer and into his arms for a kiss. You sigh happily. You’ve been seeing Hound for a few weeks now, and you were hoping that a romantic trip to your home planet of Alderaan during his shore leave would give you an opportunity to take things to the next level. You had booked a room at a posh boutique hotel with a luxurious soaking tub and an incredible view of the mountains. Who knew the hoteliers would turn out to be gigantic dicks?

So you made a quick change of plans. You had been worried about Hound’s reaction to the idea of camping, but your other option was to take him to your parents’ home and sleep in your childhood bedroom, which… No thanks. Not the ideal setup for the intimate weekend you are planning.

You break away from Hound’s kiss feeling lightheaded. He’s an excellent kisser, and as you’ve discovered over the past weeks, a man who can kiss like that will bring a similar level of skill and enthusiasm to the bedroom (or the bedroll, as the case may be). Now all you have to do is coax him out of his sullen mood.

“Did I mention I happen to be an amazing cook?” you ask, fluttering your eyelashes.

His interest is immediately piqued. “How are you planning to cook out here?”

“Watch and learn, city boy,” you say with a grin.

One hour, two shaak steaks, and four bottles of ale later, Hound’s temper is remarkably improved.

“Where did you learn to cook over an open fire like that?” he asks.

“My dad taught me,” you say as you pull out a deck of sabacc cards. “I told you we used to do this all the time when I was a kid. You in?”

He nods, so you shuffle and deal.

“Your dad sounds like an interesting man,” he says. “Too bad he wasn’t home when we stopped by to get the camping gear. I’d like to meet him.”

You laugh, “Trust me, it’s better this way. You might be ready to take down the entire Separatist army, but you are not prepared for my parents’ boyfriend interrogation.”

“Boyfriend, is it?” Hound asks, his brown eyes twinkling.

“If you play your cards right,” you say with a smirk.

You play a few hands of sabacc, betting with pebbles since Hound doesn’t have any credits, and when it gets too dark to see the cards, you decide to change into pajamas. Grizzer goes into the tent with you and immediately flops down on a bedroll. When you’d packed for your trip, you were planning to be spending your nights in a luxury suite, and your choice of sleepwear was not exactly suited to the great outdoors, so you regretfully tuck away the lacy little chemise. You strip out of your clothes and pull on a pair of short shorts and an old Alderaan University hoodie—the best option you could find in your old bedroom at your parents’ house.

When you leave the tent, Grizzer stays behind. Hound watches you with an unreadable expression, and you worry that he’s still not having a good time. It’s time to break out the big guns.

“Are you ready to have your mind blown, trooper?” you ask with a flirty look.

He sits forward immediately. “What did you have in mind?”

You bend over and rummage through the bags of groceries you’d bought on your way out of Aldera. When you straighten up, you notice his gaze lingering on your exposed legs. You toss him a packet of marshmallows.

“What are these for?” he asks.

You hand him a stick that you scavenged earlier in the day and teach him how to toast the marshmallows over the coals of the campfire. Hound’s immediately catches on fire, which you assure him is part of the experience.

“It’s not a real s’more if the marshmallow isn’t at least thirty percent carbon,” you say.

You show him how to sandwich the resulting crispy, molten marshmallow in between layers of chocolate and sweet biscuits, and the bliss on his face when he tastes it for the first time makes the entire trip worthwhile. You haven’t eaten s’mores in years, and you’ve forgotten how rich they are.

“I think I can only eat one,” you say.

“Not me,” he says. “I’ll eat the whole bag.”

You give him a delighted smile, pleased that he’s finally come around. Hound has such a sweet tooth. All the clones do, he tells you. Something to do with their enhanced metabolisms, and the fact that they rarely get to eat anything other than ration bars and bland mess hall food.

“These are incredible,” he mumbles around a bite. “Messy, though.”

“I can help with that,” you offer. You raise his hand to your mouth, licking the melted chocolate and marshmallow goo off his fingers. “After all, we both know you don’t like to get your hands dirty.”

His eyes widen, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe. He swallows audibly. “You know, I take it back. Maybe camping isn’t so bad after all.”

You stand up and tug him to his feet, leading him to the tent. Inside, Grizzer has completely claimed one entire bedroll for herself.

“I guess we’ll have to share,” you say, already planning what kind of treat to give the massiff as a thank-you.

“Oh, no, anything but that,” Hound murmurs as he draws you close to him, running his hands down your back to squeeze your ass. “You know, with the lights on in the tent, I could see everything when you were changing.”

“Everything?” you ask, tipping your head back to gaze up into his beautiful amber eyes.

“Well, maybe not everything,” he admits. He slips a hand inside your hoodie to caress the bare skin of your back.

“Maybe we should turn them off so we don’t scandalize all those wild animals you’re so worried about,” you tease.

“Let them watch,” he says, pulling you into a searing kiss.

Your tongue brushes against his softly. He tastes like sugar and chocolate, and you melt into him. Your hands roam over his body, sliding the jacket down his arms, tugging at his belt. You silently thank the Force that he’s wearing civvies instead of his armor. Once you’ve gotten his trousers off, you both sink to your knees onto the bedroll so you can take his shirt off without hitting the low ceiling of the tent.

You press him backward until he’s lying down, and you move to straddle him. You’re still wearing your shorts and hoodie, and something about being fully clothed while sitting astride the very naked, very aroused man is intoxicating. You trail your hands over his smooth, brown skin, tracing his tattoos and massaging the hard muscles of his torso. He raises a hand to cup your face, and you kiss the gnarled, twisting scar on his forearm—a memento of a training accident with a young massiff. You roll your hips against him, feeling the hard length of his cock pressing against you through your shorts. He slides his hands up under your hoodie, cupping your breasts before lifting the garment off over your head. The air is chilly, and your nipples stiffen instantly.

“Oh, fuck, look at those perfect tits,” he groans. “Come here, babygirl. Let me taste you.”

You lean forward, and he captures one of your nipples in his mouth. Jolts of arousal flash through you. His large, rough hands are warm against your back, and you can’t hold back a moan of pleasure.

Grizzer huffs an annoyed snort, and without looking at the massiff, Hound commands, “Grizzer, stand guard.”

She stands with a grumble and pushes out of the tent. You hear the heavy thump as she sits down outside the opening.

“Are you telling me you could have gotten that bedroll back this whole time?” you demand with mock severity.

“Where would have been the fun in that?” Hound asks with a smug grin. “Darlin’, you look hot as kriff in those shorts, but I think it’s time to take them off.”

He holds you against his body and flips both of you over in one smooth motion so you’re lying on your back. You let out a whoop of laughter at the unexpected movement.

“Shh, you don’t want the wolf-cats to hear you and come eat us,” he teases, nipping playfully at your skin as he kisses his way down your torso.

“That’s true,” you say. “I’d rather get eaten by a Hound.”

You raise your hips, and he tugs down your shorts, then lifts your legs in the air to remove them. Before you can lie back down, he kneels and drapes your thighs over his shoulders.

“Nice trick,” you say. “Is that the kind of quick thinking that got you into ARF training?”

“They only accept the best,” he says as he lowers his face to your body.

He dips his tongue into you, sliding over your clit and into your entrance without hesitation. You arch off the bedroll with a cry, and he lays a reassuring hand on your abdomen, pressing you back down as he feasts on you. With his other hand, he strokes up and down your thigh, finally coming to rest against your ass as he grazes his thumb over your pussy.

“Oh, fuck, Hound, don’t stop,” you whisper.

“Hmm?” he asks, pulling away. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t think the wolf-cats heard you.”

“Kriff you, Hound, shut up and eat my pussy,” you laugh, tangling your hands in his long black curls and shoving his head back down.

He chuckles against your clit and gets back to work. Between his clever tongue and his skilled fingers, he soon has you writhing and begging beneath him, and then he does something impossibly wonderful inside you, and you shatter with a hoarse moan, squeezing your thighs around his head as you grind against his mouth.

And then he is on you, sliding into your tight heat. He fucks you without mercy, wringing a second orgasm out of you almost before you finish your first. You hold on for dear life as he pounds into you, growling words of praise and filth into your ear.

“Look at you, beautiful girl, taking my cock like a champ. Love the way you wrap those soft, perfect thighs around me, oh fuck, sweetheart. So warm, so fucking wet. Come on, baby, think you’ve got one more in you?”

You nod weakly and let out an incoherent sound, unable to form words. He reaches down to rub your clit, pressing against your lower belly. Faster than you think possible, you feel your body winding in on itself again.

“That’s my girl, my pretty girl. Fuck yeah, baby, come on—kark, you feel amazing, oh shit,” he pants. “Give me one more, honey, before I fill your sweet little pussy up with my cum. One more for your grumpy daddy, come on love.”

“YES!” you scream as the tension in your body snaps again and you convulse around his cock, bucking up against him over and over until your head is empty and your body is swamped with bliss.

He follows you into his own orgasm, thrusting hard as he empties deep inside you and collapses onto you, breathing hard.

“Fuck, baby,” he says. “You’re incredible.”

You lie that way for a long time, tangled together, until he raises himself off of you to lie on his side as he plays with your hair. You turn to face him.

“Daddy?” you ask with a tiny smile.

He shrugs. “It felt right in the moment. Did it bother you?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Just filing it away for future reference.”

He laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead, and within moments, you fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The soft light of an early summer morning filters through the canvas of the tent. You awaken slowly, feeling deliciously warm and safe. As you drift towards consciousness, you feel weight pressing against you from both sides, and you realize that at some point during the night, Grizzer has joined you and Hound on your bedroll, sandwiching you between her and the trooper. You are wrapped securely in Hound's strong arms, your legs tangled between his, and his fingers are interlaced with yours. You hear the melodic chirpings of avian-song outside the tent, and you snuggle closer to Hound, feeling his warm, even breaths against your shoulder, and lower, something suspiciously hard nudges against your thigh.

It may not be the romantic getaway you had planned, but this may be your favorite holiday ever.

---

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @imarvelatthestars

#1000 words of smut #dystopicjumpsuit writes #star wars tcw #hound x reader #hound x you #sergeant hound x reader #sergeant hound x you #sergeant hound #clone trooper hound #dj's fic migration

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literallyjustanerd · 9 months

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Good Boy (Tup X F!Reader smut)

One of my New Year's resolutions is to be more shameless. So enjoy some utter filth, courtesy of someone who thinks there can always be more dominant-reader smut out there.

Description: You're unwinding at 79s after a long week, when you spot a certain clone watching you from across the floor. One who gives you other ideas about how to destress. Words: 3.3k Content: Praise kink, hair pulling, dom reader, oral sex, bathroom sex, minor 501st shenanigans Rating: 18+ (minors fuck off. please.)

Taglist: @freesia-writes @wolffegirlsunite @clonethirstingisreal @trixie2023

You’re four drinks in, and you’re starting to feel it. A pleasant little buzz tickles the back of your brain, just enough to shake off the last of the week’s tension. Propping one elbow back against the bar, you survey the dancefloor of 79s from over the rim of your spotchka soda. Before you is a rolling sea of bodies, pushed and pulled by the thundering bass like a relentless tide. You’re drawn in by the undertow, a hypnotic beat swaying your hips as you join the crowd and quickly find yourself lost in the rhythm. Taken far from the stress of a long, long work week. Stars, you’d needed this.

You come back to yourself after who-knows-how-long to the nagging feeling that someone’s eyes are on you. A quick scan of the crowd finds no obvious onlookers. Not that you’d be opposed to that: there’s a reason you pay the extra cab fare to the clone-dominated bar on the surface instead of settling for the cheap lower-level clubs. But just when you’re about to push the feeling aside, you spot him. Big, brown eyes, tucked into the corner of the room, trying hard to look like he’s not watching.

He’s in a private booth toward the back of the bar: the 501st’s usual post. Maybe you should feel a little sheepish about being at 79s enough to know that. But locking eyes with the trooper across the room, you can’t feel anything but intrigue. Only a split second passes before he looks away, skittish and, you could swear, shy. Nothing like the other clones you’d encountered here, all show and bravado: the other 501st members being among the biggest offenders. But this one? He has the same (handsome, rugged, chiselled) face as the other clones. But something about him feels different. Softer, gentler. He laughs at something one of his brothers says, and the way his smile creases those tooka eyes has your gut clenching. And that top knot? …Well. Maybe you needed to blow off some more steam than you’d realised. He’s making an effort to keep his attention away from you, but after a few long moments, his eyes betray him, and he meets your gaze once more. Here we go. You raise your glass in his direction, adding a wink for good measure. His eyes widen, and he nearly chokes on the drink he’s tipped up. You’re grinning, you realise, as you let yourself fade into the music again, working your hips a little more deliberately as you weave through the crowd to the back corner.

You don’t rush. It’s half the fun, playing the game, drawing it out, drinking in the anticipation. He’s trying, poor thing, to keep his cool, but by the time you reach the edge of the crowd and approach the booth, he’s visibly flustered. You’re close enough now to see the teardrop tattoo adorning his cheek. Is it an attempt to seem as tough as the other clones? Or an embracing of his more sensitive nature? You’re hoping, if you play your cards right, that you might just find out.

The other 501st troopers leave you no room to speak when they notice you, falling over each other to offer you a drink and a seat. You pay them no mind, taking a step toward the middle of the booth. “Hey. What’s your name?” Silence. The other clones watch, shocked and grinning. One of them, a Republic cog tattoo across his face, elbows his brother in the side to jog him into speaking. “Tup,” he says, and asks you your name in return. You smile as you tell him. “I haven’t seen you here before.” Another clone, goateed, speaks up, topping Tup’s glass up from a large bottle. “He’s fresh off Kamino. First time out,” he smirks. “We wanted to show him a good time. Maybe you wanna help?” You can’t help but find it cute how instantly his brothers become willing wingmen. And how bashful Tup looks when it's mentioned that it's his first time. The two either side of him barely contain their excitement when you extend your hand. “Maybe I do. Can I buy you a drink, Tup?”

His mouth opens, though it takes a long moment before he can summon the words. In the end, the “yes, please,” he stammers is drowned out by the cheers and taunts of his brothers. They all but shove him out of his seat and toward you, whooping and making crass jokes that turn poor Tup’s cheeks several shades darker. Lacing your fingers with his, you pull him in close and lead both of you back to the bar.

As timid as he seems, he’s just as eager, and twice as polite.. While you wait for the bartender to pour your drinks, he’s already asking you about yourself, where you’re from, how often you’re here, what you do for work. By the time you take your glasses and find a corner of the bar to stand at, you’re surprisingly invested in the conversation. He’s a natural gentleman, and a much better listener than most people you’ve picked up in bars before. When there's a moment's pause in the conversation, he tightens his grip on his drink and takes a slow breath. “You… You look beautiful tonight,” he says, so earnestly that you almost melt. It makes you all the more determined to show him a good time, especially when you see how pleased he looks as you thank him for the compliment, how happy he seems with himself for managing to say it at all.

You turn the talk to him when you can find a gap in his thoughtful questions, and try to return the favour. Tup gushes about the rest of the 501st at the slightest chance he gets. It’s clear he looks up to them: he talks about them like they’re his older brothers. The stories he shares have him more at ease, though he still looks like a tooka in headlights when you reach out and run your fingers over his neatly-tied hair. You're suddenly fighting the impulse to pull it free, to tangle it all up in your fingers and play with it. Later. “Haven’t seen many other clones with hair like this,” you say. “It's gorgeous.” Tup's mouth pulls into a wide, beaming smile, colour flooding his cheeks. He tries to bury his sheepishness behind his drink. Cute. “Thanks,” he mumbles. “The boys say it suits me. It's nice to have something different from them.” You almost kiss him right then and there. But you resist. There's still more to show him. “Do you want to dance?” you ask. He swallows hard, then nods, and lets you lead him to the dancefloor.

Even if you hadn’t been told that this was Tup’s first outing, it would still be as clear as the blinding neon lights around you. He’s painfully still, stiff and off-beat. Laying a hand on the pauldron at his shoulder, you lean in to speak into his ear. “It’s okay,” you say, as gently as you can over the thundering music. “Just relax. Follow my lead.” His hand twitches in yours when you guide it to the arch of your waist. You find yourself glad you’d picked the black dress tonight: it’s thin, with cut-outs and panels of mesh that let you feel his fingers on your skin. Starting slow, you coax Tup into a gentle twist to the beat. Before long, he’s easing into it. Following your lead, just as directed. It’s a kind of high, this feeling of confidence, of control. Of being trusted. Tup’s simple swaying grows to a roll of his hips, each one betraying more heavy intent. When he seems comfortable enough, you reach out one hand to his side, and pull him in close. “Are you having fun?” you ask, your lips inches from the shell of his ear. “Do you want to keep going?” He gives a shallow nod, and forces a low, breathy, “Yes.”

Reassured and wanting more, you tighten your grip on his hip as you dance. The distance between you has closed, the two of you drawn in magnetically. You wish you could press fully against him, but the hard planes of his armour keep you from feeling him like you want to. It’s maddening, only adding to the growing heat under your skin. Roaming fingers find a gap above his cuisse, teasing where his skin is covered only by a thin body sock. At the same time, Tup's hands on your waist creep lower. When you give the flesh a squeeze, relishing the feel of firm muscle under your grip, you could swear you hear a whine escape Tup’s throat. He does the same, bunching the hem of your dress in his fingers, deliciously firm. “You’re good at this,” he mumbles. You run a hand over his arm, squeezing the flesh below his pauldron. “So are you.”

When you pull back to look at him, the smile that settles on his face is brighter, sharper. There’s a spark of mischief in his eye, one that you can’t help but find endearing despite the ache between your legs. It’s driving you to impatience, your mind clouding over with all the things you want to do with -and to- this gorgeous, gentle, genuine man. You’re not sure how much longer you can last out here. You’re closer again, each grind of his body now presses one thick thigh directly to your core. Your pulse quickens. The music throbs around you, filling your head and pounding in the hollow of your chest. The air turns electric. Your hands at his back. Your breath on his ear. Tup’s greedy, devious touch dipping low, then lower. Low enough to grip a handful of your ass and squeeze, tight, dragging your pussy against his thigh. You thrust against the plate of his armour, turning to press your lips to his neck.

“Good boy.”

You hadn’t meant to let it out. It had floated into your mind on the haze of your pleasure and slipped from your mouth in a low purr, all before you could think to hold it back. But before you can worry you’ve taken it too far, Tup’s head falls forward against you. He groans, heavy and stuttering, burrowing into the warmth of your neck. His eyes shut tight. His breath thick, searing on your skin.

Oh.

When he comes back out of hyperspace, his eyes are blown wide. There’s something under his gaze, something feral. You clench around nothing, driven wild by one thought: you’re going to bring that something to the surface, to see what else is lurking down there, waiting to be drawn out. Movements sharpened by lust and high on power, you hook two fingers into Tup’s belt and pull him toward the edge of the crowd. “Come with me,” you say. It’s not a question. Tup looks up. As though entranced, his feet move. He lets you lead him down the dark corridor, stopping at one of the bathrooms.

The music dulls when you shut the door and snap the lock, sealing out the rest of the bar and leaving the two of you alone. You hadn’t realised how heavy you were breathing, not until you hear it in your ears and feel the heaving of your chest. Crowded close to you in the small space, Tup is faring no better. His eyes are laser focused on you, heady, hazy, and searching. A bright flush paints his desire clear across his cheeks, his lips parted enticingly. Curling locks have broken loose from his neat top knot. The loose strands catch the meagre light in the bathroom, glowing gold in a crown over his head. You open your mouth to speak, to check one final time that Tup is comfortable, that this is what he wants. Your answer comes before you can utter a single word: Tup takes your opened lips as his opportunity, and his mouth crashes against yours, swallowing your words and smothering your pleasantly startled moan.

He's not patient. Despite his earlier shyness, or perhaps because of it, his kiss is frenzied, desperate and hungry. There are hands at your waist, your neck, your hips, your back, unable to settle anywhere for long. Like he's afraid the moment will be cut short, like he won’t get the chance to do everything he wants to. Wanting to reassure him, you lift a hand to cup his jaw. Your thumb traces teasing little arcs, feather-soft, across his cheek. “You feel good. Doing so good,” you coax, words muffled against his mouth. A low, shuddering breath fans your lips, and his grip on your upper thigh turns vice-like. You're pushed back, caged against the wall, your leg hauled up to hook around Tup’s hip while he drives relentlessly forward in rolling thrusts, chasing his own pleasure, grinding against you. Each wave sends flames licking up your spine, the hard plastoid of his armour unforgiving. It's too much, and it's not enough. You swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, tasting spotchka and something sweet as his mouth opens wider to let you in. The hot, heavy slide of your tongues together goads Tup on. The hand that isn’t holding your thigh creeps up your waist to the curve of your breast, gripping just hard enough that the pleasure verges on pain. You moan into Tup’s mouth, and, shyness be damned, he grins.

Not to be outdone, you give in to the impulse you’ve been fighting all night, and reach up to pull his hair free from its knot. It cascades down to skim his shoulders, gently curling now that it’s not pulled tight. Sharp nails rasp across his scalp as you gather a handful, tangling it in your fingers. You pull back from his lips, leaving him chasing you for more until you move to mouth at his neck, nipping at his jaw and the soft skin below his ear. At the same time, you clench your fist, twisting and pulling his hair roughly. Tup’s knees almost buckle. A ragged, broken moan wracks his chest.

“Kriff, please.” The words are torn from his throat, voice fraying at the edges. You smile against his neck, tilting until your lips graze his ear as you reply. “Please what?” you tease, head spinning with your own power. “Use your words, pretty boy. What do you want?” Need and anticipation saturate the air as Tup struggles to catch his breath enough to speak. He mumbles something faint and slurred into your shoulder. Leaning back as much as you can while still shoved up against the wall, you use your grip on Tup’s hair, guiding him up to meet your gaze. “You can do better than that. Tell me what you want, Tup.” Whining like a puppy, Tup’s eyelids flutter. You feel him swallow, his throat dry. Still, he wills his clumsy lips around the words, glazed eyes heavy on yours. “Want to taste you. Let me taste you. Please.”

You hadn't realised until that exact moment how soaking wet he’s gotten you, how near your own limits you are. When you hear the desperation in his words, his eagerness to please, you have to take a moment yourself before you regain your composure.

“Good,” you breathe. “Now… on your knees.”

The hand in Tup’s hair tugs downward, and Tup follows instantly, greaves hitting the floor with a dull thud. You hadn't thought he could get any more gorgeous. But kneeling before you, his big, brown eyes haloed by dark curls, your breath is stolen by more than lust. With trembling fingers, he slides your dress up, cresting the swell of your hips. The cold air on your flushed skin sends you shuddering. Your eyes fall shut, a hum deep in your throat quickly growing to a growl when you feel him tug your underwear down. Every inch of exposed skin feels electric, buzzing, sizzling like a lit fuse. Tup’s eyes flit from your exposed cunt up to look at you, kiss-swollen lips hanging ajar. Keeping your gaze locked, he leans in, breathes deep, and opens his mouth around you.

What he lacks in experience, he more than makes up for in enthusiasm. You don’t hesitate to tell him what to do, giving orders he follows with a true soldier’s precision and rigour. Each pass of his tongue coils you a little tighter, tracing lines of pleasure from you until it sweeps low to dip into your entrance. The angle presses the strong curve of his nose against your clit, and suddenly his shoulders are the only thing keeping you off the floor. “Good– mmph, good boy,” you heave, breathing short and sharp against the relentless pleasure. “You feel so good, Tup, don’t stop.”

The moan that spills from his lips hits right at your core, sending your cunt clenching around his tongue. He’s strung out, verging on animal, devouring you like a starving man, your slick coating his nose and running down his chin. He reaches up to clutch at you, at your ass and the backs of your thighs. Even through his gloves, his nails dig into your skin, little pinpricks of pleasure-pain like bright, burning comets among a glittering starfield. “‘M close,” you tell him, grinding forward against his mouth. “That’s it, just a little more. Just need–” Too pleasure-drunk to form the words, you find your punishing grip on his hair again and pull, dragging his lips up to your clit and pressing him in hard. He obeys instantly, sealing his lips around the little bud and sucking. You throw your head back against the wall, your mouth gaping wide around a silent scream. It’s already too much. You fist both your hands in Tup’s hair and clench tight, fighting hard to control the peak, to ride the wave without losing yourself. But then, that clever tongue circles across the tip of your clit. Gently, brutally, just barely ghosting across the white-hot nerves.

Your mind fails you. Static fills your vision. Your ears are stuffed full of cotton. The air in your lungs turns to wildfire. The world outside shatters into a million tiny shards, until all that remains is you and Tup’s devastating touch, wringing every last drop of pleasure out of you that he can get.

You can’t say how long you drift out in oblivion before your senses begin to return. When you think you can trust your legs to hold your weight, you release Tup. He sits back on his knees, struggling to catch his breath, and it occurs to you with some embarrassment that you might have held him to you a little too tightly. He’s still panting as you pull your underwear up and shimmy your dress back down. Still, it doesn’t seem to bother him. On the contrary, he looks wrecked. He’s smiling wide, dazed and giddy, hair mussed, lips and nose glistening with evidence of his good work. You reach down to caress his cheek, and he leans into the touch, turning his head to press a wet kiss against your palm.

“Was it good?” he asks, sounding far too sweet for someone looking so utterly debauched. Your smile warms him, and his shoulders pull back in pride when you tell him, “It was perfect. You were perfect.” For a long moment the two of you stay like that, your gasping breaths gradually slowing and fading. Outside the bathroom door, the music continues to pound, a gentle reminder. Tup stands. His brothers are no doubt wondering where he’s gone. And yet…

“I–If you want to go–” You cut Tup off when he starts to speak, pressing a finger to his lips. “You were so good for me,” you say, hands searching around Tup’s waist until you find the latch you’re looking for. You lean in for a kiss, tasting your own release on his tongue. Tup’s crotchplate falls to the floor as you speak against his lips. “It’s only fair that I return the favour. Right?”

#clone trooper tup #tup x reader #clone trooper tup x reader #clone x reader #clone thirsting #drabble

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jaynovz · 2 years

Text

Silverflint BDSM and Kink Fic Rec List

Guess who is finally compiling this? Eyooo!

If you’ve been around for longer than thirty seconds you know that character study through hardcore smut is my favorite thing on planet earth.

Powerplay and kink exploration aren’t only to titillate us, for me they are fundamentally about vulnerability and trust. Tools I can use to peel away the facades of the characters, to put them in intense situations in order to reveal their tender juicy insides, pushing them through arcs they may not otherwise have been able to experience.

Uh, but yeah also they’re about factory reset via prostate orgasm.

I’ve devoured every single example I could get my hands on and written a fair amount of it myself. So, for your viewing pleasure, here are my must-read Silverflint stories exploring BDSM or kink.

Enjoy~ 👀👀

Let me see you in your darkness by ember_firedrake:

Summary: "I have an exceptionally low tolerance for pain. I'd say anything to make it stop."

An alternate take on 1x03 where Flint decides to punish Silver for stealing the schedule, and both of them are unprepared for their reactions.

Notes: A s1-s2 series where SilverFlint fall into some BDSM and then catch feelings. This is one of my fave BDSM series of all time, I def took inspiration from it for a lot of my stuff. Includes: impact play, knifeplay, blindfolds, restraints, wax play. They get very intensely emotional which Jay laps up with a GIANT SPOON. Note that the ending of the series is bittersweet. Best entry is my heart is under arrest again if you’re pressed for time.

Any Port in a Storm by Farasha:

Summary: Fairlead: A ring or hook that keeps a line running true, preventing it from rubbing or fouling."

I don't want to be a pirate, I'm not interested in the life, I'm not interested in the fighting, I'm not interested in the ships. Don't care much for the sea while we are on the subject." - John Silver

Notes: This series is my second favorite with BDSM. It has less in it than let me see you in your darkness but it starts right off with rough sex and powerplay so the dynamic is similar. It follows through s2, the boys fall into a sexual relationship that contains BDSM elements and they, well, catch feelings lol. Plentyyyyy of vulnerable stuff. This one has a happy ending. The best entry is Kissing the Gunner’s Daughter if you are pressed for time.

A Ship is a Republic by robotboy:

Summary: Flint and Silver train every day on the cliffs, and Silver starts to realise he likes being told what to do.

Notes: I think of this as both the quintessential cliffs era as well as the quintessential Silverflint spanking fic. This author’s treatment of the pirate boys’ dynamic was a MAJOR INSPIRATON when I started writing my own fic, thank you for your service.

What It Feels Like Not to Hurt by robotboy:

Summary: So. This is a 9k slow burn watersports fic. That's a thing that now exists in this fandom. But it's mostly about Silver recovering in the warship cabin and working out how much of his humanity is tied to humiliation. To echo my esteemed colleague purplecelery: 'I'm gonna gently suggest that anyone who's not usually into this take a gander anyway because you might be surprised.'

Notes: This is Thee Gold Standard (heh lol) for watersports, absolute mastercraft character study through kink. Set during the s2-s3 break, warship recovering times directly after Silver’s amputation.

find you and hold you down by vowelinthug:

Summary: Sorry, Silver, Flint doesn't have time for any of your bullshit. He's all tied up right now.

Notes: Flint gets captured in a nebulous early s3 during the raids and Silver finds him chained up. Bondage and breathplay oh my~~

I’m Honest With Nobody Else by samedifference61:

Summary: “Give me your hands,” Flint says, voice soft but commanding, a captain’s call to action. And Silver is visibly thrown at that. The look of surprise colors something crackling and bright in the blue of his eyes.

Notes: Set in the s3-s4 break on Maroon Island, jealous Dom!Flint, bondage, semi-public sex, comeplay. Om nom nom.

I’ll Carry You Home Tonight by x_etoile_x:

Summary: “What are you doing?” Flint asked in a sharp undertone as soon as they were alone.

In lieu of an answer, Silver slid his hand further up Flint’s thigh, watching carefully to gauge his reaction; he recognized the subtle signs of the effect he was having. This was dangerous, but he wasn’t wrong: Flint’s breath quickened, the rise and fall of his chest becoming visible; he was perfectly still but brimming with tension, muscles quivering, like a highly strung horse about to bolt.

“What does it look like?”

Notes: Pirate date night, set in nebulous s3-s4 break. The boys go have a nice night out in Port Royal and get up to some absolutely kinky shenanigans. Impact play, orgasm denial, and D/s dynamics but also soft shit and Feelings.

Also there’s a podfic. That’s how much I liked it, I recorded it lmao.

Another Way by x_etoile_x:

Summary: Silver doesn’t get the chance to turn back and attack the Spanish soldiers when he and Flint are captured on the warship, so he needs to come up with a different plan. Things get out of control. A retelling of their time on the warship at the beginning of S2, in the aftermath of this.

Notes: Nicknamed Dubcon, Silver does some sexual performativity to save both their lives aka facefucks Flint in front of the Spanish soldier. Then role reversal at the end with Dom!Flint tying and gagging the boy and riding him into the sunset. Delicious powerplay, delicious character study and shifting dynamics.

Hey look, another podfic! Yeah I like this one a normal amount too.

The Soft Animal of Your Body by x_etoile_x:

Summary: Silver has a problem. Flint has an interest, as it turns out, and tells a story.

Notes: Part two of what I consider the Silverflint watersports trilogy. It’s also desperately sweet.

A Vulgar, Holy Thing by Lupismaris:

Summary: A quiet night in harbor leaves Silver brooding and pensive. So much had changed since he found himself with the damned page, he’d hardly be recognizable to the boy he was then. He’d relearned his body, relearned his place in the world, after Charleston, but now, despite his best efforts, Flint was causing him to relearn it all over again.

Notes: A non explicit entry on this list! The powerplay here is done in a sort of indescribably tender way that makes me ache, it’s gorgeous, the pacing is perfect. One of my all time favorites, and uh, “pup” as a nickname for Silver is GOOD, my stance on this is well-documented.

As Good As Gone by spinninginfinityboy:

Summary: “If I have learned anything these past few days, it is the importance of understanding one another.”

There’s a heaviness to the words which speaks of some deeper meaning, but if there is one, Flint cannot parse it. It has been a long time since he cared to try. If there is a world in which he does not have to spend his every waking moment second guessing John Silver, that is the world upon which he has set his sights. The alternative seems only exhausting.

One way or another, Flint and Silver learn how to communicate.

Notes: Set in nebulous late s2, during the journey to Charles Town. The best hatefuck I’ve ever had the privilege of reading, Flint gagging Silver with a gold coin, lives in my brain rent free wtf.

while the world burns by princesskay:

Summary: Flint kisses Silver in the longboat after the shark hunt. When they reach the Maroon island's shores, Silver tries to navigate whether it was a moment of reckless passion or genuine desire and is surprised by the truth.

Notes: Contains the softest most loving spitting in someone’s mouth I’ve ever read in my life. Also there is a sequel with watersports and omorashi which is the softest most loving pissing fic I’ve ever read in my life.

after the winnowing by princesskay:

Summary: After Charles Town, Silver convalesces at the governor's mansion in Nassau while Flint chooses what happens to the gold - and their futures. Flint tries to take care of him, but are the kind gestures what they seem?

Notes: Featuring silk pajamas, overstimulation, comeplay, intense D/s with somewhat newly amputated Silver, in the break between s2 and s3.

the sack saga by princesskay:

Summary: sub!Flint is plundered, pillaged, and destroyed; Silver reaps the spoils.

alternatively, a treatise on cock & ball torture

OR the most insane character study via bdsm I have ever had the privilege of inflicting on the world

Notes: A seven part series. An exploration of kink, especially cock and ball torture, within the bounds of canon, beginning in 3.1 and following the show events all the way through til the very end.

In my humble opinion, this is the crown jewel of all Silverflint BDSM fic, there is simply nothing else like it. An EXTREMELY thorough and nuanced character exploration through kink that will tear your heart out in the best way possible. For my part, it rivals the actual ending of the show for devastation and having me sob in a puddle. Uh, also, it is the most sun-scorching intense smut I’ve ever read in my life. NOBODY does sub!Flint like Kay. I simply cannot recommend this highly enough.

I have so many feelings about it that the only way I've been able to fully express them is to do audio adaptations lmao.

Cornered by Thiebes:

Summary: It was only a dream.

Notes: Starts with accidental somnophilia which is a favorite trope that I don’t see very often! Also, honorable mention that this author has also written some pirate hazing chair sex with Silverflint side pairing that ahem you should check out.

Join your hands to your hearts by jauneclair:

Summary: Madi's approach to diplomacy in negotiating relationships is not what Flint expected.

Notes: MadiSilverFlint during the s3-s4 break. Domme!Madi does impact play with both boys to everyone’s benefit. This is my FAVORITE dynamic for this triad, expertly handled.

don’t let me in with no intention to keep me by brinnanza, jaynovz

Summary: Silver sees red and the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them: “I’m not your fucking dog, and I don’t come when you call.”

There is a beat of silence. Flint’s moustache twitches. The air all evaporates out of the room, consumed by the flash of fire in Flint’s eyes, and Silver can’t breathe, suddenly lightheaded.

Notes: Woof woof, bitch. Here it is, the puppy Silver fic that started an Awakening. Set in early s2, this story explores petplay with sub!Silver and soft Dom!Flint. Including muzzling, cockstepping, drooling, praise kink, face licking, and indulgent inspection of the prize poodle. We continue to blame Luke Arnold and the Fetch Phillips Archives for this (affectionate).

Also exists as a Jay podfic!

for that devious dance between you and me by jaynovz:

Summary: What madness is this that has possessed him, to be taken by such thoughts after so long? He’d thought himself past such consuming desires, and how can it be this lying, scheming thief who brings them to the surface again? But Flint, still deep in shadow, has moved closer to the couch where Silver is laid out before him like an offering, a divine temptation to which it would be so easy to succumb. Surely this is another of Silver’s manipulations: he makes a display of himself, and he must know the reactions he draws, what he looks like, it's frankly obscene.

The whirlpool of depravity has caused Flint’s breathing to grow heavier in the quiet, his mouth gone dry and fingers twitching with the urge to do something. Suddenly, he realizes Silver is watching him in return.

Notes: Set in s1 after Flint returns from the Andromache chase. Featuring Silver shackled and at Flint’s mercy, or is he? Highlights are the hairpulling, choking, little bit of blood and comeplay, and the push and pull of complex D/s dynamics.

did the twin flame bruise paint you blue by jaynovz:

Summary: A few people milling about in the center dance floor migrate towards the bar, and suddenly through the crowd Silver spots him. The person he’s both hoped and feared to see the entire evening.

James Flint stands not fifty feet away from Silver, chatting with Eleanor, his mouth quirked in a half smile as she says something amusing. There’s no fanfare or drama or some grand entrance like Silver has been conjuring in his mind over and over again… No, Flint is suddenly just here, winked back into existence, careening into Silver’s life. Silver has not seen him in a year, (barring the weak moments obsessively checking Flint’s rarely updated social media), and now Flint is right across the room.

Notes: My novel of a modern au, nicknamed Break Up AU, more an exploration of the most fucked up toxic ways to do kink and powerplay lmao. Bad BDSM Etiquette serves as a plot point, as does cuckholding kink and exhibitionism. There is a veritable buffet of different types of sexual encounters, definitely the most powerplay and varied kink exploration I have done by density, and also the most sophisticated/complicated. It features my favorite Flavor of desperate sub!Silver and possessive Dom!Flint heavily, though some role reversal surprises await you as well.

Saps by yeaka:

Summary: There’re no fluids aboard save what John produces.

Notes: Trans!Silver providing for the crew via sex fluids during the doldrums while Flint supervises. The voyeurism and somewhat by proxy of it all, the edging, the cannibal vibes...? This ficlet rewrote my brain chemistry.

The Oak & the Reeds by Little_White_Lie:

Summary: They didn't do it, but they could've done it. If only someone had seen that beneath the impenetrable armor of Captain Flint, there was a man named James McGraw who ached to be touched. If only something had made him bow.

Fuck you Jon Steinberg and Robert Levine, they could've made it if Madi had given Flint a hug and Silver had blown his back out.

Notes: Set in early s4, a rewrite of canon from the perspective of the boys entering into a powerplay relationship after Silver returns from the sea. Absolutely choice Dom!Silver and sub!Flint content with fealty dynamics. As well as the pre OT3 content Jay craves.

As always, I love to get feedback on entries that I may have missed. Mwah.

#black sails #silverflint #jay's esoteric rec lists #fic recs #silverflint fic recs #black sails fic recs #phew okay I think it's DONE I had to reread and reskim a lot of my bookmarks #ENJOY!!#john silver #james flint

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kaminocasey · 1 year

Text

In the Moonlight

Summary: You accidentally let it slip you "Used to" have feelings for Niner. Your partner Fi doesn't seem so bothered by it.

Pairing: Niner x Reader x Fi (Clones from Omega Squad in the Republic Commando Series)

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; SMUT, Angst, drinking, threesome (mfm) (no clonecest), unprotected p in v (wrap it up, friends), oral (f and m receiving)

WC: 3.8K

A/N: My love for Omega Squad is unreal. Seriously. These books are incredible. Listened to the song "Moonlight" by Kali Uchis while writing it. I realize that not a lot of people aren’t gonna know the Republic Commando boys and that's okay, I just strongly urge you to read them bc they're literally SO good.

“Cyar’ika… Please come back.” Niner’s deep voice is behind you, following you out of 79s.

Your chest tightens at the term of endearment, but you ignore him, knowing that if you look at him… at those big brown eyes… you’ll end up cracking… and breaking… You should’ve known better than to get drunk with Niner… that’s on you.

“Get back here now.” He practically commands you.

“Or what?” You spit back, continuing to walk away.

You definitely weren’t expecting his fingers around your wrist. And you definitely weren’t expecting him to spin you around and pull you against his chest, only to gently grab your chin to look up at him. It’s too close… It’s too intimate… It’s too much. The flutter in your stomach is too much.

“You really don’t like to listen, do you?” He muses.

You shrug, jerking your chin away from his strong fingers. “Let go of me.”

It’s a warning. With a sigh, he releases you.

“I wish you’d just talk to me…” He murmurs.

You couldn’t talk to him… Not when you felt like this. Not when he feels like this. You start to walk away again, not wanting to stick around to talk.

“You need to tell Fi.” He calls out.

Like hell you did. “Kiss my ass, sarge.”

When you get in the cab, you head back to the barracks, knowing you’re definitely not going to be able to sleep now.

You’d drunkenly, and stupidly you might add, told Niner that you’d wanted him first… when you first became a pilot. He was who you wanted. But he was distant and weary of you, so you eventually just let it go. You let him go. Or so you thought…

Fi had taken an instant interest in you, always flirting and teasing. How could you say no? You fell pretty quick for Fi. But there was always that little tiny part in the back of your head that just couldn’t let Niner go.

“You’re back.” Fi looks up from his bunk, delighted, the blue glow of his datapad lighting up his handsome face. “Did you and Sarge have a good time?”

You wordlessly crawl over him in between him and the wall, snuggling into his side. “Too tired…”

He chuckles, placing a soft, sweet kiss to your forehead. “Well, we can talk about it in the morning.”

“Don’t want to.” You accidentally let slip out.

You dummy… Why couldn’t you have just said goodnight?

“What? Why?” He tosses his datapad to the end of the bunk and looks down at you. “Did something happen?”

You hear the door open and Fi turns his head, finding Niner strolling in. He must’ve gotten a cab right after you. You try to look away, but Fi catches on.

You’re grateful right then that Darman and Atin are gone, doing who knows what for the night.

“What happened?” Fi asks Niner.

“Did you tell him?” Niner asks, thinking that the answer is going to be yes.

“No.” You groan, hiding your face behind your hands.

“I used to like you, you know.” You chuckle.

Niner’s eyebrows raise up. “Did you?”

“I did.” You nod.

“But Fi-”

“Before Fi… it was you.” You murmur, taking a sip of your drink.

“I had an inkling.” He apologizes in a way.

“Oh. Great.” You shrug.

“Why didn’t you say-”

“Because I thought you didn’t approve of me… I was a pilot and not a clone and you weren’t the most warm person…”

“Fi was.”

You nod. Fi was the most warm. Still is.

“I’m sorry… if I could-” He murmurs.

“Don’t…” You whisper, shaking your head, unable to look at him.

“If I could, I would do something about it.” He continues anyway.

You look at him now. “Like get rid of me?”

He smiles, softly. “Like tell you that I love you, too.”

You nearly drop your drink, confused. Love? Why would he say this now, knowing that your heart lies with Fi… with his vode?

Angrily, you get up and start toward the door, leaving the bar. Walking away from him…

Fi looks between you and Niner, eyes begging for someone to tell him what’s going on. How are you supposed to tell the love of your life that you were in love with his brother before him? What if he thinks that you only chose him as a backup when that’s not what happened at all? What if he doesn’t look at you the same way again? Are you prepared to lose Fi? The answer is no. But the look on his face is so heartbreaking that you know that you just can’t lie to him.

“I…” You start, quietly, sitting up on the edge of the bunk, looking up at Fi.

Why would Niner do this to you? Why would he put you in this position?

Because he loves you and he knows that you still love him…

Fi kneels down beside you, looking at you, softly. “Cyar’ika… you know you can tell me anything.”

“I know…” You nod, trying to breathe.

Fi hands you a canteen with water in it and you take a sip and then a large gulp, just trying to figure out what to say. Honestly, the moment is incredibly sobering.

You sit the canteen down on the floor and look at Niner, who’s sitting in his bunk across from Fi’s. “Before I fell in love with you… I was in love with Niner…”

Fi lets a chuckle slip and you look up at him with furrowed brows. “I already know this. The whole squad knows this.”

Well, that’s embarrassing.

“A part of me… still does.” You murmur. “Love him, that is… And he loves me too…”

“Is that what this is about? You scared me… I thought something serious happened.” Fi kisses you on the forehead and sits next to you.

“You’re not angry?” You ask him, confused.

“Of course not.” He rests an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to him and then looking up at Niner. “I’m honestly surprised it took you this long to tell her, Sarge.”

“I don’t understand…” You pull away to look at him.

“You still love me, right?” Fi smiles.

“Of course.” You nod. “More than anything.”

“And you love Sarge, here, too.” Fi’s smile doesn’t falter even a little bit.

This is the most confusing night of your life.

“Right…” You murmur, looking over at Niner and find that he’s actually smiling at you.

Your chest tightens at the sight.

“So… we share you…?” Fi suggests, looking between you and Niner.

Your eyes return to your partner.

“You’d really be okay with that?” You ask him.

“We’re vode… we’ve probably shared worse.” Fi chuckles.

That’s both somehow endearing and gross.

“There’s no probably about it. We definitely have.” Niner chuckles.

Fi smirks and then looks at you again. “If that’s something you want, then I’m alright with it. All I want is for you to be happy, cyar’ika.”

Fi would do anything for you. There’s no question about it. He’s absolutely the love of your life. Your whole world. But it still felt like something was missing.

You suppose that something is Niner.

Squeezing Fi’s hand, you lean over and kiss him. He smiles sweetly when you pull away and then looks over at Niner.

“Well, what do you say, Sarge?” He asks.

“I’m grateful to even be in your presence.” Niner smiles brightly at you and your chest tightens again.

Fi nods for Niner to go to you and when your sergeant slides off his bunk, settling between your legs, your breath hitches in your throat.

“Is… this okay?” Niner murmurs.

When you nod, he slides his warm calloused hands over your bare thighs, your dress sliding up slightly. Niner takes notice and looks like he’s really holding back. Looking over at Fi one more time for a confirmation that he’s truly okay with this, you hold yourself back from touching the man on his knees in front of you.

“Go on, cyare. It’s alright.” He lets you go and leans against the bunk post to watch you with nonjudgmental eyes.

You turn back toward your sergeant and smile down at him as you slowly cup his face, memorizing each detail and scar to memory. The way that his eyes follow yours until they settle on your lips. He waits for you to lean in, something completely unlike Niner, who usually is a first move kind of guy.

His hands never leave your thighs as you lean in slowly, brushing your lips against his, making his eyes flutter shut. He lets out the softest sigh, and it’s clear to you that he really and truly wants this. He wants you.

Your hands slide into his hair, tugging ever so slightly, enough to make him moan. Unable to help but smirk against his lips, you tug again and his grip on your thighs tightens.

“Careful, mesh’la.” Niner warns you, opening his eyes to slide his hands up to your hips.

Letting out a soft laugh, you look back over at Fi who’s smiling kindly at you. There really is no jealousy inside of him, is there? How could one person be so kind and loving?

You reach over for Fi’s black shirt, grabbing the fabric and pulling him to you so that he crushes his lips against, his hands automatically finding your hair and pulling your face closer.

When you feel Niner’s lips on your neck, you melt instantly, groaning against Fi’s mouth. How is this real? How could you be this lucky?

Niner’s mouth travels down quickly to your lap. “Lay back, sweetheart.”

Fi guides you down to the bed but you can’t help but want to watch what Niner’s about to do to you, so you prop yourself up on your elbows, making eye contact with you. He grins immediately, taking his shirt off.

“Truly not good at listening.” Niner playfully shakes his head.

You guide him back to you with your foot. “You already knew this, Sarge.”

“You have no fucking idea what it does to me when you call me ‘sarge’.” He groans.

“Ew. I call you ‘sarge’.” Fi teases.

Niner shoots Fi a silencing look and then pulls your underwear down, tossing them to the floor and then pushes your dress up. You’re eternally grateful that Darman is with Etain and Atin is with Laseema right then.

“Take her dress off, Fi.” Niner commands him.

Fi listens and helps you out of your dress, slipping it over your body and then dropping it to the floor. Niner groans softly at the sight of you and an instant boost of confidence washes over you so you sit up and pull Niner in for a kiss.

“Pretty girl.” Niner whispers against your lips.

With a soft whimper against his lips, you run your hands through his hair, pulling him as close as possible.

“Already fucking addicted to your taste.” He groans.

“Wait til you taste her pussy.” You could hear Fi’s smirk as he talks.

You look back at him and laugh. Fi sits up to kiss you again and Niner palms your breasts, squeezing and groping you in all the right places, making you whine with need.

“I think I will.” Niner pulls your lower half down to his mouth and kisses your inner thigh, making you gasp into Fi’s mouth.

You feel Niner’s warm breath flutter over your already wet warmth, knowing that this man could only be perfect at eating pussy. You still can’t fully comprehend how you got here, in between the two men you love.

“You alright, cyar’ika?” Niner checks in before going further.

“Perfect.” You pull away from Fi to promise him, smiling.

He licks a warm wet stripe up your folds and your hand automatically flies to Niner’s hair again as you groan loudly. He chuckles softly and you glance down at him.

“Don’t you laugh at me.” You huff, breathlessly.

“Not laughing at you, sweetheart. I’m laughing because Fi was right.” He squeezes your thighs on either side of his head. “You taste fucking incredible.”

“I’m always right, actually.” Fi grins widely at you and you grip his shirt as Niner licks into your desperate cunt, building up your orgasm, already threatening to send you over the edge.

You’ve waited so long for this. You need it to last longer.

“Niner… stop. I’m gonna cum…” You whimper, trying to pull away.

Niner looks up at Fi, confused. “She normally want you to stop so she doesn’t cum?”

Fi shakes his head, just as confused as Niner is.

“What’s wrong, cyare?” Fi, brushes his lips against your bare shoulder.

You’re shaking slightly from the nerves of it all. “Nothing… I just… I want to cum a certain way with you, Niner…”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Niner brushes his fingers gently across your cheek, smiling up at you. “Lead the way.”

You pull him up on the bed with you and Fi and Fi moves to the end of the bed to give you and Niner a little space, clearly happy to watch. You guide Niner down onto his back, his head hitting your pillow. His eyes flutter shut as he breathes in.

“I guess now it’s my turn to ask if you’re okay?” You tease, straddling his lap and running your fingers down his bare chest.

His hands find your bare hips, digging into your soft flesh. “I’m great. Your pillow just smells like you and it really hit me.”

Maker, he’s so sweet when he wants to be. You lean down and kiss him again, both of you moaning softly against each other. He reaches around you and pulls his hardened length out of his pants, and you can’t help but sneak a look, raising your eyebrows at the sheer girth of him. You’d expect nothing less from Niner.

“Fuck…” You whisper and then look back at his face.

“You sure you wanna be on top, baby?” He teases.

“I’m already here.” You shrug, making him and Fi laugh.

“My girl doesn’t back down from a challenge.” Fi grins proudly at you.

You lift up slightly and then start to line your entrance up with Niner’s cock. You spit in your hand and then give his large cock a few pumps, getting his length wet enough. He groans loudly, gripping your hips so roughly you’re sure you’re gonna bruise. But you can’t bring yourself to care, you want to be reminded of tonight. What if they wake up tomorrow and realize that they don’t want to share? What if this is just in the heat of a horny moment?

You attempt to get out of your head by sinking down on Niner’s cock, and both of you gasp so sharply that you can only look at each other. Niner closes the distance and pulls you down onto him and you can’t help but clench around him already.

“Fuck…” You both murmur.

“Fi…” You whisper, holding your hand out for him to come back.

“I’m right here, baby.” Fi smiles, coming back and kissing your neck. “You good?”

You can only nod your head, words failing. How do you explain just how good your partner’s brother’s cock feels? You just can’t.

“Words, cyar’ika. Use ‘em.” Niner grits.

“I’m good…” You whisper. “I’m good.”

“Permission to fuck you now?” Niner asks, looking up at you.

“Since when… do you… ask for things?” You tease him.

You can see the look in his eyes darken and you gulp. “Move Fi.”

Fi chuckles. “Oh, cyare. You’re in for it now.”

“Huh?” You don’t have time to even finish the word because Niner has you flipped over on your back and somehow is able to push even further into you, causing all the air to momentarily leave your lungs.

“Fuck you feel so good.” Niner buries his face in your neck, breathing you in as he finds your hands, pinning them to the bed by your head.

You wrap your legs around his waist. “Please… Sarge… I need you.”

“I know, sweetheart. Don’t worry. I’m gonna give it to you.” He pulls away from your neck to look you in the face.

You know he’s just checking on you again but you need him to move or you feel like you may combust.

“Maker, baby… you’re soaking the sheets.” Fi notices.

And that’s when Niner starts to pull out, just to push back in and your eyes roll back in your head. You’re absolutely sure you see stars just from that one thrust.

“Fi, come look at this.” Niner chuckles darkly, thrusting again and again. “Got her to shut up finally. All she needed was her sargeant’s cock. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You whimper, unable to form a coherent word. Niner and Fi both chuckle again as Niner starts to pick up his thrusting, angling you perfectly so that his cock goes as far as possible into you. You’re not so sure anyone has ever been able to reach as deep into you like this. Not even Fi, as much as you love him.

“Maker, you are soaked.” Niner pulls your face to look up at him, meeting his eyes. “All for me and Fi, huh?”

You nod, weakly.

“That’s right sweetheart. Doing so fucking good.” Niner leans down and kisses you quickly. “Alright, Fi. It’s time for her to cum.”

Your eyes quickly meet your partner’s eyes and he smiles down at you, proudly.

“Aye, sarge.” Fi’s fingers find your clit and you gasp and whine, writhing against Niner, making him groan again as you clench tightly around him.

“You wanna cum on my cock, baby?” Niner kisses your neck as he releases your hands so he can pull back to sit up on his knees, still fully sheathed inside of you.

“Please…” You murmur, looking at both men with equal need. “Fi- want your cock too… Please.”

“Since you asked so nicely, cyare.” Fi leans down to kiss you before situating himself on his knees near your head so that he can start to press his cock to your lips.

You relax your jaw and eagerly take his cock as far as he’ll allow you. Fi’s been so gracious this whole time, he deserves more attention.

“Maker, I love you.” Fi caresses your hair, praising you sweetly. “So perfect for us.”

You hum around his length as you bob your head over his length in time with Niner’s thrusts, which are starting to speed up a bit as Fi continues to rub your clit so perfectly. The warm feeling starts to pool low in your stomach and you can’t help but clench again for Niner.

“That’s it. She’s so fucking close.” Niner grins down at you.

“Oh, sweet girl. Are you gonna finish all over our sergeant's cock?” Fi teases you.

You nod around his cock as Niner decides to pick you up slightly so he can slam into you at a more unforgiving pace, the slapping sounds filling the barracks so perfectly, it’s almost deafening, besides both men’s moans and soft grunts.

“Sorry, Fi.” Niner grunts as he pulls you away from Fi’s cock so that he can pull you up into his arms, picking you and slamming you down on his cock so that all you can do is go limp in his arms as he fucks up into you.

All you can do is whimper and moan, no words able to form, as Niner buries his face in your neck as he unforgivingly pounds into you.

“Come on, baby. I know you wanna cum like this. Then I can fill this perfect cunt up with my own cum.” Niner grits through his teeth, very clearly trying to hold back so he doesn’t finish before you. “Do you want my cum?”

You nod with pathetic whines, trying to beg for him.

“She makes the prettiest sounds, doesn’t she?” Fi’s behind you now, pulling your face toward his so he can swallow your sounds with his kiss and his other arm wraps around you so that his fingers can bring you closer to your finish line.

“Fuck yeah, she does.” Niner agrees.

The way they talk about you and Fi rubbing your clit so fucking perfectly is what does it, sending you over your edge, making you throw your head back against Fi’s shoulder. You make eye contact with Niner as you cum all over his cock, coating him with your essence that he finally lets go and fills you up with himself. He groans roughly as he grips your hips tightly and you start to feel the soreness in them as you come down from the absolute sex high.

When you feel Fi pull away, you feel something trailing down your back and realize that Fi finished when you and Niner did, except it’s all over your bare back and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Fi murmurs with a chuckle as he cleans you with a wet towel.

“Don’t be.” You pant slightly, pulling him in for a kiss.

Niner is still buried inside of you and you’re not really ready to pull away just yet. You think he understands because as soon as Fi runs to the fresher, Niner pulls you in for another passionate kiss and you find yourself just as addicted to his taste as he thinks he is to yours. Resting your foreheads together, you close your eyes. Until he starts to pull away slightly.

“Don’t pull out.” You whisper. “Please.”

“Alright, I won’t.” Niner promises you as he pulls you down to the bed, still inside of you.

He lays against the wall with you in his arms, making room for Fi to join when he’s done. You suspect that Fi’s giving you a moment of privacy with Niner to talk.

“So, what now?” You murmur.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think we’ve wasted enough time not being together and as long as you’ll have me, I’m not going anywhere.” He murmurs, kissing you again.

You smile against his lips, believing him. “Until your next mission.”

“Yeah, but you’ll be right there waiting, right?” His calloused fingers brush across your soft cheek.

“Until you come back to me.” You smile.

“Which I promise to keep doing.” He smiles right back.

“Both of us will.” Fi’s soft voice is behind you as he climbs into the bunk with you, resting his hand on your hip and squeezing gently before placing a kiss to your shoulder blade. You kiss both of them once more before drifting off into sleep, thinking about how lucky you are to get to experience this life with both of them. You just hope that their Kal’buir can make good on his promise and find Ko Sai in time so that you can experience a full life with them.

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