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kometqh · 2 months

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𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭

Captain Rex x F!Jedi!Reader Pt.2 of Forget Me Not Rex has finally settled down on a faraway, isolated planet. Finally, he has found some semblance of peace from the ongoing war against the Empire. Finally, he can take the time to recover from losing you, but how long will that last? Word Count: 3007 Warnings: Swearing, making out, old injuries. A/N: This has been specifically requested, and can be thought of as either the continuation of the previous story or an alternative ending :) It was going to turn into a big fat smut but my brain couldn't handle posting that (I've never written or posted a full smut before!!)

Vast golden fields swayed gently in the warm, evening summer breeze. The golden sun illuminated the landscape, a warm glow settling over the hay and Rex's figure, who was relaxing on his porch, hands behind his head as he observed the sight before him.

How many times had he dreamt of such a sight? Of owning his own little farm, of owning a couple of banthas and chickens and goats?

Too many times for his younger, prouder self to admit.

Where his brothers used to loudly fantasise over their ideal futures, he was too busy playing the perfect soldier, sticking to his obligations, rules and limitations.

But now? Now he had that one small bundle of joy, held tightly within his iron-hard grasp. And he wasn't about to go exchanging it for anything else. Not in a million lifetimes.

The loud, content bellowing of a few banthas stripped him of his thoughts, his gaze looking for the one particular creature that always seemed to make the most noise. Far ahead, to his left, was one bantha, rolling its body in the hay, short tail wagging left to right, continuous hums and moos escaping its throat in ground-shaking vibrations.

A soft smile tugged at Rex's lips; that was his oldest, and his first ever Bantha.

He had spent the last four years nurturing and caring for the creature, leading it over stretches of land, until he was finally able to settle down in an abandoned farmhouse, far away from any civilization.

The farmhouse itself wasn't in such bad shape. Sure, it needed repairs here and there, but it wasn't anything a tough solider like Rex couldn't handle. He got to work pretty quick, with his handy tools and a shit ton of determination, he had refurnished and fixed the farmhouse within a year and a half, and now, all that was left was to renew the coat of paint that seemed to chip away any time it rained.

But Rex figured that could wait, after all, no one would be able to tell that the farmhouse was being used as long as it looked old and rusty, right?

With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes, basking in the warmth provided by the rays of the setting sun. He was tired. It was a long day of working on the farm, planting the appropriate crops for the upcoming, much colder, season, as well as milking the banthas to make different cheeses the next day.

He thought over his schedule, already feeling a headache rising in the back of his head. The following week he was supposed to be making his way over to the nearest town, to sell whatever he had managed to produce over the last two weeks. Going to the closest town over was his least favourite activity; he preferred to stay hidden away in his little farmhouse with his Banthas and Tooka.

He preferred to relax on his porch, to watch over his animals as they grazed happily across the long stretch of fields, to feel the warm sunrays kissing his skin, to watch the sun lazily disappear behind the horizon.

He let his tired eyes fall closed, the wrinkles on his skin seemingly fading away, a soft smile shining on his face at the soft hum of the summer breeze and grazing animals, an all too familiar weight lifting from his chest inch by inch. The gentle breeze passed his body, leaving a pleasant, cooling chill to run down his spine.

Darkness and warmth surrounded him like a weighted blanket, though his body felt light. He dreamt of nothing, his mind jumping to and from consciousness, his body twitching at a sudden shift in atmosphere. His ears almost twitched at the soft whir of a ship flying above, goose bumps rising over the expanse of his bare, muscular arms as a much stronger wind grazed past his body.

But his eyes snapped open to the sound of panicked tip-tapping of his banthas, their heaved breathing and confused whines reaching his ears. The warm honeyed glare of his eyes was gone, now replaced by a deep black as he looked around, the night sky pitch black.

He must have snoozed off or something, how many hours have passed?

The banthas continued to make noise, but this time the briefest whispers accompanied them. With a strong, heavy inhale, Rex slowly rose from his seat, eyes squinted as he tried to cover for his lack of vision.

Who were they? The Empire?

Surely not.

Rex had made sure to cover all of his tracks, remaining classed as officially dead in the Empire's files.

Did someone betray him?

But who?

And how?

Only a very small number of people actually knew-

"Hey lady! Calm it!" A familiar voice said all too loudly, giving an affectionate pat to one of the banthas. The voice, it was so.. so like Rex's.

His eyes widened as the other figures shushed the man, and Rex couldn't help the relieved smile and sigh that escaped his chest.

He knew those people. After all, they're the ones he rescued Echo with.

However, one by one, various emotions swirled around in his head. Happiness? Of course. He was happy to see his brothers after four gruelling, lonely years. Confusion? Hell yeah! What was so important that they had to break their no contact? Relief too, he could feel the way his heart rate had spiked just at the mere idea of danger, blood rushing into his head, loudly pounding against his eardrums.

Slowly, one foot moved, followed by the other, taking turns leading Rex down the porch, towards his brothers. Towards his family.

At the sight of Rex's moving figure, some men groaned, whereas Wrecker and Omega began running at full-speed towards the male, tackling him to the ground in a long awaited hug.

"Rex! We missed you!" Omega exclaimed, erupting into fits of laughter as Rex's strong arm wrapped around her and Wrecker.

"Alright alright! Now get off of me, I can feel my bones being crushed!" Rex exclaimed, though his hold on the two didn't ease, nor did his smile disappear. Quickly scrambling off of him, the two couldn't contain their happy, yet seemingly mischievous smiles as Hunter extended a hand out to Rex.

"It's been a while, brother." Hunter nodded, pulling Rex in for a quick hug, patting his back. Hunter's body was stiff, his shoulders tense and breathing strained as he moved away, Rex noticed. That was unusual.

Though a smile remained on his face, Rex couldn't help but feel nervous at the strange tension surrounding the batch. As he looked around, one eyebrow quirked at the sight of Tech and Crosshair shielding Echo from view and.. someone else? Who were they?

"What's going on..?" He questioned, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two.

Echo and the figure stood in the very far back, Echo's arm was wrapped tightly around their shoulders, holding them protectively close to his chest, his grip tight as if the figure would disappear into the darkness of the night if his hold let up even by an inch.

His eyes remained trained on Echo and the mysterious figure, though Rex's head tilted slightly to the right, in Hunter's direction.

"Hunter-" Rex started, but was quickly interrupted by the look on Echo's face. His ears strained, almost missing the soft, trembling whimper. The figure brought a hand up to their face, too late in stifling the sound.

As their hand lifted, Rex noticed that all-too familiar, cuffed sleeve hanging onto their hand.

Time seemed to slow, his chest straining painfully at the sound. Rex could feel his heart drop, the air sucked from his body like a popped balloon.

His sight was stuck on that sleeve, visions plaguing his mind, replaying like a broken tape.

Memories, memories of her.

That voice.

His legs moved before his mind could even comprehend what was happening. Tech and Crosshair narrowly avoided being collided into, stepping to the side as Rex pushed through.

His lips twisted into a pained frown, his teeth gritted together like metal bars.

That robe.. That Jedi robe.

How didn't he notice it right away?

The look on Echo's face told him everything he needed to know, his hold easing on her as Rex reached his arms out, gripping her shoulders tightly.

"Y/n.." Her name spilled from his lips so easily, so softly, as though he was cursed, spellbound to only repeat her name, only those few simple syllables for the rest of eternity. It lingered on his tongue like the sweetest of syrups, leaving a fiery, burning trail in his throat, scalding at his heart like a molten fist, twisting, turning and tearing.

"Rex," A shiver fell down his spine, his breath hitching in his throat. How long had it been since he last heard it? Tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes, his gut twisting into a familiar knot, adrenaline spreading like fire through his veins. His heart pumped blood so quickly, so fiercely through his body, it was like a thousand fireworks had gone off in that instant. Many people have said his name, of course, but only her voice had ever evoked such strong emotions in him.

From the way she'd command his attention during meetings, her gaze lingering a second longer than necessary, the way she'd whisper it when it was just the two of them, hiding in a faraway corner on one of the ships, or even the way it rolled off the tip of her tongue whilst-

It felt like the world around had been sucked into the background, leaving only the two of them, hearts beating wildly, minds melting over one another, even the cold night failing to gather their attention.

His hands, which had been previously on her shoulders, were now gently cradling her face, thumbs swishing back and forth in soft strokes.

His whole focus was on her eyes- oh, those starry eyes.

How many times had he dreamed of them?

How many times had he cried at night, calling out for her in broken whispers and sobs?

Rex knew it was a few times too many, and yet at the same time, it wasn't enough.

A sob left his lips as he dropped the hood off her head, revealing the person behind the shadowy figure.

Something was different. Off.

Her face, although so familiar, was now so different. Bathed in aged lines, marks, grease and dirt, and worst of all.. A scar.

He hadn't noticed it under the shadow of her hood, but now, it was ever so prominent under the blaring moonlight.

A lone tear cascaded down his face, leaving a wet, salty trail from the midpoint of his eye, down the plush softness of his cheek, dripping off the edge of his jaw. Just like her scar. He let his thumb caress the rough, broken, damaged skin, his lips twisted in a pained frown, stunned to silence.

Her hand, one that used to be so soft and so gentle, was now gripping tightly at his wrist, a gentle shadow on her cheeks, on her scar, casted by her eyelashes. When did she get it? How did she get it?

Her head twisted to the side, making the most effort to hide that side of her face from his gaze.

"Don't.." Rex whispered, no, he warned, taking a hold of her chin, forcing her to turn his way, to face him. Lowering his face to hers, his voice was strained, rough, pleading. "I want to see you.. Let me see you, mesh'la." The word spilled from his lips with such ease, like a prayer, with so much delicacy, so much practice, as he brushed his nose against hers, his eyes fluttering shut. His lips hovered just an inch above hers, feeling the warmth of her breath against his skin.

He had dreamt of this day, every night, every day. For. So. Many. Years.

He had dreamt of lifting her into his arms, of kissing her, of crying with her, of pushing her against his bed, leaning on top of her, making love to her.

For so many kriffing years.

She's alive.

"I missed you. So. Kriffing. Much." He muttered, his voice becoming more strained with each oncoming word, his eyes squeezed shut, his forehead flush against your own as he fought every fibre in his body against the awful, suffocating need to kiss you. Another pained whimper left your lips, unknowingly acting as a trigger for his next movements.

His lips crashed against your own, his hands keeping your face steady, making sure you wouldn't slip away like the hundreds, no, thousands of dreams he's had before.

Your lips were as soft as he remembered, your touch featherlight and rough. Your hands were shaking, he noted. You were afraid. Afraid of him? You wouldn't be kissing back if that was the case.

Your scent overwhelmed him, it was that faint smell of peach shampoo that he loved so much, it was making his knees weak. Where did you manage to get that from? From the state of you, he was sure you were dying for a hot, bubbly bath. Maybe it was just his imagination playing up. Kissing you, it was addicting. He was like a starved man, pushing his lips against your own, his tongue slipping past to dance with yours in a sweet Waltz, full of grief and hope and longing and all the years wasted away by your separation, by his fear of your light having been snuffed out, like a flickering flame.

You were his light in the dark, his oasis in a never-ending dessert, his midsummer night's dream. You had that spark in you - the one that attracted individuals to you like moths to light. Your laugh, so easily evoked, and your kind smiles, so easily graced upon anyone and everyone, shining down like sunshine on a dewy, autumn morning. You were a breath of fresh air, but also a crackling, comforting fire on a cold winters night.

But he had lost you just so quickly, on that day. Never knowing, for years, if you'd be back. If you were alive.

Your touch slowly grew from soft, dissipated like cotton-candy and falling snowflakes, to eager, pleading for more as your fingers found solace in his slightly outgrown blonde hair, encasing his head in your embrace, pulling him closer as you kissed feverishly, afraid he will disappear like dandelion seeds on a spring day.

You couldn't hear anything but his heartbeat, you couldn't smell anything but his scent, one that had creeped up on you and wrapped around you in an invisible embrace, the smell of freshly cut grass and smoky campfires entrapping you. You couldn't feel anything but him. His hands, always so much bigger than yours, had completely and utterly gotten control over your body, feeling and caressing your hair, gripping your chin and pulling you closer by your waist, his lips hot against your own, his breathing stuttering and yet so laboured as his teeth clashed against your own, his eyes scrunched shut - afraid you would disappear.

Being held in his arms was like a dream come true. You could spend an eternity with him, never losing your love and affection for the soldier standing before you. His warmth planted butterflies in your stomach, and his touch ignited them, making them burn wildly in your gut, scalding and yet patching over the old scars and wounds, gently embracing your heart in a healing bandage.

Only Rex could do such a thing.

Only Rex could make your heart beat faster, only Rex could have adrenaline pumping through your veins just by a featherlight touch, or a sweet, candy-like, tooth-rotting whisper, or a longing, loving gaze of his golden irises and lush eyelashes.

So lost in each other, for so long, neither the two of you broke contact, until Hunter had to clear his throat awkwardly and speak up to make the two of you slowly, unwillingly, pull apart.

Rex's forehead rested against yours, crows feet tugging at the outer corners of his eyes, his lips slightly agape as he tried to calm down the galloping of his heart.

Slowly, eventually, his eyes opened again, the familiar warm colour of honey swirling around his pupils as he gazed into your eyes, a small, pained, and yet happy smile overtaking his features. His heart melted as that same smile reflected on your face, and tears brimmed in your eyes.

"Are you guys done yet?" Crosshair's voice called from a short distance, disgust and yet somehow a hint of endearment present in it.

"You lot go ahead, we'll catch up in a minute," Rex tossed the words over his shoulder with little to no care, rolling his eyes at the loud scoff that came from Crosshair. It was quickly followed by an audible smack, an 'Ouch', and the sound of retreating footsteps.

Your shoulders shook as a breathy laugh escaped you, and as you shut your eyes once more, tears began to escape one by one, sliding down the expanse of your cheek. Rex wasted no time in bringing a hand to gently wipe away at your tears, his own tears tickling at his waterline.

He missed you so damn much.

And finally, you were here, with him, crying and smiling in his arms.

His throat felt tight, as if someone was strangling him, daring him to say anything. His chest felt heavy, and he was sure if he was stood up any longer, he would simply collapse.

His thumb caressed the soft, and yet ragged, skin on your cheek, the corners of his lips twisted into a semi-frown, his heart hurting, blood pumping loudly in his ears.

His lips opened and closed, at a loss for words, but his voice found a way to come through.

"You have n-no idea," His voice was just above a mere whisper, afraid if he were to speak any louder, you'd crumble away under his touch, or he'd wake up.

His thumb moved to trace the outline of your scar, a loving look present in the golden pool of his irises.

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you.."

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dystopicjumpsuit · 3 months

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Someday

A/N: Happy Cody Day!

Pairing: Commander Cody x Reader (GN)

Rating: T

Wordcount: 526

Warnings and tags: straight fluff; established secret/forbidden relationship.

Summary: You enjoy a quiet morning with the man you are absolutely not supposed to be with.

Suggested listening:

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Shore leave mornings were your favorite. They were too rare, these golden, stolen moments with Cody when you didn’t need to sneak past security holocams or explain your presence outside the marshal commander’s quarters to overzealous troopers patrolling the hallways of the Negotiator. Mornings like these were to be savored, and you hoarded them like the precious treasure they were. No comlinks, no datapads. Just slow, lazy hours sipping caf that hadn’t come from an industrial machine and reveling in the quiet intimacy of time alone with your lover.

Cody was reading a volume of Venestrian poetry—an actual flimsi edition he’d found in some charity shop in the Mid-Levels. You lay on the sofa with your legs draped across his lap, dabbling lazily with a piece of charcoal in your sketchbook. At that precise moment, you were trying to capture the exact way the warm sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains caught on the planes of his cheekbones and cast deep shadows on the hollows of his face. It was a futile task if ever there was one, but still, it gave you an excuse to admire him openly.

The only sounds were the soft scratch of charcoal on paper, the occasional rustle of a turning page, and the music playing quietly from your favorite holoradio station. The song ended, and a new one began, its melody hauntingly familiar.

“I love this song,” you murmured absently.

He glanced at you, then set aside his book. “Dance with me.”

“Hmm?” you asked, startled.

“Dance with me,” he repeated in a low voice.

He tugged the sketchbook gently out of your hand, then trailed his fingers up your wrist. With a tiny smile, you shifted your legs off his lap, and he stood, offering his hand to help you up. He pulled you to your feet and seamlessly into his arms, swaying in time to the slow beat just as the singer’s lovely, wistful voice joined the instruments.

“Is that Ryl?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “She’s singing about…”

You trailed off, keenly self-conscious about your tendency to monologue. He smoothed his hand up your shoulder and stroked his thumb across your clavicle softly.

“Tell me,” he whispered. “What is she saying?”

“She’s singing about all the lovely, distant places she wishes to see—Naboo; the temple ruins at Jedha, Cantonica; Scarif; Rugosa. She wants to experience them all instead of just staying at home on Coruscant.”

“Does she ever go?” he asked.

“No. It’s a song about longing, not about doing.”

“That sounds sad.”

You considered for a moment. “I don’t think it’s sad or happy, either one.”

“No?”

“It’s more like daydreaming or wishing.”

He gazed pensively into your eyes, tracing his thumb up the side of your throat. “Is that what you wish for?”

You shrugged. “It's not like we haven't seen our share of the galaxy.”

“I wouldn't exactly call what we do sightseeing,” he observed drily.

“True,” you laughed. “Maybe when the war is over, we can see it together.”

“Mmm.” He pressed his lips to your forehead. “Sounds nice. No more fighting. No more hiding. No more pretending.”

“I know,” you sighed. “Someday.”

Taglist:

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#Cody Day #Cody Day 2224 #Coday #commander cody #commander cody x reader #gn reader #star wars #the clone wars #sw tcw fanfic #dystopicjumpsuit writes

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anxiouspineapple99 · 10 months

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Himbo Noodle Soup for the Soul

Pairing: squint and you can see potential hints of 501st x f!reader; - aka if someone wanted to make it smutty they def could. 🩷 …I’d totally read that too

Summary: Your sleazy boyfriend cheats on you and dumps you. But your favorite 501st himbos are coming to the rescue!

HELP IS ON THE WAY DEAR! HELP IS ON THE WAY!

But the boys can’t agree on a gift. So they all get you something different!

Warnings: FLUFF. It’s all fluff. Don’t come for me. I will not be accepting dental bills for tooth rot thx 😜Some talk of sexual transmitted infections, self loathing, self depreciation

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: This fic absolutely DOES NOT take itself seriously lol. I honestly had no idea it would garner the support it has and frankly I had fun writing it. I love sappy fluff. It fuels my soul. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it.

This fic was inspired by THIS post! 🩷💖

How could that sleemo do this? Not only did he cheat on you but then he broke up with you via hologram while you were working. A hologram, mind you, that said you should get tested for some STI he picked up from the slag he cheated with. You launched the handheld holoprojector across the supply closet, rage and heartbreak simultaneously fighting for dominance within your stomach. You had an implant that prevented pregnancy and diseases but that inconsiderate, two-timing, laserbrained, e chu ta didn’t know that. How could you be so stupid? You thought he was going to propose. You told everyone as much. This was humiliating. They’ll never let you live this down. They are still taking the piss out of Jesse for that girl from 79s. Obviously you were the problem. He wouldn’t have cheated if you were prettier, smarter, funnier…was it that weird sex thing he wanted to do that you weren’t comfortable with? Bet she did that with him. She was everything you weren’t apparently.

***********

You’d been skulking around the medbay for days now and the boys of the 501st had noticed. Kix realized your usual bubbly greetings you had for him when he entered the medbay had been replaced with a blank stare. You’d been distracted and making mistakes, very unlike you. Fives and Jesse saw the dark circles carved under your puffy red eyes as they passed you in the hallways. You’d stopped laughing at Hardcase’s jokes, now only staring off or giving a halfhearted hum in response. Tup and Dogma found you crying in a supply closet. When you finally stopped joining them for meals in the mess, they decided they needed answers.

“Did we do something? She won’t even look at us,” Fives moved his food back and forth sadly. “Yesterday Dogma and I accidentally bumped into her and she immediately turned and ran crying in the opposite direction. We didn’t even get to apologize,” Tup mumbled as Dogma rested his chin in his hand.

“She doesn’t even laugh at my jokes anymore,” Hardcase whined as he poked the pathetic excuse for breakfast on his tray.

“If you’re talking about who I think you’re talking about, she’s been practically catatonic in the medbay for the last week,” Kix hummed as he and Jesse squeezed in at the table with their brothers.

Rex, who had been silently listening as he worked on reports spoke up, “Her sleemo boyfriend cheated on her and then dumped her over hologram. And told her she needed to get tested for an STI.”

“Kriff…” Fives and Tup mumbled in unison wide eyed in disbelief.

“Hold on, the same guy who called us her…what was it…her ‘work himbos’?” Tup scrunched his nose irritably.

“Maker, what a shabuir. I always thought she deserved better, but this is a whole new low. He can say what he wants about us, I’ll be a work himbo. But he hurt our girl,” Fives growled as he clenched his fist around his fork.

Hardcase slammed his fist on the table, “Where is he? I’ll personally pay him a visit! I’ll show him what this himbo can do!”

“How did you find that out,” Kix leaned into Rex, “I work with her directly and she never confided any of that with me. Last thing she told me she thought he was going to propose.”

“I pulled rank. Told her I was worried about her. She crumbled into a blubbering mess and dumped it all on me and General Skywalker,” Rex shrugged and took a large swig of his caf.

“Cap! Permission to hunt the nerf herder down and put the fear of the 501st in ‘im!” Hardcase was already on his feet. He was itching for a fight and he was ready to show that worthless womprat that no one messed with one of his own.

“Stand down, Hardcase. I don’t need you getting locked up for some scummy nat-born,” Rex sighed, “Besides I may have already offered to put the fear of the Force in him with an unexpected visit and she was adamant that I let it go.”

“Well what can we do? We should help cheer her up,” Tup mused, swirling his cup of caf mindlessly. “Women like Hyellian musical noodles, right? Maybe we can do something with that?” Hardcase mumbled between chewing mouthfuls of food.

“Hardcase that’s the stupidest idea-” Jesse began but Fives interjected holding up his hand, “No. No, he has a point.”

Jesse whipped his head toward Fives, “What point? Fives, no!”

“Fives, yes!” Fives jumped to his feet with chaos twinkling in his eyes.

“Hardcase, yes!” Hardcase followed suit with unbridled elation scrawled into his expression.

“Shut up!” Resounded a synchronized admonishment from Jesse and Kix.

“Jesse is right, ‘Sorry your boyfriend cheated on you and might have given you some weird disease, here are some noodles?’ That is stupid. Women like flowers. She always complained that sleemo never bought her flowers anyway. Flowers say ‘He was a creep but you have us. And we buy your favorite flowers, unlike that walking STI.”

“Flowers? Boring and cliche, much like you my beloved vod.” Fives slung an affectionate arm around Kix who immediately shoved him off with a gruff, “Kriff off Fives. Not boring. Considerate. It shows that I listen to her. And women like being listened to more than Hardcase’s noodles, di’kut.”

“Nah, we should get wine. She loves wine,” Jesse kicked his feet up on the table eliciting a glare from Rex. “Remember a while back when I got totally wasted at 79s and she took me back to her place and took care of me? Once I’d thrown up everything in my stomach and then some, we got to talking and she told me about her favorite wines.”

“Jesse. Boots. Table.”

“Sorry, Captain.”

“Fine. She can drink the wine with the noodles we are getting her, right boys?” Hardcase was not giving up on the idea of noodles no matter what his brothers said. He knew the way to your heart was through your stomach.

“Wait. Isn’t this fraternizing? That’s completely against regulations!” Dogma pressed. A collective groan peppered with “Kriffing Dogma” and “You just had to say something” erupted from the table as all the men turned to look at Rex.

“I already got her something, so you won’t be hearing a word from me,” Rex never looked up from the reports he was poring over.

“Great! That’s settled then, wait… What did you get her, sir?” Fives narrowed his eyes at Rex and drummed his fingers on the table. “Now I can’t tell you that. It would take all the fun out of me watching you all fumble over each other trying to figure out what to get our sweet girl,” a mischievous smile crossed Rex’s lips as he stood up. “But I’ll be giving it to her tomorrow at 1700 hours. So you lot better get a move on. Good luck, gentlemen!” The boys heard Rex chuckling to himself as he walked away. “Good luck, indeed.” Fives’ eyes remained fixed on Rex until he was out of sight.

He sure as hell wasn’t going to let his CO best him at this, “We meet at her apartment tomorrow at 1700 sharp. We’ll see who the best gift giver is then!” After another round of bickering over who was going to find the best gift, the group dispersed. Fives and Tup opted to work with Hardcase, pooling their credits to buy the expensive noodles. Kix, Jesse, and Dogma opted to select their gifts independently.

**********

You were wrist deep in your second tub of ice cream of the evening as you binged holodramas and wallowed in your own self pity on your sofa when someone knocked on the door. You swore under your breath and wrapped your blanket tightly around you as you shuffled to answer.

The door slid open and there were your 501st lads bickering and shoving each other, each one toting an armful of gifts. They froze wide eyed and grinned sheepishly.

“Hey mesh’la! We are here to brighten your spirits!” Fives beamed proudly with an extraordinarily large takeout container and some flowers he had clearly picked from one of the garden boxes outside your apartment building in his hands. You were speechless looking from face to face positively bewildered. Suddenly you were self conscious about what a mess you were, eyes red and puffy, nose runny, hair untamed, potentially chocolate ice cream on your face and you were wearing someone’s blacks, though you couldn’t recall whose. “Hey! I was wondering where those blacks went!” Jesse chortled, “they look better on you cyar’ika.” Okay so they were Jesse’s.

“Boys, w-what is this?” You hugged yourself, an unconscious self soothing habit you’d acquired.

“We heard what happened. With uh…I guess he’s your ex now. We wanted to help you feel better,” Hardcase joyfully ripped the takeout box from Fives’ hands and thrust it toward you. “The noodles were my idea mesh’la! I heard the ladies love Hyellian musical noodles from that restaurant near the Senate! So we had to get you those! Fives, Tup, and I went in on them together for you! Also I got your favorite cookies.” His brilliant smile shining from his eyes even more brightly than his lips as he proudly placed the small bag on the takeout box. For the first time in a week your smile met your eyes, “Hardcase you’re too sweet! I do love noodles and I’ve been meaning to try these for a while now.” Hardcase gave Kix a playful shove, “Told you so, vod!”

Kix rolled his eyes before he held out an exquisite bouquet to you. “Kix, these are…these are my favorite flowers.” His warm smile met his shining amber eyes with a radiance that was unsurpassed even by the twin suns of Tatooine, “Yes, mesh’la. You mentioned once you’d always wanted flowers and that piece of bantha poodoo refused to buy them. But you’re worth all the flowers in the galaxy.”

You sniffed back tears as Jesse stepped toward you with your favorite wine, “Jesse how did you know…” He winked and gave his most charming smile, “You told me that night I stayed here. You know, the one where I got so smashed at 79s and you had to take care of me?” Your eyes widened, “You remembered that?” His only response was a soft kiss to your hand.

Tup leaned around him and handed you a small box the string it was tied with was intricately hand braided. “Tup this looks like the string bracelet I made you,” you tenderly toyed with it, smiling as the soft fibers tickled your fingertips. “I remembered when you showed me how to do it. You said you’d tried to teach that cockalorum once but he told you it was silly. Now we match. I always have mine with me. And those,” he gently tapped the box, “are just some of your favorite candy.”

Dogma shyly slipped you a folded sheet of flimsi. You placed the boxes, flowers, and wine on your end table by the door so you could unfold it. You gasped when you found it was a beautiful sketch of a beach sunset. Dogma flushed as he cleared his throat, “You said once you want to move to a planet with a quiet beach. I just,” his shy smile was one of the most endearing attributes and you loved seeing it now, “I hope this will suffice until you can do that.” “Dogma, it’s exquisite! You drew this? I can’t even imagine how much work this was.” You reached out and squeezed his hand, “I…you went through all that effort just for me?” He shrugged, squeezing you back before bashfully stepping aside.

Fives swaggered up, elbowing past his brothers holding out a messily wrapped package and the freshly plucked flowers. You couldn’t fight the urge to giggle at the sight, “Fives, are these the flowers from the planters outside? This one still has its roots attached.”

“Ahhh maybe? Just open the gift.” Your breath hitched in your throat at the holophoto inside. It was from the most recent deployment, in the medbay on the Resolute; Tup was in the hospital bed, still smiling regardless of his head being freshly wrapped from an injury. Kix was stoically fighting a smile in typical fashion. Hardcase donned his signature beaming grin as he flashed a thumbs up. Dogma was seated next to the bed and there you were. You were atop Fives’ shoulders as Jesse stood next to him, their faces pressed to your thighs. It was a moment you’d wanted to commit to memory forever. A brief glimpse of joy in a seemingly endless war. “These di’kut think I don’t listen, but I do. You were so happy there. I heard you say you wished you could stay like that with us forever. Now you can.” His honeyed voice dropped to a whisper, “You’re special to all of us, sweetheart.” The soft kiss he placed on your nose, a wordless promise that you’d always have a place with them.

Rex, who had been quietly observing, finally stepped through the huddled mass of clones crowded around you. He handed you a small box with a handwritten note. He placed his elbow against your door frame and propped his head on his fist, his gaze soft and affectionate as you read it.

Something to keep with you to remember how loved you are.

Always, Rex.

PS your work himbos never liked him anyway.

You opened the tiny box to see a pair of delicate earrings with little gems that were 501st blue. “Rex, these are incredible. But…these are…I mean. This is so much. I really don’t deserve these. Or any of this really,” your voice was soft, shaking in disbelief at your current situation.

“No? I’d disagree, cyare. In fact every single trooper standing here would disagree with that, wouldn’t you boys?” A chorus of “That’s right, Cap!” and “He’s right cyar’ika!” echoed through the empty hallway. “Besides,” Rex continued, “the ones you’re wearing now are from that scrawny little tit. Correct?” Your nod was barely visible as you stared in awe at the troopers before you. He reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “Thought I’d replace those unsightly things with something that reminds you of the real men in your life who actually care about you every time you look in the mirror.”

Your lip trembled looking at the overwhelming display of love you’d received from the boys. Your boys. It was then the dam broke and you could no longer hold back the tsunami of emotions and tears that had been pounding at you all week. “I…you…thank…” you couldn’t form words between the heavy hiccuping sobs. Rex moved in for an embrace. It felt as safe and warm as it had when you’d first confided in him. You pulled back and wiped your face on your sleeve. You inhaled deeply and though your breath was shaking still you were smiling when you looked at the anxious faces quietly watching you, “I can’t possibly eat all of these noodles AND the takeout I already ordered. You boys get in here and we can watch a holofilm while we dig into all the food.”

**********

You and your boys piled on and in front of your sofa until it was just a mess of limbs and laughter and poking and teasing. Once settled you had every trooper touching you in some form, even if it was just a hand resting on your arm, or leg. Rex claimed the spot to your right, his arm lazily resting along the back of the sofa. Kix squeezed in on your left, hands immediately beginning a soothing dance through your hair. Jesse squeezed in behind you, insisting on sharing the middle cushion with you. He positioned you snugly between his thighs. You stopped wiggling when he began drawing soft lazy shapes along your arms, shoulders, and neck with the pads of his fingers, gooseflesh prickled over you followed by a shiver running down your spine. Hardcase and Tup rested their elbows on your thighs and stroked the insides of your legs while ignoring Jesse’s protests of not wanting them hanging on him too. Fives scooted up to you as he sat on the floor, lifting your knees over his shoulders and resting his back against the couch. Dogma laid on the floor, head resting on a pillow between Tup and Fives. His hand reached behind him absently massaging your leg.

For the first time in a week you felt better. You felt loved. You were home. The food, wine, and holofilms lasted late into the night and one by one the clones who’d come to cheer you up had fallen asleep on and near you. Armor had been piled everywhere in your tiny apartment. The flowers were in vases and Dogma’s sketch was already framed. And when you made to switch out your earrings, Rex insisted on doing it for you. You reiterated you could do it, but he was so persistent you let him. “Much better,” he had crooned giving you a tender tap on the chin when he’d finished and chucked the old pair in the garbage.

Hardcase’s snoring was cutting through the silence like the Z-6 rotary blaster cannon he loved to use. Your legs had fallen asleep but you were unwilling to move and disturb any of them. Kix and Rex had made themselves comfortable on your lap, their feet kicked up on the arms of the sofa. Jesse shifted, wrapping his arms around you with a tender squeeze and a mumble that sounded a little like “darling little cyar’ika.” You nuzzled closer and allowed the warmth of their bodies affectionately piled around you to lull you to sleep.

Turns out that loser dumping you was the best thing to have ever happened to you because now you could have as many evenings like this as you wanted. You definitely could get used to himbo slumber parties.

Tag list babes 💕(plus everyone who was interested in this): @dystopicjumpsuit @deejadabbles @sunshinesdaydream @starrylothcat @wings-and-beskar @littlemissmanga

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scottysketches · 1 month

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wip wednesday very late on thursday lol

so since coming back from my brother's nearly two weeks ago, I've actually been working on doing a podfic reading of don't dream it's over. he's a massive star wars fan (more than I am, that's for certain!), but he's always struggled with reading books and vastly prefers audiobooks that he can listen to while he's doing other things.

anyway, I got an idea for a cover image for the story last night and have spent most of this afternoon grabbing all my references, putting them into procreate and coming up with this base idea.

in the background we have Maul and Sith!Obi-Wan, separated by Maul's lightsaber blade (ngl, I'm really pleased with how Maul looks in this sketch, it makes extensively staring at Ray Parks' face for about two hours in order to get his facial markings correct worth it lmao).

in the midground are Satine and Korkie, and for the eagle-eyed - yes! that line on Korkie's neck is in fact the scar he gets from the attempt on his life towards the end of chapter 3.

and in the front we have the man himself, Obi-Wan, with his lightsaber held between his hands with the Force. I was going to have him deconstructing it and showing the kyber crystal inside, but that's too much for just this base sketch.

the canvas colour itself in the final piece will most likely be a mixture of black, dark blue and specks of lighter blues and white, like the expanse of the night sky.

#wip wednesday #wip #star wars #star wars the clone wars #sw #sw tcw #sw tcw fanfic #sw tcw fanart #obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #korkie kryze #darth maul #sith!obi-wan #obi-wan kenobi x satine kryze #obi-wan x satine #obitine #art #fanart #scotty's art

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dickarchivist · 7 months

Text

Tell Me Again.

Wolffe × Fem!Reader, new relationship

Word count: ~1700

MINORS BEGON 🔞

Contents and Warnings: n s f w 18+, Minors DNI, small fight resulting in minor cuts and bruises, vague hints of an abusive ex, fingering, counter sex, riding, unprotected PiV sex, Wolffe being protective of you, Wolffe being soft, Mando'a lesson. Fluffy smut, how nice.

Summary: After a fight with friends, you wear a few bruises with pride. Wolffe comes home for shore leave, and teaches you a few words in Mando'a while tending to your needs.

Mando'a used: Mesh'la (beautiful, pretty. Used as a pet name). Cyare (beloved, loved, popular. Used as an improper pet name, corrected by Wolffe). Cyar'ika (darling, sweetheart. Used as a pet name).

Author's notes: A continuation of the "Don't Stop on my Account" fic, which can be found [here].

Oh, to be in the hands of a hot man as you give him words of affirmation. This ended up in directions I didn't think it would, I was planning on it just being fluff, but then it became double smut, akin to the first of this series.

You'd gotten more used to the comings and goings of your favorite clone commander. Wolffe still kisses you when he leaves in the mornings, tells you how he looks forward to your next moment together. You've caught him trying to sneak out a few times since the first time you caught him, but you've succeeded in getting him to be more upfront about when he has to go for a while.

Your friends have been warning you again, however. "There's no guarantees." "We just don't want you to get hurt when he stops showing up." "There wouldn't be anyone to tell you if he died or not." "All you have is physical." "Honey just let him go, find a real man, not one of those credit a dozen toy soldiers."

You get into a full out fist fight with the one who calls Wolffe a toy soldier. It takes the others to separate you, you've never had that kind of impulse before but it made your blood boil and you couldn't help but wind up a punch. It's a new sensation for you, looking in your bathroom mirror and seeing the shiner and split in your lip.

You've come home with these in the past, but instead of the fear you felt in the past, you somehow feel proud of these marks. You got them defending the man you care about, and not from the one who was supposed to care about you.

You discard your top and pants, checking yourself for any major injuries. Few small bruises starting to bloom, some scraps, but all told nothing serious. You're about to turn on the water in the refresher when you hear the front door of your flat slide open.

"Mesh'la, you home?" There's a flutter in your chest at the sound of Wolffe's voice. Even among other clones, you feel like you could pick him out among them.

"In here!" You go to grab some concealer, but hesitate. These are badges of honor for you this time, why would you hide them? You turn around to stride out, but Wolffe is already there.

His eyes go from soft to shock, then anger, and for just a second you think it's aimed toward you. "Who did this? Who hurt you? I'll kill them."

You laugh, much to both of your surprise. He crossed to you, hands rough but surprisingly gentle around your face, "This isn't funny. You're hurt. Shoulda been here..."

"I got into a fight with someone because they called you a toy soldier, Wolffe. Trust me, they're worse off than I am."

You're starting to like this shocked face of his. Wolffe blinks down at you, really looking at the bruise around your eye, the pad of his thumb ghosting across your lip, just light enough to feel it. He takes your hands, looking at your bruised knuckles, smirking a little, "Kept your thumb out like I showed you?"

"Threw a mean punch like you showed me," you smirk up at him, and he gives you an impressed look as he sets his hands on your hips. "Like what you see Commander?"

Wolffe chuckles a little, kissing the corner of your mouth, "Of course Mesh'la, I'm lookin at you."

"What does that mean?" You try to steal a real kiss, but Wolffe pulls away a little with a husky chuckle and your breath hitches softly. You adore that sound.

"What does what mean?"

"Mesh'la... you call me that a lot, what does it mean?"

There it is again, that husky chuckle. This time, paired with kisses against your neck, making one hand grip the bathroom counter behind you as the other cards through the hair at the nape of Wolffe's neck. "It's Mando'a. Means beautiful. Pretty. It means you, Mesh'la."

You moan softly, lulling your head to the side as Wolffe sucks a hickey into your neck. He comes off you with a pop and blows on the newly forming dark spot. It makes you moan again, and your hips move forward in Wolffe's hands. "Is there a word for handsome?"

"Why? You wanna call me handsome?" Wolffe lifts you with ease and sets you on the edge of the counter. He moves forward a step and you open yourself for him, hooking your legs around his waist to bring him nearer. As his hand runs along your inner thigh, he answers you, "Don't know of one, Mando'a doesn't have gendered words like basic."

"Teach me..." your words are breathy already and he hasn't even touched you yet.

"Teach or touch?" There's two fingers stroking the front of your small clothes, making you whine, and Wolffe can't help a light laugh, "So tough a second ago, what happened?"

"Wolffe..." you whine again, hands holding his shoulders as your body shakes at even the touchs through thin fabric. You're starting to ache, needing more, "Do both, but touch first, please, touch first..."

"Kriff... you're wet, soaked through your panties already?" when you nod at his words, Wolffe walks his fingers under the thin fabric and presses a finger directly to your swollen clitoris. You jump, and he laughs, the rumble low in his throat, "no fight left?"

His fingers start to work you slowly, swirling your slick through your folds. Wolffe's going slow on purpose, you can tell, but it feels so good you don't want to rush him. It feels like a reward.

There's desperation creeping into your voice, your hips move forward to meet Wolffe's hand, "More..."

"More what, Mesh'la?" But he knows, he's already giving you what you desire. His hand moves lower within your folds, touching your entrance with teasing strokes before two fingers dip into your slick waiting walls, "This what you wanted pretty girl?"

Wolffe kisses the side of your head as you lean forward into his chest. His thumb works your clit as his fingers curl and pump inside you. "Wolffe... oh- mmm... Wolffe..." your legs open a little wider for him, and you close your eyes as you lean against his chest. You're panting hard, fast breaths as he brushes that sweet spot within and you see stars.

Your climax hits suddenly, and as you cry out, Wolffe's arm caresses the back of your head. He holds you safely against him as your legs tremble, clenching on his fingers as his movements slow. You're so dizzy, head light in ecstatic pleasure. You finally get a kiss out of Wolffe, a proper one. It hurts for a moment, but you've wanted that kiss since you saw him in your doorway, it was worth the wait.

"What's... what's Mando'a for "you are loved"?"

There's a pause, before Wolffe speaks softly to you, kissing your shoulder and neck as punctuation, "Cyare. Beloved... sometimes used for popular."

When his hand leaves your folds, you're worried that maybe you pushed those words too soon, but as he lifts you from the counter and removes your small clothes, you know it's anything but. Wolffe carefully lays you onto your bed, then dofts the rest of his clothing to lay beside you. He doesn't mount right away this time, not like you'd become accustomed to. No, his hands trail down, eyes following, tracing patterns onto your skin.

You tangle your legs with his, closing what little gap there was, and palm his length, pumping the stiff length in your hand. Wolffe growls and stops your hand, looking into your eyes, "Why'd you ask that?"

"If I can't call you handsome, I want to call you loved, because that's what you are, Cyare." Your cheeks are hot when you say it, but you know it's true.

"That's not how you say that."

"Did I pronounce it wrong?"

"Yes, but you're going for the pet name, yeah?" You nod, and can't help but find this whole thing endearing you further to him. A man of his word, he touched first, and taught second. "It'd be cyar'ika, then. Adding "'ika" makes it an endearment."

"Then I love you, Cyar'ika."

There's hope in his eyes, soft, loving hope, as if he'd convinced himself you were playing a joke on him when you'd said it before. "Tell me again."

You move on him, getting on top of Wolffe and straddling his hips. His hands rest on your thighs, and you share a moan as you take in his length until you're seated flush against him. "I love you, Cyar'ika."

As you swivel your hips, panting again already, the Commander watches from below. He looks dazed, eyes not leaving your face, there's disbelief and pleasure there, "Again."

"I love you."

You start to bounce on him a little, rolling your hips, clenching tight around his length, hands pressed to his chest for support. Wolffe bites his bottom lip and bucks into your tight walls, drawing a cry from your lips. Your repeat yourself again, "I love you."

As you bounce on Wolffe's length, you repeat the words over and over, gripping his chest hair, your legs shaking as you climax again. Wolffe isn't far behind you, with a few more hard thrusts his hips buck sporadically until he grunts, spending himself within your walls. You fall onto his chest, panting with him as he puts his arms around you in a protective embrace.

Wolffe is quiet for a moment after. You've since returned to your sides, your back pressed into his chest, his arms secure around you, legs tangled together. He presses a kiss to the cone of your ear, whispering, "You mean that..?"

As you turn your head to see him, you steal a kiss before he can pull away to spare your split lip. "I love you Wolffe. I love you, and I mean it."

Wolffe kisses you properly, still careful of the split in your lip. His hands rub your back, the curve of your hip, he's careful with you in a way he hadn't been before. He doesn't say it in words, but his actions tell you for him. Wolffe loves you too. As he nuzzles your heads together, tucking you close to him, he whispers a word you know now, and it makes you smile against his shoulder, "Cyar'ika..."

Tag List!: @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wizardofrozz (sorry if I missed anyone or added someone by accident! Not used to people asking to be tagged in stuff haha)

#commander wolffe #sw fic #fanfic #wolffe x you #wolffe x reader #star wars smut #sw smut #minors dni #nsft fic #i hope yall like this one im so anxious haha #good morning hope the dick treats you well #from the archivist #sw tcw fanfic #tcw smut

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clone-whore-99 · 6 months

Note

Would it be completely out of line to request a Rex fic? You can say no if it is--it's fine. It's probably not everybody's cup of tea to tackle.

The idea is Rex and fem!reader have been in a relationship for a decent chunk of time (six months min?) and reader has definitely fallen in love with Rex . (Because why wouldn't she--he's REX.) He's her first real relationship and she's had all of her firsts with him except her first sexual experiences (beyond some groping) and now finally feels ready to take that step. Except she's nervous and a little self-conscious because, while she has no experience, Rex does and she's afraid to be a disappointment to him. How he handles that information and what he does to soothe her worries, I'll leave to your discretion.

TL;DR: Can I get some slow, hot, romantic, sweet, sexy first-time smut with Rex, please?

BTW, love your writing. Your Mayday fic was literally the first one I found after I searched him on a whim (curious to see how fast the stuff would be coming out for him). Very nice. Way to get out in front of it all!

Hiiii! No of course it will not be out of line to ask for a Rex fic! I am CLONE-whore-99 after all, not just Bad-Batch-whore-99. Sorry it took me so long to respond btw, life's a bitch but just know I've been working on this since I got the ask

Firsts

Rex x f!Reader

18+ minors will get yeeted

Warnings: so much fluff with a little smut to flavor it, lot of firsts, inexperienced reader, established relationships, fingering/handjob, safe unprotected piv, both reader and Rex are such sweethearts, reader is in a bit of a dangerous situation in the beginning

LMK if I missed anything (❁´◡`❁)

Word count: about 4k

Beta read by: @nunanuggets

Please like, reblog and comment if you like my work, it means more than you know ❤

If you want to, you can also help by buying me a coffee ❤

Rex. The love of your life, Rex. The man you could see yourself spend the rest of your life with. The man you had all of your firsts with - well, almost all.

The way the two of you met, was a classic rom-com meet cute. Something you’d never thought actually happened in real life.

But it did.

To you of all people.

You had just moved to Coruscant for University, first time being on your own in the big, scary galaxy. You had never really thought of yourself as sheltered or naive, but the other students had apparently labeled you as “gullible” and thought you an easy target for pranks.

Most of these pranks were thankfully harmless, but one did seem to take things a tad too far. They had sent you on a monkey-lizard chase on the lower levels, something you quickly realized after being laughed out of a bar, but not before you had managed to get completely lost.

As time passed on, more and more… Questionable characters came out, and you felt way less secure and a lot more desperate.

Some of them must’ve picked up on your nervous behavior, as they began to circle you, tease you and comment on how you must be from the topside, that you had no place being down there, ect.

You were sure this was it. This was how you were going to die, within your very first week of being on your own. You were terrified, alone and couldn’t help the tears beginning to stream down your cheeks.

That’s when he entered your life. Your savior. Your hero. Your king. Rex.

With a few stern words, one warning shot purposely missing a perpetrators head by only a hair strand and a few punches for good measure, he had saved you.

He had stayed with you until you calmed down enough to actually talk, made sure you actually got back home to your student apartment and stayed the night on the couch, like the gentleman he was.

The next day was apparently one of his rare days off duty, which he decided to spend with you.

Pretty soon he would spend all of his off time in your apartment, whenever he was planetside.

He taught you self defense and how not to be so “gullible” when it came to others. He told you about his crazy adventures, about the jedi and the things he faced in the heat of the battle.

In return, you taught him how to relax, to let himself mourn his losses and his brothers and about regular, civilian life. Though, he never really seemed to quite get the grasp of it.

It didn’t take long for you to fall in love with this wonderful man and it appeared the feeling was mutual. When exactly the relationship started, you weren’t sure. It just kinda happened.

Maybe it began when Rex for the first time brought home a souvenir from one of his missions. Nothing illegal or grand really, just a pretty rock he had found while resting, which made him think of you. He was so shy when he presented it to you, rubbing the back of his and stumbling over his words explaining the reason behind it.

Or maybe it was the first time the two of you cuddled together, warming up and drying off after having gone on an emergency grocery run in the pouring rain. Or the first time Rex let you see the emotional scars the war had caused him. Or the first time he had slept in the same bed as you, after you had had a nightmare.

No. It was without a doubt, the first time you kissed. You wanted to make a traditional meal from your home planet, only to accidentally burn it. You were so distressed, wanting nothing more than for this man to experience a part of your home. Rex had calmed you down with a kiss and the two of you ended up going on your first official date, at Dex’ Diner.

Everything about this man seemed perfect. He made you feel like the most important person in the whole galaxy, like you deserved everything good and then some. And you truly felt the same for him.

Which gave you an inkling of guilt. Rex was a rather… experienced man, when it came to bedroom stuff. Obviously. He wasn’t only extremely handsome and sexy, he was calm, intelligent and had an energy about him which made you feel safe. He was ideal in every way possible.

And you… Were you. You hadn’t even as much as kissed a man before Rex, let alone done anything sexual with anyone. You wanted your first time to be with Rex, but you were scared he would be bored or dissatisfied with you.

Why wouldn’t he? There was no way you could give him anything special. Anything he hadn’t tried yet.

You still wanted to try, though. Rex was bound to come planetside within a few hours and you did everything to give him a warm welcome.

You showered, cleaned the apartment, showered again, dressed your bed with new comfortable sheets, made a delicious meal that just needed quick heating once you got hungry, showered one more time just to be sure and went out to get some fancy drinks and sexy lingerie.

Upon returning to the apartment, you heard the shower running. Thinking that you might��ve forgotten to turn it off during the chaos of preparations, you ran to the refresher to fix your mistake.

How you missed the perfectly stacked, dirty armor next to the bathroom door will forever be a mystery.

The very next thing you knew, however, was that you had just run in on a butt naked Rex in the shower. And you suddenly felt a whole lot of things at once.

Rex didn’t seem too bothered to cover himself, though he did stand in a way so his more private parts were hidden from you. More for your comfort than his own.

“Y/N, you’re home. I hope it’s okay I let myself in to get clean, our last mission was on this dustball of a planet,” he explained, as if he ever needed a reason to let himself in. You had given him the keycard and code to your door for a reason.

Despite your best efforts, no sound managed to escape your lips. You were kinda just stuck there, staring dumbfoundedly at Rex, feeling your cheeks get hotter and knees get weaker by the second.

After getting a towel to cover himself with, Rex exited the shower and closed the space between the two of you. “Aaaare you okay, Y/N? I really didn’t mean to scare you, if that’s what happened.”

You were somehow unable to move, just staring ahead like a kybuck caught in headlights. Rex placed a hand on your cheek and lightly tilted your head up to meet his gaze. The look on his face was a mixture of worry from your odd behaviour and loving to finally see you again.

“I was gonna surprise you, but I guess you beat me to it.” You finally managed to get out, though your voice was still careful and low for some reason.

“Is that so? What was the surprise?”

Your heart was beating so fast and loud, you nearly feared it might break free from your chest. Your whole body felt like it was burning hot and melting away, with the way Rex was looking at you, with how close he was, nothing but a singular towel to cover himself.

“I was going to make this night special for you,” you admitted, without fully revealing the truth.

“Mesh’la, every night spent with you is special.”

Though his statement was sweet, it was far from what you meant. It felt weird admitting the truth, nerves wrenching your gut. Although you were certain you wanted this that night, with this man, it was still a huge step for you.

Hiding your face in your hands, you pressed yourself against Rex’ bare chest - which did not help with your rapid heartbeat. “I want to have sex with you. I was gonna surprise you with sex,” you admitted, voice muffled from your hiding.

With both hands coming to rest on your shoulders, Rex gave you the smallest shove so you wouldn’t be hiding against him or behind your hands. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I heard you correctly,” He said, looking confused though you could swear there was something else hiding behind his eyes. “Did… Did you say you wanted to… Have sex with me?”

You nodded slowly.

Rex’ hand moved up to your cheek to cup it, as his lips made contact with yours. It was long and soft, melting away all of the tension you had built up with anxiety.

“Mesh’la,” Rex began, his voice deep and raspy. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Confusion written all over your face, your eyes searched his face for any sign of sarcasm or joking. “What do you mean?”

A smirk crossed Rex’ soft lips, as if you had just asked him why the sky was blue. “Just that you seem a bit nervous, that’s all. I like this thing we’ve got going and I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Rex’ features had a tendency to become soft in your presence. When you first met him and often when he returned from battle, his features were harsh and rough from the stress of the war. But whenever he was around you, they softened a whole lot, as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

It was incredible to get to witness him relaxing and being himself around you. It made you feel more relaxed too.

“I want to,” You replied, upon realizing you had spent way too long studying his features, rather than answering his question. “I really do want to. Why else would I have spent all day preparing for this? It’s just…” Suddenly feeling shy, your gaze averted downwards and to the side. You leant in closer to Rex, resting against his chest, though this time without it obstructing your voice while talking. “It’s gonna be my first time and… You’re, well, you. And I’m scared I’m not gonna live up to your expertise or it won’t be any good for you or… I don’t know! My mind starts running and running so fast I can’t keep up and all these scenarios start playing out and most are good but those that aren’t just -”

With a swoop of his hand, Rex had tilted your face upwards again and pressed a kiss against your lips to shut you up. Your own hands rested against his abs, just around the start of his happy trail.

Breaking the kiss far too soon, Rex’ forehead came to rest against yours. His eyes were half lidded and so easy to get lost in. “How about we just take it slow and see where it ends?” He suggested, before planting another kiss on your lips. Straightening back up to stand tall, an adoring smile crossed his lips. “And I promise, there’s no way anything you do won’t feel good for me.”

With that, the two of you suddenly ended up in your bed together. But unlike all the other times before, this wasn’t for sleeping or a cuddle session.

All of your plans had been thrown out the window. Rex suggested you waited with the food till after, same with the wine as he wanted you to be clear headed for this.

You were still fully dressed, while Rex’ towel was hanging on to dear life. Rex was leaning over you, sloppily making out while one hand kept exploring your body. So far, not much out of the ordinary.

Well, other than only a piece of cloth separating you from his member and your exploring hands constantly inching closer to it.

Rex only broke the kiss for a second, so he could take off your top and quickly went back to kissing you.

His calloused, yet surprisingly soft hands began fondling with your breast for a spell, expertly massaging and pinching them, causing you to be the one to break the kiss this time, with a gasp.

Rex used this opportunity to move his sloppy kisses down your neck, as one of his hands simultaneously traveled down towards the apex of your legs.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, or if it becomes too much.” He murmured against your skin, the vibrations traveling through your body and forced a pathetic whine out of you, as a response.

Upon making contact with your most private area, Rex found that much to his surprise, you were soaked. Beyond sloppy-makeout-session soaked. And as his finger made contact with your throbbing, sensitive clit, your hips instantly buckled against his hand, while your head threw back in a moan.

Rex broke the attack on your neck, so he could look you in the eyes, as he asked: “How long have you been turned on?” His eyes were dark with lust, his tone bordering between being genuine and being playful.

You gave up your attempt to explore his body, in order to hide the shame on your face. Not accepting this, Rex quickly brushed your hands away and pressed his forehead against yours, forcing you to look at him. All the while, his finger did not stop its teasing of your clit, causing pathetically low moans to escape your lips.

“Answer me, mesh’la.” Rex ordered, his voice commanding yet endearing.

“I, ah… I don’t know? Been thinking ‘bout this all dayhhh… But seeing you, in the shower, def - kark - definitely did something to me.”

“You’ve been thinking about me all day? Tell me about them,” Rex egged you on, one of his digits now teasing your entrance while his thumb continued its ruthless pace on your clit.

Speaking was getting harder, while your vision was starting to blur and this knot began tightening in your solar plexus. One hand grabbed tightly onto Rex’ bicep, while the other found its way past the very loose hanging towel and down to hold his cock. You weren’t sure where this new confidence came from, as you had never had contact with another person's genitals.

The throbbing would probably have freak you out, if it wasn’t for Rex’ finger curling into you, while he moaned - the sexiest thing you’ve ever had the pleasure to hear. The thing that was going to tip you over the edge.

Your grip on Rex’ bicep tightened, nails digging into his tan skin, while your other hand began pumping his cock, moving completely on its own accord. “Ka-ark, Rex….” You moaned, your hips thrusting into his palm, as the knot in your stomach snapped and a huge wave of indescribable pleasure washed over you.

Rex moaned praises into your ear, as his hips began thrusting into your hand. He was struggling himself, the feeling of your hand around his cock, while you were moaning his name, made it hard for him not to just cum right then and there.

But he wouldn’t be a very good soldier - much less captain - if he broke that easy. So when you came down from your high, Rex pulled away.

Confused, you pushed yourself up on your elbows, so you could look at the soldier who had by now moved on to pull your pants and underwear off.

“Did… Did I do something wrong?” you asked, slight panic filling you at the sudden retrieval on his part.

Chuckling, Rex replied: “No, not at all, mesh’la. On the contrary, your hand felt so good, I needed to know what the real deal feels like. That is, if you’re alright with it?” He tested, fingers already gripping the band of your pants and ready to pull.

How could you say no? The way he was looking up at you, all hopeful and loving, like you were a goddess and he was awaiting your blessing. Besides, if he could make you feel this good with just his fingers, you could barely imagine how the real deal would feel.

You nodded at him, the grip he already had on your heart tightening furthermore. “Yes, I’m alright with it.” You said out loud, knowing he wouldn’t accept just a nod for a reply.

In a swift motion, the soldier had completely undressed you. His gaze wandered over your nude form, admiration mixed with lust all in one look.

“Beautiful,” he said breathlessly.

Feeling rather shy under his adoring gaze, you tried to somewhat cover your body with your arms, only to have Rex instantly pushing them away again.

“Don’t,” he encouraged, looking lovingly into your eyes. “You’re more beautiful than I ever dreamt about.”

“You dream of me?” You asked, surprised at this new insight.

“All the time, mesh’la.” Rex replied, leaning back over you to bruise your lips with a few more kisses. “You have become a permanent occupant in my thoughts, giving me something other than the Republic and my brothers to fight for.” Rex continued the kisses down your neck, marking you as his with a small bite.

You weren’t sure if the noise you made was a moan or a sob, but it was something in between. How could he say such wonderful, loving things to you, all the while attacking your neck and grinding against your sex.

At last, Rex sat up again, using both his hand and cock to gather as much of your slick as possible. Then, he paused for a moment. “Are you…?” He began, unsure how to properly ask.

“I am,” you replied as if you had read his thoughts - or maybe just his face. “And are you…?”

“Had my checkups before coming planetside, perfect health all around.” Rex replied, reading your mind on the subject.

The fact that neither of you even had to finish your sentences, that the other part just instantly knew what you meant, furthered your belief that this was the right man for you.

“Then let’s do this.”

Rex did not need to be told twice. He lined himself up with your entrance, the tip barely pushing in.

“Just relax mesh’la and tell me if it becomes too painful, okay?” Rex’ eyes found yours and the lust was temporarily swapped with worry. This wasn’t his first time being someone's first, and he knew the more nervous they were, the more uncomfortable it would be for both parts. And that was the last thing he wanted for you.

It felt like you were about to cry from happiness. He was so considerate, so amazing. You couldn’t find a better man. “I promise.”

Even though you tried your best to just relax, the intrusion of the head and the sudden stretch was a lot. Rex seemingly quickly picked up on this, as he closed the space between your bodies without pushing any further in.

His hand began stroking your cheek, as he placed small kisses on your lips, your nose, your forehead and eyelids. It worked, as you melted into his touch and began relaxing again. This gave him room to continue.

“You’re doing great, you feel so good, you’re so amazing, I love you,” these and many other things were whispered into your ear, praising you as you took more and more of him.

You wrapped your arms around his back, needing to somehow feel even closer to him. One hand found home on the nape of his neck, while the other held onto his shoulder. Tears pricked your eyes at the stretch, but it wasn’t unbearable. It was a pleasant burn and Rex made sure to take it slow, so you could adjust.

It felt like he was deeper in than possible, when he suddenly stopped. You moved your hands, so you could look him in the eyes. “Is it all the way in? It feels so big.”

Rex gave you an adoring smile, then adjusted himself so you could look down at where your bodies connected. “It’s a bit more than half. I’ll let you get used to it, then slowly start thrusting. It’s gonna make it easier to go deeper and feel better for the both of us. Is that okay?”

“Is it okay with you?”

The answer was within the question and Rex knew it. You were okay with it as long as he was. Just the same for him. So instead of giving a verbal response, he began kissing you. No matter how many times you had felt those soft lips on your own, you would never tire of the feeling.

He slowly began thrusting and the feeling was beyond anything you had ever experienced. The stories you’ve heard of others, the feeling of fingers and all that was nothing compared to the real deal. You felt so full, so complete in the most incredible way.

Your nails dug into his scarred back, you had to break the kiss in order to moan, your hips began meeting his half way through on their own accord. And when he started going faster, his name left your lips with each exhale.

Something about the way his balls were hitting your ass with each thrust filled you with pride. He was all the way in. And the fact that he also had to stop his kisses in order to moan - to grunt! Oh it was the most amazing sound you had ever heard. It made your body swell with pride.

No, not the pride. Something else. Something better.

It was like every nerve in your body had become ignited with pleasure. Like all of the force, the stars, everything good had connected inside your body and was begging to be released.

All of your muscles tightened, your vision blurred as your mouth was stuck in this ‘O’ shape. Wave after wave washed over you, cleansing you from your anxieties and troubles. Never had you ever imagined a feeling this good. Never had you thought it was possible.

Rex seemed to be just as lost in pleasure, as he kept muttering something under his breath, something you couldn’t understand, while his thrust became faster and more shallow.

Just as you were at your peak, at the moment you thought it was impossible to feel even better, you were proven wrong. Ribbons of seed spilled into you, painting your insides white and it made you reach a new high, a new sensation of indescribable pleasure.

Rex collapsed onto you, all of his energy sucked out with his cum. He was sweating, panting, and completely exhausted. This soldier who could run for miles, climb impossible mountains and fight for his life without losing his breath. But this… You. You managed to exhaust him.

Not that you were in a much better state, but you at least had the excuse of being a civilian.

After catching your breath, you finally regained control over your own limbs. Weakly, you slapped the soldier on the side of his arm.

“Ow, what was that for?”

“Why have you never told sex feels this good?”

Chuckling, Rex replied: “I’ll let you know next time.”

Dividers by: Unknown, @lornaka @freesia-writes and @djarrex

Taglist: @zoeykallus @rain-on-kamino @ashotofspotchka @chxpsi @maulsrightleg @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @wildmoonflower @nunanuggets @lokigirlszendaya @wholesuhmsstuff @pb-jellybeans @dangraccoon

LMK if you want to be added to the taglist (✿◡‿◡)

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literallyjustanerd · 7 months

Text

Tease (Fives X Fem!Reader)

You're a student at Coruscant U. The boys of the 501st are guest speakers for a class on galactic politics. But one particular ARC trooper gets more than he bargains for when he starts checking you out...

My first time attempting anything close to smut, hope y'all enjoy! Lmk if it's good enough that you'd want a continuation ;) This also may be partially inspired by a dream i had oops

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: eye-fucking, teasing, showing off, making out, hints of both dom reader and dom Fives, suggestive ending

Rating: 18+ (minors DNI please)

Credit for the Fives divider to @freesia-writes with helmet art by @lornaka !

You have to stifle a yawn as you settle into your desk, stretching out heavy limbs. Your last lecture after a long day of classes. Galactic Relations and Conflict wasn’t really relevant to your major- you’d picked the elective on a whim, but it had proven to be your most interesting class this semester by far. Today promised to be no different: your lecturer had pulled some strings and arranged for some pretty interesting guest speakers.

You hear them before you see them: boisterous laughter echoing down the hallways. Then, the boys in blue file through the door. The one in front corrals the others into order as they come to stand at attention at the back of the hall. Five in total- two ARC troopers, two lieutenants and their Commanding Officer. Armour proudly polished where it isn’t scuffed or dented, painted helmets slung under their arms. Two things hit you in quick succession as your eyes cross the five identical faces. One: these clones are nothing like the carbon copies you’ve seen on your holoscreen. As alike as they look under their haircuts and tattoos, they’re individuals, plain as day, from how they style themselves to the way they stand and speak. Two: one of them is looking your way.

There’s a cool confidence in his demeanour, an effortless assurance to his movements, and he’s not at all embarrassed to be caught looking: though he’s still in conversation with the others, his eyes don’t waver from yours for a moment. It gives you ample time to take in the view, and what a view it is. The angle of his brow highlights the tattoo at his temple, and from there you follow the sharp cut of his jaw down to the well-kept goatee at his chin, up to the inviting curve of his mouth. Solid, square shoulders shift when he laughs at something another clone says. There’s a stray curl falling over his forehead you want to tangle in your fingers. You fight the urge to bite your lip as your eyes venture lower, sweeping down a broad, thick chest to his deliberately cocked hip. You force yourself to look away. Can’t be caught ogling the trooper, like the self-proclaimed “bucket fuckers” you see on your social media feed, lining up at 79s every weekend. You’re not that desperate. Subconsciously, though, you realise you’ve straightened in your seat, pulled your shoulders back. You’re even toying with your hair.

You cringe internally, chastising yourself for looking so eager. Calm down, you think, it probably doesn’t even mean anything that he’s looking. The lecture isn’t due to start for another ten minutes, and among the smattering of early students, you’re the only one in the front row. He’s just getting a look at his audience. But when you chance another look up at the ARC trooper, you find his gaze still locked onto you, even as the clone beside him continues to speak. Cockiness is a trait you usually find irritating. But much to your dismay, instead of scoffing when he arches his brow and quirks his mouth in your direction, you feel your pulse quicken and your skin heat.

He winks, and your mind is made up in an instant, caution thrown to the wind. It’s been too long since you’ve taken a break from your studies and had this kind of fun. If he wants to play the game, you’ll play. And you’re not going down without a fight.

You bring your eyes back down to your desk and pretend to be deeply focused on laying out your datapad for taking notes. Hot as blaster fire, his gaze still burns on you, but you refuse to give in. You’re no stranger to this dance, and you’ve gotten pretty good at it, even if you do say so yourself. Your lecturer enters soon after and begins the talk, introducing your guests. You get your first taste of the ARC trooper’s deep, gravelly voice when he steps forward in turn, as well as his name. Fives. It loops in your mind as you wrap your lips around it, trying it out. As Captain Rex takes the podium, you make your first move. Slowly, deliberately, you cross one leg over the other, and lean your elbows on your desk, shoulders pulled proudly back. The stars must have aligned for you this morning: you’d picked one of your lower cut shirts, and it frames your cleavage perfectly. A few carefully counted seconds later, you tilt your head away from the podium back to Fives.

Oh, yeah. You’ve got him.

He’s looking. He’s staring. His gaze has darkened, intensified. When his eyes roam down low and creep back up, you feel it like it’s his fingers on your skin. Your body warms under the stare, liquid heat pouring over you, pooling at the top of your thighs. Not wanting to seem too self-satisfied, you allow yourself a small, restrained smirk. A twitch of your eyebrow, just to gloat. Such a small gesture, but it lights a fire in Fives’ eyes. You’re enjoying the game, but you want to stretch it out, so you leave him hanging, and go back to listening to Captain Rex, your stylus working across your datapad, dutifully taking notes like you’d been paying attention the whole time.

You don’t let up on Fives, though. As his brothers each take their turn to answer questions from the cohort, you pull out every trick up your sleeve. Mussing your hair, adjusting your top. You swear you see his upper lip twitch into a growl when you shift your legs, gliding one foot up and down your calf. He has his arms folded now, the end of a thumb jammed into his mouth, chewing on the tip in a way that makes you hungry to replace that thumb with your lips. He makes no attempt to hide his want: he’s undressing you with his eyes, and you’re quickly getting drunk on the power. The killing blow comes when Fives has to wrench his attention from you long enough to take his turn at the stand. You can see him struggling to keep his focus on the rest of the lecture hall and away from you. At first, you feign innocence, letting up the act for a few short minutes, playing nice, giving him a reprieve. And in truth, it’s not hard to actually stop and listen to his words: he speaks with confidence, cracks a few corny but endearing jokes, and answers the audience’s questions with a thoughtfulness and insight that catches you off guard. Shit, you think, swallowing down the flutter in your chest, he might have the edge on you.

But in the end, he will get no mercy from you. The third time he gives in and glances in your direction, he finds you with your stylus poised at the corner of your mouth. Your pulse throbbing, you grind your thighs together, making a show of it. Your tongue darts out for just a moment and, soft and delicate, you press the stylus past your lips, teasing the tip. The effect is instant. Fives chokes on his last word, stifling a groan that quickly turns into a string of coughs. His eyes are blown wide, his cheeks several shades darker as he tries to regain his composure and remember what he had been saying.

You win.

You back off for the rest of the lecture, content to enjoy the feeling of his eyes on you and the playful glances you exchange from the moment he leaves the podium. He takes your little trick in stride, and even gives back what he gets, a sway in his hips as he walks back to rejoin the other clones, taking it slow to give you ample time to enjoy the view from behind. All too quickly, though, the talk ends, and so does your fun. You shoot Fives one last wink as he and his brothers leave the hall, and he fixes you with a cutting smile that’s equal parts charming and dangerous. You gather your things and leave with the other students, with full intention of returning to your apartment to take care of the ache between your legs alone. The memory of Fives’ gaze lingers on your skin, drawing an involuntary shudder.

The train home is going to be torture.

But you don’t make it to the station. You don’t even make it off campus. You’re rounding the corner away from the lecture hall when you hear him. He clears his throat, and your nerves thrill when you turn to see Fives leaning heavy against the wall, one hand propped on the inviting curve of his hip. The pathway he stands in is seldom-used, small and quiet, and the shadows from the towering buildings throw his face into shadow. His voice is pitched low when he speaks, thick and sweet, dripping like syrup.

“Quite a show you just put on,” he purrs, and the words go straight to your cunt. “What’s your name, gorgeous?” You give him your answer, careful to keep your voice in check while the rest of you quivers with anticipation. Fives repeats it, the sound rolling heavily off his tongue.

“Thought this gig was going to be boring,” he muses, “you certainly proved me wrong. Thought it would only be polite to return the favour. Show my… appreciation?”

The curling grin on your face is all the answer he needs: a thick hand on your waist pulls you into the alleyway, cold brick at your back and hot breath on your neck. You’re trapped in an instant, bracketed by his arms on either side. His lips hover an agonising inch from your skin, sparks of honey-sweet electricity dancing along your shoulders and down your spine.

His body is still angled away from yours, yet the tiny, twitching roll of his hips draws an answering thrust from you all the same. The lack of friction tears a tiny groan of frustration from your throat before you can stop it, and Fives’ chest rumbles with his answering chuckle. The end of your rope dangles so close. It would be so easy to just give in and let him win. Your defences weaken further when the warmth against your throat sharpens, searing breath giving way to the scorching wet heat of his lips at the top of your jaw. The dizzying thrill of finally feeling him against you is what gives you the strength to regain control. A firm hand at his cheek shifts his mouth away from your ear and onto your lips, kissing him hard and merciless. He moans when your fingers dip low to scratch teasingly through his goatee, and the sound sets your every nerve singing symphonies. In an instant you know you’d do anything to hear that sound again, to feel the high of him melting under your touch. With dwindling patience you reach out, grabbing at the belt of his armour and trying to pull him flush against you. He resists, breaking your kiss just barely and tutting against your lips.

“No need to rush, mesh’la,” he taunts, settling a warm, gloved hand on the swell of your hip. He’s firm but gentle, coaxing you back into the wall with just enough pressure to tease you. You recognise the Mando’a, though you can’t quite place its meaning. You find you don’t much care- not when Fives is kneading at your waist and mouthing at your collarbone.

“We’ve got plenty of time Besides…” With one fluid movement, he forces your legs apart, pressing one thick thigh between your own. It's your turn to moan, trying to shift your hips, though Fives' grip keeps you maddeningly still. ”You gave me a whole lot of grief back there. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

You swallow thickly, the shifting column of your throat catching against Fives’ teeth and making you gasp. This one might be harder to win than you thought. A devilish grin slides onto your lips.

You still won’t go down without a fight.

#fives x reader #fives x you #clone thirsting #clone thots #sw tcw fanfic #arc trooper fives #x reader #reader insert #sw tcw #drabble #fem reader #fives smut

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euphoriacafe · 22 days

Text

What if it was all over?

What if the order 66 never happened- the Republic had won the battle- the galaxy was safe finally. Of course, you would only be finding out when someone screamed on the top of their lungs in the bar that it was finally over.

You were standing in your kitchen, washing any dishes you dirtied from dinner. This was how it was usually- dinner alone every night and occasionally you would have it with him.

Yes, him.

He was the one who rarely had the time since of course…he was a solider- like he would say, ‘It’s his duty to put the republic before anything else.’

Rough. That’s what it felt like.

But when shore leave would come around for him, he would be making a beeline to your home. He would knock and then spend his time holding you…caring for you…loving you.

He said he didn’t want to form attachments because the war’s were dangerous and there’s always a chance he doesn’t make it. The other excuse was it was against their protocol to have families or to even be seeing anyone- but something always drew him back to that very door.

It’s almost a week already since the news that the war was won. Yet, he never returned.

What is something happened to him?

What if he was just using you to take his stress out?

What if-

Your thoughts raced and your heart felt like it was slowly breaking as it ached at the terrible thoughts. You held onto the counter as support letting your caf become cold and watered down.

The kitchen was dark and cold.

You felt used…alone…conflicted…hurt.

You didn’t hear the door open or close since you were locked into your thoughts- you had a small tears rolling down your cheeks as you were looking down at the counter.

With your back being exposed from the shirt you wore- you suddenly felt a warm hand tracing from your shoulder blades to your shoulder.

Another hand was gently placed onto your hip.

What knocked you out of your thoughts was the lips that pressed against your shoulder blade to the other side of your exposed neck.

It was him.

Wolffe.

You felt your muscles relax under his warm touch to your cold goosebump skin. His voice was raspy, tired, low.

“Cyar'ika, I’m home.”

You turned around to look up to him scanning his face for any hint of if this was your imagination or if it was real.

You reached your hand upwards towards his face placing it onto his cheek, his eyes went from love to worry at the sight of you crying.

“You’re…really here.” You whispered in disbelief.

“I…you…” You stuttered over your words being but off completely with Wolffe dragging you towards his body to hold you.

“I’m here cyar'ika,” He spoke laying his head on top of yours, time finally seemed to be going slow. “And I’m not leaving you again…I’m here.”

“It’s all over…I’m not leaving you.” He whispered holding you closer.

You closed your eyes taking in his scent, he wasn’t wearing his top armor over his blacks. His body was warm.

You melted into his grasp listening to his heartbeat.

If you enjoyed this post- please reblog and like. It’s not a necessary but it’s gladly appreciated!

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batchedzine · 1 year

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BATCHED: a Clones Zine [ICheck]

Welcome to BATCHED!

This is a 𝐍𝐎𝐍-𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐓 / 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘 Zine centered on all the clone battalions of Star Wars.

This zine is a Gen, SFW project. A happy AU (Everybody lives/Nobody dies) where our favorite bois are living happily.

We welcome themes such as brotherhood, adventures, fun shenanigans, found family, Modern AUs...

Interested? Fill our ICHECK and let us know what would you like to see come out of this project.

FAQ | [ICHECK]

THANK YOU SO MUCH!

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kometqh · 23 days

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𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

Captain Rex x Reader Every waking moment you had to yourself, you spent on trying to remember. To remember his touch. His voice, his warmth. His face and his eyes. But how could you when after so many years it's become nothing but a blur? And each time you're close, each time your mind drags back pieces of the puzzle together, you're interrupted. Word Count: 1,462 Warnings: Angst A/N: This idea came to me whilst listening to Once Upon A Dream from Sleeping Beauty and I couldn't help myself but vomit words onto screen, I hope whoever reads this enjoys this because I loved the idea TT

The city lights from below twinkled and burned brightly like the stars in the dark sky above. A miniscule smile rested atop your lips, a familiar gleam sparkling in your irises.

The cold autumn breeze flew past you, ruffling your unruly hair into an even more so, larger mess.

A blue, old scarf a size too big hugged and entangled your shoulders, floating up and down with the cold. Your fingers twiddled with the loose threads, feeling the coarse material between the pads of your fingers. It was a gift from him. The man from your dreams.

You used to love him. You used to miss him. You used to wait for him.

You used to walk with him,

Once upon a dream.

His hands used to be warm, his gaze so smitten.

That look in his eyes, was so familiar a dream.

His voice used to be so soft, his touch so tender.

Those visions of him, you knew they were seldom true.

His embrace endearing, his kisses slow and passionate, as though you were the most delicate flower he had ever the pleasure of finding.

His love was your hope, like that of a sprouting seedling in a vast desert. His scent was your calm, like the sound of rain pattering against glass. His voice a lullaby to your dreams.

And now all you had left of him was the old, scruffy, pale blue scarf.

And you loved it as much as you loved him and he loved you.

The faint scent of his cheap cologne still lingered. You had done your best to find the brand, but failed. How hard was it to find the same exact cheap cologne? Very, you had come to realise.

The Empire destroyed everything. It took him away, it destroyed his memory.

"Y/n?" His voice asked, but it wasn't his voice. This one had a husky timbre to it, as though he hadn't felt anything but the familiar burn of a cigar against his lips in a long time. It wasn't the same.

"Hunter?" Your voice came out soft, quiet as though he had interrupted an intimate moment you were having.

He took a long moment to continue, his gaze sturdy and focused on your figure.

"Someone's here to see you."

His eyes met yours as you shifted around, a brow raised questioningly. His shoulders stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. He knew what you were about to say.

"Tell them-"

"It's urgent," He interrupted, putting emphasis to his words, swallowing harshly as he felt his throat tighten, "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't," He paused again, this time his gaze dropping to the wet concrete beneath his feet, and suddenly he was all too aware of the loud pattering of the rain against his hair and the concrete, of the rough and short beats of your heart echoing in his ears, "Trust me." His gaze rose back to yours.

With a shake of your head, you pulled the scarf tighter around yourself. This was one of the few bits of time you had to yourself, that you could spend on thinking. Thinking of him.

Amongst the many missions and bounties, your mind always failed to remember him. The faces of his brothers, the different tones and accents and timbres, they all mixed and matched together until it was all a blur. At first, you were happy to be surrounded by Hunter and the Batch. But now you could barely remember the face of the man from your dreams.

The door creaked shut behind you, the sound of rain muffled by the all-too loud music of the bar below. You hated it. You could never focus with it on.

The heavy scent of alcohol lingered in the air, like a poisonous fog ready to fill your lungs and taint your blood. Your chest felt stuffy every time you were forced to be in the vicinity of the awful stench.

Hunter's heavy boots thudded against the concrete floor, his head hung low as he kept a fast. steady pace, refusing to give you enough opportunity to question him, enough chance to prod him where you needed to get your answers.

He wouldn't give in so easily even if you tried.

Not tonight.

Though it seemed you hadn't felt the need to ask.

Not tonight.

Your mind was in a different plane, a different galaxy. A distant past.

The hallway seemed to narrow down the longer you walked, winding around corners and staircase openings like a never-ending labyrinth. You were slowly becoming sick of it. Why was this building so dauntingly tall?

The walls seemed to be crumbling down and wailing for repair with each crack that extended down hallways, staircases and rooms. Grimaced faces were painted on the sickly orange walls, freshly patched spots grasping to hold the structure together as the building shook with the volume and vibrations of the music.

Hunter hated it too. But he could bare with this for a moment longer. For you.

His throat dried up as the door came into view, and his ears heard the way the pace of your heart picked up as he spoke, "They're behind that door."

His hands fell to his side, smearing the sticky sweat on his armoured thigh, and his steps slowed down, his own heart matching the pace of yours. You must have known by now, right?

"Who is it?" You asked as you came to an abrupt stop, just inches away from the door. You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. The two of you stared into each others eyes, silently communicating through the miniscule, atomic-like movements of your irises.

It wasn't hard to know what you were thinking. Nor what Hunter was.

Who is it? He imagined your voice to be soft, velvety like freshly cleaned cushions, the unsure tenderness of it warming his heart.

Go ahead and find out. You imagined his voice to be gravelly, like waves crashing against a sandy shore, the hum they left behind sending shivers down your spine.

With a soft sigh, you turned away from his towering frame.

Lifting a shaky hand, you turned the knob.

The door creaked uncomfortably, like the wornout strings of an old violin.

A gentle, dimmed light flooded the hallway, painting it a sickly shade of yellow. Was this a hotel or a pigsty?

You could almost taste the years worth of dust on the tip of your tongue.

The doorknob felt rough and weak under your touch, the dragged wood pressing against the pads of your fingers.

With a heavier push, the door managed to pull open, screeching in protest until it came to a final stop.

Your chest stopped heaving up and down as the air was caught in your throat.

A sudden lightheadedness hit you, eyelashes blinking rapidly as you tried to get a tighter grasp on the doorknob. For a moment, you scrunched your eyes shut, and fought away the dizziness that clamped around your temple like a pair of metal tongs.

When your eyes opened again, you felt a pair of arms get a hold your waist.

Was someone hugging you?

Maybe, you thought and as you slowly looked down, you noticed a pair of armoured arms wrapped around you. Hunter's arms.

Did you fall?

You couldn't feel your legs.

As you looked up again, it all dawned on you.

The man from your dreams.

At first, you only saw the faded maroon poncho. It was overly large, and clearly didn't fit. It looked old, tattered as loose threads stuck out at odd angles.

And then you glanced down. White armour clung to his legs, embracing his feet and shins and thighs.

Your gaze wondered up, spotting the helmet seated atop a bed behind him. Blue streaks dancing down the expanse of the white coat of paint. It lingered there, pricking at your heart strings as though wanting them to snap one by one.

It hurt.

Your chest was burning.

Your throat tightened, the painful drags of a wail tugging at your voice chords.

The arms around your waist tightened, a familiar head of ashy, chestnut brown hair tickling at your skin.

Where were you again?

Your eyes fluttered, blinking erratically as you fought to look up. Your mind couldn't let you.

You couldn't-

You couldn't rememeber his face.

A hand flew to your gaping mouth, covering the strangled whimper that erupted from deep within your chest, tearing at your throat as slowly, slowly you allowed your eyes to look up.

It hurt.

Did he always look so familiar? So.. Awfully perfect? So familiarly strange?

His warm, honey gold irises were locked onto you, wide and unblinking and disbelieving.

New wrinkles and aged lines dragged at his tanned skin, painting the picture of an abandoned, weary, scarred soldier, an abandoned and forgotten man.

His hair was still that beautiful blonde, his sun-kissed skin and chapped lips still brought out that awfully familiar, but long forgotten feeling in the pits of your stomach.

It's him.

It's-

"Rex?"

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dystopicjumpsuit · 6 months

Text

No Sleep Till Coruscant

A/N: Written for the lovely @kimiheartblade. You know what you did 💙💙💙

Pairing: Captain Rex x Fem!Reader (reader has insomnia and hair that is long enough to pin up)

Rating: M (minors DNI)

Wordcount: 3k (Look, this was supposed to be 500 words. I had to stop somewhere. If people enjoy it, I’ll write another chapter.)

Warnings and tags: fluff; a little awkwardness/secondhand embarrassment; bumps up against consent issues due to power dynamics (Rex is the ranking officer, but the reader makes the first move and definitely wants this); SMUT with feelings; hair touching; talk of masturbation; heavy petting; suggestive dialogue; Rex touches the reader’s neck and throat, but there is no choking

Summary: You can’t sleep. You ask Rex to help you relax.

Suggested listening:

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“Can’t sleep?” The deep, familiar voice rumbled close to your ear, and you knew without looking who it belonged to. He may have shared a voice with millions of other clones, but his was the only one that made your skin prickle with awareness.

You tore your eyes away from the Venator viewport as your captain stepped up next to you. You hadn’t even heard his approach, and his ability to move in total stealth while wearing half his body weight in armor and kama never failed to amaze you. His dark eyes traced your features a little too observantly, and you shook your head without speaking, turning back to the viewport and hoping he hadn’t been able to read your expression too closely.

“Something on your mind?” he asked.

“No more than usual,” you replied with a shrug. “I’ve never been very good at sleeping.”

“I guess we all have our faults,” he smiled. “I was wondering what yours was.”

“I suppose there are worse fatal flaws than insomnia.”

His lips quirked in a tiny smile, and he turned toward the viewport to gaze with you at the hypnotic blue swirl of hyperspace. After a few moments, he spoke again, quietly.

“Probably easier to fall asleep if you’re actually in your bunk instead of standing on the bridge hours after your shift ends.”

“Probably,” you acknowledged.

“Do I have to make it an order?”

You smiled. “I wish it were that easy. You could just comm me before bed every night and order me to go to sleep, and I’d have no choice but to comply. Insomnia cured by the power of the legendary Captain Rex.”

He turned his head minutely, and even without seeing it, you could feel his scrutiny. “Worth a try. Come on. I’ll walk you to your quarters.”

It wasn’t a request, so you fell into step next to him as the two of you proceeded down the silent halls of the Venator. You didn’t speak at first, content to walk with him in companionable silence. The majority of the ship was on sleep cycle, and the few troopers you passed merely nodded and continued about their business.

“What’s your excuse—”

“Got plans for shore—”

You and Rex spoke at the same moment, then stopped abruptly with quiet laughs.

“After you, Captain,” you said.

“Just wondering if you had plans when we get back to Coruscant for shore leave,” he said.

“Probably going to lie awake and wish I could sleep for most of it,” you admitted. “You?”

“I don’t think you quite grasp the ‘rest’ half of R & R,” he observed.

“Right, because you’re one to talk, Captain ‘Duty Never Sleeps,’” you teased.

“I never said that,” Rex objected.

“But you’re probably saving it to drop on the next batch of shinies they bring us, aren’t you?”

His chuckle was so quiet you barely heard it. “What were you going to ask?”

“I was just curious what your excuse was for being awake in the middle of the sleep cycle,” you said.

“Duty never sleeps,” he said solemnly.

“I walked right into that, didn't I?” you laughed, allowing yourself the tiny indulgence of nudging him with your shoulder. Not that it did you any good; you couldn't even feel him beneath the cold plastoid armor, and all you got for your effort was a sore shoulder.

Far too quickly, you reached your quarters, pausing outside the door. You didn't want to go inside, if you were honest with yourself. There was nothing in that room except an empty bed and four empty, gray walls that stared back at you through every endless, agonizing hour that you lay awake. Rex, too, seemed unsure of what to do now that you'd reached your destination. He fidgeted subtly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked on impulse. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and you hastened to add, “For safety, you know. If you order me to go to sleep, and it actually works, it would probably be best if I'm close to the bunk. That way I don't fall and hit my head or something…”

You trailed off, realizing you were rambling.

“Good point,” he said, his eyes flicking almost imperceptibly down to your lips. “Wouldn't want to have a medical emergency.”

“Kix would never forgive us for the extra paperwork,” you agreed, keying in your door code and motioning him into the room.

As the door slid shut behind you, Rex asked, “Speaking of Kix, have you talked to him about your trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah. He gave me some pills that made me wake up in the morning with no memory of walking to the mess hall and making a grilled cheese sandwich while the cooking droid yelled at me for entering a restricted zone. I never bothered to try them again.”

“Can’t say I blame you,” Rex said dryly. “How was the sandwich?”

“Apparently I threw it in the trash without tasting it. Damned waste of cheese, if you ask me.”

“If it was GAR cheese, you did the galaxy a service,” he said.

“When can I expect my commendation?” you asked.

“Best I can do is a heartfelt thank you.”

Your eyes crinkled with amusement, and Rex smiled, looking rather adorably pleased with himself at having made you laugh. You scrambled for a clever reply, but nothing came to mind, and the silence stretched out until it became awkward.

At last, you managed, “I'd offer you a seat, but the only option is the bunk.”

Rex looked away. “I should probably go, anyway. Will you be able to sleep?”

Suddenly possessed by unprecedented audacity, you murmured, “If I say no, will you sing me a lullaby?”

Rex drew in a quiet breath and stepped closer to you. “How often is it like this for you? How often do you lie awake, tossing and turning?”

“Every night,” you confessed.

“And what do you usually do when you can't sleep?” Something shifted in his tone, his words coming out low and husky.

Your tongue darted out to moisten your dry lips, and this time, there was no mistaking the way his eyes dropped to your mouth.

“I—I'm not sure I should say,” you rasped.

He dragged his gaze away from your lips at last, looking up into your eyes. “You can trust me.”

“I know.”

“Then… Will you tell me?” he asked.

“Sometimes, I take matters into my own hands.”

His eyes locked with yours, his gaze sharp and intense. “You…”

You nodded. “Sometimes it works.”

“When was the last time it worked?” His words were quiet and rough, his eyes dark as he looked deeply into your eyes.

“Last night,” you admitted breathlessly. “Probably why there's no way I'll be able to sleep tonight.”

“What did you do?” he whispered.

Drawing a deep, steadying breath, you began, “If I describe it to you, will you—”

His eyes widened as you paused, tongue-tied. “Do you want me to… Touch you? The way you tell me?”

You nodded, your entire body feeling like it was aflame. Hearing him put it so bluntly, you understood the magnitude of your suggestion. This was such a mistake. What was I thinking?! Asking a superior officer to—to—Asking Rex—Rex! Of all people—to touch me like that! I must finally be losing my mind.

Before you could backpedal, though, he slowly pulled off his gloves and dropped them on your nightstand. Your breath shuddered to a halt as you realized you'd never seen his hands without gloves before. In fact, this was the most exposed you'd ever seen the captain: helmet and gloves removed, yet still covered in armor. You felt like a swooning maiden in some overwrought period holodrama, having a fit of the vapours at the tiniest sliver of skin.

“How did you start?” he asked, stepping forward into your space.

Force, has he always been this big? You felt acutely conscious of the bulk of his armor, his pauldrons so broad that it seemed like all you could see was white and blue plastoid. When you met his eyes, though, you saw something else: a searing heat that burned away all your doubts—a hunger that made your blood race in your veins.

“I started with my hair,” you replied, your voice noticeably hoarse.

He moved slowly and very deliberately, raising his hand to the back of your head. You could feel the warmth radiating from his skin as he carefully and meticulously removed every single pin holding your hair in its tidy, regulation bun. You felt your hair loosen as he pulled them out one at a time, making sure not to drop any, and when he finished, he set them in a neat pile next to his gloves on your nightstand.

He threaded his fingers into your hair, combing out the remnants of your bun, until your hair tumbled freely down around your face. He touched the locks gently, not tugging on them in the slightest: simply feeling the texture and brushing them softly out of your eyes.

“What did you do next?” he asked in a low voice.

“I touched my face. My cheeks,” you whispered, “and my lips.”

He tucked your hair back carefully before his fingers grazed your skin. The first brush of skin on skin was electric, and you stifled a gasp. His thumb traced the line of your cheekbone as his fingertips curved under your jaw. His touch was light and gentle, his hand blissfully warm in contrast with the cool, recycled air of the starship, and you swayed slightly closer to him, leaning your face into the sensation.

He trailed his thumb down the line of your cheek until he reached the corner of your mouth. Your breath sped up slightly as you felt the calloused pad of his thumb brush over your lips, followed by two of his fingertips.

“Your lips are so soft,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on your mouth.

You brushed your tongue lightly across his fingertips, tempting him to slide them deeper between your lips. He hesitated for a moment, then slipped them into your mouth as you swirled your tongue over them. He rested his forehead against yours, his warm breath fanning softly over your skin. He raised his other hand to caress your cheek, his gaze fixed on you with an expression of pure fascination.

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers and traced them over your lips once again. For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you, but instead, he took a ragged, shuddering breath and spoke again.

“Keep going. Describe it to me. What next?”

“Next—” the word was inaudible, and you paused to search for your voice. “Next, I touched my throat. Softly. And very slowly.”

The warmth of his fingers as they traversed the short distance from your jaw to the collar of your uniform sent shivers racing across your skin.

“May I?” he asked as he reached the opening of your collar.

You nodded your permission, and he unzipped your jacket with his other hand, the pressure of his knuckles barely palpable on your torso as they descended the line of the zipper. Instead of immediately tugging off the garment, though, he simply continued to stroke and caress your neck, drawing his fingers down from the corner of your jaw to the notch above your sternum.

“After that, I… I traced my collarbones,” you whispered.

His fingers slid beneath your uniform to run along the ridge of your clavicle as his thumb rested against the base of your throat.

“What did that feel like?” he asked quietly.

You shuddered. “Good. It felt… good. But not as good as when you do it.”

At last he slid the jacket off your shoulders, leaving you in only your camisole. His eyes flickered down to your chest, and he swallowed audibly as he realized you weren’t wearing a bra. “What did you do after that?”

“I brushed my fingertips down the center of my chest,” you murmured. “Between my breasts, but I didn’t touch them yet.”

His lips curved into a small smile as his fingers followed the line of your sternum until they reached the silky fabric of your camisole.

“Is this regulation?” he asked in a lightly teasing tone.

“No,” you admitted. “Are you going to write me up?”

“I’m sure the general would be very interested in how exactly I knew that your underwear was out of reg,” he said with a quiet huff of laughter. “Do you want to keep going?”

“Yes,” you replied, somehow managing to keep your voice from betraying the fact that you thought you might actually die if he stopped touching you now.

Is it possible to die of frustrated lust? GAR lieutenant investigates. More at eleven.

Rex dipped his fingers lower, beneath the satin camisole, as his thumb traced over the plush swell of your breast.

“Is this how you touched yourself?” His voice was low and gravelly, with no trace of laughter lingering in it.

“Yes,” you gasped. “Just like that.”

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure he must be able to feel it as he trailed his hands over your soft, delicate skin. His eyes were fixed on your body, pupils dilated wide with arousal.

“And what did you do next?”

“I think you can guess,” you replied, heat rising in your face.

He leaned close and whispered in your ear, his warm breath sending a wave of tingles down your spine. “Indulge me.”

You inhaled sharply. “Next… Next I touched my breasts—I cupped them in my hands and played with them.”

Rex froze. His hand stilled, resting against your sternum. Even his breath paused momentarily. He whispered your name, his lips barely brushing the silky skin of your neck.

“Rex,” you murmured in a low, husky tone. “Touch me.”

He dropped his head lower, his lips almost making contact with your shoulder, but he hovered a breath away from you. Both of his hands settled on your ribcage and slid up beneath your breasts, tracing your contours, before finally cupping your breasts through your camisole, squeezing you gently, capturing your nipples between his fingers and teasing them until they were stiff and aching with pleasure.

“Like this?” he asked, his harsh whisper hot against your skin.

You arched up, desperate to feel his mouth on your body, but he held that tiny distance between the two of you. “God, yes, just like that.”

He slid his hand down your abdomen until he reached your hip. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of your camisole to tease the soft skin of your belly, and then curled beneath your waistband as he dragged his knuckles over your hip.

“What were you thinking about when you touched yourself here?”

You dropped your head to his shoulder, burying your face against his neck, not wanting him to see the truth in your eyes.

“Tell me,” he said. His voice was soft, but every instinct you possessed screamed to obey his command.

“You.”

The word was quiet—barely a breath—but you might as well have screamed it. Rex’s reaction was immediate and overwhelming. The hand that still held your breast released you, and his arm clamped around your body. His fingers tightened on your waistband and pulled you hard against him as he finally, finally kissed you. Lips, tongue, teeth descended on your shoulder, worked up your neck and across your jaw, leaving a trail of heated sensation in his wake.

When he reached your lips, he devoured you with all the passion he’d been holding back with such meticulous self-control. His kiss was everything you’d imagined for months. It swept over you like a wave, scattering your thoughts and making your head spin as his tongue slipped between your parted lips. He released your waistband and glided his hand beneath your camisole, up your bare abdomen, to palm your naked breast as he kissed and kissed and kissed you, until there was only one coherent thought in your mind: Is this really happening?

You clung to him, fingers gripping plastoid. You’d wanted Rex for so long, and now that you had him, it almost didn’t feel real. The thought galvanized you. You broke away just long enough to yank the camisole off over your head, dropping it to lie in a crumpled heap on the floor as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him back into your kiss. His armor bit uncomfortably into your exposed skin, but you didn’t care; you were practically climbing him, frantic for contact.

“Wait,” he rasped.

“Seriously?!”

He laughed at your impatience. “Seriously. I haven’t waited all this time to rush it now.”

Your breath caught at the implication: he’d wanted this just as much as you had. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Why didn’t you?” he asked pointedly.

“You’re my captain—” you began.

“And you’re my lieutenant,” he replied.

Ah. Solid point.

“You’ve—you’ve been waiting for me to make the first move?” you asked. “This whole time?”

“Since the minute you came aboard.”

“Damn,” you said, struck. “Are you sure I should be working in intelligence? I completely missed the signs.”

“In fairness, stealth is one one of—”

You cut him off abruptly with a kiss. You slid your hands over the back of his head, stroking the soft, velvety, close-cropped blond hair. His groan of pleasure rumbled against your lips, sending a jolt of arousal through your entire body.

“Captain?” you whispered.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he murmured, nuzzling your face gently.

“Permission to remove your armor, sir?”

“Kriff, don’t call me that,” he begged. “But also yes. Please.”

You went to work quickly, helping him unbuckle and strip off the heavy plastoid.

“Not a fan of being called ‘sir’ in the bedroom?” you asked curiously.

“Just don’t need to be reminded that we’re breaking about forty-two regulations right now.”

You shot him a look brimming with mischief. “We’re going to break a lot more before we get to Coruscant.”

#captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #the clone wars fic #star wars #sw tcw fanfic #clone wars #dystopicjumpsuit writes #Spotify

303 notes · View notes

anxiouspineapple99 · 7 months

Text

She's Such a Scream

ARC Trooper Jesse x Reader

Warnings and tags: SMUT; exhibitionism; oral sex; threesome; Jesse and Kix being a tag-teaming menace to society; angst; canon compliance; you came here to have a good time and you’re probably going to feel very attacked; death; bad ending; no happy ever after (I’m sorry). Important: If you want to pretend it ends happily, stop reading after the second "don't scream" divider.

Word count: 3.4K

Suggested listening: "Such a Scream" by Tom Waits

The neon lights of 79’s were even more garish than usual, flashing orange and purple as strobe lights illuminated the hazy smoke that filled the club. Bodies crowded the dancefloor, the bar, and every single table and booth in the building. Curiously, not a single piece of armor was visible except for the Corries stationed by the front door to make sure the crowd didn’t get out of control. Instead, ghouls and monsters of every imaginable description thronged together to the beat of the music—a live band tonight, playing deceptively upbeat songs with subtly horrifying lyrics.

Your friends danced near you, each of them dressed up as the sexy version of creatures and monsters and demons from fairy tales and folklore. Anan was a sexy rancor; Latik was a sexy ghost; Miria was a sexy zombie; Biala was a sexy weremassiff. You didn’t tell them that tonight, for the first time since you’d met any of them, you weren’t wearing a disguise.

“Stars, you look great!” Anan shouted. “What’s your costume supposed to be, again?”

You drew a breath to respond, when suddenly, a towering droid lunged out of the crowd and roared in your face. You blinked.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

The droid visibly deflated as the vampire in medical scrubs next to him laughed, “I told you it wouldn’t work, vod!”

“What wouldn’t work?” you asked.

“He’s been trying to scare cute girls all night,” the vampire doctor replied. “I told him civvies don’t know enough about commando droids to be scared of his costume.”

Latik sidled up to the vampire doctor and fluttered her eyelashes. “I’m afraid of vampires. Are you going to bite me?”

The doctor gave her a seductive, fanged smirk. “That depends. What blood type are you?”

“Type orenth-negative!” she giggled.

“Ah, the universal donor!” he said, ratcheting up the charm. “Have you considered donating? The GAR is always in short supply.”

“That depends,” Latik simpered. “Will you be the one collecting?”

“I’ll be working a shift at a blood drive at GAR headquarters on Taungsday,” he said.

“Wait, you’re being serious?” Latik asked, confused.

“Stop doing that, Kix!” the commando droid groaned, shoving the vampire doctor. “Why can’t you just flirt like a normal person?”

“Has he tried that more than once?” you asked.

“He’s been doing it all kriffing night,” he sighed, removing his mask to reveal a clone trooper with a large Republic cog tattoo and the kindest brown eyes you’d ever seen.

Oh, no, he’s hot!

“Why is a commando droid hanging out with a dude whose tattoo says, ‘A good droid is a dead one’?” you laughed.

He looked into your eyes very seriously. “Mesh’la, do you… not know what a ‘costume’ is?”

You couldn’t help it; you let out a peal of laughter that drew the attention of multiple dancers. You clapped your hand over your mouth to muffle it, but you couldn’t stop your eyes from dancing with amusement, and the clone shot you an answering grin that made him somehow even cuter.

“I’m Jesse,” he introduced himself. “This di’kut is Kix.”

“When you said you were going to make her scream, I didn’t think you meant, ‘scream from laughing at you,’” Kix teased.

“It takes more than that to make me scream,” you said.

“Oh?” Jesse’s eyes gleamed with speculation. “Shall I take that as a challenge?”

“You can take it however you want,” you replied provocatively.

His eyes drifted to your lips as he leaned closer to whisper in your ear. “I bet I could make you scream.”

“I doubt that,” you murmured. “But you’re welcome to try.”

“By any means necessary?” he asked, tracing his fingertips up your bare arm.

“Any way you want,” you agree. “Your choice.”

“And what do I get when I win?” he asked, standing close enough that you could smell his clean, woodsy scent.

“You name the prize,” you replied. “It’s never going to happen, so you can ask for anything in the galaxy.”

He grinned. “Game on.”

He looked at Kix, who danced alone as he watched the two of you, Latik having drifted away to find a dance partner who wouldn’t try to exsanguinate her. Some unspoken communication passed between the two clones, and Kix immediately joined you, dancing close to you as Jesse moved to cage you in from behind. The dance floor was crowded and hot, and it got even hotter as the two troopers sandwiched you in between them.

Jesse’s hands slid onto your hips, moving you to the beat but otherwise staying perfectly still until you rested your hands over them, encouraging him to explore you. He pressed close to you, his broad chest against your back as his hands roamed over your body. Kix met your eyes questioningly, and when you nodded your permission, he moved in, joining in Jesse’s explorations.

Kix was very good with his hands, and the feeling of two gorgeous clones caressing your entire body was overwhelming. You tilted your head back to rest on Jesse’s shoulder, and Kix pressed his open mouth to your chest, drawing his tongue over you, leaving a hot, glistening trail as he licked the sweat off your skin. His fangs scraped softly against your neck as his hands stole up your back and held your torso close to him. With Kix’s body shielding you from the view of the other dancers, Jesse slid his down to your hips and beneath your waistband, dipping lower and lower, until he found your clit and began to toy with it softly. You could feel his cock pressing against your ass, hard as a karking rock, as he teased you.

“He’s gonna get caught,” you murmured in Kix’s ear.

“That’s the idea,” Kix replied. “Hasn’t happened yet, but he keeps hoping.”

“Holy kriff,” you whispered, feeling a rush of arousal at the thought.

Jesse felt it immediately, and you could feel his groan reverberate through his chest as he pressed against you, sliding his fingers deeper into your slick heat.

“You like that idea?” he asked, dropping his mouth to the other side of your neck. Your legs nearly gave out as both clones kissed and sucked and licked and nibbled on your sensitive skin. “Gonna scream, mesh’la?”

“Not even close,” you replied. “You’ll have to do better than that, pretty boy.”

“You think I’m pretty?” he asked, sounding adorably hopeful.

You turned your head to press your lips against his ear. “The prettiest.”

His hands ceased their blissful teasing and withdrew from your waistband, and that very nearly kriffing did make you scream—in frustration. Without a word of explanation, he tugged you toward the edge of the dance floor and down the darkened hallway. He located a convenient stack of crates to serve as nominal cover, and then he pushed you against the wall, beginning an all-out siege on your body. He was incredibly thorough in his attentions, massaging your breasts, sucking and biting your skin, pinning your hands to the wall as he kissed and licked his way from your wrist to your shoulder, and finally dropping to his knees to feast on your cunt. The second his tongue slid into you, he let out a loud grunt as though he’d been starving, and your taste was the only thing that could satisfy his hunger.

“Oh, fuck, Jesse,” you gasped.

He slid his fingers into you and began to fuck you with them as he looked up at you. “Say my name louder so nobody wonders who it is that makes you scream.”

As he pleasured you with his hands and mouth, he made you writhe; he made you moan; he made you sigh and groan; and finally, he made you come—but he never made you scream.

At the end of the night, he asked if he could see you again.

“Far as I’m concerned, the bet’s still on,” he grinned. “You give up now, that means you forfeit.”

How could you refuse such an argument? You gave him your comm channel, and he messaged you before you even made it back to your flat. You met up for breakfast the next morning with your disguise safely back in place, nursing hangovers, and after eating your bodyweight in greasy fried protatoes and scrambled nuna eggs, you took him back to your flat to give him another chance to win the bet.

He didn’t make you scream, but you still felt like you’d hit the jackpot. He had incredible stamina, and his body was a Force-damned work of art, with a cock that made you believe in a higher power. He made you come three times before you both passed out to sleep off the remnants of your hangover. When you woke up, it was dinnertime, and it seemed only polite to invite him to stay, considering that he’d worked up an appetite with you.

He offered to cook for you, and despite your reservations, dinner was shockingly delicious: a hearty salad with some kind of roasted bean thing. There was a brief, perilous moment when he started to break down the nutritional macros of the meal, but he saw your eyes glaze over and quickly changed the subject.

“I can’t believe it’s already dark,” he commented.

“Yeah, it’s the worst part about this time of year. It gets dark so early during Coruscant autumns.”

He looked at you speculatively. “You know, it’s not safe to walk home alone in the dark. Who knows what kinds of monsters might be lurking out there?”

You laughed, first of all at the idea that the ARC trooper would ever be afraid of… well, anything, and secondly, because he had no idea that you were more deadly than anything that could possibly be hiding in the shadows.

“It’s so true,” you replied gravely. “Maybe you ought to stay here until morning. You know, for safety.”

“Wouldn’t want to impose…” he said. “All right, you talked me into it.”

He did have to leave the next morning, regrettably, but he came back to you on his next shore leave, and the one after, and the one after that. You knew it was dangerous; you knew the risk was too great, but by the time you realized you’d fallen in love with him, it was too late to do anything about it.

Time marched on. The bulk of the GAR was sent back to the Outer Rim sieges, and he couldn’t hide in the safety of your flat forever, as much as you wanted him to. You wanted to chain him to your bed where you could protect him from any threat; you wanted to spend every morning distracting him while he cooked breakfast; you wanted to spend your days mapping the angles and lines of his incredible body.

Unfortunately, as powerful as you were, not even you could hold back the tide of the war. Jesse left; he came back; he left again. You didn’t even have the luxury of tracking his unit, since as an ARC trooper he was sent wherever he was needed, rather than being embedded permanently with any one division. Whenever he had shore leave, he spent it with you, next to you, inside you, wringing every drop of comfort and pleasure that he could from your time together.

You had never eaten so much protein and vegetables in your life as you did when he was home. Honestly, you’d never eaten so much home-cooked food, period. He despised the mess hall food, and he seized every opportunity to cook—sometimes just for the two of you, and sometimes for Kix as well, on those nights when the medic joined you. You loved those nights. The two clones knew each other so well that they could communicate without speaking a word, and they put that skill to devastating use when bringing you to unimaginable heights of pleasure. Jesse’s raw power combined with Kix’s skilled hands and extensive knowledge of anatomy made them a lethal duo, and you would die before you admitted it, but Jesse came very close to winning the bet on those nights.

Other days, you and Jesse would spend your time exploring Coruscant’s vast markets, or snuggled up on the sofa playing sabacc, or competing to see who could quote the most lines from your favorite holodramas. He woke up before you every morning to go for a run, and he found creative ways to work out at home so he didn’t have to spend time away from you at the gym.

“Sit on my back while I do push ups,” he said one day.

“I’d rather sit on your face,” you teased.

“We can do that later.”

“What if I lie on the floor beneath you, and you kiss me every time you lower down? I love it when we do that,” you suggested.

“It’s too distracting, and I want the extra challenge today,” Jesse replied. “Hop on, babydoll.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you objected.

“You won’t,” he smirked.

In all honesty, his level of fitness was intimidating, and it sometimes made you insecure about your own body.

“What?!” he asked, flabbergasted when you shared this with him. “Why would you ever be insecure? You’re the most gorgeous kriffing thing in the galaxy!”

“How can you say that when you look like… you know… that?” you asked, gesturing to his godlike person.

“First of all, I look exactly like a few million other men. Nothing special.” He held up a hand when you began to protest, and he continued, “You are unique and stunning, and I love everything about your body because it’s beautiful and new and exciting and yours. I love learning all of the secret places that make you whimper and moan, and I swear by the Force, I am going to find the one that makes you scream. Some day.”

“Well… shit,” you said, rendered speechless by his uncharacteristic eloquence. “Then why are you so into fitness and clean eating? Not that I don’t appreciate the fruits of your labor.” You took a moment to ogle him shamelessly, and he preened under your attention.

“It’s not about looks,” he said. You arched a skeptical brow, and he amended, “It’s not entirely about looks. I stay in peak condition so I can be as effective as possible—so I can save as many of my brothers as I can.”

Your heart twisted, knowing how heavily the loss of those he couldn’t save weighed on him. And then one day, he came to you triumphantly, spinning you around until you were dizzy and breathless as he told you about the lost clone they’d been able to save, and their subsequent decisive victory on Anaxes. He was nearly beside himself as he described the daring, unsanctioned rescue mission and the recovery of a fellow ARC trooper named Echo. His face was alight with hope that in the future he could save more brothers that the GAR had given up on.

Three days after Jesse left on his next deployment, the nightmares began. You dreamed of blood and fire; of unendurable pain; of tortured, broken minds not under their own control; of the slaughter of innocents. When you woke up, you knew you’d been screaming in the night, because every piece of glass in your flat had shattered.

You cleaned up the mess and commed Jesse. He didn’t answer. A few days later, he sent you a brief message, telling you how much he missed you and that he couldn’t wait to see you soon. You waited. The nightmares grew worse, and you stopped trying to replace your glassware, investing in durasteel cups instead.

One day, after weeks of loneliness and disappointed hopes, you returned home from work to find Jesse sitting alone in the dark in your living room. You threw yourself into his arms, holding him close, and his arms tightened around you desperately, like a vise.

“Jesse!” you cried in shocked delight. “You didn’t tell me you were coming home!”

He didn’t speak, but his body began to shake uncontrollably.

“Jesse?” you whispered. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He buried his face against your neck and began to sob—awful, gut-wrenching sobs that wracked his entire body, as though his soul itself were crying out in anguish. You knew, because you’d heard the screams of tormented souls before.

“Kix,” he choked out.

Your heart stood still. No. Impossible. You would have known.

“What happened?” you whispered.

“Gone.”

“How?” you asked.

He shook his head, still not pulling away from you. “MIA. That’s all they’d tell me.”

“Jesse,” you said quietly. “He’s not dead. We will find him.”

He froze, then sat back to look into your eyes. “How do you know that?”

You swallowed, unable to tell him the truth. “I can’t explain how I know. You just have to trust me. If Kix were truly gone, I would know.”

And so would everyone else in this quarter of Coruscant, you added mentally. Nobody could have missed the screams.

Jesse could only stay for two days that time, and you spent his entire leave trying to comfort him. You couldn’t tell him your secret, and without evidence, he didn’t believe you. He pretended to, but you saw the hope die in his eyes, and it made you want to tear the galaxy to pieces.

He was dispatched again, this time to some godforsaken place called Yerbana, and from there, who knew. Your dreams became worse—more specific—and this time, Jesse had a starring role. You saw fearsome stripes of red and black, and glowing yellow eyes. You felt the terror and the pain, you sensed his mind being ripped apart and put back together, and when you awoke, fissures had opened in the walls of your flat.

The holonews reported that your neighborhood had experienced minor localized seismic activity, though nobody could explain how such a thing was possible. Experts attributed the damage to instability in the understructures of the level, and a committee was formed to investigate the phenomenon. They found nothing.

And then the day came. Clone troopers marched in the streets. The Jedi temple burned, and the sound of screaming was all around you. You could feel it welling in your throat, but you pushed it down with all the strength in your body. For hours, you and your coworkers watched the holonews, transfixed and horrified as the official reports began to come in: the Jedi had committed treason and were all to be hunted down and destroyed. The Republic was gone, and in its place, an Empire.

At last, you left your workplace and began to walk home. Your coworkers urged you to stay with them—they said it wasn’t safe to be out on the streets, not with all the violence and upheaval, but you insisted. You hurried through the shadows under a red sky, avoiding the clanking plastoid phalanxes of troopers who swarmed the streets. You were nearly home when it began.

Your mind saw fire, and hundreds of blaster bolts. You saw glowing blades. You heard the sickening shriek of rending durasteel, the cries of men dying around you. You felt the world shudder and shake around you, and then nothingness. A ragged scream tore from your throat, knocking you to your knees as your head snapped backward. Every window and viewport as far as you could see shattered in an instant, the shards suspended in the air at the force of your uncontrollable scream. Droids sparked and exploded. Beings of all species curled into fetal positions, hands covering ears, writhing in agony and vomiting from pain, and still you screamed.

The deafening wail echoed through the quarter as buildings began to collapse around you, but you couldn’t hold it back. It ripped its way out of you, pulling all the air from your lungs, wreaking destruction and agony and death, and still you screamed, until nothing but emptiness remained, and the galaxy descended into darkness.

---

A/N: In case you haven’t already figured it out, the reader is a banshee, a ghost/spirit from Irish folklore whose screams foretell the death of a family member or loved one. I imagined a Star Wars version where her screams are an uncontrollable destructive force unleashed by the death of someone she loves—which is how she knew Kix was still alive (though frozen in stasis), and how she knew Jesse was dead.

#pineapple's 2023 halloween party #arc trooper jesse #arc trooper jesse x reader #monster au #clone wars #sw tcw fanfic #dystopicjumpsuitwrites

#submission #pineapple’s 2023 halloween party #dystopicjumpsuit writes #arc trooper jesse #arc trooper jesse x reader #monster au #sw tcw fanfic #Spotify

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shieldmaiden-of-rivendell · 10 months

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Does anyone know that Codywan fic on AO3 where they’re soulmates, every time your soulmate lies to you you get get a mark, Obi-wan’s first soulmate was Qui-Gon who lied to Obi-wan constantly, and Cody only lies to him once when injured? Because I can’t find it for the life of me.did it get deleted?

#star wars #could’ve sworn I bookmarked it #star wars the clone wars #swtcw #sw tcw fanfic #the clone wars #codywan #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x cody

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sun-roach · 11 months

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He had felt it. The bone crushing agony, the heart aching grief, the nerve wrecking fear and anxiety.

At first Fox didn’t know the roots of these feelings. He was working on his flimsi work in his office when suddenly his chest tightened painfully, with a migraine blooming in his head. The pain caused him to drop the data pad he was holding in his hand and made him gasp.

Panic started to gnaw on his stiff and frozen yet sweaty body.

His first thought was the Chancellor.

Had he done a mistake? Was he punishing him? Was he just going to have his sick fun with him again?

The commander forced himself to breathe, forced his mental shields up.

He had to analyze his surrounding. The chancellor wasn’t there. Although there still was Palpatine's cold darkness looming around, it wasn’t as strong as it had been at his last punishment.

The chancellor wasn’t there. It wasn’t him inflicting the pain. It was someone else. Or rather someone else’s pain. Someone tightly bound to him.

The realization sent a shiver down his spine.

Wolffe.

Something had happened to his twin. Something very awful. He had never felt Wolffe so strong trough their bond. Never had the bond effect him physically.

Fox gasped again after trying to reach his brother. There was no response.

No matter how often he had tried to reach his brother, no matter how often he had went to his barracks to meet, he had never gotten a response.

Only the report on Wolffe’s mission, which he received a couple of days later, brought insight to what had happened.

It made his guts twist.

Wolffe had lost his pack. Wolffe, who had always talked and joked so fondly about them. He had lost them.

The day where Fox was finally able to see his twin, was when the older one was about to leave again. He had almost not recognized him since the color of his armor wasn’t red anymore, but instead light blue.

Something about it made him a little upset, but at the same time he understood. Wolffe wanted to honor his lost pack. It was a respectable choice. One he would have chosen himself.

They were only able to exchange a few words, words that didn’t sit well with Fox. Words about the Coruscant Guard, about their easy work and life. Sarcastic, indirect insults. He let it slide, knowing that Wolffe was still grieving, still upset.

Wolffe didn’t know any better. He didn’t know about the true identity of the oh so beloved chancellor. Didn’t know what the Senators were capable of doing with them. Didn’t know how threats and punishments could even take a man like Fox himself on a tight leash.

And Fox wanted him to leave without that knowledge.

The bond was awfully quiet for quite some time. Neither of them tried to reach for one another. Not after their one sided fight.

The recent events on coruscant didn’t help at all, keeping Fox mostly away from his batch. His batch, who started to slip away trough his fingers.

Some part of him told him that it was for the best, but the other part was hurt, frustrated and irritated.

Knowing them alive at least comforted him in his growing darkness.

Fox was going to leave his office, when suddenly pain stroke him down to his knees. His whole body was shivering, his trembling hands moved towards his right eye. Why was it hurting?

The commanders chest was rising heavily, his breath hitching. No sound escaped him. He had learned to be quiet. Had to. For the sake of his vode.

It took him a few minutes of nothing else happening, until he realized that he himself was alright. The chancellor wasn’t there. He was alone in his office. And the pain?

Wolffe.

Wolffe

Fox forced his eyes shut, as he tried to focus on his bond. Wolffe’s pain was flooding him. Underneath this pain was fear. A fear the younger twin knew all to well. Fear for his own life. Fear for his vode's lives.

Once he knew the cause of the pain, it was easier for him to breathe. He had to help his twin. Him panicking wouldn’t do that at all.

He sent soothing, reassuring words trough the bond, filling it with warmth.

Fox could feel his brother latch onto it, fighting against the pain, fighting to stay conscious.

In vain.

Now three rotations later he stays in a medbay watching his twin sleep. Wolffe’s breath is steady, his heart beating quietly to a rhythm Fox knows very well. A rhythm that always manages to calm him.

He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t move. He only watches over his brother, like Wolffe had done so protectively back on Kamino.

Despite his exhaustion and tiredness he waits. He was never thankful for Thorn taking over one of his shifts. This time though he is. He will always be in his debt.

Fox looks up. He doesn’t scoff or snort. He keeps quiet while looking at Wolffe’s bandaged eye. The younger commander only dares to raise a brow.

Fox follows orders. He sits down next to Wolffe, who shuffles a little to the side.

<Fox'ika.>

Warmth, concern, apologies. Wolffe shouldn’t be the comforting one right now.

Shaking his head, Fox wraps his arms around his brother’s shoulders and leans his head against Wolffe’s.

The young commander makes sure to cut the bitter, poisonous tone out of his voice. It wasn’t a lie. Nor the complete truth. Wolffe doesn’t have to know anything of it.

Silence settles between them for a while, silence that Wolffe soon breaks again.

Fox presses his lips together and quietly nods, embracing his brothers mind with warmth.

It’s for the best.

They shouldn’t know.

They can’t know.

<I’m always with you, Wolffe.>

It will be a lie.

Soon the rest of the batch arrives immediately hurrying towards Wolffe, completely ignoring Fox.

He knows he shouldn’t take it personally. They are worried and Wolffe deserves all the love he can get right now. Still he feels left behind, forgotten, alone.

While his batch is surrounded by light, he can hear the darkness whisper and hug him from behind.

Fox closes his eyes before quietly sneaking out. He shouldn’t interrupt them. Shouldn’t disturb them.

All that’s important is them being alive. He doesn’t need more.

It’s the first time he breaks his word to his twin. And it won’t be his last time.

Ni ceta. Ori'vod. Ni ceta.

#commander fox #cc 1010 #commander wolffe #commander cody #commander bly #commander ponds #commander thorn #palpatine #star wars #sw tcw fanfic #star wars tcw #this is kinda a part2 of my previos fic #someone give them a hug please #i should be sleeping but oh well #fox brainrot is real

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sinfulsalutations · 7 months

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𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕤𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕜𝕚𝕩

⋆ ★ ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 2023 ʟɪɴᴇᴜᴘ

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ᴄʟᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄ ᴋɪx x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʟʟʏ ᴀ ꜱᴛʀɪᴘᴛᴇᴀꜱᴇ

⋆ ★ ᴇʜ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ɪ ᴅᴜɴɴᴏ ʜᴏᴡ ɪ ꜰᴇᴇʟ… ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ.

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

This little shit has already been teasing you the whole night and decides to do so further even when you come home.

How dare he? You want to think, but it’s increasingly difficult to be mad when he’s looking at you with that glint in your eyes that only means trouble.

And fun.

You walk over, rocking your hips side to side enticingly as you get closer and place your hands on his chest. Kix tuts, gripping your wrists to pull your hands off of him and smiling.

“Sorry babe,” He grimaces, though he doesn’t sound that upset. “I have something else in mind before we get our clothes off.”

You titter quietly in anticipation, but Kix remains still, grasp on your wrists unfaltering. You blink.

“Aren’t you gonna tell me?”

“Right,” he corrects his behavior. “Sorry, just got distracted by you.”

Saving himself through bold flattery doesn’t work this time. You pout stubbornly until he discloses what’s on his mind.

“I want us both to strip.”

You tilt your head.

“How’s that supposed to work?”

With a playful ‘pfft,’ Kix lets go of your wrists and places his hands on his hips.

“Each of us takes one article of clothing off each, one at a time, until we’re both completely naked.” Hungry, lustful eyes take thorough drinks of your perfectly pinned getup, and you just know they’re bound to linger on the places he wants to touch most, curious as to how you look under all the fabric or in his hands, once this little game is finally over.

“Sounds fun,” You remark, running a hand up and down the other arm and playing with your sleeve. Kix chuckles.

“It will be,” He assures you, placing a hand at the top of his hat and firmly tossing it to the side, smiling brilliantly. “That’s one article of clothing.” You scoff at the choice, feeling robbed of getting to see any semblance of bare skin. He gestures in your direction. “Your turn.”

Without missing a beat, you kick off your shoes, one at a time, watching a groan bubble out of his own throat.

There’s a savory taste in the way Kix takes in the sight of your slow movements, ripples of your clothed body awaiting his next move.

“You’re killing me here,” he says, voice low and husky. You furrow your eyebrows incredulously.

“Pretty sure you’re the one that started this, baby,” you shoot back just as low-toned. Kix huffs.

“I’ll give you that.”

His surrender brings a coy grin to your lips.

Kix begins to unbutton the top of his uniform; he doesn’t have to look down to do it so deft and quick, expertly shucking it off in a mere few seconds and leaving just his regulation blacks. You’re too busy staring to remember you’re supposed to go next. Kix has to gesture for you to move.

“There’s two of us playing here,” he reminds you. A small huff escapes your tightened chest.

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh out, taking off your socks.

“Seriously?” He groans at your tantalizing striptease. He’s already down to his blacks (at least from the waist up) and you’re almost fully clothed. You shrug.

“Each article is one round, isn’t it?”

With a sigh, Kix relents and hugs the back neck collar of his blacks, pulling it off swiftly. His chest is now bare. You bite your lip and cross your arms, seeing him buzzing the longer he doesn’t see more of you.

“Your turn,” he urges, growing impatient.

Finally, does your top come off, leaving both of you and somewhat more equal ground. Each of you anticipates the other, eyes raking over the other’s exposed skin. Kix takes off his boots, pausing for a moment to admire your stare. You take off your bottoms, leaving just your undergarments.

“Kriff, you look good,” he swears, locked onto your panting chest. You shiver.

“Don’t you wanna come over here?” You curl a finger in his direction and watch him shake his head. You pout.

“What did I say?” Kix takes a step backward to allow cool air to flow more freely, take more space and separate you two, make you entirely more desperate for his touch.

“I want to play this game until you’re absolutely begging.”

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