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devilish

✩‌ merchant!qimir x acolyte!reader | smut | fluff | 2.5k

SUMMARY | you fall into bed with sweet, goofy qimir, expecting a tame tryst... but he's not as sweet as he seems in between the sheets.

WARNINGS | smut, dirty talk, breastplay, f*ngering, oral s*x (male receiving), breathplay (safe choking), praise kink (good girl!), piv s*x, unprotected s*x

RATING | explicit

NOTES | please leave some love in comments/tags or inbox if you liked this fic!!! thanks for those who were waiting for this fic <3

He’s going to kill me. 

The thought rings through your mind as you’re sitting in Qimir’s lap, lips intertwined with his. His hands grasp the back of your head and the side of your thigh, while yours tug on the nape of his neck and run through his perpetually messy hair. 

It’s screwed up that you’re thinking of the master you and Qimir share at a moment like this, but it’s impossible not to. 

If your master finds out you’re about to bed the guide he assigned to you, he may never let you see him again. A deeper fear gnaws at you; he might not only kill you for breaking some unspoken protocol, but also Qimir.  

But it’s worth the risk, one you’re both willing to take. 

Consequences be damned, because Qimir’s been undressing you with his eyes all night. 

The same sweet, goofy Qimir who always greets you with a lopsided grin, constantly annoys you about drinking enough water, and trips when he walks up the stairs or even flat ground.

But tonight’s circumstances were different. Both of you were dressed up formally to infiltrate a Senate Gala undercover. 

Him, working as a waiter, his signature disheveled hair temporarily tamed in a small bun and wearing a uniform that highlighted his broad shoulders you weren’t accustomed to. You, adorning a floor-length red halter dress that hugged your body in all the right places. 

The second he saw you step into the ballroom, he stammered into his ear-piece (“Wow, you look—wow.”). And when you blended in by grabbing a drink from his tray, his eyes could not help but roam your body. Your exposed shoulders, the expanse of your bare back, and the amount of leg showing with your high slit. 

After finishing your tasks for the night, you two stormed off in the Exile II to a nearby planet, seeking refuge at a run-down safehouse. What began as winding down with a few drinks soon morphed into spontaneous slow-dancing without any music.

You’ve always had a soft spot for him, and when he mustered the courage to tell you how gorgeous you looked tonight, followed by the loaded question—if he could kiss you—you obviously said yes. 

Which led to this current beautiful scene being played out on this grungy, old couch. 

In his loosened button-up shirt, Qimir kisses so delicately, each movement and touch just as gentle, perfectly reflecting his personality. Frankly, you’re not expecting anything more than a pleasant evening with a coworker you've grown to adore. If he's spectacular in bed, that’s merely a bonus. 

As his lips leave yours and travel to the side of your neck, you arch into him while your hands bunch up the fabric of his shirt. He holds you close, lips never straying from your skin, and lowers you down onto the couch.

But then, your eyes drift up to the ceiling, and the weight of where you are and who owns this place hits you again, causing you to tense up. 

“Stop thinking about him,” Qimir murmurs against your neck, his hands kneading your waist. This elicits a low groan from you, pulling you back into the moment.

“But what if he—”

“He’ll never know,” he cuts in reassuringly. 

“And if he does?”

“He’ll be fine with this,” he insists, tone bordering frustration. 

“How do you know?” 

Drawing away from your neck, he gazes down at you with a hand braced on the couch’s armrest. His messy, yet gorgeous, hair nearly brushes against your face. When he palms your cheek, his eyes soften. 

“Just be with me for tonight. All of you. Don’t think about anything else besides you and me. Can you do that for me?” 

You glance up at him for a few beats, taking in his beauty, along with his saccharine pleading words. Then, with a small smile, you nod. 

Suddenly, like lightning cutting through a storm, a smirk replaces Qimir’s warmth.   

“Good girl,” he says, his voice now a lower, more seductive tone than you’re used to. You reflexively tighten at the praise.  

Swiftly, he unties your halter dress and pulls the fabric down, baring your breasts to the cool air. 

You gasp sharply as his mouth descends, capturing your nipple between his teeth, gently nipping before he swirls and darts his tongue against it. Your fingers tug at his hair, while his free hand kneads your other breast, his thumb strumming and teasing the hardened tip. 

Hovering over your body, he trails kisses along your skin, switching his attention from one breast to the other, ensuring every inch of your chest is teased and pleasured. 

Eventually, his hand slides down from your breast, the tips of his fingers grazing you in a slow, deliberate path until they find their way between your legs. 

Your breath becomes ragged and your eyes tremble as he drags two fingers over your thin underwear. 

“Fuck,” he chuckles, and you detect a cocky note to it, “you’re so wet for me already.” 

His cockiness, paired with the vulgar comment, makes you shiver. You involuntarily buck your hips in need; he continues to chuckle, clearly indulging his power over you and how weak you become by a mere touch. 

Qimir deftly pushes your panties to one side and plunges his digits into you. Your hands slip underneath his button-up shirt, fingers pressing into the smooth skin of his upper back and shoulders while your rising moans and needy whimpers fill the room. 

But he’s far from finished—he jacks his fingers straighter, angling them even deeper than before.

Your whimpers evolve into heavy groans and wails, your fingers practically leaving marks on him. If he was this good with just his fingers, you were dying to know what he could do with his cock. Despite the raw pleasure, he grounds you with the press of his forehead against yours.

For the cherry on top, his thumb rubs your clit in small circles, each stroke sending you closer to the edge. 

“Be a good girl and come for me.” 

And you obediently do so with the rolling of your eyes, the uncontrollable jolting of your hips, and the ceaseless panting of his own name into Qimir's lips. 

You take a second to come down from your high, but decide not to waste any time and pull away from underneath Qimir to shimmy out of your dress and panties, standing up and kicking them off beside the foot of the couch.

He sits relaxed on the couch now with a hand behind his head, watching you intently as you, now completely bare, drop to your knees in front of him. 

Your hands tremble in anticipation when you reach for his pants, evidently feeling his desire around the seams. Removing his pants and undergarment to his ankles, your breath catches in your throat at the sight of his cock springing up against his shirt.

Said shirt is in the way, so Qimir unbuttons it fully and you become slack-jawed over his gorgeous abs, so awestruck that you can’t resist stroking them. 

You continue to touch his abs as you hold his length in your other hand, gifting him gradual, firm strokes. Qimir releases a soft moan, leaning his head back while one of his hands squeeze your shoulder tenderly. 

Finally, you take him into your mouth. On your knees, you worship him. Your tongue traces every inch of him and your lips and palm work together in tandem until his length is slick with your devotion. 

In this moment, you feel an unspoken, strong reverence for Qimir. You can’t explain why you feel this way, but you let your body speak for itself. Each motion you provide is a testament to how much you respect him—as if letting him fill your mouth completely, even occasionally hitting the back of your throat, will prove your admiration.

Although he watches your every move, in such moments such as when you take him fully, squeeze his length harder, or suck hard on his blunt head, his composure slips; he releases throaty groans and his eyes lose focus.

At one point, he warns you he’s close, and you retreat, not wanting the evening to end just yet. Decisively, he rids of his shirt, revealing the expanse of his upper body, and steps out of his other clothes. You ogle at his presence; the more you experience Qimir tonight, the more you realize just how little you know about him.  

Gently taking you by your wrist, Qimir guides you to bend forward in front of him on the couch. You’re surprised at this unexpected position from what you anticipated—a more traditional one like missionary—since it places him in control and leaves you vulnerable, with your face turned away from his. 

His hands grip your hips firmly, and he lines himself up behind you. He eases into you slowly, and you throw your head back when he’s fully inside. Once you’ve adjusted, his thrusts are slow and deep. You savor the feeling of him inside of you, gripping the couch for release with each penetration. 

He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Do you feel me? Every inch of me?” 

You nod, breathless and overwhelmed.

“And do you like it?” 

“I do”—you gasp, throwing your head back at a sudden thrust—“I love it so much.” 

“Such a good girl…” Qimir presses a kiss at the nape of your neck. Just as you're about to lean into it, he’s already gone. 

He removes himself from your warmth, disappointment rising within you in the form of a pout, but he quickly turns you around. 

Qimir lays you on the couch again beneath him once more. As he re-enters you, you think about how the vulnerability of your previous position pales in comparison to this. Now, this position makes you feel even more exposed with how he pins you down with his tenacious gaze with each thrust into your pussy.

Then, intensity flickers in his eyes. His gaze sharpens, and you sense his desire for something more, particularly with how hard he grips your waist. 

“I’m–I’m going to place my hand around your neck,” he pants. “If it’s too much at any point, you double-tap me and I’ll stop. Do you understand?”

You nod, drowning in the pleasure, and you barely whisper, “I understand.” 

His fingers first trace the contours of your throat, barely touching it, almost as if he's giving you one last out to say no if you want. But you don't want to; your curiosity is piqued for this darker, dominant side of Qimir you've never seen before.

His hand wraps around your throat with a firm, yet controlled pressure. You can feel the tightness and the pulse of your own blood under his touch, but the sensation is exhilarating, never crossing into pain.

When you don't seem to mind the amount of pressure, Qimir pushes you further, strengthening his hold against the sides of your windpipes. You moan harder, your pussy clenching in tandem with the thrill.

“Remember to breathe,” he instructs. “Focus on how good I feel inside of you.”

Seeing this intense, commanding side of Qimir is addicting. You want more—no, you need more of him like this. Your eyes roll, feeling the rising tension in the pits of your abdomen.

Your gaze drifts to the point where you and he connect, captivated by the sight of his relentless thrusts. You watch the way his body moves against yours, each thrust pushing you closer and closer.

“Look at me as I fuck you,” he demands, his gaze unyielding the whole time. 

You struggle to keep your eyes locked on his, but you try your best to in order to avoid disappointing him. At this point, he's almost just as much of a mess as you: hair sticking to his perspired forehead, eyelids fluttering, teeth gritting hard as if he's holding himself back.

“Good girl. That’s my good”—he hesitates with an elongated moan—“my good girl.”

Pleasure seizes you both, and your faces contort in ecstasy. Jagged moans permeate the air as you come undone first, with Qimir following behind as he paints your stomach with thick, white streaks.

After the clean-up, you lie on the couch on your side, facing him. On the other hand, he’s facing the ceiling with a hand above his head, and you’re in disbelief over the fact that he hides such a toned and chiseled form underneath layers of clothes all the time. You take advantage of the moment and let your hands graze the planes of his chest.

“You’re a completely different person when sex is on the table,” you observe with a hint of awe. 

“Yeah?” He glances at you with a glimmer of a smirk. His voice seems huskier than usual, more seductive really. “Do you like that side of me?” 

“I do,” you admit shyly. 

His hand reaches out from beneath the sheet over your bodies, brushing against your thigh. “Wasn’t too much for you?” 

You shake your head. “Not at all.” 

“Do you…” He absentmindedly draws shapes on your skin. “Do you prefer that side of me over how I normally am?” 

You think about it for a second.

“No,” you say with confidence, reaching for him and tucking some of his loose hair behind his ear. “That was undoubtedly one of the hottest things I’ve ever experienced, but I also like how you are with me every day. You respect me, you treat me well, and you make me laugh all the time; you’re one of the funniest guys I know.” 

“On that note”—he leans in to rub his nose against the top of your arm before placing a light kiss on the same area—“can you call me master when we have sex?” 

You immediately swat him on his chest and laugh. “Oh, my God!” 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he says, his pitch now returning to its normal state. “Unless…?” 

“If you’re really into it, I’ll consider it.” you tease, then look away. The mention of the word drags you back to reality. “What are we going to do about him?” 

“I told you already; he’s fine with it,” he says dismissively, waving a hand. It bothers you that he doesn’t seem to care, but then you squint and wonder…

“You say that as if he already knows.” 

He shrugs. “Maybe he does.” 

Your eyes widen as your suspicions seem to be true. “Did you tell him?!” 

“No,” he grunts, “but, I mean, he probably has the place bugged.”

“Oh, God…” You bury your face in one of your hands. “He’s not gonna be happy, especially if he heard everything. I do not look forward to training tomorrow.” 

“Like I said,” he takes one of your hands and presses a kiss onto the inside of your wrist, “he’ll be fine with it. I’m willing to bet on it.”

“You don’t know him like I do, Qimir! How do you know it’ll be okay?” 

“Trust me, all right?” He smiles and plants a gentle kiss on your forehead before pulling you into his arms—

“I just know.”  

🩹 ... ★ star wars masterlist.

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭

Captain Rex x F!Jedi!Reader Pt.2 Your first kiss with Rex, when the two of you were young and hopeful, and your last one, where he wished for nothing more than to protect you, to be by your side until your very last breath. Word Count: 5389 Warnings: Minor swearing (?), sad Rex, creepy man alert. A/N: I'm not proud of or satisfied with the first half, but I needed to pour my Rex love out into words &lt;3

The first time you and Rex shared a kiss, it was.. Sudden. It was thrilling. It was indescribable, really.

It had blood rushing to your cheeks in spurs, heat spreading throughout your body as his fingers gripped bruises onto your hips, his lips hot and soft against your own, trapping you between his broad shoulders and an old, sticky counter.

The two of you had been sent on a mission, a Jedi and a Clone Captain. Hand in hand, the two of you played a newly married couple as you had been tasked by the Jedi Council. At first, you had no objections, but when you realised it meant the two of you would be fully and wholly alone, your hands began to tremble, your heart began to rattle and all your resolve seemed to crumble.

Sure, you were solid in your beliefs, and that included ignoring your ever-growing crush on the blonde, tan-skinned, honey eyed Captain of the 501st. 

But with more convincing, General Skywalker and Kenobi had managed to get you to agree, and soon the two of you were shipped off to a supposedly Neutral planet, where your bounty hunter had taken cover from the GAR's watchful eyes.

The air on this planet was nothing short of stuffy, particles clinging to your lungs like thick lumps of goo. The streets were nothing but grime, sweat and dirt as your eyes scanned the place. There were potholes in the roads, small crowds of traders and sellers and horse-riders, as well as the occasional trios of smokers that hung outside bars. The streetlights were the only source of light, the planet's moons having been hidden away behind a thick, lingering swarm of clouds.

Rex could feel your shoulders stiffening, and on instinct he had pulled you closer. According to the coordinates provided by General Kenobi, the bounty hunters' hideout was just a mere few-minute walk away from your current position, and so, the two of you made your way there. 

Numerous stall owners had attempted to steal your attention away, offering glamorous jewels and accessories and flashy trinkets, but were quickly shut up and dismissed by one hard glare from Rex, his fingers finding solace on your shoulder, keeping you protectively close.

He himself wasn't all too willing to embark onto this mission, but an order was an order, no matter how hard General Skywalker attempted to mask it as a request, as a choice.

And now, having you this close, Rex was almost forced to question all the rules and regulations that the longnecks and the Council and the Republic had imposed, had implanted into the clones, onto himself. With your scent invading his senses, with your warmth being shared between the two of you, Rex wasn't so sure if he was willing to stay single for the rest of his life.

Not when your nimble fingers latched themselves around his biceps like soft snares, caressing and squeezing the flesh, feeling the sturdy muscle beneath. He could feel goose bumps rise across his arms and shoulders, as your touch set off fiery sparks on his skin, as your gaze melted away his cold exterior.

As he glanced down at you, his chest tightened, seeing the way the orange lights warmed up your face, created a warm glow, made you look prettier, enhanced your features. A hint of a shadow danced across your cheekbones from under your lashes, microscopic freckles scattered across like stars in the night sky. Maybe, just maybe, one day the two of you would live in a Republic where he could, where he would, confess his adoration for you. 

But he saw no such thing happening anytime soon.

His thoughts were interrupted as a loud, irritating whistle caught his attention, and you came to a slow halt.

"Whatcha got there, lad? You sellin'?" A scratchy voice had asked, and Rex's eyes narrowed as he noticed a Weequay pirate had made his way over to them, his eyes scanning you up and down, hunger swirling in his thin, cat-like irises. A smirk tugged at his awfully chapped lips, and his right hand was perched on his hip, settling just above his blaster.

A weak gasp left your lips as Rex half-shielded your body from view, and if you hadn't been pushed behind him, maybe your heart would have pumped faster at the sight of his frown.

"Can't you see she's taken, lad?" Rex asked, his voice loud and sturdy as he glared at the man. You didn't have your lightsabers on you, nor could you fight off the pirate whilst undercover.

"Woah woah, calm down my friend, I was merely asking." The pirate stated, a frown appearing on his face as he looked between your seemingly spooked figure and Rex's ready-to-fight stance.

Looking up at Rex, you tugged on his hand, silently pleading to keep moving. Your lightsaber was safely stored away in Rex's backpack, and it meant you couldn't have acted as swiftly as you would of if it had instead been attached to your hip.

With a groan, Rex shoo his head, puffing his chest out like a proud lion. "She is not for sale, she's with me, she's my wife, and you, you better keep your grubby paws and eyes off her." Rex growled out, his chest rumbling with a newfound dominance.

"Or else-"

"Rex.." You whispered, one handlightly tugging his shoulder, "It's okay. Let's keep going." You insisted, snaking your hand along the side of his neck to cup his jaw. His gaze softened at the sight of you, and with a small nod of his head, the two of you moved away, Rex bumping into the pirate's shoulder with more than enough force to knock him to the ground.

The two of you walked in a semi-comfortable silence, not exchanging any words, and you preferred that. If you had to speak now, you were worried you'd stumble over your words and start blushing like a teenager. He was so effortlessly kind, so thoughtful, so sweet. 

What would you do without your favourite Captain? 

Probably sink into the earth or something.

Looking up, a small smile appeared on your lips; the clouds were scattering away under the wind currents, and the twin moons were beginning to peak out from under their cover. A cool, blue light engulfed the two of you, mixing with the war orange glow from the street stands, and your breath was caught in your throat as you looked up to Rex. 

His honey eyes reflected the purple mix, darkening under it as he stared ahead, occasionally glancing at his holopad. There was a familiar crease settled between his brows, crows feet crinkling at the outer corners of his eyes as his expression screamed 'Focused!', his gloved hand warm against the bare skin on your bicep.

His stubble, which he usually kept cleanly shaven, was now beginning to grow back, giving him a more mature, yet tired look. Your fingers itched to just caress his face, to feel those short, spiky hairs against your palm, to make him feel at ease under your touch.

He glanced to the side, his eyes widening as the two of you made instant eye contact, but a soft smirk appeared when he noticed you hurriedly looking away, anywhere but him.

He definitely liked to see you flustered.

After a short while, the two of you came to a stop in front of a small staircase, a few lingering figures smoking, and tall, dark brown doors that led to the inside of the club. 

The figures scoffed at the sight of you, muttering something about being 'rich' or too 'formal', but you paid them no mind as Rex placed his palm on the small of your back, glancing sideways as he ushered you forward.

As the doors opened, your senses were flooded with the smell and feel of thick smoke, choking you from the inside-out more so than the air outside. Loud music pumped through hidden speakers, and a swarm of bodies was tangled up on the dance floor, moving in rhythmic beats, flashing lights and singing making the room feel stuffy, and much smaller than it really was.

There was sweat on the walls, different coloured lights basking the otherwise dark space in all shades of the rainbow. 

Quickly, you took a hold of Rex's bicep, stuttering in your steps as you looked to him for guidance, and the male felt a surge of pride sprouting in his chest, knowing that you trusted him enough to seek protection from him. 

Without a second thought, he lead you to the bar, ordering the two of you drinks strong enough to survive the clamminess of the place.

Then, the two of you found seats at a faraway booth, sitting close enough for your arms to touch. You took an awkward sip of your drink, a horrible bitterness hammering your tongue, a shiver going down your spine as the liquid burned the back of your throat.

"What was this called again, Rex? Beer?" You semi-shouted over the loud music, your lips just inches away from touching his ear.

Without a thought, Rex turned his face to you, towering lightly over you as you leaned against his shoulder. Your eyes widened, a soft gasp parting your lips. His own eyes looked over yours, a smirk on his lips.

"Yeah, it's called beer, mesh'la. Why? D'you not like it?" He asked, nudging his chin to point at the glass. He watched as you chewed on your bottom lip, suppressing the grimace that fought to make its way onto your face. 

He never really saw you be so expressive around anyone else, not even around General Skywalker and General Kenobi. Was he an exception? He had waited to spend one-on-one time with you for so long, always being stuck by Skywalker's side.

A smirk tugged at his lips, and Rex couldn't stop himself from putting an arm around your shoulders, pulling you impossibly closer. The gasp that escaped your lips was luckily covered by the loud booming of the music, and the flush on your face was somewhat masked by the bouncing lights, or so you hoped. 

Rex's breath fanned over the top of your head, his hand tracing circles into your skin, though his eyes remained observant, scanning the room, as he took another sip of his own drink. 

You looked back to your own drink, a scowl forming on your face as you cringed at the thought of having to finish it. But, a plan formed in your mind. The two of you were supposed to be playing a couple in love, right?

Why not.. spice things up a little?

Without a second thought, you turned to Rex.

"If you drink that whole glass in ten seconds, the rest of the drinks will be on me tonight." Your voice was loud, your lungs straining to produce sound over the music, but it seemed to work as Rex thought about your offer, taking a moment to reply.

"And I get to choose?" He asked, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear. 

With an eager nod, you watched Rex sigh defeatedly, reaching over for your glass. 

"But you better be fair, or else." He winked at you, and neared the glass to his lips. His brothers often engaged in games like this, making bets or starting competitions, their favourite being 'How to get Fives drunk the fastest' or 'How to make Fives strip tease for the civvies'. 

He himself never got drunk, only somewhat tipsy, so it would definitely be a new experience for him. 

Drinking with you by his side, without the peering eyes of his brothers or the Republic. Here, it was just him and you.

"On the count of one," You begun, a grin growing on your lips as Rex readied himself, "Three.." His posture straightened up, his gaze daring you, "Two.." His grip on the glass tightened, and you felt yourself swallowing a growing lump, looking up at Rex through a thick curtain of lashes, lips parted, "One!"

With that, you began counting down, swallowing thickly as you watched Rex tilt the glass, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with every gulp he took. You almost considered speeding up your counting, as in five seconds he was done with half of the glass.

A laugh escaped you as some of the beer began to spill down his chin, rolling in thick beads down his neck. At that point, he won. Your attention was completely focused on his neck, eyes glazing over him eagerly, and you wondered what it would be like to trace the column of his neck, to lick the alcohol off of his neck, would he like that? What would he sound like?

"Done!" Rex's exclamation startled you, the bang of the glass against the table effectively making you jump out of your skin. 

A loud laugh echoed, and as you looked up, Rex was just wiping his lips.

"Now, you owe me a drink," He said, taking a hold of your chin as he cheekily smiled, "Or a couple." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, and rested back against the booth seat.

With a roll of your eyes, you got up from your seat and made your way towards the bar.

"Five shots of Spotchka for me mesh'la!" He shouted after you, and a laugh escaped your lips. As you ordered the drinks, a giddy smile tugged at your lips. Who would have thought that the two of you could share such a normal, such an ordinary day together? Especially at a bar like this of all places? Not even in your wildest dreams would you have imagined Rex and you playing a couple, clinging onto each other like koalas, or sharing drinks like this.

Never would you have imagined you would get the chance to be close to Rex like this, maybe if one of you were carrying the other off a battlefield, but that's it really.

You were one lucky-

"You alone miss?" Someone spoke lowly into your ear, a foreign hand caressing the small of your back. 

"What the-" You turned around, shaking away from their touch. "Who are you?" You asked, one eyebrow quirked as you looked the man up and down. He was definitely a local, dressed in dark brown trousers and khaki coloured shirt, his face looked worn, wrinkles scattered all over, his beard outgrowing a stubble and his breath reeked of alcohol and cigarrettes.

His eyes though, they were sullen and fighting against his will to stay awake and upright, they showed an exhausted man, a vexed man, a dangerous man. You knew that without your lightsaber you'd be completely and utterly screwed, but maybe you could talk your way out of this?

"I've been looking for some.. fresh meat," He paused, licking his lips as he looked you up and down, expectantly. His breath stank, and you had to fight really hard not to let your disgust show. "You looked a bit lonely, y'know.." He continued, and you felt a shiver run up your spine as he reached a hand to caress your shoulder.

Thinking back to how Rex was probably waiting for you, you felt a sense of comfort; he'd come if you took too long.

"Well actually I-I'm with someone-" You tried to reason, but the man shut you up with a sharp glare and a sloppy shake of his head. 

"No no, sweetheart, I think you misunderstood me," He growled out, voice rumbling in your ears, "You're coming with me." 

His rough hand felt like sand paper to your skin, unlike Rex's gentle, careful fingers that worked their way to yours, held you with so much care. 

His shirt slouched over his bony form, and you could see sweat staining the material. 

"Sir, I would advise you to let go of me or-"

"Or what? What are you gonna do, sweetheart? Scream? Kick?" He taunted, trapping your body between his own and the bar. Why was no one batting an eye at this? Was everyone so horribly drunk? Where was Rex?

You shook your head, pushing at his chest. 

"Just let go of me you creep." You hissed, freeing yourself from his grasps. A scowl overtook his features, a red light shining directly onto his face. What the hell? Why was he so stubborn on taking you away? 

Just as his lips parted, his small frame was roughly shoved to the side, and you paused in your tracks as something soft, something warm crashed against your lips. 

Large hands held your hips in place as his lips melted against yours, pushing against you, body flush against your own. Your eyes snapped open, but closed once more when you realised who it was. 

Your arms snaked around his neck, nails grazing against his scalp as you reciprocated this welcomed feeling. Your breaths mingled together, his tongue poking out to lick at your bottom lip, wordlessly asking for permission.

Granting it, your tongues swirled together, and he hummed in approval as his hips pushed you further into the counter, the wood digging painfully into the skin and bones. His body towered over yours as the two of you kissed, completely lost in each other's warm embrace, completely forgetting about the creep that had now moved away, shaking his head and muttering disgruntled 'Okay I get it's'.

As Rex slowly pulled away, you found yourself chasing his lips, almost whining at the loss of warmth. But a small smile tugged at your lips as you looked into his eyes, noticing how glazed over his irises were, how softly he looked at you, as if you were his precious treasure, his whole world, his universe. 

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that for, mesh'la." He mumbled as he leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttered close with a content smile on his face.

A soft huff escaped through your nose, and you softly nodded, placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Me too, Captain, me too."

The last time you and Rex kissed, it was passionate, it was hopeful, it was precious.

There was a spare hour before you and your squadron were to depart for another search-and-rescue mission, off to a rather politically-influential planet, busy with preparing your ships, guns, provisions, belongings and, most of all, your goodbyes. You were confident that the mission would be a successful one, after all, how hard was it to find a missing princess?

However, the creases etched onto Rex's features had your chest tightening, had you gnawing on the inside of your cheek, had you fiddling with your fingers. That familiar scrunch of his eyebrows, whenever he was anxious, was present, crow's feet dancing at the outer corners of his eyes. 

He kept his hands grasped together behind his back as he paced the hallway outside your room in circles, muttering and mumbling under his nose with hushed breaths.

The apples of his cheeks that were normally so full and chubby, were now sullen and drained of their usual roundness, the familiar bright glint in his starry eyes you loved so much, suddenly replaced by a dark, dusky chill. 

As the door to your room slid open, Rex had lifted his head, golden puppy eyes widened, relief flooding his features. His pacing had come to a slow stop as he peered at you, breathless. 

A sigh escaped your lips, the muscles in your throat tensing, your shoulders stiffening.

"Rex..? What's-" He was quick to interrupt your words, grasping your shoulders in a gentle hold as he pushed you back inside your quarters, the doors shutting behind him with a gentle whizz and thud. 

"Mesh'la.. You can't go." As the words left his lips, your heart squeezed, like a wet rug being drained of water. It twisted and pulled, tugging at the heartstrings until they were ready to burst. Where was this coming from, why was he so worried? It was only going to be a simple mission. The corners of your lips tugged downwards in a frown, suddenly gaining on a new weight to them that hadn't been there before. 

Your hands came up to hold his face, smoothing out the lines that had scattered across. 

"Rex, what's gotten into you? What's wrong?" You asked, your voice merely a hushed whisper as you neared your face to his. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed harshly, nervously. His eyes searched yours, the first hint of tears surfacing. 

His hold against you was tight, yet so full of love and care. One of his hands had slid up to cradle the side of your face, the pad of his thumb gently caressing the soft skin underneath, his warmth radiating onto you like a heavy blanket. His scent, the scent of fresh aftershave and gunpowder, was invading your senses, binding you completely useless under the spell of your lover.

With a shaky exhale, his eyes fluttered closed, crows feet tugging at the corners before he opened them back up, his feelings hidden behind an array of lusciously thick lashes and a steel-hard facade.

"That thing.. What Fives said b-before he- before he died," He paused, his gaze dropping down to the floor, his shoulders stuttering under the shakiness of his breaths, "About the chips. What if it's true?"

At that, your lips merged into a fine line, your hold on his face losening just the slightest. 

"Rex, look at me," You spoke, lifting his chin with the tips of your fingers, soft stubble brushing against the pads, "Do you truly believe in what he said?" You questioned, searching his eyes for something, for a clue. If this worried him so much, then why did he keep it hidden from you until now? Did he hear something he shouldn't have? Did he see something that confirmed what Fives had said?

"I didn't see or hear anything, if that's what you're thinking, mesh'la," His quiet voice just barely reached your ears, the gravelly hum grazing against the shells of your ears, like waves crashing against a sandy shore, and you wouldn't have heard his hushed whisper if you weren't leaning in so close, "But General Skywalker.. he- he hasn't been the same since Ahsoka left the order, he's been more unnerved, more reckless, more irrational and he's putting my squadron, my men, my brothers in danger, kriff, even you!" He exclaimed, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. His stomach twisted and turned, bile readily rising, burning, in his throat as he realised what he had just said. 

If this was anyone but you, he was sure to be court martialed, accused of treason or desserting the army, or conspiring, even. But this wasn't just anyone, this wasn't General Kenobi or Master Windu; this was you. His General, his friend, his comfort, his love.

Surely, you'd understand where he was coming from. 

You had allowed him a short respite, pulling him into your embrace as the tears had begun to spill over. One hand caressing his hair, the other rubbed comforting circles into the tense muscles on his back. He wasn't wearing his armour, for some weird enough reason, though you could inquire about that later. 

For now, Rex's wellbeing was your priority.

Your lips gently brushed against his ear as you spoke, your voice smooth and soft, like velvet, barely rising above a whisper. "Rex, we both know, forming attachments, relationships, is strictly forbidden.. But, has that ever stopped anyone? It certainly hasn't stopped me or you, so it definitely hasn't stopped General Skywalker," You paused, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his sickeningly sweet scent, "Ahsoka was like a daughter to him, Rex, a little sister to you. He's going through the same pain as you, but multiply that by two." You whispered, feeling Rex's silent tears ease into light, stuttering breaths, his gloved hands grasping tightly onto your robes.

The distant hum of active machinery and faraway footsteps filled the silence between the two of you, bouncing off the iron-hard walls, drowning out the sound of your breathing, masking the sound of Rex's gentle, feather-light tears and sobs. 

He had been through far too much in his short life, he had seen too much, heard, experienced more than enough. The numerous, countless deaths of his brothers, each dying on a cursed battlefield, sacrificing their lives dying for a cause that did little to care for them. The disappearance of Echo, the death of Hardcase, the death of Fives. All men who had been by his side for so, so many years. 

And then, General Tano leaving the Jedi order. 

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. 

He could no longer force and tie down that sense of fear, that sense of insecurity which twisted at his heartstrings, constricting painfully each time a new terror occurred. It squeezed at his lungs, suffocating him, dragging him down like a boulder tied to one of the many seas found on Kamino. 

Kamino. 

His.. home?

The longnecks never did care for the Clones, all they were to them was a moneygrab. An expensive one, at that. Who knew when the Republic would run out of money to produce more clones? Who knew when they would get tired of the many fruitless battles they so bravely fought? Who knew?

Those questions plagued Rex's mind like a stalkish nightmare, always there, hiding away in the deepest corners of his mind, creeping in every time he'd let his eyelids flutter closed.

But then, there was a light.

A golden, brightly burning flame, offered by an extended hand. 

It came in the form of your touch. 

Anytime you'd touch his shoulder, graze the soft skin of your palm along his jaw, place feather-light kisses against his nape, Rex could feel the tightness-

No. 

He could feel the fear that clawedat his chest slowly dissipate away. Inch by inch, the feeling of your skin against his, the sound of your voice dripping like honey, the warmth that radiated off of you like the sun, it washed the sticky, oozing black substance away in waves, it purged the darkness that tried to taint his heart and mind, his resolve and his beliefs.

His breathing had slowly come to a still, the trembling that had travelled throughout his body had eventually ceased, allowing the two of you to sit in a comfortable, peaceful silence. 

His fingers caressed the soft material of your shirt, tracing each slight bump of bone within the curve of your spine, his heart swelling with adoration at every soft exhale and chuckle that escaped your chest at his ministrations.

With you hidden away in his arms, away from harm's way, Rex began to feel at peace again. 

But that's just what you did; you put anyone and everyone at ease. You just had that effect. 

He didn't know if it was something to do with your force-sensitivity, or if it was just a personality trait. He wasn't about to complain though.

The tip of his nose gently nudged against the top of your head, slowly, taking note of the change in the scent. The corners of his lips nudged slightly upwards, crows feet tugging at the corners of his tired eyes.

"New shampoo?" He asked, his voice low and raspyed as he continued inhaling your scent.

Underneath him, he felt vibrations, your shoulders shaking as you snickered in his arms, the air escaping your lungs in short, joyful tufts.

"Yeah, I was getting fed up of the one provided by the Republic. It's peach scented, d'you like it?" You had asked, tilting your head upwards to catch a glimpse of his honey-glazed eyes. As he looked at you, he couldn't help the rapid rattling of his heart, warmth flooding his chest at the sight of you.

Your face tilted upwards, hands grasping his biceps, lone tufts of hair framing your face, the smug smile on your face as you looked up at him with those beautiful, glassy irises. It was like you were his own personal sunshine, small enough for him to cradle you within his clutches, tuck you away into his pocket, keep you by his side during combat.

Warm enough to chip away at the foul insecurities and fears that clogged his mind during his every waking moment. 

His gaze flickered to your lips, and Rex sucked in a sharp breath as he noticed you nibbling lightly on your bottom lip, a shadow cast onto your cheekbones through a row of long, luscious lashes. 

Neither of you said a word as Rex's hand cradled the side of your face, closing the short gap between the two of you. You closed your eyes, a joyful huff escaping your chest as his lips collided with yours in a passionate, slow exchange. 

His fingers caressed your skin with such care, with such gentleness, with such love, it made your heart beat faster and your blood burn hot with adoration. They swept down from the top of your cheekbone, along the shell of your ear, and finally found their place on your jawbone, his pinky settling for caressing small, short strokes along your jaw and the top of your neck. His other hand came up to do the same, pulling you closer than was thought to be humanly possible.

His breath fanned over your face, and his scent flooded your nostrils, soft vanilla mixed with his natural musky scent. 

It invaded your senses, engulfing you like a chilly summer afternoon on one of your rare days off, like the warm summer rain that soaked your clothes, tugged at the tips of your hair, like the warm rays of sun that peaked through the windows as you slept, summoning you to wake up, to feel alive, to feel loved.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your tongue brushing against Rex's bottom lip. You felt his shoulders shake under the heaviness of your palms, and it was soon followed by a soft chuckle as his hands tilted your head, angling it to provide him better access to your body, your lips, your soul. 

Your lips melting together, your heart swells with admiration and love for your soldier, and for a moment a fleeting thought wedges itself inside your mind; you and Rex. You and Rex and small children, a tall farmhouse sat behind your figures as the children splash around in a shallow pond, their joyful screams and shouts bringing a smile to your face as you and Rex relax further back, his arm cradling you close to his body.

But that thought is gone as fast as it came, a ghost of your past wishes and longings. But maybe, just maybe once the war ended, the two of you would be able to achieve such a future. Afterall, where there is love, there is hope, and where there is hope, there is life, right?

The two of you are interrupted as your intercom goes off, signaling for your attention. The incessant beeping is loud and repetitive, enough to cause a tension headache in you. 

Slowly, you began to pull away, your eyes fluttering open once more, your lips stinging as the cold air of your room replaced the warm plush of Rex's lips. You swallowed hard, releasing a short breath as you looked up into his golden eyes again, a pained expression settled in them again.

"Rex.. It's time for me to go," You whispered, bringing your hand up to caress his face as the man pulled you close, his fingers fiddling with the material of your shirt. He burried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent one last time, "I will contact you as soon as we land, or if anything happens, okay?" You asked, nudging his forehead with yours.

As he lifted his head, Rex felt that same fear overcome him again, tearing away at his heart, choking him up in an iron-tight hold.

"You better update me on everything, and I mean everything, do you understand?" He asked, his gaze hardening and his eyebrows furrowing as he maintained steady eye contact, conveying his worry for you. 

With a small nod of your head, you rose from the bed, whispering a soft 'I love you' before you gave him one last kiss, your touch leaving burning trails on his skin as the doors quietly slid shut behind your retreating figure, looking back at Rex one last time, committing the sight of him to your memory, your voice reaching his ears as you answered your intercom. 

His gaze remained on the doors, and Rex heaved a long, deep sigh.

"Get a hold of yourself, Rex, she's gonna be back."

But were you?

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.."

Beautiful absolutely amazing I love this 😭💕💕💕

Hi <3

May I have Cody with f!Jedi reader and the prompt 15 and 35?

(I hope I memorized the numbers correctly 😂)

💕

Hello love @your-local-jedi-commanderThank you for the love and participating, it's so sweet of you.

I hope you enjoy the story.

The General

Warnings: Fighting, blood, wound, medical procedure, bantering, discussions of death and violence, explosions, mud. I think that's it, if I miss any please let me know.

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

The battle was enduring much longer than anyone anticipated, it didn’t help that this god-forsaken planet wouldn’t stop raining. Cody crouched down behind a boulder doing his best to provide cover for the General who joined their operation. It’d been three months since they’ve been fighting and they barely made any advancement. 

The blood from the gash on his forehead was trickling down and into his eye, he kept wiping it away, trying to get a line on where you stood and where the droids were; but it was all starting to blur. He closed one eye, aiming as best he could; force, how he missed his helmet, but a stupid mortar shell damaged his HUD and now he had to deal with the elements. A new one was on its way, but it wouldn’t get to him until he made it back to the FOB, so for now squinting and wiping had to do. 

He wiped one more time, taking aim, and fired. Only to see his laser beam, pass by only an inch from where you were, nearly hitting you. You dismantled the droid, with one swing, and spun to look at him, “What are you doing!”

“Sorry, General. My eyes …”

You shook your head, “Commander, do me a favor. Just sit there and look pretty, let me handle this.”

He felt embarrassed by that embarrassing shot. His embarrassment grew, when he saw you call the force and push all the droids away, somehow simultaneously igniting all their grenades. You turned and walked away as the explosion ricocheted behind you, making you look ethereal. Cody wished he had his helmet so he could’ve captured the image.

You didn’t even bother to look back, your only concern was Cody. It wasn’t like him to be sloppy with his shots, he was either in a lot of pain, or his vision was getting worse, which was even more worrisome.

You couldn’t help but worry about the Commander, ever since you joined Obi-wan’s fleet, he’d been a breath of fresh air in the force. With all the violence and death surrounding you because of the war, the dark side of the force swallowed up all that was good. It drained you more than you realized, that was until the moment you met Cody, it was as though someone brought out the sun, and breathed life back into your life. 

As you walked over to Cody, you noticed the gash on his forehead was still bleeding pretty profusely, “Why didn’t you get this taken care of?” You kneeled beside him, your fingers gently prodding the wound.

“I wanted to watch your back.”

You tilted your head as you smiled at him, “And who’s watching yours, while you’re watching mine?”

He smirked as he looked at you, “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” 

You looked him in the eye, wanting to tell him what he really meant to you, even if it was against the code. Even if he wasn’t allowed to have relationships, you didn’t care. You just wanted to let him know, but somehow it never came out. Sure variations of what you wanted to say, made it past your lips, but never exactly what was pressing on your heart.

“It’s not that bad.”

“I beg to differ, Commander.” Your hand slid down the side of his face, as you gently cupped his cheek, it lasted for a brief second, but that brief second could’ve been an eternity for all you cared. You pulled your hand away slowly, reluctantly. 

Cody almost chased the warmth of your hand, feeling your fingers, your palm, your skin on his, made it feel like a dream come true. Ever since you stepped off that shuttle, and joined General Kenobi’s fleet, it was as though life had shown him there was more than to simply exist. It wasn’t just about the war and his brothers. There was you. You brought meaning to his life, something he never quite understood, but was happy to accept. 

Maybe it was when he first saw you take down twenty droids on your own, maybe it was when you used the force to protect him and his brothers, when you shielded them from the explosions, or maybe it had to do with that laugh that somehow made his heart want to lurch forward, and made his stomach flutter, all he knew was at some point he fell in love with you. 

“Come on, I’ll take you back to the med tent. Get you cleaned up.” You guided his arm around your shoulder as you helped him up. 

“I can walk, General.”

“You nearly shot me. Right now, I don’t trust you to take a pee without assistance. Just accept the help.”

“You always this stubborn?”

“Says the quacta calling the stifling slimy.”

“I have to be, have you met my General.”

You laughed that laugh that made his heart feel as though it had wings, he tightened his arm around your shoulder, wanting to pull you in close. “Obi-wan does have a knack for getting into trouble, I will grant you that.”

“You can blame him for my stubbornness.”

“Oh, I will.” 

You pulled him in closer, wanting to take as much advantage of the warmth from his body as you could. Before you helped him sit on a med cot. Although you weren’t a healer, you did make it a point to learn how to perform certain medical treatments on the field. Oftentimes there were not enough medics and one more extra hand, meant one more soldier was saved. So you did what needed to be done. You moved away from Cody to grab a suture kit, placing it on the cot beside him, and grabbing a santizing wipe. 

“Alright, I’m going to need to clean this first.” You prepared him, hoping he understood the pain that was about to happen.

“You don’t have trouble yourself, General, I can wait for another medic.”

“The other medics are dealing with more severe cases, I can handle this. Now, this is going to hurt, okay?”

Cody simply nodded, gripping his knee, as you started to wipe away the rain, the blood and even some mud that had splashed on to his face. His face twisted in pain, you leaned forward and blew gently on the wound, it shouldn’t have seemed as romantic or even as sensual as it did, but somehow the both of you found it to be rather intimate. 

His eyes opened and looked into yours, in that moment he was saying all the things he couldn’t, as he looked into your warm, kind, beautiful eyes. 

You took a shuddering breath, when it felt as though time stopped as you looked into his eyes, you wanted to lean forward, to press your lips to his, to let him know how much of your heart was already his. 

Before the distance could be closed, a noise from outside the tent startled the both of you, when you realized how close you were. Cody could feel his cheeks flushing, as you slowly pulled back looking aside for a second, before you moved to grab the needle and thread. You looked into his eyes one more time, a smile on your face, that told him, you knew.

He simply smiled back and whispered, “Me too.”

The smile on your face grew, before you started to stitch him up. 

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

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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?"

Hey, so I noticed that you were asking for requests, and I was wondering what your stance is with Dad!Din parenting a teen reader? It’s just that I have so many ideas based around the concept compared to just a regular Din/Reader, so I just wanted to ask if you’re ok with writing that type of thing, for any character really, not just Din.

Ad’ika

pairing: the mandalorian x teen reader (platonic!!!)

wc: 4.8K

warnings: mild violence, cursing, adult language/humor

a/n: at the end!!

-

Being an orphan deprived of maternal affection is a common thing to come across in this galaxy.

Most of us are left witnessing our parents demise at the hands of their owners. Yes, owners.

On the planet Kessel, adults are worked tirelessly into the ground and when they didn’t comply with the rules or too exhausted to do so— they’re killed. Simple as that.

Some are lucky enough to be born into wealth; to live the lavish lifestyle of not having to be a slave to another species.

You’re honestly not even sure why your parents decided to pro-create.

Who would want their child to experience the same thing? Probably an accident—Didn’t pull out in time.

Once you found out your parents had disappeared, you weren’t surprised. They were always disobeying orders and were caught up in some shady shit with some nasty people.

You ran and kept running because you knew those fuckers were coming for you next. Why would they want a useless kid? Who knows, but you knew your ass would be grass if you didn’t.

So you snuck onto a freighting ship and left your old life behind. Everything. All you had was your worn backpack, an old dusty picture of your family and a barely filled water canteen.

You conceal yourself behind a large package, next to a small port-hole like window as you look down to watch the planet below you grow smaller. The ship accelerates into hyper-speed and your vision of the only home you’ve known is gone.

Slowly, your eyelids grow heavy and your body goes limp from exhaustion. A quick nap won’t hurt right?

It seems as if only a few minutes went by... The ship trembles as it lands on a rocky planet, shaking you awake. By the squeaks of the foreign language the pilots are speaking, the planet is named Nevarro. You’ve picked up a few languages living on Kessel.

When the ships ramp finally settles into the ground, your eyes dart around the empty dirt field. It’s now or never.

You bolt for the exit, your legs picking up speed as the protests of the alien pilots yell after you.

After solely surviving on adrenaline, you make it to a little town as the big-headed blue skinned things chase you through a gigantic archway. You weave and bob through the crowd, gasps leave the people’s mouths as they scatter out of your path. “Sorry!” You yelp out as you shoot by.

As you glance behind you to attempt to find the pursuers in the crowd, your legs continue moving yourself forward. “Aha! Bye!” You wave your fingers tauntingly.

Just as you whip your head back around to look forward, all you see is metallic silver and then the sky.

Ouch.

You groan as you rub your head, the instant thumping tells you that you must have a concussion.

“What did I just hit?” You grumble groggily.

The crowd disperses from the area slowly, whispering and continuing with their day as if this is a normal reoccurrence. 

The pilots finally catch up to you, screaming obscenities with their blasters flailing in their hands dramatically.

“Calm down.” A modulated voice rasps out in their language.

Either you’re really hurt and your brain is bleeding or the person talking has a really weird voice.

You blink as your vision clears, the silver blob focusing into view. What the fuck is that?

Your feet scramble to push yourself away from the... robot person thing? The holes in your boots fill up with the dirt your pushing around in attempt to flee. You advance backward too far and you’re now too close to the aliens who want to kill you. Fuck!

Their oddly long slender fingers grip your forearms to pull you to your feet, “Get off of me, you assholes!” You scream as you attempt to shake them off but their grip is too tight.

“You don’t have to hurt the kid... I understand, I understand... I’ll take care of it... How much?” He hisses out in their language.

You’re finally able to stare at the towering thing who is attempting to reason your actions. The black visor turns toward you now, knowing the thing underneath must be glaring at you.

The aliens loud voices slowly die down, the grip loosens on your skin which makes you yank yourself away from them. You scoff and brush off your shoulder as if they were the ones who were dirty.

The silver man takes a step toward you, making you squeak and tense up. Instead, he slides past you and slips a few credits into their slimy hands.

That’s when you notice the oddest thing of all. A small fuzzy green child peeks out from the sack hanging on the side of the man. A rare smiles breaks through your dusty face when a tiny hand reaches out for you. Just as you reach out, the tin man interrupts

“Come on.” He speaks regularly now, his gloved hand grips your arm to pull you forward.

“Why does everyone manhandle me as if I’m some sort of child?” You scoff obnoxiously and roll your eyes.

“You are.” He says simply which makes your upper lip curl in annoyance.

“I’m sixteen.” You bite back, “A teen-nay-ger.” You sound out the word as if the man was too stupid to understand.

He doesn’t respond.

“Is that Beskar you’re wearing?” You mumble into the awkward silence, staring at your dirty reflection in the surface.

“Yes.”

You grumble under your breath as you look over him once more. The built in weaponry, the shining armor, the jet pack...

Then the ship. It all clicks into place.

The tin-man presses something on his forearm, causing a ramp to lower itself from the side and settle into the ground with a swoosh. He guides you up the surface, his grip still tight on your upper arm.

“You’re a Mandalorian!” You gasp in awe.

“That took you long enough to figure out.” He almost let’s out a chuckle.

“And now you’re kidnapping me? Great.” You cross your arms as you look at the inside of the ship. Messy, yet somehow organized.

“Not kidnapping— Saving. You could’ve gotten yourself killed back there. I saved your ass.” He busies himself with the little toddler, tucking the sleeping thing into a compartment then closing it. His feet slide over to a work station, busying himself with unloading his weapons.

“What is that thing?” You swiftly change the subject.

“Not sure. All I know is that I have to protect him and keep him safe.”

You hum sarcastically in response with a little eye roll. It’s almost as if he has eyes on the back of his head.

His motions still as his helmet turns to the side to stare at you. “Stop that.” He grumbles about your attitude then continues with what he’s doing. “Whatever.” You huff.

Since the Mandalorian is busy, you take the free time to look around. Infinite weaponry and ammo, then you click a button and revolving carbonite blocks appear from inside the wall. “Frozen people in walls? Cool.” You chuckle as you walk around more.

You pick up some knick-knacks, examining the other-worldly objects. “Stop touching everything.”

He mumbles incoherently under his breath, which sounds like static coming from his helmet as he moves to climb up the ladder. Most likely to the cockpit.

So you follow, of course. The windows expand across the front, the engines growl and whirl as he clicks bright buttons on the dash.

“Where are you taking me?” Your voice croaks out as the ship rises into the air.

“Back to Kessel. I’m not getting chased by whoever you’re fleeing from. You need to deal with your own problems.”

The statement sends a chill through your whole body, “But— no. You can’t. I’ll die. I’ll be killed. Come on, just like you said, I’m just a kid...” Your hands grip the back of his seat to steady yourself as the ship rises into the air.

“Sit down.” The ship levels so you could safely move to a seat.

You can feel the emotions overcome you, unable to hold them back as you buckle yourself in.

“I’d rather be thrown out of an airlock then go back there.” You mumble to yourself.

A soft raspy laugh leaves the helmet.

“Really? An airlock? Who is chasing you anyway?”

You sniffle as you wipe your tears and runny nose on your sleeve.

“I don’t know. My parents... They were caught up in some sketchy shit, they were killed... or they went missing, I’m not even sure, but I was left alone to fend for myself. I escaped before... whoever got them came looking for me.”

The Mandalorian lets out a pitiful sigh, “Look... I don’t have any room for you. No bed, no clothes. I don’t know what you want me to do.”

He clicks a few buttons to let the ship hover between outer space and the planets atmosphere below. He turns his seat to stare at the shaking, fearful teenager.

He notices how your arms are wrapped around yourself in a way of comfort, your inflamed nose, watery eyes, and your quivering bottom lip. You remind him of himself as a child.

Just by the image in front of him, he mentally battled himself to made a vow to protect you. Just how the Mandalorians did for him.

He’s unsure how to comfort in this situation, so he swivels back around to steer the ship into space. He clicks a few buttons which causes everything to shake as it shoots forward into blue swirls.

“Wow.” He hears you whisper softly behind him. He couldn’t help but crack a smile under his armor.

Silence radiates through the bridge of the ship. It’s awkward and tense.

You think you’re going to be dropped off on Kessel to encounter the impending doom of your death, to be worked until exhaustion catches up to you.

The Mandalorian finally breaks the silence as he stands tall from his seat and down the ladder. You squirm uncomfortably in your own as your eyes dart around the small area.

Once he returns, he’s followed with coos and babbles from the big-eared fuzzy adorable baby. He slides past your seat into his.

“Do you want to hold him?” He breaks the tension as his chair rotates around so he’s facing you again.

A subtle ray of happiness bursts through your chest as you nod and reach for him. The baby also reaches for you as the Mandalorian hands him over to you.

He’s much heavier than you expected. His little green hand comes to rest on your cheek, making your bottom lip begin to quiver even more. It makes an odd noise of approval then settles into your lap.

He makes grabby hands for something. You watch as the Mandalorian unscrews a metal ball from a lever to hand to the kid.

It suddenly flies from his gloved hand into his green ones like an invisible force brought it to him.

The energy in the room buzzes with excitement and goosebumps tickle the surface of your skin. “What was that?” You mumble in astonishment. Your lips part in surprise as you look between the magic child in your lap and the tin-man.

“Not sure. I just know that he’s special. He does that sometimes.” He says nonchalantly through his mask, his shoulders rise and drop as if it was nothing.

The pitch black visor eyes you for a few more moments before turning to direct his attention to the dashboard.

The kid allows you to take the ball and gently toss it into the air so he could let it float down slowly to him. You watch in awe, eyes twinkling with amazement.

You’ve heard of such powers, but you didn’t know if it was just a folktale.

After playing with the metal ball and his powers, he relaxes against your body with the ball secured between his tiny fists.

“I’m not bringing you back to Kessel.” His modulated voice breaks through the silence. His words make your chest swell with hope.

“It’s going to be rough... Staying here. Only for the time being, until I can find you somewhere safer and more comfortable to live.”

He doesn’t turn to look at you as he talks, but it doesn’t even matter. At least you’ll have protection. “Thank you.” You muster up a croak and he responds with a curt nod.

The ship drops out of hyperspace, a spherical giant in view as he closes in on the atmosphere of the new planet.

He lands the ship smoothly in a loading bay, droids clamber around the ship below to work on it. You watch as an older lady with very curly hair waltz into view.

“Stay here.” He orders as he stands to his feet and disappears down the ladder. The child squeaks as he watches his caretaker leave him with you.

You almost wince as you prepare for a tantrum, but it never comes. The baby settles into your lap once again with a tiny yawn.

You couldn’t help but grow suspicious as you stand with the child on your hip to look out the front window. You instantly spot the shiny armor and the woman talking to him. Her arms are obviously expressing her feelings as they flail around her.

Then her eyes dart from him to you, she squints. Then the Mandalorian takes notice of her divided attention. He whips around and stares through his black visor. Even if you can’t see his face, you read his body language that he’s a bit upset.

I guess he didn’t want you to be seen yet.

The lady turns back to him and it seems as if she’s scolding him. His shoulders drop a bit then his hand raises to beckon you to come down.

Excitement rises in your chest as you slowly, and carefully, make your way down the ladder with the child. When your feet hit the metal flooring, you hear footsteps ascend the ramp.

With a gulp and a rise in your anxiety, you turn around to look at him and the lady staring at you. The child makes a noise of happiness when he spots her and she smiles in awe when he reaches for her.

As the lady walks up to grab the child, she smiles at you. “Hi, I’m Peli.” She gently scoops the child from your arms. “He told me a lot about you.” She points her thumb behind her to motion toward him.

“Hi.” You mumble, a bit guarded by her being a stranger. 

Peli moves to walk down the ramp, your eyes go wide as you point at her. “She’s taking him!” You yelp as you go to run after her but his arm juts out to scoop you up.

Your legs kick as you’re lifted from the ground, a grunt falls from your lips. “Let go of me!”

“Stop it. I trust her. You should too. She watches him for me when I’m busy doing other things.” His grip loosens from your waist once your fierce demeanor sizzles out.

You wriggle away from him, annoyance evident on your features as you glare at him. Although, you’re secretly glad he caught you before you got to her.

“Come on. We’re going into town.”

“We?” You squeak with wild eyes as you watch him tread down the ramp.

Not wanting to stay in the ship by yourself, you follow him. Your eyes scan the area for anybody else, but it’s only you, him, the lady, her droids, and the kid.

He leads you up some stairs into a bustling market above the ship stations, “So, what’s your name? Or nickname? What should I call you?” You ramble as you walk side by side with him.

You can’t help but take notice to everyone scurrying out of his path.

“My name...” He mumbles hesitatingly, “My name is Din. You can also call me Mando, I guess. Some people call me that.”

“Din... Mando...” You mumble softly, letting the words roll off your tongue experimentally. “Cool, I like it.”

“What should I call you?” He questions softly, almost as if he isn’t sure you’ll want to tell him, but you do. You reveal your name to him, as well as some nicknames. Even the not-so-nice ones your mother called you when you were in trouble.

Suddenly, the sweetest, most delicious smell wafts by and you can’t help but suddenly search for where it’s coming from. Your stomach lets out an animalistic growl, even making the Mandalorian comment on it.

“Hungry?” He puts a hand between your shoulders to aid in weaving you through the crowd to the food stand. The smell gets stronger once you spot it.

“What do you want? Get anything.” His own helmet moves as he looks over the menu.

“Anything..?” You breathe out in surprise as you look up at him. You’ve never been offered that, not even by your own parents. Din looks down at you and nods.

“I want... That, and that. Also that.” You point to a spiraled fried blue spotted vegetable on a skewer, as well as a sugar coated donut and a fizzy drink.

He hands over a few credits as the vendor slides the food over to you. You mumble a grateful thanks and instantly dig in.

Mando leads you down the alleyway in the market as you eat, you can feel his eyes on you since you’re not really watching where you’re going. Too occupied.

He stops at another stand, this one has clothing. You swallow your food thickly, “Are you seriously buying me clothes too?” You almost cough out from a piece of food getting stuck in your throat.

“I couldn’t help but notice you’re a bit dirty. Don’t know if you knew that.”

His words make your cheeks heat up, sending a death glare toward him.

“Obviously.” You huff sassily as you eye the clothing hanging up behind the elderly lady.

You pick out two pairs of pants and a few shirts, “Don’t worry, pick out some more, I’ll be right back.” His hand rests on your shoulder for a moment, his other hand plops a bag into your bag on your back. “That should cover everything.” Then he just disappears away into the crowd. 

You didn’t even get time to respond, you’re left alone, your mouth open with food sitting inside. You realize the old lady grimaces at the view of the chewed food so you swallow it and continue shopping. 

Once you have armfuls of outfits picked out, some new boots, and your food wrappers are strewn around various places of the shop, it’s time to cash out. 

After laying your pile of clothing on the counter, you fish for money in your pack, listening for the jingle of credits. The old lady keeps an eye on you suspiciously, but of course you’re oblivious to her stares. 

She packs everything into two canvas totes and croaks out the price. Your eyes bulge wildly as you search for the correct amount to hand to her. The Mandalorian had given you way more than enough. 

Why is he trusting you with this much money?

After you slide over the amount, you quickly seal up his bag and slide it back into your pack. You shoot her a smile when she hands you the bags, but she doesn’t reciprocate the same positive energy. 

Swiftly, you snatch the bags to hang them on your arms and gather the garbage you left around to throw in the nearby trash can. Where could he have gone? 

Your eyes search the crowd for his infamous beskar armor, hoping you catch the gleam of it in the sea of people. 

You start to grow nervous. He wouldn’t desert you on this planet right? He said he was going to find you a safe place to live. He got you food, clothing, and gave you money...

Your heart drops. He did. He’s left you here to fend for yourself. Suddenly your brain goes into flight or fight mode and cranks with ideas to survive the night. 

The credits he gave you could easily get you comfortable lodging, you could shower and then tomorrow morning you could hop on someone’s ship. 

Tears prick at your eyes. You’re going to miss that fuzzy baby. Anger whirls through your body when you think of the back-stabbing Mandalorian. 

Then you stop in your tracks, sniffing loudly when you realize you’ve been walking away from the shop. You don’t even know where you are right now. 

A few people curse at you to move out of the way of traffic. A hand grips the pack hanging on your back, causing your small frame to stumble backward. You yelp fearfully when you look behind you, seeing a cloaked man attempting to rob you.

No, no, no, no. 

You drop your shopping bags to defend yourself without the heavy clothing weighing you down. You throw a mean right hook, hitting the person right on the jaw. The thump into your knuckles instantly begins, but you choke down the grimace on your face.

“Don’t make this hard on you, kid. Just give me the damn money.” Their hand extends in attempt to grab you again but you swiftly dodge out of their reach. 

Your eyes frantically search the people around who seem to not care you’re getting robbed. “Just leave me alone. You don’t want to do this. My dad is a Mandalorian, he’ll rip you to fucking shreds.” You spit out furiously. 

Dad? Why did you just say he was your father?

The person under the cloak chuckles, showing off their rotten teeth, a switchblade opens at their side. “A Mandalorian? Ha. Well, where is he right now?” 

“He’s right here.” The familiar modulated voice sounds from above you, a smile instantly breaks across your face as Din floats down, his jet-pack whirring with life.

A wire shoots out of his arm, wrapping itself around the thug’s ankles. The jet-pack accelerates upward, bringing the man with him. Now hanging upside down in the air. 

He lets out the most horrified scream as they shoot upward into the sky, the only thing you can make out is the fire flowing from Mando’s back. 

“Get him! Yes!” You cheer as the wire swings him in circles and finally retracts, making the man fly out of your vision in the air. Hopefully to his death. 

Mando slowly makes his way back down to the ground, landing away from you. He picks up your totes full of clothing off the sandy ground, his black visor stares a hole through you as he marches toward you. 

You couldn’t help but feel bad for him hearing you call him dad, you don’t want to put that responsibility on him. Then anger beats through your veins, your hands instinctively push against his chest but he doesn’t budge. 

“You left me! Why did you leave me?! I thought you fucking dropped me off and ditched me! You gave me food, clothing and money. What else was I supposed to think?!” You screeched as you ball your fists at your sides. Realizing soon enough that your outburst was not needed, nor is his silence.

“I’m sorry. Thank you for saving me, but why?” You mumble, your eyes drop to look down at your shoes as you attempt to calm the fire burning in your chest.

“I didn’t think you’d roam around and get into trouble. I went back to the shop and the old lady was gone, the shop was closed. I had a feeling something was wrong.” He took another step toward you, “So I went into the skies and then I found you.” 

The Mandalorian knew deep down that he had some kind of maternal instinct take over him to protect you once he saw you crying in his ship, but when you called him dad he suddenly got emotional under his layers of armor. “I’m... sorry. I won’t let you out of my sight. Ever again.”

His arm rises to rest on your shoulder comfortingly as he watches you break down slowly in front of him again. 

It started with your bottom lip quivering, your arms instinctively wrap around your body in attempt to console yourself. Your shoulders cave forward as a sob wracks through your body. 

Din hesitantly pulls you into his metal chest, unsure on how to comfort but he guesses a hug could help. 

And it did. 

His secure arms that are wrapped around you makes you feel safe, like the tin-man really is the father figure you never truly had. As your tears steam up his beskar chest plate, his hands gently pat your back reassuringly. 

The universe finally felt as if it was on your side. As if everything has clicked perfectly into place and this is where you’re meant to be.

“Let’s go back to the ship, ad’ika. I bet the little one will be excited to see us. You can get cleaned up too.” A soft relieved sigh falls from your lips when he mentions the green baby and a shower. 

Yep, if this is what the universe has planned for you— You won’t complain. 

-

a/n: um i don’t usually write stuff like this, but i had so much fun with this one. y'all know i love romance and angst, but this is so good. i’m proud of myself. hope u liked it!!!

𝓓𝓪𝔂 18 - Intense disagreements || Poe Dameron x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: As soon as you spotted Poe with another girl, you became enraged. Poe finds an unexpected way to relieve your anger when you both return to your quarters.

Warnings: smut (unprotected)

Word count: ~ 2400

Author: Fenrir

A/N: The prompt for today is: Angry Sex

"How could you do that?!" I yell at Poe. “Are you sleeping with her, huh?!” The word anger seems appropriate when I describe my feelings, but perhaps furious would be a better description of the current situation I and Poe are in.

"How could I do what? Why are you so insistent on arguing about everything?" Dameron raises his tone, standing right behind me.

As I turn around, my body shaking from all the pent up anger, "What the hell are you thinking?" I scream at him.

"Do you have any idea how delusional you are?" He asks, his tone oh so condescending.

I feel like slapping Poe, for the way he acts, always so confident and sure of himself, sometimes it almost seems like he doesn't care about anyone else. "I'm delusional?" I roll my eyes  while Dameron pushes me hard against the door, causing my back to hit it. “You were with some other woman, how am I supposed to react, huh?!”

Before I protest and make Poe feel sorry for his move, his lips are on mine, claiming, possessing.

My hands are on Poe's shirt, ready to yank him off, but instead I pull him toward me, as Dameron deepens the kiss, tongue probing and devouring. As his hands move from my face to my hips, pulling my body against him, I moan in anticipation.

Like a fire, I feel his desire growing and burning.

The fingers of my left hand find their way into his hair as I tug at his scalp with a strange mix of anger and lust in my heart.

"Ah," Dameron croans into my mouth, breaking the kiss as one hand grazes over my backside, cupping me; his other hand holds my neck, giving it a slight squeeze before pulling me forward into his embrace.

As much as I want to ravage Poe, there is nothing delicate about how he holds me, about the way he holds my ass and my neck. Dameron palms my breast roughly through my blouse as his hand moves downward.

Feeling my need as strong as his, I willingly, mindlessly arch into his touch.

As he steps back an inch to look at my face, Dameron hisses, "Do you know how mad you make me?" His eyes are so alive, so brazen.

"Show me," I dare him with my chin high, and the next instant I find myself with my front against the door and my hands at my back, Poe holding me still.

My blouse is torn after he pulls me back, allowing just enough space between the door and me for his hand to fit. I revel in anticipation of his touch, but what I don't anticipate is my blouse being torn in half. "Hey! Do you have fucking idea how much I spent on this blouse on Canto Bight?!"

I'm too shocked to react as Poe tugs my jeans down next, letting my hands go in the process. This gives me the leverage I need to push myself against the door and turn around.

"Not so soon," Poe replies dismissively when I try the same; I wriggle his pants against the door as my panties are the next to be torn.

When I am left standing with only my bra, I feel the warmth of Poe's body behind me; I push up towards Poe, teasing him. And then Dameron spanks me.

The strange sensation of pain and desire causes me to breathe out loudly.

He spanks me again, on the other ass cheek and my ear is nipped as he whispers, "Do you want me to show you?" His hands move from my hips towards my front and he yanks down my bra, pooling my breasts into his warm, calloused hands, as though weighing them.

I can feel the cold wood against my nipple as it hardens under his inspection; Poe tugs at my nipple a few times until I'm sure I might burst.

The tugging and squeezing of Dameron against my breasts make me clench up my legs; Dameron wants me to plead, and I might, if I weren't so mad at him.

I am being tortured on purpose by him for revenge.

Poe stops his movements as a throaty, utterly masculine and a beautiful groan emancipates from him; I grind back against him, letting him know my purpose; his jeans scraping against my bare skin feels amazing.

After a few moments, his right hand leaves my hip and I hear his belt buckle being undone and his jeans falling to the ground.

Poe's left hand stays on my breasts, continuing the assault, while his right hand spreads my legs, finding the sweet spot between them which is pooling with moisture; he groans hard at the contact, grinding his erection at the crease of my backside. His fingers take up a punishing rhythm at the very first instant, determined to get me there without a moment's delay.

My hands thrash back on his shoulder as I cry out helplessly. His eyes are fixed on me the whole time, I can easily feel it.

Within minutes, I'm on the brink; my body tightens, ready for the last touch to push me off when his fingers stop moving. I know this game, but that doesn't make me less resilient to it; it only means more frustration and anger. In a trance, I open my eyes to see Poe smiling down at me, that pure masculine, smug smile of his.

In the next second, his fingers pick up where they left off so abruptly, rubbing viciously at my already swollen clitoris.

"Oh God!" I moan, biting my lip and trying not to smile because I don't want him to know that he is doing this to me, although it is obvious he is doing it humorlessly.

He stops again, exactly at the same point he left earlier. His voice is dark as he tells me, "This is your punishment, on the edge and helpless. I feel this way every time you argue with me without a fucking reason, Y/N."

Inhaling heavily, I process his words, so raw and ardent.

He spreads my legs with one knee, pulling me back a few inches, not totally standing nor completely bent over, but just at his mercy. "Now, it's time for my fucking reward."

I hold onto the door, bracing myself.

I feel him seething deep inside me as he pushes in one long, hard thrust, letting out a grunt.

Incoherent sounds escape me as I tighten my grip on the door to brace myself.

"Fuck, you're so wet. Fighting me turns you on," Dameron states in a low, strangled voice.

As he pulls back, holding my hips as leverage, he surges forward in a flash; he keeps up the pace, the rhythm, each thrust harder and deeper leaving a beautiful, unbelievable impact on my body; the door begins to rattle with the brute force of Poe, as I feel myself floating towards the abyss, moaning for him like a cheap whore. The sounds he makes with every movement, so distinct and pleasurable, make me sprint rather than walk towards the finish line.

He places a soft kiss in the middle of my shoulder blades, a stark contrast to the brutal rhythm he has set and I cry out as the most intense wave hits me and I surrender to it; his fingers on my hips dig deep into my skin, leaving no doubt; he thrusts twice and falls heavily upon me, a grunt rolling off his parted lips.

Trying to catch our breaths, his hand wraps around my midriff as his nose breathes heavily into my hair. I have completely lost my grip on the door, and his hand and the other on the door are all that keep me from collapsing.

When I shift around in his embrace, facing Poe and wrapping my arms around his neck, soft, feather-like kisses turn into possessive ones; leaning forward, Poe bites on my lower lip as he lifts my legs up to wrap them around his hips.

Poe's eyes light up as I move against the feel of him, changing from calm and relaxed to passionate and ardent; I smile sheepishly at him, marvelling at the fact that I still have some control over him, even if it's not much.

A little of the excitement rubs off on me as Dameron states, "You're going to be the death of me one day, Y/N."

While I kiss Poe, unwilling to accept this is the part where we cuddle and sleep, I find myself softly landing on the bed with my man hovering over on top of me; I didn't even realise earlier he walked to our shared bed with me in his arms.

The journey of his lips doesn't stop there; it continues forward, or rather southward, as he kisses my forehead, eyes, nose, cheeks, lips, neck; kissing the exact spot where I can feel my pulse, licking, nibbling, and sucking my breasts, dipping his tongue into my navel and swirling it, my pubic bones, upper thighs, my knees, calves; he acts like a starving animal.

Poe looks down at me after slowly taking my right leg and placing it on his shoulder; his tingers run lightly against the skin on the back of my thigh.

Despite the fact that Poe has never made me feel insecure or shy in the bedroom, when he's looking down at me so intimately, I can't help but try to pull my legs together, which is impossible.

Looking every bit the devil he is, smooth and sinful, how could I ever resist Poe as he looks into my eyes like that? How could I possibly resist as the corners of his lips turn up in that grin of his?

As he kisses my clit and pushes my other leg onto his shoulder too, spreading me to his desire, his mouth moves downwards and he breathes deeply, closing his eyes; I'm watching every movement he makes.

After kissing the spot, Dameron says, "You smell wonderful, like sex and my precum."

As he spends the next few minutes kissing, I become frustrated, lifting my hips to increase the pressure of his lips on me, digging my hands into his shoulders, letting Poe know what he must be doing.

A smile spreads across his face as he thrusts his right hand's first two fingers towards my lips. "Suck," Dameron commands me simply, and I comply, imagining that it's his cock that I'm sucking, imagining his taste on my tongue as he holds my chin and angles me, pivoting his hips forward and forward, coating my throat with his precum.

While I moan around his fingers, he pulls them away from my mouth despite my protests; he moves his now wet fingers around my nipples and navel, leaving a damp trail behind. I feel his wet fingers pulling my lips apart, and his eyes are scrutinising me.

Dameron asks, "Do you want to see how wet you are?" He pushes both of his fingers deep into me, and I feel myself clamp down around him. Pulling them out, he draws a line just above. His fingers trace the same path as earlier, but backwards, circling my navel, my nipples, and then pushing into my mouth.

Poe's fingers taste salty and sweet with a trace of his precum and my juices mixed together; biting on his fingers I pull them deeper into my mouth, holding my hand on his wrist, not letting him pull them back.

I watch Poe rubbing against the edge of the bed as he growls, "Baby, what the fuck are you doing?"

As his teeth bite down on me again, I cry out; he pulls out his fingers and starts cupping my right breast; his tongue comes out, probing me open and licking precisely where it should; Poe squeezes my breast mercilessly as his tongue is pushed into my pussy; he starts slurping loudly and I roll my head back. In a deadly combination of his fingers, teeth, and tongue, I scream his name while arching against the bed, cumming hardly.

When he climbs up, he lets my legs off his shoulders, and I see his lips shine with my arousal. He kisses my neck, my mouth, and flips me around so that I'm on top of him.

Straddling him, I lift myself up, holding his hard cock in one hand until I'm just a few inches away from his dick.

"That's it, girl," he breathes sharply as I sink lower onto him, feeling myself being stretched delightfully. Despite how much it kills me, I stop when Poe is only half-way inside of me and pull him out.

"Fuck," Poe curses loudly, his head rolls back on the pillow.

Using the tip of Poe, I rub myself on the spot I need the most.

His face is filled with confidence and utter satisfaction. Through clenched teeth, Peo starts, "About what I said earlier..."

"Yes?" I ask, throwing my own head back, bucking my hips back and forth, his hands tightening around my hips. I’m curious what he’ll tell me.

He says, "I didn't mean to flirt with her, but you should know Zorii and I were a thing in the past," and I sink onto him completely, letting out a ragged breath as his hard shaft spreads my pussy so thoroughly. "Oh, fuck, Y/N!" Dameron yells as he pivots into me and strikes me sharply and hard; his hips moving up and down in an attempt to meet all of my movements.

As a sudden orgasm hits me, I stop everything I'm doing and moan his name loudly, my entire body feeling like it's been torn in two; my pussy burning, my juices and release pouring down as the knot built within my abdomen snapped.

Poe continues to pound unreservedly, his grip on my hips tightens, and moments later, he lies beneath me, muscles and nerves bulging. I can feel his warm, thick seed pouring deep inside of me as he lets out an animalistic cry.

I kiss his sweat-covered chest, feeling his heart beat so rapidly under my ears as I fall onto it in the process.I drift off to sleep with Poe still inside me when Dameron says, a mischievous grin dancing on his lips, "Now I understand why you got so angry. You love me a lot."

AAAAGHHHHHZJOSAHWUIEKSJKS

— SENSORY DEPRIVATION with QIMIR/THE STRANGER

wc: 1,328 | content: sexual descriptions of the force (??), fingering, might be bad idk i was drunk writing most of this

❛❛put it on.” he didn’t hold the mask out to you, or drag you to where it sat on the table and force it on. just gave you a command.

“what will you do if i don’t?”

“nothing at all.”

his careless response frustrated you. you wanted him to give you a reason why, something you could use as an excuse for why you wanted to put it on, even before he said anything. and he gave you nothing. he only watched you.

he watched you as you fruitlessly searched for a way out of this and gave up far too quickly. he watched you as you slowly moved towards the table, as you sat face to face with his mask. as your fingertips reached out to touch the cool metal, the entirety of your palm flattening against it shortly after. you could feel something tugging at you, and you looked at him.

“put it on,” he repeated softly. you waited for a moment, and you did.

now, you let the darkness envelop you, take over your mind. you’re wearing the mask that he wore when he killed your friends. when he nearly killed you. and now you know— the whole time, he saw nothing.

all you can hear is your own heavy breathing. was this how he felt when he cut them down? when he made you think he was saving you for last as he tossed you aside with a flick of his hand?

“how does it feel?” he sounds far away and directly in your ear at the same time.

you see flashes, lightsabers clashing, your friends dying—

“this was a mistake.” your hands grip the sides of the helmet, but before you can lift it off, his own hands cover yours.

“clear your mind. breathe.” his thumbs brush your knuckles. “it’s overwhelming, i know.”

you let out a shaky breath. “you don’t see anything.”

“no,” he says, moving his hands to your shoulders. “and that allows my other senses to be heightened.”

you focus on his voice, on the feeling of his palms warming your skin. “and you prefer it that way?”

“it’s better this way. just you… and the force…” he pauses, runs a finger along your collarbone. “and whatever else you… allow yourself to feel.”

his name is loud in your ears when you say it. “would you show me?”

instead of responding, his touch leaves you. with your hands dropped to your sides, you’re left completely vulnerable to him with his mask obscuring your vision. but you can hear him, his breathing, the shift of his weight, the steps he takes to get closer to you. his hand cutting through the air between the two of you to slide up your top and flatten against the plane of your stomach.

“feels different, doesn’t it?” he hums.

“yes,” you breathe.

it’s like you can sense every atom that makes him up, the force flowing through him in a way you’ve never been able to feel, not even within yourself. your hand covers his underneath your top. the power hums, pulses, fills you with the insatiable urge for more.

“feels good.”

it’s not a question. you nod in response all the same.

“i know,” he whispers. “i know it does.”

his hand begins to slips lower, and you let it. your breathing hasn’t calmed, but you don’t hear it anymore, just the hum of the force as he uses it to undo your pants and allow himself access to the part of yourself that you haven’t explored.

your years of jedi training are screaming at you from outside the barrier of cortosis around your head, telling you to stop this, to take the mask off, hurtle it at him to catch him off guard, because this is an attack, he’s attacking your very being and this merits retaliation—

and you ignore it, refuse to let it distract you from qimir’s breath on your chest, his hand cupping the heat between your thighs.

“they would never let you feel this. not just this,” he punctuates the word with pressing a finger inside you, and you choke on air, jaw going slack, “but this power, this energy. this is how i felt you, on khofar.”

you gasp when he adds another finger, his movements more insistent as the force between the two of you thrums, building as you draw him closer.

“that’s how i knew it was you. the one i’ve been looking for. you’re different than the jedi. more powerful.” he laughs breathlessly when you grab the back of his head, dig your fingers into his hair. “come on, use your words.”

“so… so good,” you pant, torn between wanting to remove the mask to see his face, to see if he’s as affected by your touch as you are by his, kiss him, and wanting to never take it off so he can just continue to have his way with you.

though, you think he might have his way with you regardless. even worse, you think you’d let him.

“you’re such a good listener,” he praises, grinding his palm against you as his fingers thrust harder, more insistently. “you’ll make an excellent pupil.”

“n-no,” you stammer, unsure how you even manage to say it with his fingers inside of you and his lips teasingly dragging along the heated skin of your chest.

“no?” you hear him scoff, and can practically see the raised-brows look he’s giving you.

“you don’t—”

“understand?” he pulls the word right out of your mouth, pausing his movements and ignoring your cry of disappointment. “you can feel me. here, now, in the force. feel me, and try to tell me i don’t understand.”

you’re desperate, you realize as he slowly resumes pleasuring you. for him, for the release he’s brought you so close to, for answers as to why he is the way he is.

you reach out to that power in his body, feel the way it moves and slides and aligns with yours. it’s different, it has been for a long time now, but you feel its beginnings. it has the same ones as yours; was once a youngling at the jedi temple.

“it’s hard to walk away. but it’s easier when they don’t leave you anything to walk away from. you’re here. you’re with me. and i’m not going anywhere.” he says it like a promise, his tongue laving the skin of your neck like he can taste your need. “now give it to me.”

and even though he’s technically the one that didn’t leave you anything to walk away from, you believe him. you let it all go.

your doubt, your worry, your half-baked plans of escape, your distrust, your fear. it rushes out of you with your orgasm and you yank him into you, feel the hard plane of his chest against yours, rising and falling with his own labored breaths as he removes his fingers, leaving you shaking with sensitivity.

you fumble with the mask, pushing it off your head with a gasp when the light of the cave sears your eyes. you bury your face in his neck, the both of you letting his mask tumble to the ground as he returns your hold. you don’t know if he’s doing it because he wants to, or if he just knows it’s what you need from him. your jedi master never held you. never gave you the connection that you craved. qimir has given you that and more.

“i want you to teach me,” you whisper, letting yourself melt into the comfort of his arms. “teach me everything.”

he pets the back of your head, strokes your hair. “this was your first lesson, my acolyte.”

you need to know every facet of him, every bit of wisdom he’s gained, no matter how long it takes. you won’t grapple for excuses. you won’t think twice.

you will only ever do what your master wants.

m.list

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