#clone pilot broadside x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

littlemissmanga · 5 months

Text

Maybe Among the Stars

Pairing: Broadside x (gn)Reader

W/C: 2,737

Summary: Broadside was literally built to withstand risk and danger. He’s willing to take the chance this will all end badly. But that was back when the only one at risk was him. How can he face that same danger knowing it’ll roll over onto you now?

Warnings: Angst/comfort, the realities of loving a soldier, slight nod to intimacy but think like PG-13 rating. Lots of longing, but it's got a happy ending.

A/N: Goodness, I had this drafted out so long ago but real life and brain pain made this take forever. I’m terribly sorry @sunshinesdaydream for the slight delay, but here is your Broadside fic for the @rare-clone-fic-exchange! I had a lot of fun researching Broadside, Shadow Squadron, their planes and getting to dive into a starfighter’s mentality. I hope you like what I did with his personality since there isn’t too much in canon to go off of, other than his limited screen time showed me a very confident man. And what’s better than a fic about a man in crisis with himself?

Also, submitting this as an entrance for my @clonexreaderbingo card, the “Hope” square. 😊

Inspiration song, The Word of My Body from Spring Awakening: “Oh, I’m gonna bruise you. Oh, you’re gonna be my bruise.”

dividers by @saradika

It wasn’t fair. To either of you, but he understood the risk and was willing to face it. He knew what could come next and didn’t care if it meant one more chance.

But you …

You put up a great front. It took him too many rotations to see the softness under your steel. Weeks of finding reasons to fuel up at the café you worked at before he was shipped off just to tease you and get under your skin. It was a challenge that gave him a little lightness to his step before he and his brothers were back in the heat of battle, the memory of a cheeky smile on pretty lips settling his battle-tossed nerves.

Eventually, the face behind the smile was the thought that gave him comfort. But he’d never say it. He could keep you at an arm’s length and still get his fix as long as he didn’t cross that line.

And you never backed down from this game you couldn’t have known you were playing, giving as good as you got but never with cruelty. Your responses had even gotten downright flirtatious recently, a taste of normal that he couldn’t resist.

Until the last time.

Right after the Battle of Coruscant. Broadside had been flying high even with his feet solidly on the ground. Shadow Squadron had taken impressively minimal damage as each trooper flew beside General Skywalker bravely and proved integral to the safe retrieval of the Chancellor.

He’d opened the door to your café with a swagger that would make even his General blush, ready to leverage his status as planetary savior for a free slice of meilroon pie.

But instead of the sweetness he was expecting, the salt of your tears was all he could taste for hours after. The relief couldn’t erase the deep worry lines on your face at the sight of him, and while Broadside wasn’t above imagining what you’d feel like in his arms, the reality of your half-choked sobs racking your form as it melded to his when you pushed into him and held him like he would float away weighed on his heart.

“They were showing the dogfights over the holonet. I saw … there were so many … I didn’t know if …”

The realization hit him like a proton canon blast: He had become someone important to you. You felt the same way about him as he did you.

And ever since, elation and dread warred within him.

Since the Battle of Coruscant, Shadow Squadron had been requested to handle more escort missions for the Chancellor, meaning more time on Triple Zero.

More time with you.

But proximity to the Chancellor and by extension the Corrie Guard meant no room for deviation from the regs … including the one about not fraternizing with spunky natborns who’d be brought to tears at the thought of a trooper in danger.

A specific trooper. Him.

A gorgeous soul who kept him on his toes, challenging every truth he thought he knew. Who’d started saving a serving of his favorite meals when they were on special without knowing if he’d be coming in that day. Who’d throw an extra serving in for a customer going through a bad day but feigned ignorance when questioned. Who fought off the thugs and lowlifes that’d crawl in from the lower levels with a broken broom without an ounce of fear but shattered at the sight of his Squadron in danger overhead.

He was going to hurt you.

Maybe, just a little, he understood why the Jedi didn’t allow attachments. Because more and more, Broadside could feel the craving to see you again rise and overshadow the knowledge of just how thoroughly he’ll ruin you.

***

“Is this where you’re gonna murder me?”

Broadside threw an exasperated look over his shoulder. “Why would I drag you all the way here just to murder you?”

You cocked an eyebrow as your head swiveled to take in the narrow, at to be fair rather dingy, ally he was leading you through. “To throw the cops of your trail, duh. It’s like you don’t even listen to those crime holos I send you.”

He heard the smile in your voice and felt its match stretch on his own lips at your macabre humor.

“Those are all full of fluff anyway. It’s all nonsense.”

“No, they’re-”

“Shush.” He turned back and continued leading you on. “We’re almost there.”

“Would be great to know where ‘there’ is. Or what’s gonna happen there.”

Despite your grumbling, Broadside could feel your grip tighten around his hand. All at once, your simple show of trust filled his chest and brought him to his knees.

He didn’t deserve it. But he hoped he’d earn it.

Reaching a nondescript door — one of many to line the ally — Broadside stopped in the entranceway, pulling you over to face him.

“You already know the answer, mesh’la. You came up with this idea.”

Confusion covered your face with an aching cuteness. He could see the wheels turning inside, your eyes giving everything away as you searched for an answer.

“Closing time ... I was helping you sweep ... You asked what civvie experience I wanted to have …”

Your eyes sharpened in a playful glare. “And you said, ‘working in a diner’ just to be an ass.”

He leaned in close, towering over you and invading your space just to rile you more. He couldn’t help it. Broadside was addicted to that spark and needed it, needed you, like a hit of spice. “Not just to be an ass. But that’s not the important part. What came next?”

“You … You asked me what I’d want to do …”

Your eyes were wide as moons when you looked back up at him, disbelief filling every inch of your expression. “No …”

“Yup.” He confirmed, entering the access code and opening the door to reveal the back entrance to the hanger where Shadow Squadrons brand-new Y-wings were lined up all nice and pretty.

This time, he didn’t take your hand. Broadside strode through the hanger like he owned it, confidence grounding every step and growing at the sound of your quick footsteps franticly trying to keep up with his.

“Broadside!” You hissed quietly, earning a rich laugh at your idea of stealth. “This can’t be allowed. We’re gonna get caught!”

He stopped next to his new ship, ladder at its side at the ready. “You know, I’m actually insulted. You think I haven’t thought this through.” Turning, Broadside gestures broadly at the hanger. “See? No one around. Maintenance has been reassigned and my squad is grounded right now.”

Your eyes followed his across the cavernous room and you nodded in agreement. But your lip was still caught between your teeth, a telltale sign.

Letting the levity slip away, Broadside brought his hands up to cup your face and pull your gaze to his. Once again, he invaded your space but this time, all teasing was gone. “No one will know we’re here. I’ve got you.”

You gave him that look again. The same one as that day, the one that screamed to him just how unsure you really were underneath all your strength and bluster. The one that broke his heart with how much he wanted to erase it from your face. The same one that told him, just maybe, that you knew how tenuous this all really was.

And then you stepped closer.

You turned to reach for the ladder, stopping to look at him one more time. He gave you an affirmative nod, fighting every cell that cried out to shatter in relief. Maybe this would go better for you both than he thought.

Following closely, he climbed up the ladder after you, settling behind you in the cockpit.

It was a tight fit, only being designed for one person at a time. Broadside struggled for a moment, trying to get his legs to fit around yours in the narrow space until you took matters into your own hands. A touch was all it took to get him to sit still, your hand holding down firmly on his thigh.

The look you sent him over your shoulder is so soft, Broadside wanted to preserve it somehow. To freeze time so you’d always look at him just like that. To make a galaxy where you’d have no reason to ever look at him any other way.

“May I?” Your voice was steady, but barely a whisper.

“Yeah,” he rasped back.

Lifting yourself up, you moved your legs to straddle his before resting yourself on his lap.

“Sorry, but I think this may be the most comfortable configuration.”

Broadside reached around you to start the operating procedures, reveling in the feel of you so close. It was a mockery of an embrace, but it was enough for now.

“No need to apologize, angel. We’re all good here.”

Once all systems were engaged and optimized, he pressed his comm. “Shadow One to Tower. All systems go, here. Ready for clearance.”

You spun in your seat to level him with an intense glare. “No one will know we’re here?”

And Broadside couldn’t resist stoking your fire, sticking out his tongue like a cadet just to revel in how riled you got. “No one who will say anything. Corkscrew is on tower watch tonight and he owes me a favor or three.”

“Tower to Shadow One. Request for test flight confirmed. You are clear for launch. You have 30 minutes.”

“See? Just a standard test flight for the new fighters,” he said smugly.

With that, Broadside went through the launch procedure without a second thought, focusing instead on every way you shifted on his lap, how your hands fumbled for purchase on the sides of the ship before gripping hard on his knees. His hand curled around your hip, holding you in place for all the good it did. The turbulence had you shaking against him and by the Maker if that friction wasn’t the most sensational thing in the entire galaxy.

But everything settled when they broke the atmosphere, the stillness and quiet covering them and isolating them from the chaos of the city planet below.

He watched with delight as your head moved on a swivel, turning back and forth to take in the vast array of stars in front of you.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed.

“Yeah, it is.” Broadside’s response was just as quiet as he took in your awe before adding louder, “But we didn’t come up here just to look at it.”

“No?”

Before you could do anything else, he grabbed your hands. Without asking, he brought them to the steering column, molding his over yours. “No. You’re gonna fly.”

He could see the broad, devious grin overtake your face in the reflection of the transparisteel and for the briefest moment, Broadside second-guessed whether this was a good idea.

Worry quickly gave way as he lost himself fully in the joy you exuded. Playful cheers filled the small Y-wing cockpit as he instructed you through a few of his simpler maneuvers. Eventually, he began taking a bit more control, showing off with several rolls and drops all in hopes of earning just one more delightful shout, one more squeeze of your thighs around his. All while his hand kept you in place on his lap.

Leveling out after his latest round of showing off, you leaned back against him fully, losing all tension in your body to rest soundly against his chest.

“So, what brought this on?”

His pause is palpable, creating a stillness that could rival space itself. He knew it would happen eventually. But he hated that it could ruin everything.

“I … I don’t know when I’ll be able to visit you next.”

His eyes were trained onto every inch of your body, so he saw the moment your shoulders tensed.

“I see. Even though I know Shadow Squadron has been assigned to escort the Chancellor from now on.”

Broadside took a breath, preparing for his practiced spiel, but you wouldn’t give him the chance. “Oh, yes. Don’t think I don’t follow the news. I do. Of course I do, because how else would I know where you were, what you were doing, if you were okay. You don’t tell me these things when you visit. I have to piece together rumors and suspicions. So I know you’ll be around more. But sure, tell me the lie. Tell me you won’t be able to see me. I’ve been dumb enough flirt with you. To start feeling …”

Your voice tapered off. He couldn’t see your reflection anymore, your face cast downward, but he could see how tightly you were holding yourself.

“Maybe I’ll be dumb enough to believe the lie,” you whispered.

He reached forward, snaking his other arm around to encircle your waist and pull you impossibly closer. Like a child clutching a soft toy, he curled around you in the cocoon of the cockpit.

It must have hurt. His armor was hard and unyielding. He could imagine all the ways it dug in to your pliant skin, how your curves arched around its firm plains.

Even his embrace was painful to you.

And yet you didn’t fight. You didn’t pull away or even adjust yourself. No, you pushed yourself closer, folding yourself in to fit into him like a missing piece.

“It’s not a lie,” he whispered, hoping for all the galaxy that you heard his promise. “It’s not safe.”

“For who?”

“For both of us.”

The silence lingered, and he knew you understood. If you really had been following the war, if you’ve been slicing through the holonet for information, then you had known the truth of his words for a while.

Shifting your hips, you turned in his hold, folding your legs under you to sit sideways on his lap. You didn’t look at him, though. Instead, you tucked your head under his chin, staying as close as possible. “Is that why you brought me up here? Show me the stars so I have something pretty to look at when you tell me it’s over?”

His grip tightened. “No.”

“Then why?”

He brought his hand up to cup the back of your head. He needed you as close as possible. “Because I can’t say it’s over. I want to. But I can’t. I will knowingly put you in danger just to see you again, to hear you again.”

He pressed his lips to the crown of your head. His first kiss has the aftertaste of salt and bitterness, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Bringing you to see the stars like you always wanted is the least I can do. I’ll give you anything within my power ’cause I’m taking so much more.”

You wriggled in his grasp, pulling away just enough to look him in the eye. Your cheeks were stained with tears he didn’t even hear begin to fall. Instinctively, he brought his thumb to swipe it away, but your hand stopped him.

“You’re not taking anything, dumbass. I’m giving it willingly.”

Broadside’s eyes close as relief surged through his body. He relaxed even more at the feel of your forehead pressed against his.

“I don’t care about the danger. And take as much time as you need to make things as safe as possible. But you’re not the only one who can’t call quits, so don’t act like you’re carrying the burden alone.”

He couldn’t help the smile that spread easy as sin across his lips at your declaration. Knowing that you were as far gone as he was. Now that he had your knowing consent, that you could handle all that came with being together, there was nothing holding him back.

“So, I don’t have to plan such extravagant dates?”

You let out a peel of laughter in response, your delight breaking the last remnant of grief. “Oh, you absolutely have to try and top this next time. I’ll accept nothing less.”

Fueled by hope and the fire of his wanting, Broadside pressed his lips to yours, tasting starlight and a hint of the blumfruit juice you had earlier.

“I’ve created a monster,” he murmured into the kiss.

“Indeed, you have.”

Your smile against his lips is all the reassurance he needed to not care.

You can find the rest of my fics on my Masterlist here. And you can sign up for my taglist to be alerted to any new fics here.

#rare clone fic submission #rare clone fic exchange #broadside x reader #clone pilot broadside x reader #sunshinesdaydream #clone x reader bingo

36 notes · View notes

somedaylazysomeday · 2 years

Text

Bitten

Commander Wolffe x fem!reader. To distract you from your unrequited crush on Broadside, you agree to let Wolffe distract you.

Rating: NC-17, explicit, lemon, etc. Minors DNI!

Word Count: 5,100

Warnings: unrequited feelings, alcohol use, dom!Wolffe, thigh grinding, semi-public sexual activity, power plays, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), spanking, unprotected piv (be smarter than that irl!), creampie.

Next | Masterlist

---

Broadside was gorgeous.

He looked like all of his brothers, of course. He was a clone trooper, a pilot attached to the 501st. But there was something about his smile that made your heart beat faster while others left you unaffected. You couldn’t tear your mind away from the flex of his arms when he crossed them over his chest, that half-dimple that only showed up when he was teasing you, the way his hair curled over the tips of his ears…

It was only too bad that he didn’t want you.

You didn’t actually realize that you had voiced that aloud until Gemma, your best friend and fellow 79’s guest for the evening, gave a loud scoff. “He might want you; you didn’t bother to ask. You want a relationship and you don’t know what Broadside wants. All you know for sure is that he’s looking for a quick fuck tonight.”

That was true. From your spot at one of the small tables near the bar, you had a perfect view of Broadside as he cradled a stunning Pantoran female, kissing her deeply in a way that made your heart ache with both jealousy and longing.

Gemma wasn’t done, though. “The thing we have left to figure out is what you want tonight. Any ideas?”

“I-” you said slowly, trying to conjure up an idea of what you actually wanted. “I think I might just want to go home.”

“Good guess, but wrong,” Gemma told you. “I’m feeling particularly psychic tonight and I can tell… what you want… is to get absolutely railed by a trooper.”

Startled laughter sounded from behind your shoulder and you turned to find the section’s pretty Zeltron waitress - wearing a nametag that read Ieri - behind you. She saw you looking and instantly apologized, stepping closer to be heard over the loud music. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to listen in.”

“Don’t apologize for a superpower,” Gemma waved away, glancing around as if to reference the noisy atmosphere. “You have any insider tips for my friend here?”

Ieri put a perfectly polished finger to her lips. “I actually might. See that trooper over there? The booth on the second level, tucked back in the corner?”

You followed her directions with your eyes, tracking to the booth she had mentioned. There was only one trooper sitting there, sitting at the back of a rounded booth cushion. He still wore armor from his waist down. He was watching the room with half a scowl on his handsome face, though that could have been a false impression given by the pronounced scar slicing down across his eye. It had clearly been a traumatic injury, if you were to take a hint from the brightly glinting silver of a cybernetic eye.

“The one who’s balancing sex appeal with a bad attitude?” Gemma asked dryly.

“That’s Wolffe. He’s a commander,” Ieri explained, leaning closer as she added, “And that’s not just his rank.”

You swallowed reflexively. You had been skeptical about this idea for all two minutes since Gemma had come up with it, but now? Now… you were starting to see the merits. Commander Wolffe…

“He’s just the one you need,” Ieri said with a firm nod. “Trust me.”

“Yeah, trust her,” Gemma urged. “Look at her, she obviously knows her way around a bedroom.”

“Gemma!” you chided loudly, hoping your overly open friend hadn’t offended the helpful Zeltron female.

“What? It was a compliment!” Gemma defended, giving Ieri a slow wink. “I’m straight...-ish, but I’m not that straight, you know?”

Ieri’s smile widened. “Now, honey, who told you that’s my favorite kind of compliment?”

Gemma’s gaze heated, but Ieri looked back at you. “Full disclosure, this is all information I’ve gotten from other people. Wolffe isn’t quite… my type.” Her lingering perusal of Gemma made it clear what exactly her type was. “But I have it on good authority that he knows how to take care of a lady. Might help you shut your mind off for a while.”

“That’s exactly what she needs!” Gemma encouraged. “Here, you can have my shot. Now, go and talk to him!”

With your throat still burning from the shot of mystery alcohol, you climbed the stairs that led to the second floor. Since this was 79’s, you did have to step over a couple making out in the narrow stairwell, but you made it without incident. When you were crossing the balcony-like second floor on your way to Wolffe’s booth, your nerves started to get the better of you, but a glance past the dance floor showed that Gemma and Ieri were unabashedly watching your progress. You clenched your jaw and stood in front of the booth holding the mysterious commander.

He saw you immediately, you were sure of that much. No clone trooper worth his genes could have missed your approach, much less a clone commander. Still, Wolffe made you wait, slowly dragging his attention away from the dance floor to you, letting his mismatched gaze climb from your feet to your face. When you were left staring at each other, one dark eyebrow arched in silent question.

“Can I sit with you?” you asked, cursing yourself for not having come up with an opening line before this point. “Everywhere else is full.”

Now the other eyebrow flew up as well and you fought to keep your composure as he glanced around at the other booths on the second level - several of which were empty. With a smirk curling his lips, he inclined his head at the empty seat beside him. You sat down gracelessly.

And were left at an utter loss as to where to go from there.

You introduced yourself, ending with, “Uh… Can I- can I buy you a drink?”

“Wolffe.” His eyes had traveled back to the dance floor as he sipped from his mostly full glass. “Never say no to another whiskey.”

“Whiskey,” you repeated, fumbling for the datapad attached to the sticky table. The smudged screen was hard to read with the club’s flashing lights bouncing around, but you managed to order a whiskey for him and a hyperdrive for yourself.

And then you sat in silence as you waited for a server droid to appear with your drinks. Or, at least, what passed for silence in a crowded club. You followed Wolffe’s lead and studied the dance floor for most of that time. Just as a droid whirred closer, your eyes fell on Broadside’s booth. He and his companion for the evening were getting heated in their booth.

That ugly mixture of jealousy and longing twisted through your chest again and you took a gulp of your hyperdrive before you even sent Wolffe’s whiskey spinning his direction.

The commander caught the sliding glass easily, brow raised again. He was watching you now, studying you as if you were suddenly more interesting than the activity on the dance floor. You didn’t care - you were tapping at the datapad again. You were gonna need another hyperdrive.

“Broadside,” Wolffe said lowly.

You fought not to flinch at the sound of the name, turning to face Wolffe instead. “What about him?”

“You keep watching him,” he told you bluntly. “You have been since you walked into 79’s tonight.”

“And how would you know that?” you asked.

Wolffe’s gaze slid away again. “I’m not blind.”

Suddenly, one side of his mouth quirked up and you turned to see Gemma and Ieri exploring each other’s mouths. You grimaced. Great, now you were going to get shown up by your friend and the beautiful waitress.

“I could make you forget him.” Wolffe’s offer was unprompted and you turned back with your brows raised. “At least for the night.”

“Yes.” You had to pause to take a drink - your mouth was too dry to speak without some help. “Please.”

“Are you ready to follow orders?” he asked, sounding deceptively casual given that you could see the tension in his body.

“Yes,” you breathed. His brow flicked upward and you belatedly realized that you should have had questions about that. You smiled at him and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “You’re not the only one who isn’t blind. I asked about you.”

“That so?” he asked, and downed his whiskey as you nodded. “Look at me.”

You did as he commanded, though it was mostly due to the change in his voice. Wolffe’s voice had been low and rough from the beginning of your conversation, but now… the steel in his words had you fascinated.

“Sit here,” was the next order, accompanied by an explanatory pat of his thigh.

You immediately obeyed, moving to perch on his armored leg as you smoothed your skirt under the backs of your thighs. Wolffe made a sharp noise low in his throat and you paused, knees wobbling as you realized what he wanted. The commander nodded in confirmation and you straddled his thigh instead. His gray and white armor pressed against you, the coolness startling against the budding heat at your center.

“Good girl,” Wolffe said approvingly.

You fought not to make a noise of your own at that, the praise doing unexpected things to you. His hands gripped your waist and pulled you closer, letting the lips of your pussy drag open around the sharp curve that topped his thigh armor.

Just as you lost the battle against making noise, Wolffe swallowed your moan. The commander took advantage of your open mouth to push his tongue past your lips. He explored your mouth with the leisure of a man with all the time in the world even as his hands kept you pressed firmly against his thigh.

When one of his hands left your waist, it was only to make the short trip up to your breast. He slipped his hand under your shirt without difficulty and dodged the barrier of your bra with a practiced wiggle of his fingers. You sucked in a breath at the feeling against your ticklish ribs, then groaned at the pressure resulting from your squirming. That groan only increased in volume when his thumb found your nipple.

You had known the troopers were smart and capable of dividing their concentration, but a part of you tucked far away from the action was impressed by Wolffe’s abilities. He was dominating your mouth, controlling every motion of the kiss and nipping at your lips and tongue if you tried to take control. At the same time, his thumb strummed your breast in a rhythm found only in his mind while his other hand kept you anchored on his thigh.

Even as you thought it, Wolffe began to tap his foot in time to the beat of his nipple-rubbing and you squeaked as you felt your pelvic muscles begin to clench around nothing. Rather than let you escape, Wolffe deepened the kiss even further as you fell apart on top of him.

When your hands on his shoulders began to push away instead of pull him closer, Wolffe stopped all movement. He disengaged from your mouth, withdrawing his hand from under your shirt while you caught your breath.

A sharp, leering whistle from the first floor made you whirl around in horrified guilt. Had someone seen you? What all had they seen? It wasn’t Gemma, was it?

To your surprise, you weren’t the target at all. Broadside and his Pantoran paramour were the focus of the teasing instead. Apparently, they had been so lost in their embrace that they had tumbled from the booth onto the floor of 79’s.

You wanted to grimace at the thought of rolling around on the dirty floor, but the bigger part of your concentration was taken up by the realization that the couple had been busier than you had expected. The beautiful female’s shirt was unbuttoned, showing off large teal breasts with dusky blue nipples - one of which was distended from where Broadside had clearly been focusing his efforts. Rather than being panicked or embarrassed, she was smiling around the room, clearly drunk and proud of her body. And why wouldn’t she be? She really was lovely.

For his part, Broadside was looking sheepish, but more than a little proud of himself. As he helped his date up off the floor, his eyes traveled across the stacked booths, grinning at someone he knew… Then his gaze hit you.

When exactly you had left Wolffe’s leg to perch at the end of the booth’s seat, you weren’t really sure. You knew you looked as startled as Broadside did, though probably much more disappointed and hurt. It had sucked that he was with someone else tonight, but seeing it? Seeing it personally was so much worse than you had expected.

Warmth behind you was the first reminder that you had your own partner for the evening, followed by the softness of Wolffe’s lips brushing over the flesh of your neck. Then you shivered violently as Wolffe gently rested his teeth on the same spot. He wasn’t biting, not yet, but the threat was there.

You could see the exact moment Broadside noticed the commander. His eyes widened so quickly it was comical, his jaw dropping momentarily before it tightened. When he finally moved, it was to gather his date, help her fix her clothing, and escort her from the club.

Wolffe’s sharp teeth released your neck as the noise level slowly rose back to where it had been before. “It seems like I still have work to do. Unless you’ve had enough?”

You shook your head slowly. “I still remember him. And I really, really want to forget right now.”

“Then let’s find a better place,” Wolffe announced, nudging you out of the booth and patting your bottom as he stood as well. He took off at a steady pace, leading the way down to the main floor.

The couple was still on the stairwell, lost in each other. Wolffe growled at the way the man’s legs were sprawled across two full steps. “Move, Fives.”

The trooper broke away from his partner long enough to rearrange his legs in a more space-friendly way and Wolffe took off once more.

Wolffe didn’t really walk through the crowd - he muscled. Something about his walk screamed ‘move’ - probably would have even if he didn’t have a kama swaying from his hips. You weren’t holding hands or touching in any way, but no one stepped between you. Even in the crushing crowd of the 79’s dance floor, there was a noticeable gap as the commander passed and people waited to see who was following him.

You wanted to be embarrassed by the attention, but a savage part of you reveled in being seen with the handsome commander. People knew who he was, and they knew you were with him. It was a rush, to say the least, and not a little amount of it was because you were doing what Broadside and his companion had been, but much better.

Should you have felt guilty for thinking of Broadside when you were barreling toward a pleasurable encounter with Wolffe? Maybe. But you reasoned that you had been upfront with him. He knew your motivations. Hell, he had even been the one to make the offer in the first place.

“Hey,” a voice hissed at you and you turned to see Ieri and Gemma standing there, smirking at you. Ieri held out a passcard. “Stock closet, second door to the right. You won’t be interrupted there.”

Before you could grab the card, Wolffe plucked it from the Zeltron’s hand. With an incline of his head, he offered silent thanks and steered you toward the door she had mentioned. A beep of the card against the lock and he had stepped into the darkened room, turning to offer a hand to you.

You had never been much for holoimages. You weren’t good at taking them, never found the right way to set up angles, and rarely had time to look over holos from the past. All of that being said, you would have given a lot to have access to a holorecorder right then. The spotlights shining from the club behind you were the only illumination in the room. The beams splashed colors across the gray and white armor encasing Wolffe’s legs, but left his upper half in shadow. His cybernetic eye gleaming in the darkness was your only hint about where his face might be.

It was a scene filled with an incredible sense of potential, and you seized that potential from the moment you reached out to accept Wolffe’s hand.

He spun you into the room, closing the door to the noise and the lights of the club. In the half-quiet darkness, one word hit you with the force of a punch: “Strip.”

You obeyed that order in less time than it took to truly process. Your shirt was gone in a scoop of your arms; your bra took a moment to unclasp, then a shrug sent it skittering down your arm and across the floor. Your skirt dropped to the floor as you kicked your shoes off, then you dropped your underwear, grimacing at the way the wet material clung to you.

The blinding light was so sudden that it was a shock of its own, making you turn even as you raised your hands to cover your nudity.

“Don’t,” Wolffe demanded. “Drop your arms. Let me see you.”

That one took a moment, but you let your arms drop shakily to your sides as Wolffe walked a tight circle around you. A sharp clap! against the bare skin of your ass made you squeak, but Wolffe caught your hand as you reached back to shield yourself.

“That was a warning,” he told you, voice low. “Don’t take too long to obey or I’ll do it again. Argue with me and I’ll make sure you can’t sit comfortably for a week. Understood?”

You nodded, trembling as Wolffe made his way in front of you again. His eyes raked greedily across your vulnerable body and he reached out to run the pad of a finger over one of your tight nipples.

“Just as beautiful as I thought they’d be,” he breathed. “You’re exquisite, mesh’la.”

You didn’t know what the word meant, but you preened anyway.

“You can touch me.”

The second he gave permission, your hands were running across his body. Broadside was strong, but Wolffe was big. The muscles of his chest flowed into his shoulders in an expanse that utterly dwarfed you in comparison. You slid your hands under the top of his blacks, letting your fingers trip up his strong stomach as his abs played under the skin and the protective layer of fat that kept him safe.

But when you started to lift the fabric, Wolffe’s hands locked around your wrists and he shot you a warning look. “I didn’t say you could undress me.”

You dropped your hands immediately, and were rewarded a moment later with his fingers parting your folds. He stroked your entire pussy with one languorous motion - dipping only a fingertip into your entrance before drawing his way out and up, tracing your folds and brushing against your clit before he was done.

“I want to taste you,” he growled, and you could only nod in breathless response.

Wolffe dropping to his armored knees in front of you was the most erotic thing you had ever seen. You fought not to moan as he reached out to grab your hips, steering you exactly where he wanted you.

When you were in the right spot, he steadied you with one hand, drawing one of your legs over his shoulder with the other. He stared at your center from point-blank range, and your brain short-circuited as he slowly licked his lips.

After an eternity like that, balanced on the cusp of pleasure, Wolffe finally leaned in, drawing you forward in the same motion. You had to grab his hair to hold yourself upright as his tongue traced the same path his fingers had taken. He started from just behind your entrance, curling his tongue inside the opening as if to pull every drop of nectar from your depths. He licked his way up to your clit, pursing his lips to suckle it for a heart-stopping moment.

Then he set your leg back on the floor and stood up while you gaped at him. “Wolffe-”

His large palm cracked against your ass again in a slap that felt more bouncy than punishing. “Don’t get greedy, little one.”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, trying to fight the overwhelming rush of need coursing through you. Wolffe didn’t notice, since he was busy rummaging through a small bag attached to the waist section of his armor.

Just as you were getting ready to throw the whole ‘submissive’ thing out the window, he turned around with a condom in his hand. “Do we need-?”

After a moment to think about it, you shook your head. “I have the implant and I’m clean.”

“I’m clean, too,” he assured, eyes darkening at your choice. You felt the same way. Normally, you insisted on every partner using protection, but… you were feeling a little reckless tonight. Here was hoping you wouldn’t regret it tomorrow.

Wolffe whisked a sheet from a shelf, tucking it over a large pallet of stock that took up the middle of the floor. He pulled you into a kiss, pressing you back against the flat surface until you were reclining against it. He lined himself up at your entrance and paused as he met your eyes.

“What is it?” he asked, seeming thrown off for the first time by the grin on your face.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said quickly. “Keep going, please.”

“No, what?” he repeated with a dangerous edge in his voice.

“Sorry, it’s just-” you let out a breath, trying not to giggle. “With a name like ‘Wolffe’, I thought this would be a more… hands-and-knees kind of thing.”

Wolffe frowned at you, but shrugged as he drew back. “I was going to suck your nipples while we fucked, but… Fine by me. Turn over.”

Now it was your turn to frown. “But… Wait-”

In one smooth motion, Wolffe grabbed your waist and flipped you over. Your hands and knees automatically extended to support yourself and, the moment you were settled into position, Wolffe’s hand cracked over your ass a third time.

It was probably good he couldn’t see your face on that one, because you gaped openly as tears sprang to your eyes. That had been a hard spank, and the immediate rush of pain to your ass cheek warned that it was probably going to bruise.

“We talked about arguing, yes?” Wolffe asked pitilessly.

“Yeah,” you croaked.

“Good,” he said, then plunged himself into you in one deep thrust.

You were back to gaping silently as he bottomed out in you. As your inner muscles worked around his length, gripping him with blind confusion about what had so suddenly intruded into you, your elbows wobbled and gave out. Wolffe’s arm was between your breasts before you could face-plant, and he lowered you down until your chest was flush with the pallet beneath you.

Pushed inside as far as he could be, Wolffe paused, letting you catch your breath as your body adjusted to the stretch. You realized with a start that he had only removed his codpiece and was still wearing his lower armor. The plates felt strange and taboo against the back of your thighs, but you couldn’t deny that the additional coolness felt wonderful against your abused ass.

“Are you ready?” Wolffe asked.

You turned your head to the side so you could breathe while you considered that. Wolffe felt good inside of you, but there was still an unpleasant sting to the stretch that warned you weren’t quite good to go.

“Can- Can you touch my clit please?” you asked, face burning.

A chuckle rumbled through Wolffe. “How could I deny such a polite request?”

A moment later, he parted you and stroked that magical bundle of nerves. The calluses on his fingers made the simple movement something much more profound, and your body rewarded him with another rush of liquid. He didn’t stop then, though, continuing with his ministrations until you were subtly rocking on his length.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you assured him.

“I’m not sure you are,” Wolffe countered, moving to tease the hood of your clit instead.

“Please, Wolffe,” you begged. “Please, please, please…”

“Please what, mesh’la?” he asked, feigning confusion.

“Fuck me!” you demanded.

Wolffe paused for a second - long enough that you braced yourself for another spank - but just brushed the hair from your face as he murmured, “Greedy.”

He pulled his hips back until he was almost out of you. You had a heartbeat to prepare yourself, but it wasn’t enough as he slammed back inside. The sound you made was low, animalistic. Wolffe settled into a rhythm after that, a graceful, slow slide that seemed designed to drive you insane with unsated lust. It was enough to be stimulating, but wasn’t fast enough to push you to an orgasm.

You braced your knees on the pallet and forced yourself back on him, moaning as he stretched you faster and deeper than he had been doing. Wolffe’s measured strokes faltered and he gave a little huff as you smiled to yourself. You had just braced for another backthrust when Wolffe pushed your knees further up.

With the new angle, you had no leverage. Your knees were too close to your chest to give you a good angle to brace yourself. Your chest was planted on the sheet-covered pallet, and your arms were stretched out in front of you to counterbalance his thrusts. You were pinned, forced to lie there and take what he gave you.

However, you couldn’t complain too terribly much, because the new angle of your knees meant that Wolffe was driving into you in a way he hadn’t done yet. It was deep and raw and devastating.

A half-dozen strokes later, Wolffe was struggling to keep his movements measured and even because you were locking down around him. You tried to warn him, tell him that you were done, but you were over the edge before you even saw the cliff.

You didn’t scream. It wasn’t because you remembered you were in a storage closet in a club - you weren’t capable of high-level thinking at the moment - but because you didn’t have the air to make that loud of a sound. Wolffe had driven the air from your lungs, used his body to fill you with so much pleasure that there was no room for trivial things like air.

The orgasm was all-encompassing, leaving you deaf and blind to the world as you gasped and shook, fingers scrabbling at the sheet under you in a failed attempt to ground yourself. The only concrete thing, the only constant, was Wolffe’s length driving into you over and over.

When you were reduced to a pile of whimpering aftershocks, Wolffe came. His armor - now warmed by the heat of your body - pressed against you as he thrust as far inside of you as he could. A single grunt and a long sigh were the only sounds that escaped him as his cock twitched, emptying himself in the tight clutch of your body. Just as his orgasm was beginning to ebb, he pulled your torso up against him, your back to his chest, and sank his teeth into the spot on your neck that he had nibbled earlier. You cried out, but the endorphins flooding your system turned the feeling into pleasure instead of pain.

You only noticed the passage of time when you realized that Wolffe’s grip on your hips was starting to hurt. As if he had noticed at the same moment, Wolffe slowly drew himself out of you. You winced at the feeling, as well as the accompanying feeling of liquid rushing out in the absence of him. Surprisingly, Wolffe pressed what felt like a piece of fabric against your entrance, catching the first messy rush.

“Easy, little one,” he soothed, and you noticed that your limbs were trembling. "Slowly."

You did as he suggested, moving slowly as you turned over and stood on wobbling knees. Wolffe retrieved your clothing one article at a time, handing each to you in turn even as he held you steady.

When you were fully dressed and he had snapped his codpiece back into place, you glanced around for the scrap of cloth he had used to keep from dirtying the sheet.

"What did you use for…" you made a vague gesture at your pelvis, "you know. Everything."

Wolffe still looked confused for a moment, but eventually pulled back his kama to show a very interesting stain on the inside.

You gaped. "Aren't you going to get in trouble for that?"

"I'll clean it," Wolffe said, voice dry. You nodded, embarrassed. Still, when you moved to step away, he followed. "But I'll always have the memory of tonight. Thanks for that."

"Thank you," you countered. "It was… it was exactly what I needed."

Wolffe bent down slightly, brushing your lips with his own a final time. "If you're ever in need of distraction and I'm in town, just comm me."

He was marching to the door before you relearned how to speak. "I don't have your frequency."

"Ieri has it," Wolffe tossed back, glancing over his shoulder for one last, lingering look before he left the room.

You followed a minute or so later, turning off the lights and wincing at the smell of sex hanging thick in the room.

When you got back to the table where you had been sitting with Gemma a lifetime ago, she was nursing a bottle of beer. When she saw you, she straightened, eyes brightening.

"Where's Ieri?" you asked, frowning as you slid into your chair.

"Finishing her shift, then we're headed back to my place." Gemma waved off her own explanation a moment later. "But that's a conversation for tomorrow. Tell me all about tonight!"

The wicked look she sent your way should have made you blush, but you were too sated at the moment. Instead you just smiled, slow and secretive. "Well, he's definitely a commander."

"And a Wolffe, judging from that bite on your neck!" she joked, openly laughing.

Your hand flew to cover the mark, wincing as your fingertips brushed raw skin, then again when your shifting balance ground your weight against your bruised ass.

"He definitely left his mark," you admitted, but smiled absently as Gemma returned her attention to the dance floor.

Worth it.

---

A/N - Dominant Wolffe is a characterization I just can't give up. The man screams that he's in charge.

Thanks for reading! (And happy Valentine's day!)

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars reader insert #reader insert #commander wolffe #wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #wolffe x reader #wolffe x you #rating: nc17 #nc 17 #nc17 #smut #lemon #spicy

395 notes · View notes