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I Literally Loved Every Second Of This Kira! The Banter Was Muah chefs Kiss

i literally loved every second of this kira! the banter was muah *chefs kiss*

say it first

Pairing: Wolffe x f!reader, reader insert

Rating: Explicit (this is smut that i added feelings to. minors, dni!)

Word Count: 2.4K

Content Warnings: choking, unprotected PiV sex, fingering, creampie, jealousy, drinking/alcohol consumption

AN: i was inspired by the idea of begrudgingly admitting feelings, and decided to write the porn first, and get to the feelings later.

also! @metalatl graciously allowed me to use her OC 308th Battalion and Sergeant Runaway in this fic! thank you! <3

Read on AO3: here

Summary: you and Wolffe are FWB. maybe just the B. but you both want more.

---

“I didn’t want to say it first.” // “Neither did I.”

“You look so fucking good like this, baby. Taking all of me so well.” His eyes – white and gold – blazed back at yours through the reflection of the mirror. Surrounded in darkness, your brain also fuzzy with pleasure and drunk on desire, his eyes practically glowed at you. The domineering look sent sparks down your spine. One of his impossibly large hands was clasped around your throat and the other was down at your breast, fingers working your tortured nipple. Numbed by the sheer stimulation, you tried your best to form a coherent response.

“J-just shut up and fuck me, Wolffe.” Panting, you adjusted your grip on the ’fresher counter.

Wolffe brought his head up to where his nose caressed the shell of your ear, lips ghosting against your neck, “’S true though. Drives me crazy.”

“Hm, I know.” You shut your eyes, biting your lip. Knowing he could feel the way his words and his hands and his breath were all pulling pleasure from your core, you attempted to keep yourself from falling back down from the edge. The game of it was the most fun for Wolffe; knowing he could unravel you so simply. You refused to let him win though. You insisted on some semblance of dignity even as you both stood naked, pants around ankles, in this hot, airless room.

Focusing on his thickness, the unbelievable ecstasy at the way he was filling you, you felt your crest approaching again. You tightened around him, leveraging your hips back against his, fucking yourself on his slick cock. Wolffe’s breath hitched at the change in position as he tightened his grip around your neck. He moved his other hand from your breast down to your exposed clit, the pads of his fingers beginning cruel and precise circles.

“If you can talk back, I’m not doing my job.” He chuckled, unyielding in his efforts.

“I told you to shut up.” You snapped. Opening your eyes, you shot him a glare in the reflection as you took one hand from its place supporting your body on the counter, snaking it down under you both.

Wolffe choked, movements stuttering, as your palm clutched around his balls, giving them a gentle roll. A smug sense of content puffed within your core, only egging on the pressure towards your release. His strokes slowed to a delicious rhythm, allowing you to enjoy the way each drag of his cock met the edges of your walls.

All the while, he kept attention on your clit, circling as exquisite tension furled within your depths. When you intensified the hold and motions of your palm clutching around his balls, Wolffe moaned loudly against your shoulder, “O-oh, fuck.”

His audible pleasure pushed you over the edge. You revelled in the way he felt inside you and his affirmation of the way you felt around him. “Shit. Oh my god. Shit!” you cried.

Wolffe was everywhere; around your neck, on your clit, inside of you. Gasping and writhing, you felt your body tense as your head pounded with the blissful exhilaration of your orgasm. It was a struggle to keep your mind tethered to your body as the waves swept through you.

Evidently, it was the same for Wolffe. You felt his breath shorten and his cock twitch as you rode out your high.

“Fuck,” Wolffe groaned, balls pulsing while still gripped in your palm. With breath hitching and then a sharp inhale, he emptied himself inside you. Delirious in your post-release, you could feel the hot wetness spilling from your cunt.

You stood there against the counter, both still connected, heaving.

A short while later, after mutual fumbling around in the dark for pieces of armour and clothes tossed aside in careless lust, tense silence bore into you. With the last piece of his chest armour clipped back in place, Wolffe grabbed his bucket from the counter.

“Until next time.” He nodded.

In a familiar way, you looked back at his face in the mirror as you smoothed out your tousled hair, “Bye, Wolffe.”

---

From where he sat at the pack’s usual booth, Wolffe could see your radiant smile from across the room. You were here with your friends, a different group than usual tonight. That fact didn’t matter much to him though, as he reminisced about how the two of you usually ended your nights at 79’s blissfully ignorant of anything and anyone else. Usually.

Another man, a brother in lilac-painted armour, approached where you sat at the bar. Wolffe recognized him as a sergeant from the 308th Battalion but wasn’t aware of his name. Watching the scene unfold from beyond his glass, Wolffe sipped his whiskey. He scoffed at the sight, readying himself to watch you to turn down the other clone’s advances. You had done as much countless times before.

When you welcomed the man with an even wider smile and a hug, he felt his jaw clench involuntarily; felt fire starting to lick at his chest. You were talking and laughing together. What the fuck?

Maybe you were just being friendly, Wolffe quickly rationalized. Didn’t want to embarrass this guy with a flat-out rejection in front of all the people around you.

To his chagrin, you placed both hands on the sides of the other man’s face, but Wolffe couldn’t make out what you were saying to him over the din of the crowd. It was a familiar touch; a beaming kind of warmth you had never shown him.

“Oi, Wolffe, you want in on the next round?” Boost’s voice drew him back in to the pack’s chatter as they started a new game of sabacc. Giving you one last glance, he answered Boost with a nod.

“Yeah. I’m all in.”

---

“That’s so not funny! One of these days you’re actually gonna hurt yourself. And then how would Sohla cope without you?!” You swatted Runaway’s purple-painted vambrace in jest.

“Ehh I’ll be careful. Promise! Would rather face the fury of a hundred clankers than your sister when she sees me injured,” he snickered. Runaway, like every other trooper, was hardwired for success on the battlefield. Although this was a fact that comforted the Republic, it brought much less serenity to a soldier’s personal relationships — something that was a sore and frequent contemplation for you too.

You met his mischievous eyes with a soft smile, “Good. Dinner with me and Sohla next time you’re back on leave, kay?”

“Deal. Have a good night! I’m headed back after this drink. Don’t get too crazy.” Runaway winked, as he turned to find his squad.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” you shouted over the crowd.

Returning to your drink and your friends, you swivelled to face down the bar. Expecting to set eyes on him, your gaze wandered to the booth frequented by grey and white armoured men. When you peered through the haze and stray lights of the club, you finally settled on Wolffe’s usual spot. Instantly, your heart sank into your stomach.

Wolffe’s determined eyes never left yours as the Theelin on his lap worked her mouth, kissing down from his neck to his exposed chest. She had unbuttoned the collar of his uniform, but he was utterly disengaged as he drew a sip from his glass, glare holding steady at you.

You steeled your expression, refusing to let him see how you teetered on the edge of despair. Commanding your tears back, you broke from his stare and busied yourself at the bar.

As you attempted to distract yourself in meaningless conversation with the friend sat next to you, it seemed like time was losing its relativity around you. The image of Wolffe and the other woman was flashing uncontrollably through your brain.

When you saw the pink flash of her skin blur in your peripheral, you swallowed hard, as if to try and push down the emotion that wanted to burst from your chest. You snuck a glance to the side. She was heading towards the exit, Wolffe trailing with his hand in hers. Fuck.

---

It was another night of the same osik, Wolffe thought to himself, as he leaned over the balcony. 79’s was chock full of troopers and natborns alike, drunk and horny and loud. The atmosphere was much less compelling from his position removed from the crowd. He had retreated to the top floor of the bar for a better vantage point after spending what felt like hours scanning the dense crowd from his spot in the pack’s booth.

Even now, any time Wolffe caught a glance of a trooper and their companion, he angled to see if it was your face beside theirs. It had been a futile exercise the whole evening.

Wolffe pondered your last interaction as he stared through the bottom of his empty glass. Your face had been so indifferent as you saw him with the Theelin those few nights ago. Like you didn’t care enough to express whatever it had made you feel. Like you didn’t care enough about him. Like you didn’t feel, at least not like he did.

There was a bitterness rising in the back of his throat, unpleasant but not an unwelcome distraction, as Wolffe resigned from his watch over the crowd. He’d had enough tonight.

---

Downing the last of your fourth drink, you felt a bolstered sense of resolve.

“Why did you bring me out? Why are we out at all? You two already have partners!” you yelled, fighting a losing battle over the bump of the bass. Sohla and her friend Xyndi shared a mutual eye-roll at your displeasure.

Xyndi kept quiet, sipping her own cocktail, as Sohla argued back, “Girl, you could too, if you would stop terrorizing all the guys who came up to talk to you tonight!” She poked a manicured finger at your shoulder.

You chose to ignore her, flagging down the bartender for your fifth. It had been about a month since you’d been here last – when you last saw Wolffe. Unfortunately, you weren’t inebriated enough yet to forget that.

“Ooh, who’s that?” Xyndi giggled, as she craned her neck to view across the room.

“Oh, perfect.” Speak of the devil. It was Wolffe, strutting down the stairs, kama swinging at his hips. He was still in his armour tonight, a tougher choice for stripping down in public at least, you mused to yourself.

Sohla started, “Isn’t that…”

“Yeah. Tragically.” You finished.

“I knew tonight was gonna be fun.” Sohla smirked, taking a sip.

“Fuck you. Don’t. Leave me.” You gritted out, keenly aware of his trajectory towards your seats at the bar.

“No worries. Wouldn’t wanna miss the show!” she said with irritating glee. Xyndi was silent, still reserved, but her view fixated on Wolffe as he approached.

He reached the edge of this side of the bar, daringly close to where you sat, and stood patiently for the bartender. You focused on something in the opposite direction. Feeling a familiar stare linger at your back, your senses were confirmed as Xyndi’s eyes flicked between yours, and where Wolffe’s likely laid behind you.

He made a noise that was half-grunt, half-clearing of the throat. You stayed rooted in place, refusing to acknowledge his ambiguous greeting.

“Had your fill of clones tonight, then?” Wolffe sneered. Asshole.

“What, were you watching me?” you turned to face him.

“Maybe.” He looked shocked at his own honesty.

“What’s your fucking problem, Wolffe?”

“You, obviously.”

“Oh, I know. What, you’ve fucked everyone else on your roster, now you’re interested in me again? That it?” you spat at him.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” he grumbled.

You narrowed your eyes, confusion clouding the anger he had drawn out, “Then tell me what it’s about.” He worked his jaw, deliberating for a second. Flashing a side-eyed look over to Sohla and Xyndi, he left you with a glare as he stalked away.

“Hey, we’re not done,” you hopped off the bar stool, tailing him through the maze of bodies that was 79’s tonight.

You caught up to him as he turned into an empty back corridor. He faced away from you; fists clenched at his sides.

“There is no roster,” he spoke, his voice quiet, and the most unsteady you had ever heard.

“O-Okay…” you struggled to respond, unfamiliar with this dynamic between you. “Not enough hookups to fill a roster, just a list then,” you poked, hopeful your levity could break the discomfort.

“No. There isn’t any list. Anything. Anyone else.” His voice was genuine, and more secure now. You could feel heat creeping up your neck, threatening to spill into your whole chest and face.

“Last time, the Theelin.” You muttered. Wolffe turned now, his eyes captivating your attention.

“We didn’t. I went back to the barracks, alone.”

“So, why, what is this? What are you trying to say?”

“Fuck. I like you. Okay?” He sounded exasperated, “I-I’m not good at this. I just don’t want you to hate me. I’m sorry.”

You broke out into a nervous, incredulous laugh, “Oh. Why didn’t you just say that?” He looked wounded by your amusement, eyes widening slightly. Attempting to mend the perceived blow to his ego, you reached for one of his gloved hands, taking it in both of yours. “Sorry, it’s, I-I like you, too.” You affirmed with squeeze as you smiled up at his face.

Wolffe’s mouth hung open a little as he tried to process your identical confession. “Why didn’t you say that?”

“I didn’t want to say it first,” you shot him a joking frown.

He chuckled, “Neither did I.”

“You’re an idiot.” You scoffed.

“Yeah, well.” He pulled you in from where you held his hand. Your foreheads rested together, as he brought his down to meet yours. He freed his hand, moving to cradle your cheek and neck tenderly. Heartbeat thundering in your ears, and a giddy kind of thrill warming you now, you matched his smile. Your lips brushed with a gentleness unfelt before, as your hands reached around his armoured waist. Wolffe pulled back, smiling still, “Sorry.”

Laughing, you kissed him again, “I’ll get over it.”

- - -

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I Literally Loved Every Second Of This Kira! The Banter Was Muah *chefs Kiss*

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I Literally Loved Every Second Of This Kira! The Banter Was Muah chefs Kiss