#99tech99 writes

Meanwhile, far across the galaxy, aboard the interminably under construction Death Star, Director Orson Krennic’s comm link sounded. He smiled instinctively as he recognized the customized tone. Under normal circumstances, he would have to exercise what little patience he possessed and wait to review the footage, but he was alone in his office between meetings at the moment.

And how very fortunate that timing was.

He immediately pulled up the high-definition live security feed of your living room.

At first Krennic seethed with anger and jealousy to see that you were not alone, but accompanied by Grand Admiral Thrawn. And judging by your elegant outfit, you were bringing him home after a date.

You began eagerly removing his uniform. Much to Krennic’s surprise, Thrawn was covered in tattoos. And much to Krennic’s chagrin, Thrawn was also in better shape than anyone he had ever seen. Krennic knew his own blue eyes alone made many women swoon, but he wondered if he should begin taking his physical training a little more seriously, since you apparently happened to be into impeccable physique.

Krennic’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he heard Thrawn explain his tattoos—which matched his Star Destroyer— were a symbol of his allegiance to the Chiss. Now that was an interesting bit of information to use to Krennic’s advantage, especially if Palpatine were unaware.

All that was completely driven from Krennic’s mind a moment later as Thrawn undressed you fully and Krennic was able to study your naked form.

Absolutely stunning.

Krennic unfastened his pants and began to palm his rapidly hardening erection.

He watched as you took Thrawn by the hand, led him to your sofa, and straddled him.

This was honestly not why Krennic had had the cameras installed. He hadn’t placed any surveillance equipment in your bedroom or bathroom, just the main living areas. He hadn’t even bugged your comm.

Krennic had been instantly smitten with you the moment he laid eyes on you in your gallery, but he was gone so often for so long. How could he court you effectively when he was always across the galaxy? Especially once he realized Thrawn was interested in you too, not just your gallery.

No, Krennic just wanted to be able to see you when he wanted, become familiar with your routines and patterns. He truly never would have expected you to fuck Thrawn on your sofa, giving him a perfect display of your naked body.

So he could hardly be held accountable for jacking off to you now. Or recording it for future viewing pleasure.

Krennic watched, enraptured, as you lowered yourself onto Thrawn and began rolling your hips.

Krennic smirked. My, my, you were kind of a slut, weren’t you? Not that he was complaining. If you were interested in that socially incompetent subhuman after one date, all because he bought a few pieces of art from you, how easy would it be for him to seduce you?

Fuck, your gasps and moans sounded so sexy. Krennic wanted to know what you sounded like for him. He couldn’t wait for you to ride his cock…He knew you would be so tight and warm and wet. He’d kiss the crook of your neck, tease your nipples with his tongue, grasp your waist to keep himself fully sheathed inside you. Maybe you would whimper how much better he was than Thrawn with his treasonous tattoos and weird blue skin and unsettling red eyes and stupid muscle definition. And how you thought Stardust was so much better than the fucking TIE Defender.

He was getting off track; you had no idea what Stardust was. But if you did, Krennic knew you would agree Stardust was the far superior and crucial project. And needed more funding.

Thrawn had you bent over the sofa now, fucking you from behind. Krennic scoffed. Thrawn was such a pussy. He was being far too timid. You needed your hair pulled and your ass smacked. Krennic longed to dig his fingers into your hips as he pounded his cock into you, with you fucking back onto him.

“More!” Krennic heard you beg.

Oh, you poor thing. If Krennic was having his way with you, you would be gasping for breath, protesting in vain that you were too overstimulated. And then he’d make you cum again. And then you’d tell him how he ruined you for any other being.

Krennic moved his hand faster as your whines became higher pitched. He could tell you were getting close and wanted to cum when you did.

You had a perfect O face too. Krennic couldn’t wait to be the reason you were a gasping, shaking, sweaty mess, clenching around him as he spilled his load into you.

Now Thrawn was saying something, attempting to appear suave, no doubt. Krennic didn’t need to hear his embarrassing attempts to continue flirting. He rolled his eyes and cut the feed.

He glanced down at his desk. It was now a sticky mess, but he didn’t care. Actually…Smirking to himself, Krennic smeared a sullied finger down a stack of data cards he was going to give Tarkin at their next status conference.

His musings turned back to you as Krennic fixed his uniform. He had enjoyed watching much more than he thought he would have, considering Thrawn was also there. He supposed if you were to continue to see the Chiss, he should have cameras installed in your bedroom too. That way he could be sure of what you liked and what talents he had that he could surprise you with. All for your benefit, he reasoned. You’d probably even thank him later, if he ever told you.

Yes, this would have to do until he could escape to the capital and show you what a REAL man was capable of.

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The official Empire Day Gala. An intimate gathering of the five thousand or so utmost of the Imperial elite. It seemed a little silly to feel so giddy, but you would never have merited an invitation on your own. Sitting in the back of the chauffeured speeder, you leaned forward slightly, looking at the glittering city lights of Coruscant through the transperisteel windows. Your anticipation must have shown in your face.

“I wish I were looking forward to this evening as much as you.”

You turned, smiling, to face your date. He was one of the youngest Admirals in the Imperial Navy, but it was really his family’s connections that had secured his own invitation, and he in turn asked you to accompany him.

“There’s no reason you shouldn’t be, Wulfric!”

“It’s going to be a lot of networking for me. And of course you will have to meet Father.” He looked apprehensive.

“He has met me,” you reminded him. “Several times, actually.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t count. That’s just through your work. Not in connection to me.”

You bit your tongue. You liked Wulfric, but he could be so insufferably condescending at times. And his obsequious need to gain his father’s approval for literally everything always wore thin on your patience.

You pursed your lips. “You’re a grown man, Wulfric. You don’t need his blessing, let alone permission, for anything.”

The slightest frown flickered briefly across his face, as though he has never considered that possibility before. He lapsed into silence.

You crossed your legs and looked back out the window.

“Oh your dress!”

“What?”

“It’s not sewn properly!”

“Kriff!” you exclaimed in panic, looking down at your sleek, iridescent white gown to find the defect.

“Don’t curse,” he scolded.

You clenched your jaw at being reprimanded like a child, but inspected your dress frantically to see what Wulfric meant. Suddenly it dawned on you.

“The slit?” you asked laughing. “It’s supposed to be there.”

He gaped at you. “All the way?”

It extended up past your hipbone and, with your legs crossed as they were, showed off your legs and curves perhaps a little too well.

“Yes,” you replied.

“You don’t think it’s a little…” He struggled to finish his sentence under your withering gaze.

You raised an eyebrow. “A little what?” you asked combatively, knowing full well some condescending critique was coming.

“Just…stand so it’s on the other side of Father. He wouldn’t approve.”

Now it was your turn to stare in astonishment. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I’m not. And stop cursing.”

Fortunately you arrived at your destination at that exact moment and the speeder slowed to a stop.

Wulfric exited the speeder and extended his hand to help you out. You paused, taking a deep breath. You tried to remind yourself that Wulfric came from one of the oldest and wealthiest aristocratic families in the galaxy, from the era of the High Republic. He wasn’t trying to be judgmental and controlling…It just comes naturally, you thought sarcastically. Nature or nurture? Probably both. You took another breath.

Wulfric stooped to peer into the door of the speeder. “Coming?”

You took his hand and allowed him to help you out. Even in your stilettos Wulfric towered over you. He sighed and looked down at you.

“I don’t mean to be critical. You’re wonderful. And you look lovely.” He hooked his index finger under your chin tilted your face toward his. “You always look lovely.” He pressed his lips to yours.

You broke away and studied his handsome features: deep blue eyes, raven locks, sculpted cheekbones. He was highly educated and extremely intelligent. He paid rapt attention in all your conversation, took a genuine interest in your career, and loved to dote on you with every luxury you could possibly want…

You gave him a mischievous smile. “Well, at least you know when you’re being an ass,” you teased.

“I’m trying to apologize!” he protested.

“I know.” You kissed him back. “And I suppose I forgive you. Shall we?”

You took his arm and the two of you made your way into the opulent venue. You looked up at the massive Coruscanti Civic Center. You had always thought it looked impressive at a distance but now that you were standing beside it, it actually felt very cold and imposing.

You glanced around at the other attendees. You had been worried your dress would look comparatively plain. Undoubtedly there were some dressed in particularly lavish outfits, but you by no means looked out of place. And you were quite pleased with the shimmering, opalescent contrast your iridescent gown provided to Wulfric’s drab olive green Admiral’s uniform.

As soon as the two of you were through the doors, you led Wulfric by the hand straight to the bar. “You need a drink,” you insisted. “Maybe three,” you corrected with a grin. He was looking uncharacteristically stone faced. He didn’t argue.

“Oh Wulfric! Please try to relax! I promise tonight will be fun.” You handed him a shot glass of some dark liquor you were sure was very strong and tasted just as awful.

“Cheers.” You tapped your glass to his and you both downed your drinks. You wrinkled your nose and tried not to gag. You turned around and grabbed another two glasses in each hand. You passed two to Wulfric. “And if the gala is half as horrid as whatever this is, I’ll more than make it up to you later,” you finished with a coy smile. Wulfric looked slightly less miserable at this prospect. Nevertheless, he took both shots in rapid succession and you quickly followed suit, sincerely wishing you had chosen literally anything else from the bar.

Setting the empty glasses down, Wulfric started walking, with you hurrying to keep up with his long strides. You wondered how he expected to find his father in the crowd.

Almost as if reading your mind, Wulfric said, “I supposed I’d better comm Father and see where he is.” You glanced up at him in mild astonishment, surprised their mutual fastidiousness hadn’t compelled the two of them to coordinate a predetermined meeting spot.

But looking up at him, you weren’t paying attention to the crowd. Suddenly you felt yourself painfully collide with something.

“Ow! Fuck!” you swore automatically as you turned to see what you had run into. Double fuck. You hadn’t run into a something so much as a someone. Someone none other than Grand Moff Tarkin…Wulfric’s father.

“Excuse me, sir!” you said hastily. Tarkin gave you a cool look, but didn’t reply.

“Wulfric,” Tarkin said stiffly, turning his attention to his son.

“Father,” he acknowledged. “This is—“ but Tarkin cut him off.

“I trust you all already know each other?” Tarkin introduced Wulfric to the Admirals clustered around him, ignoring you completely. The officers weren’t though. They all had their eyes glued to you, waiting to find out who you were. You pretended not to notice and resisted the temptation to roll your eyes.

“And this is—“ began Wulfric again.

“I thought you were bringing the ISB agent,” Tarkin interrupted. “If your date lacks the social graces to follow through with her commitments, you really should ensure you pay for an escort who has mastered the basics of walking.”

He raised a judgmental eyebrow as his eyes swept down the slit in your dress.

Triple fuck!

“And who looks less obviously whorish.”

“I am the ISB agent, Grand Moff,” you cut in quickly, somehow managing to keep the ire you felt out of your voice. “Lieutenant by day, whore by night. How else do you think I can so successfully infiltrate pirate gangs and Rebel cells?” you said forcing a playful smile.

Tarkin fixed you with a cold stare. You could actually feel the anxiety radiating from Wulfric, but fortunately for you, the rest of the group laughed.

“You must remember me, Grand Moff,” you continued sweetly. “We have met several times, and you have always been incredibly impressed with my work.”

He continued to look at you through narrowed eyes. “I suppose you look familiar, but I don’t recall ever making a comment about your work.”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “Precisely, Grand Moff. I think we all know you have an almost pathological need to criticize.” Poor Wulfric. You were pretty sure he had actually stopped breathing. It was a wonder he hadn’t passed out. But someone needed to put Tarkin in his place. “The fact that you’ve never found anything to ridicule in how I’ve handled any of my investigations proves you hold my work in high esteem.”

Tarkin smirked slightly in spite of himself. “Touché, Lieutenant. Yes, for a novice officer your record is admittedly noteworthy.” His eyes flicked back to his son. “Well, Wulfric, you’ve made your introduction. To business?”

“Oh, uh, yes.” He turned to you, but you saved him the trouble of having to dismiss you.

Your eyes glittered mischievously. “I know, I know, the mysterious Stardust I hear mentioned constantly, yet don’t have the clearance to know anything about. I’ll leave you boys to it.”

Wulfric tried to give you a peck you on the cheek, but you were too quick for him and caught him on the mouth. You kissed him deeply, making sure to bend your knee to emphasize the slit in your dress.

You could practically hear Tarkin rolling his eyes, but the rest of the group was salivating. Men, you scoffed internally.

Wulfric was bright red when you broke apart. “I’ll see you later,” you whispered audibly, smiling coyly. You turned your attention to the rest of the group. “Gentlemen, Grand Moff. Pleasure meeting you all.” You flashed them a dazzling smile before turning and heading through the crowd back to the bar.

Ugh, Tarkin was absolutely insufferable. You needed to have a serious talk with Wulfric about boundaries. You knew Wulfric would be irritated with you for your display, but it was for his own good. Wulfric was too traumatized by Tarkin’s disparaging attitude toward you to realize he, too, was being insulted. Tarkin’s evaluation of your work as “admittedly noteworthy” was probably higher praise than he had ever given Wulfric. What the kriff would it take for Wulfric to realize the perverse thrill Tarkin got out of keeping his approval just out of his son’s reach, forever having to grovel for his acceptance? But Wulfric regarded Tarkin with a respect bordering on reverence. You didn’t know how you could shake him of that delusion. You couldn’t ignore the way Tarkin treated Wulfric, to but there was no kriffing way in the galaxy you were going to debase yourself to earn Tarkin’s favor either.

Drumming your fingers on the bar top, you ordered a glass of champagne. Trying to put the Tarkins out of your mind, you took a sip and scanned the crowd. It was a sea of opulent gowns and Imperial uniforms. If you saw Admiral Yularen or Grand Admiral Thrawn, you reasoned, you could offhandedly remind them of your recent ISB investigations and subsequent arrests. Thrawn, at least, wouldn’t be difficult to spot…

You had just decided to meander through the crowd when suddenly a black gloved hand seized your arm in a vise-like grip. You winced and turned to see who had ahold of you.

You were looking directly into the ice blue eyes of Director Krennic, and he was seething. “Director! May I help you,” you asked as more of an aggressive statement than a genuine question, attempting to shrug your arm out of his grip.

“A word,” he growled.

He practically dragged you to the back of the ballroom.

“What are you doing? Let go!” you hissed, hoping no one of import was noticing Krennic’s behavior.

“Why are you here?” he demanded.

“What do you mean why am I here? I’m with Wulfric,” you replied.

“You told me you were busy toni—wait. Wulfric? Wulfric TARKIN??” Kennic looked as though he had swallowed a liter of that mystery liquor. You weren’t supposed to be here at all. And now you springing on him your romantic involvement with the son of his arch-rival? “What the kriff do you mean you’re with Wulfric?”

“Do you know many other Wulfrics?” you asked innocently.

“What do you mean with?” he repeated.

“He asked me to accompany him tonight,” you said serenely, not breaking eye contact as you took a sip of your champagne. “Now do you mind?” You glanced at Krennic’s hand still on your arm. He let go.

“But I asked you!” he said indignantly.

“After Wulfric, hence my declination of your invitation.”

“But we…” he trailed off and left his protest unspoken.

You raised your eyebrows, as though daring him to finish his thought. It didn’t matter—you knew what he was going to say anyway, but you couldn’t believe he of all people would be so naïve. Yes, the two of you had been involved for a while, but it was nothing serious. It was Krennic—nothing with him ever was. You weren’t even exclusive. No matter what you might have wanted your encounters with him to mean, no woman in the galaxy would consider a string of hookups with Orson Krennic anything other than an incredible fling.

But you hadn’t even heard from him in months. Not until last week when he asked if you would come with him to the Gala. And, truthfully, even if you hadn’t already agreed to go with Wulfric, you would have turned him down anyway. Such a last-minute invite only meant Krennic’s original plans fell through or he had procrastinated and would settle for just anyone to come with him. Flattering as either of those prospects were…

He couldn’t seriously be upset you refused to sit around, pining away for him?

“I’m not discussing this with you, Krennic.”

“Why?” he demanded petulantly.

You glanced around, making sure no one, least of all Wulfric or Tarkin, was within earshot. Gossip was like the lifeblood of the Imperial elite, and you did not need to be publicly associated with the ongoing feud between Krennic and the Tarkins. Krennic, however, would probably love to drag Wulfric over and interrogate him directly, just for the spectacle.

“There are too many people here.” Scanning the crown again, you were relieved to see one seemed to be paying attention at the moment.

“So?”

You could tell he wouldn’t let this go. You glared at him, weighing your options. “Give me 60 seconds then meet me outside,” you instructed. You hurriedly finished the last of your champagne and set down the glass on the nearest unoccupied table. You took a moment to steady yourself. Your head was starting to spin already. You strode toward the exit. You could feel Krennic’s eyes following you as you disappeared into the crowd, wishing he would be marginally less obvious.

You exited the ballroom into the atrium and paused, deciding where to go.

“Why?”

You spun around. Clearly Krennic had followed directly on your heels.

“Oh for kriff’s sake,” you exclaimed throwing up your arms. “You’re incorrigible.”

He strode over to you, the white cape of his uniform billowing in his wake. “Why thank you, darling.”

“Do you even know what that means?” you asked rolling your eyes in irritation.

“Surely not obstinate and difficult, incapable of reform. I’m quite confident you mean to refer to me as charming, clever, dashing, witty, devilishly handsome…”

You shook your head, laughing in spite of yourself. “Devilishly something, I’ll give you that.”

He looked at you soberly. “Why are you with Wulfric?”

You sighed in exasperation. “It’s absolutely none of your business. Why do you even care?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment a large and noisy group entered the gala through the doors behind you.

“Come here,” you said in low voice. Grabbing Krennic’s hand, you led him down the hall, around the corner, and into an alcove.

He smirked. “Paranoid much?”

“I just don’t feel it’s prudent to come as Wulfric’s date, then spend the evening with you discussing our sexual history!”

A triumphant smile crossed Krennic’s face. “So Junior and Daddy Dearest don’t know!”

Shit.

“No one would benefit if they found out.”

“I certainly would,” he remarked at once. “It would be entertaining in the extreme.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you said, knowing full well he absolutely would.

“Since you’re so reluctant to answer my question, perhaps Wulfric and I can compare notes—“

“Fine!” you interrupted hurriedly. “Wulfric is everything you’re not. He’s serious, he’s rational, he’s reliable, he’s—“ you stopped abruptly. You had almost said boring.

“He didn’t have to bother with the Futures Program,” you said, deliberately taking a dig at Krennic’s modest upbringing. “We have shared interests. We converse. Plus he has about…” you thought. “Five inches over you.”

Krennic scoffed. “That’s nothing—wait.” His expression turned to one of horror. “MORE? How is that physically—How does that even work??”

“Taller, Krennic! For kriff’s sake! He’s tall.”

“Oh. Well.” He shrugged, looking slightly mollified.

“He sounds dreadful by the way,” he continued. “You haven’t named a single reason that makes him better than me. And you forgot to say that he’s a spineless man-child,” he added as an afterthought.

You were getting fed up. “It’s not about better. Ugh, why am I even having this conversation with you?” You clapped a hand to your forehead. “I shouldn’t have to explain to a grown man how relationships work!”

“Relationship? So you admit there is something between us.”

You groaned in frustration. “You’re deliberately misunderstanding me!”

“You’re deliberately provoking me.”

“You’re just upset because it’s Tarkin’s son. I could be here with anyone else in the galaxy and you wouldn’t care.”

“That’s not true. I would care. I don’t want you with anyone.” He suddenly looked so sincere that for a moment you almost believed him. You sighed deeply.

“We had sex, Krennic. That doesn’t mean there is anything lingering between us.”

“So you don’t miss me?” Krennic asked.

“Don’t do that,” you said with another weary sigh.

“You don’t ever think about me?”

“Stop it, Krennic!”

He narrowed his eyes maliciously. “You never once wished it was me fucking you instead of Wulfric?”

You bit your lip.

“Your silence is very telling.”

“You don’t own me,” you said defiantly.

He fixed you with a ravenous look as he pulled off his gloves and shoved them into his pocket. “Oh really?”

Your heart was pounding as you gazed intensely into his blue eyes. Somewhere in the clouded recesses of your brain, your better judgment was telling you that you shouldn’t be here. But you didn’t feel like listening. “What are you going to do, try to prove me wrong?” you challenged.

“Yes.” He grabbed your wrists and pushed you against the cold marble wall, pinning your hands by your head.

“Let me go!” You tried halfheartedly to wrestle out of his grip, but he saw the spark of desire in your eyes and pressed his body against yours.

He chuckled maliciously. “Oh, I don’t think so.” In an instant his mouth was on yours. His kiss was as desperate as you felt. You stopped struggling. You parted your lips and his tongue slipped past yours. He tasted like that obscenely expensive whiskey he always drank. You could feel his hard length straining against his pants. His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw to your neck. The brush of this tongue against your skin sent a shiver down your spine.

“Oh Director…” you breathed.

“Love it when you call me that,” he murmured.

Krennic brought your hands together above your head and held them in one of his as he ran the other up your thigh.

He raised an eyebrow in pleasant surprise as his hand wandered inside your dress and he discovered you weren’t wearing any underwear.

“I couldn’t,” you shrugged, referring to the ultra-high slit.

“I think you just wanted to make my job easy.” Of course Krennic loved your dress. His fingers slipped inside you as he pressed his lips to yours again. You whimpered. “You’re so wet for me. All this from a kiss? My little slut...”

His fingers curled inside you. Fuck, he knew exactly what you wanted. Already you could feel the tension rising in your core.

“I thought you wanted to fuck me,” sounding much needier than you meant to.

Krennic smirked. “You’re proving my point, darling.”

“Then hurry up!” you demanded.

“In a minute…” he said almost lazily. “Actually, it probably won’t even take you that long.” It was true. He was rapidly pushing you to the edge.

“More,” you whimpered.

He smiled. “Whatever my little slut wants.” His fingers quickened. His thumb traced firm, steady circles over your clit. Your breath was shallow and uneven now. How could he do this to you with just his fingers?

“Orson!” you cried as the waves of your orgasm swept over you.

He was gloating. “A new record for you, I think.” You couldn’t reply. If not for Krennic pinning you against the wall, you don’t think your legs would have supported you.

He withdrew his fingers and released your hands. You immediately reached for his belt. If anything, you needed him even more desperately now.

You fumbled with the fastenings of his pants in your haste to get to his cock as his hands roamed over your body. Finally you managed to free his errection. He was so hard for you already. You pumped his length in your fist.

“Need you,” Krennic murmured against your lips.

“Take me,” you breathed.

His eyes were dark with lust. He lifted your thigh and spread your legs so that your gown rode up, exposing your dripping wet heat. You leaned back against the wall. Between the alcohol and your heels and your desire, there was absolutely no way you could stand otherwise.

“Fuck, I love this dress,” he said. He teased your entrance with the tip of his cock.

“Krennic!” you whined.

“What?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

You didn’t think you had ever wanted anyone more. “Fuck me!”

“I like hearing you beg for my cock.”

You could have actually cried with desperation. “Fuck me, Krennic! I want you so bad! I need you. I—I missed you,” you admitted. “Please, Orson?” you whimpered, knowing what it did to him when you called him by his name.

He couldn’t resist any longer. Finally he sank himself into you. You never got over how perfectly he filled you. You sighed pathetically in delighted satisfaction.

“Prettiest sound in the galaxy…” Krennic took his time, pulling out slowly and entering you again, allowing you both to savor the feel of one another. “Mmm, I missed you too.”

You laughed softly. “Missed my pussy more like.”

“And your tits. And your ass. Oh fuck, and your mouth. But mostly you.”

You ran your fingers through silver-brown hair, peppering his jaw and neck with kisses. “C’mon, Director. Make me believe you.”

A wicked smile crossed his face. “Challenge accepted.” He bent your leg even higher and began driving his dick into your cunt with such force it made you gasp. Whether it was the clandestine nature of your encounter or the time you had spent apart, you were both quickly approaching your high.

He slapped your ass. “Up,” he ordered.

With a giggle, you pushed off your supporting leg and hooked both your ankles together around his waist.

“Good girl.”

You arched your back against the wall, tilting your hips slightly so every thrust felt absolutely perfect. Krennic wasn’t holding back any more. He was pounding into with such fury you knew you were going to be so sore tomorrow. You could feel your walls tightening around his cock.

“Gods so tight for me…”

You didn’t even realize how loud your ragged breathing had become as Krennic continued to assault your needy hole.

“Orson!” you cried.

“Much as I would genuinely love to make you scream my name so that everyone at the gala would hear what I do to you,” he panted, “You’re the one who was so insistent on secrecy.”

“Can’t help it!” you whined. “Feels so good!”

“Cum for me,” he demanded.

“Yes!”

With your eyes closed in ecstasy and his name on your lips, you pressed your forehead against his as your orgasm coursed through you. Almost simultaneously you felt him spill himself inside you, as your cunt contracted blissfully around his cock. For a moment you just held each other, breathing hard.

Krennic gently set you back down. He swept the loose strands of hair from your forehead and gave you a tender kiss.

“Let’s get out of here,” he began.

“No, I—Wulfric!“ You gasped in sudden horror. You had completely forgotten about him. Oh, poor Wulfric.

“Kriff, I’m a mess!” you said in a panic. Krennic was smirking at your dilemma as he adjusted his uniform.

“Go back to the gala and don’t talk to me for the rest of the night,” you demanded as you rushed off around the corner to find a deserted restroom to clean up. Even though you were technically dating, you knew Wulfric would be crushed if he ever found out you had been with someone else tonight. And the fact that it was Krennic…you didn’t even want to think of how thoroughly the Tarkins could bury you and your career.

Once were again as presentable as you could be under the circumstances, you hurried back past the alcove, only to find Krennic still there.

“C’mon,” you told Krennic impatiently. “We’ve been gone much too long.”

He didn’t budge. “I really did miss you.”

Once again ignoring your better judgement, you stopped in your tracks, sighing heavily. You couldn’t stop yourself from asking the question that had been plaguing you. “Then why did you stop comming me?”

“Why didn’t you comm me?”

You blinked. “Well…” It was such a stupid, easy solution. One you had thought of a hundred times. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. “Because…you’re you.”

“I’m me?” he repeated, an expression of faint amusement on his face.

“You’re a—well, you’re sort of a…you know” Manwhore was what you wanted to say.

Krennic was clearly enjoying watching you struggle. He refused to finish your thought for you. Of course he was going to make you say it.

“Ugh, you know the reputation you have! I know you have your choice of women. I couldn’t let myself get attached.”

He pressed his lips together, trying not to smile. “And how did that work out for you?”

“Really kriffing excellent. Obviously,” you said sarcastically.

He was looking serious again. “What if I were to tell I got attached?” he asked.

You laughed derisively. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have let me go.”

“I wanted you to want me,” he said.

“No, that’s just a game.”

“I’m serious,” he insisted earnestly. “I wasn’t seeing anyone else you know. And I haven’t seen anyone since, actually.”

You shook your head as if to clear yourself of the delusion that you of all people could possibly have tamed one of the galaxy’s most notorious playboys. Unbelievable. Maybe the shots had been laced with spice.

“Were you?” he asked.

“Was I what?”

“Seeing other people,” he prompted.

You hesitated, shrugging.

“Who?” he pressed. “Wulfric?”

“I have to get back.” You tried to sidestep Krennic, but he moved to block your path.

“Forget him,” said Krennic firmly. “Come stay the night with me. We’ll pick up where we left off. These last months never happened.”

You gazed longingly into Krennic’s handsome face. It would be so easy to fall back into him. You wanted to. “I…it’s complicated,” you began.

“It’s really not,” he contradicted matter of factly. “Just tell your freakishly tall man-child you found a real man who can satisfy your every need.”

“Orson…” you sighed, torn between exasperation and amusement.

“I know men like Wulfric,” he continued. “A woman like you won’t be happy with him for long. Wulfric wants you to behave. You need to keep your opinions to yourself. At some point he will think it inappropriate for you to have a career, that it should be your sole duty to support his every effort implicitly. You’ll be expected to remain one step behind him, literally and figuratively. Tarkin will dislike you out of spite. And don’t even get me started on whatever kriffed up dynamic the two of them have going on. You will always come second to Tarkin, and if you dare to say anything about it, then you’ll be in the wrong.”

You exhaled forcefully. Krennic was absolutely right and you knew it. But was Krennic really any better than Wulfric? They were really just two sides of the same credit. Awkward, insecure Wulfric who tried so hard to please everyone and suave, arrogant Krennic who never gave a damn what anyone thought. You just didn’t know…

“I…I’m not committing to anything. Wulfric will be on deployment in two weeks. We can talk then.”

“You can come over,” Krennic proposed.

“No. We’ll get caf,” you countered.

“Drinks,” he shot back.

“Dinner.”

Krennic smiled smugly. “Alright, dinner. If that’s where I need to start to prove myself to you, that’s what I’ll do.” He took your chin in his hands and kissed you in the cheek.

You smiled in spite of yourself. “Now can I please go back?”

Krennic gestured for you to lead the way.

The two of you were still down the hall from the gala when you spotted Wulfric emerge, clearly searching for you.

“Wulfric!” you exclaimed and hurried to hug him.

He returned your greeting with a quizzical glance at back at Krennic.

“I’m afraid whatever those shots were hit me rather hard,” you explained. “I ran into Director Krennic here. He was kind enough to keep me company when I stepped out for some air.”

“We were discussing her recent exploits,” added Krennic. “Truly remarkable. You have quite the Lieutenant there, Wulfric.”

Wulfric gazed fondly down at you. “Yes, I do,” he agreed. Though nothing either of you had said was untrue, a pang of guilt coursed through you.

“Now I believe you had some way you were planning on making this evening up to me?” Wulfric whispered to you, but loudly enough for Krennic to hear. You hoped to kriff Krennic would hold his tongue. And, miraculously, he did.

“I did indeed,” you laughed, feeling your face flush.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” said Krennic with a gracious smile and a bow. You and Wulfric turned to leave. “You’re a lucky man, Admiral Tarkin,” Krennic called after the two of you. He chuckled darkly to himself. For now…

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a/n continued: i had soo much fun writing the tarkins. i swear i could hear peter cushing saying the lines 😅 also, i wanted to find an unusual sounding w name for the son to go with wilhuff. (thanks to one of dumbledore’s middle names for inspo haha) im also a very visual person, so it was important for me to figure out what wulfric looked like. to me, peter cushing’s defining features are his eyes and cheekbones. and if i wanted gorgeous blue eyes and defined cheekbones who else but my love benedict (im the original cumberbitch i swear 🤣) but i also wanted him to be incredibly tall and gangling, so i was imaging a lot of zach woods/gabe lewis from the office. (kyle soller/syril karn vibes are also perfect for him, but i was tryna find new casting haha)

i mean look at them!!

honestly loved the plot in this one. if anyone wants a part ii where reader tries to make up her mind, lmk!

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The rhythmic thuds of your punches and kicks landing on the bag sounded through the empty gym. You had had an absolutely infuriating day at work and took the liberty of escaping early to take out your anger on the punching bag, rather than ISB Supervisor’s skulls. You were concentrating so hard you were unaware of the door opening and a figure approaching. You jumped literally a foot off the ground once you saw Director Krennic’s reflection in the mirror.

“What the fuck!” you exclaimed, your heart pounding. Krennic laughed out loud.

“Excellent situational awareness,” he mocked.

“I’m not expecting to be attacked in the fucking ISB gym, Krennic.” You turned back to the bag.

“You’re letting your left hand drop on the right cross,” Krennic observed. “Rotate your hips more.” You ignored him, but still the Director—and your immediate supervisor—kept criticizing your technique. “If you’re going to abandon me early, I expect better form.”

Finally you decided you’d had enough. You suddenly spun to face him. “Fine then old man. You think you’re so perfect, let’s go.”

Krennic’s eyebrows shot up. “Old!?”

“Yeah, you’re like a thousand. Let’s go,” you repeated, beckoning him tauntingly. “Unless you’re afraid you’re going to break a hip.”

He licked his lips, looking like he was trying not to smile. You were glaring at him defiantly. Krennic closed his eyes and gave a resigned sigh. He flicked his cape from his shoulders and tossed it into a corner. Despite your irritation, you were surprised. For some reason you always assumed the cape was sewn to his uniform. Still without a word, he unbuttoned his tunic and threw it on top of his cape. You did your best to keep your eyes on his face and not survey his tanned and freckled body as he pulled off his gloves and added them to the pile. Finally he kicked off his boots. “You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked.

“Are you sure?” you countered.

He rolled his eyes and you lunged.

Knowing Krennic was left handed, you tried to land most of your attacks to his right, but it didn’t seem to matter—he was equally adept at blocking either side.

You were getting tired and frustrated and your technique was growing sloppy. Taking a gamble, you tried to end things quickly with punch with your left hand and a roundhouse kick, but Krennic caught your foot before the kick could land and jerked you off balance. You fell flat on your back, lights popping in front of your eyes as your head struck the mat. Taking advantage of your disorientation, Krennic pinned you down, holding your wrists by your head and keeping your thighs apart with his knees and shins. “And now you’re in a rather vulnerable position should someone want to take advantage of you.” Furious at losing the sparring match so spectacularly, you tried futilely to extricate yourself. Krennic held firm. You simply glowered.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten I was a Commander in the GAR before I began working on Star Dust,” he said smugly. You gritted your teeth together. Yes, you had forgotten. Even if you had remembered, you would never have expected him to still be so proficient in hand-to-hand combat. Well, in that case, you could think of another way to work out your frustrations—in the form of a consolation prize that seemed a long time coming.

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘take advantage,’ Director,” you said defiantly. “Perhaps you should show me.”

Krennic chuckled. “Do I need to be concerned about your survival instincts?”

You rolled your hips up into his pelvis, feeling his immediate arousal.

“C’mon,” you breathed, your voice and manner softening for the first time.

He didn’t respond. His deep blue eyes searched your face, the first time you had ever seen him indecisive. You were both aware of the magnitude of the line you were about to cross.

You pressed your hips into him again. “Krennic….” Ooh, he felt huge.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked, echoing his earlier question.

“Unless you think you’re going to break your hip,” you quipped again, giving him a teasing smile.

He narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “I’m forty-five! That wasn’t even funny the first time.”

“It’s kinda funny. But lucky for you, I happen to like a silver fox.” You lifted your head off the mat, bringing your lips to meet his. Krennic kissed you back, hard. He let go of your wrists to eagerly push up your sports bra, cupping your exposed breasts in his massive hands.

Hastily you shoved down your leggings and underwear and reached to unbuckle his pants. You slipped your hand into his pants, massaging his rapidly hardening erection. And yes, his cock was every bit as long and thick as you had been fantasizing about.

Krennic meanwhile was playing with your tits, rolling and pinching and pulling your nipples just hard enough to drive you mad with desire. You arched your back up into him, humming your pleasure. He began tracing tantalizing circles around your nipple with his tongue.

“Krennic!” you whimpered. “Need you…”

He slipped two thick fingers into your cunt and smiled at your wetness.

“If I would have known you were this eager to fuck me, I’d have tried it a long time ago,” Krennic said, curling his fingers inside you.

“I thought that was your plan the night we got drinks. I was slightly disappointed.” You tried in vain to keep your voice steady as Krennic began pumping his fingers in and out.

“To be honest, it was at first. But I didn’t want you to think I was trying to take advantage of your emotional state.”

You laughed. “Director Krennic, ever the chilvarous gentleman.”

“Well, I couldn’t risk losing the best assistant I’ve ever had. I am sorry to hear you were disappointed…and apparently absolutely dripping with desire for me.”

“Well then hurry up and fuck me already,” you practically whined, spreading your thighs a little more.

His smile widened. “Well since you’re begging so pathetically…”

He quickly and deftly penetrated your slick folds. You gasped at the thickness of his cock, but you were so pathetically wet he encountered no resistance.

“Oh Krennic!”

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence.

You rolled your eyes. As if his ego needed any more inflating. “You know damn well what.”

He grinned. “But I want to hear you say it,” he whispered, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

The emphasis he placed on “you” didn’t go unnoticed. As though he had been told a thousand times, but he only cared what you thought of him. You, his assistant, his subordinate. You, for some reason, of all people, were the only one whose opinion he cared about.

You flashed a grin. “You’re fucking huge, Krennic!”

He didn’t waste any time teasing you. You planted your feet on the floor, angling your hips to take full advantage of his considerable length. Every thrust was perfect, hitting you in just the right spot.

Your kisses were sloppy, needy, desperate—as though trying to make up for the months or maybe even years the two of you could have been fucking, but missed out on.

All too soon you felt the familiar taughtness in your core. Your hands were tracing up his biceps, through his hair, down his back, pressing him closer into you.

“Krennic!” You dug your nails into his back as you came.

You desperately wanted him to continue, but no sooner had you finished then he pulled out. Before you could protest your disappointment at the sudden emptiness, Krennic was on his feet.

“Up” he ordered. But you didn’t. You just got to your knees, looking up at him through your lashes.

You ran your tongue from the tip of his cock to the base, causing him to shudder. You smirked up at him as you closed your lips around him and began sucking in earnest. Normally you didn’t like giving head after sex, but for Krennic you could make an exception.

“Oh fuck!” he groaned.

He threaded his fingers through your hair, urging your head further onto his dick as you increased your pace.

“Wait!” Krennic said suddenly. His fingers still entwined in your hair, he pulled you to your feet. “Not yet…”

Ripping off your pants entirely as Krennic kicked off his own, you stood. Krennic roughly shoved you in front of him and bent you forward. You obediently braced your arms on the mirror and arched your back, keeping your legs straight.

“Fuck, look at you,” Krennic said, admiring your body in the reflection of the mirror. He ran his hands up your torso to your breasts then down your back to your ass and legs. “Fuck,” he repeated, giving your ass a playful smack.

“Don’t just stand there,” you said, trying to appear nonchalant, though internally you extremely pleased with his appraisal. “Do something about it.”

Krennic positioned himself behind you and thrust into you once again.

“Oh, yes, Director!” you gasped breathlessly. As you could have guessed, Krennic’s arousal and enthusiasm increased with your use of his title. He was griping your hips so hard you were convinced you’d have bruises the next day, but you didn’t care.

Krennic’s grunts, your moans, the lewd squelching of Krennic’s dick pounding in and out of your dripping cunt filled the gym now. Was it really less than an hour ago you were envisioning punching Ronan’s face on the bag? And now Director Krennic was fucking you as though the fate of the galaxy—or even Star Dust—depended on it?

Your eyes were closed, trying to savor the pleasure.

“Look at me,” Krennic commanded.

You obeyed, holding his ice blue gaze in the mirror.

“Please!”

“Please what?” he asked as though requesting clarification on a memo you had sent.

“Fuck, Krennic! Please make me cum!” you implored, eyes shut again.

“Look at me,” he directed once more.

Your eyes snapped open in delighted surprise as his fingers found your clit.

“Oh shit!” you gasped. Krennic smirked as your walls fluttered around him. You felt yourself clench around his thick cock again and again as he fucked you through your high. Just as you thought you felt your arms and legs wouldn’t be able to support you any longer, you felt his considerable release.

You both stood panting for a moment, trying to catch your breath. You straightened up, him still inside you. Krennic’s thick fingers wove through your hair again, more gently this time, turning your head to meet his lips.

“Can we do this every time I have a bad day at work?” you breathed.

Krennic chuckled. “Now there’s an idea.”

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An involuntary smile tugged at the corners of your lips when you checked your agenda for the day. Your assistant had added a last-minute gallery appointment to the schedule. All it said was GAT, but you knew exactly who that was and what he would want.

Grand Admiral Thrawn.

Your smile widened. He was like a work of art himself with his cobalt skin, prominent brow, sculpted cheekbones. The first time the Chiss had visited your gallery you had quite nearly had a fit of anxiety, not least because you had never seen his species before. You couldn’t imagine what in the galaxy an Imperial Admiral would want with your gallery. In your panic, you had foolishly thought the Empire was going to seize your collection. But you quickly realized Thrawn had a deep and sincere personal appreciation for art in all its forms, and had sought you out specifically for your knowledge and expertise. Over the last year, Thrawn never failed to return whenever he was in the Core. Even when he was deployed you remained in contact, hunting down pieces he requested and alerting him to new acquisitions. He had even begun explaining to you how his study of art and culture was indispensable in his creation military and battle strategy.

You were somewhat surprised that he had made an appointment without your knowledge, as he always commed you when he was returning to Coruscant, but no matter. You knew you had several pieces he hadn’t seen that would intrigue him.

All that morning you had to actively push thoughts of the Grand Admiral with his soothing presence, velvet tone, and towering stature to the edges of your consciousness.

Finally it was time for Thrawn’s appointment.

With a swirl of butterflies in your stomach you surely never experienced with any other client, you entered the lobby to find him already waiting, hands clasped behind his back, posture perfect, studying a mural.

“Grand Admiral! What a pleasant surprise it was to see our appointment on my agenda this morning!”

Thrawn turned.

“I was summoned to the capital for an audience with Emperor Palpatine and Lord Vader,” he explained.

You suppressed a shudder at the thought of sharing the same room with the Emperor and his most devoted servant.

“I could hardly forgo the opportunity to visit the most carefully curated gallery in the galaxy before deploying again.”

You smiled. “You flatter me, Grand Admiral. Did you have anything specific you were hoping to see?”

“Just—“ Thrawn began, then seemed to change his mind. “I will leave that to your discretion,” he finished.

“Very well. Oh! I hear Luthen Rael is attempting to track down quite the significant ancient Chandrilan artifact. I believe in relation to the nuptials of Senator Mothma’s daughter.”

Thrawn merely nodded in acknowledgement.

You paused momentarily, waiting for Thrawn to respond, but he remained silent. “Well, you didn’t venture all the way to Coruscant to hear me ramble on about another curator. I recently acquired some pieces that I believe will be of great interest to you. Shall we?” You gestured for Thrawn to join you as you started down the hall to the viewing parlor where you had already arranged the display.

One of the reasons you appreciated Thrawn’s visits so much was his genuine enthusiasm for art on its own merits, without consideration of price or prestige.

But today Thrawn was hardly even paying attention.

“Forgive me, Grand Admiral, but you seem rather distant this afternoon.”

“Distant?” he repeated absently.

“If these pieces aren’t to your liking, I can bring you my catalogue of artifacts? Perhaps something will draw your attention.”

“No…”

You were feeling distinctly uncomfortable now. Thrawn was reserved by nature, but now he was acting aloof, almost cold.

“Have I done something to offend you in any way?”

Thrawn seemed to snap back to reality. “No,” he said much more definitively than before. “Quite the contrary.”

His crimson eyes locked onto yours. He paused. You waited.

Thrawn seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “I believe I can state without hubris that I have proven myself uniquely adept at the successful application of logic and deduction to military strategy.”

You laughed. “I doubt even Director Krennic would be able to contradict that statement!”

“Krennic?” Thrawn asked sharply.

You nodded. “Yes, apparently he recently developed quite the taste for art. He’s purchased a few pieces from me.”

Thrawn’s eyes hardened. “I doubt his taste is solely for art.”

You frowned slightly in puzzlement, but Thrawn didn’t expound. “But you were saying?” you prompted him.

A dark navy tinge appeared in his high cheekbones. “There are certain areas where I believe my abilities are of little to no use to me…such as romance and courtship.”

Your mouth fell open in surprise and you had to fight back a laugh.

“Grand Admiral!” you exclaimed. “I must say, it’s quite endearing that this topic makes you nervous,” a slight teasing ring in your voice.

His flush deepened and he cleared this throat before replying. “As I said, I have little personal experience or data to draw from and I am uncertain how to proceed.”

“Well,” you began, stepping just close enough to bring a spark of tension into the room, “You value honesty and candor. You could begin there.”

“Indeed,” Thrawn nodded and cleared his throat. “Well then…I admire your intellect and emotional intelligence. I am delighted that we share a common interest in art. Your artistic analysis is always sound, and should we ever have differing interpretations, you are able to present your arguments in a logical and organized way.”

You felt your cheeks burning but fought to keep your expression neutral.

“And, not inconsequentially, I find you extremely attractive and desire you physically.”

You couldn’t help grinning now.

“I would be honored if you would accompany me to dinner this evening,” he finished.

“The pleasure would be all mine, Grand Admiral.”

Thrawn’s lips curled in a small, self satisfactory smile. He turned to leave, but you caught him by the shoulder.

“Clearly a direct approach suits you well,” you observed, taking yet another step closer, tilting your head upward to maintain eye contact. “But you could also incorporate a double entendre…for subtle flirting.”

He raised an eyebrow in question.

“For example…” You bit your lip coyly, looking up into his scarlet eyes. “If there is…a specific piece you’d like to examine more closely, I’d be more happy to arrange a private showing for you after dinner. You could unwrap it…Use it for your pleasure?”

Thrawn smirked slightly in understanding. “I look forward to the visual presentation. However, I am concerned whether the specific piece is rather delicate?”

You laughed. “I assure you, it can handle quite the enthusiastic touch.”

His smirk widened. “I await the evening with great anticipation, then.”

**********

It didn’t surprise you in the least that Thrawn had chosen one of the newest, most exclusive restaurants in the district for dinner. Cuisine, after all, you observed to his delight, was for the body what art was to the soul. Conversation flowed easily and you felt yourself much more open and at ease than any other date you could remember.

Toward the end of the meal you suggested Thrawn accompany you back to your apartment for a nightcap.

“No,” Thrawn stated bluntly and your heart momentarily sank. “I believe you promised me a private showing of a certain masterpiece.”

Immediately you smiled as your heart skipped a beat.

“I did indeed,” you concurred. “Very well, then Grand Admiral.”

Thrawn held your hand as you waited for your chauffeured speeder and hardly allowed you to set foot into your apartment before his lips had found yours. Kissing as passionately and sloppily as adolescents, his hands wandered hungrily over your entire body as you hastened to unbutton the crisp white military tunic he still wore, pushing it off his shoulders and allowing it to crumple on the floor.

You inhaled sharply as you took in the sight before you. Not only was Thrawn’s physique as perfectly defined as though carved from cobalt marble, the blue skin of his arms, torso, and abdomen was covered with tattoos. You tentatively reached out and traced the black inked chimera across his chest.

“Just like your ship,” you said, studying the intricate markings intently. “Which came first?”

“The tattoos. The Chimera is a symbol of my clan. What do you think?”

“They’re magnificent. I want to hear about the significance of all of them.” Your fingers had wandered downward to the waistband of Thrawn’s pants. You finally lifted your gaze back to Thrawn’s face. His eyes seemed to be glowing brighter than usual. “But first,” you said mischievously, palming the bulge of his erection that was rapidly hardening under your touch, “I want to see exactly how much of you is covered.”

**********

part ii is here…

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@ivorydragoness44 @sweetjedi

Technically you were Director Krennic’s Aide, but that title didn’t even begin to cover your job duties. Secretary, personal assistant; buffer to Tarkin, Thrawn, Vader, and Ronan; sounding board, cheerleader, creative strategist, therapist and babysitter when he was in one of his moods…Brierly Ronan may have been the Assistant Director in name, but for nearly a decade, it was you who were truly Krennic’s right hand.

Your work was demanding, fast paced, intellectually stimulating, and integral to the Empire and, despite the toll it often took on you mentally and physically, you loved what you did. Lately, though, you were finding yourself overtaxed more often than not. Just one of those years you thought bitterly to yourself. Divorced, your former best friend dating your ex-husband, your mother making snide remarks about your weight fluctuations and disparaging your parenting because you can’t stay home with your children full time.

And that was just your personal life. Lately Tarkin had been even more monstrous than usual over the delays with Stardust. Required funds were tied up in the Senate. The very necessity of Stardust even brought into question. Everyone in the ISB was still reeling from Ronan’s mysterious disappearance during his mission with Thrawn. And then Thrawn himself somehow being bested by teenage Jedi wannabe and some karking space whales??

You just wanted a break. You needed something, anything, to go in your favor.

Today was certainly not that day. Your toddler woke up sick, your preteen was facing suspension for ditching classes, and your regular nanny decided to take the day off, forcing you to comm your mother for help, with the result that you were disastrously late for your first meeting of the day. Then some stupid rookie had run right into you, spilling your caf all down your front, and, of course you, had nothing else to change into.

Long after everyone had left for the day, you were finishing coordinating the last batch of shipment of Stardust materials with the construction schedule.

As though draining poison from a wound, you let out an enormous sigh. Holding your head in your hands, couldn’t fight it any longer. The tears you had been holding back all day spilled down your face. You cried for a long time. Then as suddenly as you had started, you forced yourself to stop. You still had plenty of responsibility. You had no right to a self-indulgent pity party.

But then a noise outside your office made you jump. You absolutely did not want to talk to anyone right now. You poked your head out of your office, and to your incredible dismay, you saw the light on in the Director’s office. What the fuck? He was supposed to be off planet for the next two days. You tried to hurry to the exit when the sound of Krennic calling your name forced you to stop.

“Oh, hi Director,” you said trying to sound cheerful. “Just heading out—“ hoping you were far enough away that he wouldn’t notice your tear-stained face.

“What happened?” he asked in genuine concern, moving swiftly toward you.

“Oh, shit! Nothing! I, uh…”

“What’s the matter?”

You shrugged, not looking at him. “You know,” you said vaguely. “Just…”

Krennic licked his lips and nodded as though in understanding.

“Come here,” Krennic said.

“Why,” you asked suspiciously.

“Come here,” he repeated, but you didn’t move.

He rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake.” And he wrapped his arms around you.

“Whaaat is happening?” You tried to back away, but Krennic held you close.

“Shh,” he scolded. “It’s called a hug. Supposed to be comforting, or so I’m told.”

“Are you on spice??” you asked incredulously.

He paused in mock consideration. “Mmm, no not today. But would I remember if I were on Spice?”

Laughing, you snaked your arms under his cape and hugged him back, resting your head on his chest.

“You can’t always do everything for everyone, you know. You’re undeniably resilient, but even stone can crack when it’s left exposed to the elements for too long. You’re allowed to take care of yourself, too.”

You didn’t know what was more shocking: Director Orson Krennic giving you a hug or the fact that he noticed let alone cared about your emotional well being. You couldn’t help it—you started to cry again. For a long moment he just held you.

“I’d be lost without you, you know,” Krennic said finally.

You laughed in spite of yourself. “I’m running straight to Yularen and demanding a pay raise!”

“I’m serious. I couldn’t exist without you.”

You looked up into his bright blue eyes, tears glistening on your lashes. He couldn’t exist without you? Professionally, surely. He couldn’t possibly mean personally…could he? You didn’t know what to say.

At last he broke his hold on you. Taking your face in his huge hands, he used his gloved thumbs to wipe away your tears.

Krennic chuckled. “I think you could at least do with a drink. Or possibly several.”

“Yes!” you agreed wholeheartedly.

He smiled. “Let’s go.”

Then your eyes widened in horror as you noticed the dark black smudge on Krennic’s crisp white uniform from your mascara.

“Shit!” you exclaimed.

He looked down, but shrugged unconcernedly. “Well now we match.” He gestured to the caf stain on your blouse.

You laughed again. “Let me just comm the nanny that I’ll be late. Ugh, and fix my makeup.”

You hesitated for a second, then stood on your tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for everything, Director.” And you could have sworn he blushed.

part ii for imptober 2025 🔥

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You were awakened around 2:00 in the morning by an insistent hammering on your apartment door. Blearily, you grabbed your datapad to check the security feed. You rolled your eyes when you saw who it was, but honestly, you really should have known.

Orson Krennic, here for his habitual hook up after a long night of revelry.

You sighed deeply. You had to put a stop to this. He was, without competition, the most handsome and intelligent student in your year in the Futures Program, and by Force was he absolutely incredible in bed, but this really wasn’t healthy for you. You couldn’t just fling yourself onto him whenever he came to call. You deserved better.

Nonetheless, you set your datapad back down on the nightstand and padded to the door as he continued to hammer away.

“What, Orson?” you demanded as the door slid open, knowing full well the answer.

“Hey babes,” he said with signature cheeky grin, grabbing your face and jamming his tongue down your throat.

“You taste disgusting,” you said pulling away. “What are you even on?”

“You, in a minute,” he said, chuckling at his own joke.

You rolled your eyes and sighed heavily. “Yeah, we need to talk about that,” you said.

“You wanna sit on my face first instead? A’ight,” he shrugged. “Actually, yes. I want you to drown me.” He grasped your waist as he tried to kiss you again. “You sound so pathetic when you’re moaning and whimpering, telling me how good I am.”

“I’m serious Orson,” you said sternly, turning away and trying not to think how unbelievable his tongue felt against your clit. “You can’t just go out and get drunk and high on spice and whatever else and come here and demand I sleep with you.”

He pouted at you. “I don’t have to demand anything. You want me as much as I want you. We have so much fun. Besides,” his oversized hands wandered under your nightgown to cup your bare ass. “You were expecting me. You’re not even wearing panties.”

You rolled your eyes yet again.

“Unless—“ Orson dropped his hands and gave you a look of pure venom. “There’s already someone else with you in my bed?” He turned and marched down the hallway to the bedroom. “I’m going to kill him!” he shouted.

“For fuck’s sake, Orson! First of all, it’s MY bed,” you correctly heatedly following after him. “And this is what I’m talking about! There’s no one else. There never has been. But there’s nothing with us either.”

He turned, swaying slightly. His unbelievably blue eyes were glassy, but focused intently on you.

“There’s no one else for me either.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms. “Sure,” you agreed sarcastically. “The Program’s most notorious playboy is saving himself just for me.”

“There’s not been anyone else!” Orson insisted vehemently. “Not for ages. Ask Erso!”

You opened your mouth to retort but paused. Actually…Krennic’s best friend Galen Erso couldn’t lie for shit. Maybe you would ask him.

“It’s just been you,” he continued. “I just come around like this because…I thought this was working for us. You’re so serious. Undistractible. Driven. I didn’t know you wanted more.”

Your resolve to end things faltered somewhat as your gaze flicked between his mouth and his eyes. His arms wrapped around your waist and you curled his untidy auburn hair behind his ears. “Tonight is the last night,” you said. “I can’t do whatever this is anymore.”

He looked at you for a long moment. His expression didn’t change, but you knew he was making an intense calculation. At last he nodded. “Ok. I’ll do it.”

You gave him a blank stare. “Do what?”

“I’ll be your boyfriend.”

You continued to stare, then burst into hysterical laughter. “That is not at ALL what I was getting at.”

“Why not?” he was pouting again. “We’re the top students in the Program. I’m dashing, you’re gorgeous. We both want each other. That’s all I need.”

“Ha! At the barest minimum, a relationship requires exclusivity and commitment.”

“Not a problem,” he said promptly. “I want you.” Orson took your face in his hands again, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. You tried to ignore the way he emphasized “you” over “want.”

“Communication for another,” you continued. “And you won’t even remember this conversation in the morning,” you said.

“Yes I will. And you’re not answering.”

Exhaling forcefully, you closed your eyes in exasperation. “You never even asked a question.”

Orson dropped to one knee and took your hands in his. Reciting your full name he asked, “Will you make me the happiest man in the Futures Program by becoming my girlfriend?”

You laughed and pulled him up. “Everything with you is always so dramatic, Orson!”

He pressed his forehead to yours. “Is that a yes?” he asked.

“It’s a shut up and fuck me already,” you laughed.

**********

You woke to the warm sunlight streaming into your room. Orson was still here, one arm around your waist and his head buried under your hair in the crook of your neck. He must have been even drunker than I thought to stay here the entire night, you mused. You carefully extricated yourself from his grasp without waking him and crept to the bathroom. When you had finished showering and returned to the bedroom to get dressed, Orson was gone. You chuckled to yourself as you wrapped a robe around you. He probably did remember his insane relationship proposal. Bet he couldn’t wait to get out of here fast enough. But then, you noticed, he had made the bed. Just then a noise from the kitchen made you jump.

You poked your head out of your bedroom and stopped dead.

Orson was in your kitchen, cooking bacon over the stove by the smell of it.

“What in the Force are you doing?” you asked incredulously.

Orson turned around and his face split into a grin. “Made you breakfast!” he announced proudly as you joined him. “I figured that was a committed sort of thing to do.” He picked up a steaming mug of caf and offered it to you.

You gaped at him, completely nonplussed. “Committed…?”

“Told you I’d remember!” he said, his eyes glittering with a happiness you don’t think you’d ever seen before, kissing you on the cheek. “Morning, girlfriend!”

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