#clone troopers smut

[euphoriacafe]

Just had a sad thought… imagine one of the clones met you at 79’s or you always tried to reach out to them- then you secretly started a family with them or had a relationship- then Order 66 comes and you go to them not realizing they’re not the same person you fell in love with. If they didn't recognize or even believe you.

[jetii]

To the General

Pairing: Howzer x fem!Reader / Howzer x Jedi!Reader

Words: 14,310

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, themes of grief/death/mourning, some blood/gore, depression, hallucinations, unrequited feelings, mutual pining, smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), some light dom/sub dynamics, a little cockwarming

Summary: It's been over a year since Howzer has lost his General, and yet, the ghost of your memory still haunts him. His guilt and grief threaten to swallow him whole, until Rex returns to the base with a surprise visitor.

A/N: Reposting because I forgot my taglist. 🤦‍♀️ No excuse for the word count I fear. I just love Jedi/Clone forbidden love with all my heart, and I love writing dramatic reunions even more.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

Howzer doesn’t remember how it happened. 

Their arrival on Ryloth had come on the heels of an overdrawn battle on Bothawui. The entire battalion was teetering on the edge of exhaustion by the time they had boarded The Eclipse. Their hopes of an extended shore leave were quickly dashed as it was announced by order of the Jedi Council and the Chancellor himself that they would be sent to occupy Ryloth indefinitely.

The General had tried to make the most of it. She’d arranged for the mess to cook the finest meal they could get their hands on, which admittedly wasn’t more than some fresh meats and root vegetables, but the crew didn't complain. And if Howzer caught the smell of alcohol floating about when they walked to their stations, he didn't say anything about it.

Still, no amount of finery or good cheer could hide the truth: the crew was worn ragged and the battalion was ready to snap. The men resolved to keep pushing on for the sake of their General, who had taken their heavy losses the hardest. That night, she’d broken into tears over the new helmets lining their memorial wall, a wall that was nearly full.

Howzer had been with her, had stood with her and her tears. He had seen the General in every state of grief, of anger and pain. He'd also seen her at her very best. He'd seen her bright smile and heard her warm laugh. He'd been there for the moments of victory and the moments of defeat.

She was his General and his closest friend, his guiding star, and he would do anything for her.

Howzer doesn’t remember how it happened, but he does remember her. He remembers everything about her.

His first memory is her as a young commander, and the first time he saw her. It was on Kamino, and the first time she had visited. She'd been there with her Master, who had come to assess the cadets' progress. They had all lined up in neat rows for the inspection. Howzer remembers how tall she had looked in her uniform and cape despite how all the men towered over her.

Howzer can't remember what she said or did. But he can recall her eyes and the warmth in them as she walked past them. He had wanted her to look at him.

His second memory is the first time they met, months later. It was shortly after the start of the war, and the 318th was still in its infancy. The General had just arrived to pick her new battalion up, and as her new Captain, Howzer was part of the honor guard.

Howzer doesn’t remember the words they spoke, only that she was kind and her voice was warm, and when she smiled, the whole world seemed to brighten.

In the years that followed, he got to know her and became her aide. They were together almost every day. They spent time with their men and led them through the horrors of war. She was a natural leader, charismatic and inspiring, and it wasn't long before Howzer was completely devoted to her.

But the war continued, and so did the death. They had lost men and friends, and Howzer had to watch the General suffer each time. Her pain was his. How could it not be?

She was the best thing in his life, his bright light in the darkness, and he was in love with her.

Howzer doesn’t remember when he began thinking of her that way. He thinks he might’ve always loved her, always wanted her. Maybe from the moment he saw her in that corridor.

All he knew is that he'd loved her in every possible way a man could love a woman, just as he knew that his love would never be reciprocated.

But it didn't matter.

As long as he was with her, Howzer would pretend, and he was okay with that. He could live with loving her from afar and keeping his feelings in check. As her Captain, his job was to support her, and he would be the best damn Captain she'd ever had.

He could dream of a different reality where she returned his feelings, one where they were not at war, and maybe one where he was not her clone trooper. He would dream of a life where he could hold her and touch her, where he could kiss her and whisper how much he loved her.

But those were dreams, and nothing more.

And reality was very different now.

Now, the General is nothing more than a memory.

It’s been long enough that pieces of her are starting to fade from his mind, and he hates it. He wants to hang on to her as long as possible, but he knows that his memories are all he has left. He doesn’t have a holo or picture of her. He only has the images in his mind and the broken piece of nova crystal he kept tucked away in his pocket.

Howzer doesn't remember how it happened.

But he knows it’s his fault.

Howzer is the one who let her down. He's the reason she died. He must be, even if he can't remember it, because he can't accept any other reality. He was her Captain and her right-hand man, her closest friend and her most devoted soldier. If she died, it was because he had failed her, and he will never forgive himself for it.

Maybe he deserves to forget.

That thought is worse than the one of her death.

There was a time when he had wondered if his love was a sickness, something to be ashamed of and hidden away. He didn't want his brothers to know and judge him, and he didn't want her to know, either. He'd never acted on his desires. He'd never told her, and maybe that's why this is so much worse.

Maybe this is a punishment, and one he deserves.

He knows he must have done something wrong, something terrible, because no man would be this cursed unless they deserved it. The nightmares, the guilt, the emptiness, it had to be some kind of retribution for his transgressions.

He's tried to forget. He's tried to move on. He's tried to be a better man, a better clone. He's tried to do everything that a good soldier should, but no matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries, his mind always drifts back to her. His thoughts always wander to his memories. He can't shake her. He doesn't know how to. He's never known how.

Every time he closes his eyes to sleep, he sees her. She's the same as the last time he saw her, with her armor and her hair up in its braid, and she is beautiful. Howzer is so happy to see her again, so relieved that she's not gone.

But she is, and he has to tell her.

He tries, but the words don't come out right. Or maybe it's just that he can't say them, that he still doesn't want to accept what had happened after all this time. But the words are stuck in his throat, and his eyes burn, and Howzer knows she's waiting for him to answer her.

And he can't.

She's waiting for him, and he can't.

She deserves to know the truth. She needs to know that she died, that he failed her, and that her death is on his hands.

Howzer can't look at her. He can't face her.

He closes his eyes and waits for her to turn away. He waits for her to leave him, because he doesn't deserve her.

She doesn’t.

Instead, she steps forward and takes his hands into hers. He flinches at her touch, because she shouldn’t be here. She isn't real. She's just another figment of his imagination, his punishment, and he wants her to stop. He can't do this anymore.

"Howzer," she says. "Howzer, look at me."

And he does. He can't help himself. Her face is starting to blur in his memory, he can't remember the exact shade of her eyes, and he doesn't want to forget. Not yet. He opens his eyes and looks at her, but he knows what he'll find.

Blood.

Her blood.

On his hands, on his face, on his chestplate.

There's so much of it, and he can't stop staring at it, at the way it coats her armor and drips onto the floor. He can't look away. He can't do anything.

"Look at me, Howzer," she says again.

But he can't. He can't do it.

He can't look at her, not like this. He can't stand the thought of seeing her face covered in blood, her lifeless eyes staring at him, her body cold and broken and gone.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispers. "It's all my fault."

"No," she says.

She doesn't say anything else, and Howzer wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants her to yell at him and berate him, to curse him and hate him. But when he finally gains the courage to look her in the eye, there's nothing there. She's gone.

It's the worst thing he could've imagined.

He's alone.

Last night’s nightmare plays over and over again in his mind as he stands at the holotable, looking over the map and trying not to think of the General.

It's hard. It's always been hard, but it's gotten worse over the last few months. The dreams are more frequent, and the pain is more intense. He doesn't know how to stop them, or if they will ever stop.

He thought it would get better when he joined Rex's group, that he would find some semblance of peace with the other clones fighting the good fight, but he was wrong.

There is no peace for him, not after what he did.

The others are talking around him, but Howzer is only half listening. It's the usual stuff: what their next move will be, how many supplies they have, and the list goes on. Rex is expected to return from a meeting with Senator Chuchi any minute, and this meeting is more about making sure the captain is updated on what he missed.

But the details escape Howzer. He's distracted by his thoughts, and his guilt is eating at him. It's all he can think about, and he can't shake the feeling that he doesn't deserve to be here.

"Howzer."

The sound of his name brings him back to reality, and he realizes everyone is looking at him.

"Uh, sorry," he says. "What was the question?"

Echo studies him. His gaze is intense, and Howzer has the distinct impression that he's being read. It's a disconcerting feeling, one that he's felt more than a few times in the last couple months since his rescue, and it makes him feel transparent. Like his armor is gone and his emotions are on display.

But that can't be the case, because Howzer hasn't told him what happened.

No one knows the truth, not even the men. Howzer hasn't told anyone about his part in his General's death, and he's not planning to either. There's no point in dredging up the past. He knows he’s not the only clone with guilt about what happened to the Jedi, what they had done.

He’s just the only one who can’t seem to let it go.

"I asked if you were alright," Echo says. "You've seemed a little off the last few days.”

Howzer nods.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he says. "Just a little tired."

The lie slips off his tongue easily, and it's one he's told more than a few times before. He's not fine, and he hasn't been since that day, but there's no need to burden his brothers with his problems.

Echo doesn't look convinced, and he's about to open his mouth to ask another question when Rex finally arrives. The captain's entrance is followed by a chorus of greetings and welcomes, and the tension in the room dissipates. The men are happy to see him, and Howzer is thankful for the distraction.

The Captain greets the men, and then he turns to Howzer.

"Howzer," Rex says. "Do you mind if I speak to you privately?"

"Of course not, Captain," Howzer answers.

Rex leads Howzer out of the command center and down the corridor. The walk is silent, and Howzer can feel the tension building between them. Rex hasn't said a word, and he has no idea why he wants to talk to him. Maybe it's about his recent performance, or lack thereof. He hasn't been the most reliable or helpful lately.

Howzer is starting to worry in earnest when they turn, moving away from the section of the compound that holds Rex's makeshift office and toward the doors leading out to the landing zone. Walking slightly in front of him, Rex is tense, his shoulders stiff and his jaw set. Whatever he has to say, it must be serious.

Rex finally stops in front of the closed blast doors and turns to Howzer. His expression is neutral, and it's impossible to tell what's going on in his head.

"Rex," Howzer begins, unable to bear the silence any longer, "if this is about my work, I understand. I haven't been on top of things the last few days, and if you need to put someone else on comms, I—"

Rex puts his hand up.

"That's not why I asked you out here, Howzer," Rex says. "There's someone here you need to see."

Howzer raises an eyebrow, confused.

"I don't understand," he says. "Who's here?"

"Just follow me."

Rex punches in a code, and the doors slide open. The light from outside fills the hallway, and Howzer blinks at the sudden brightness. He steps out into the landing zone, following Rex into the sunlight. The air is warm and dry, and he can already feel the heat radiating from the cracked duracrete beneath his boots.

"What are we doing out here, Rex?" he asks.

Rex doesn't answer, just keeps walking across the landing zone toward the ship. The Remora stands alone on the platform, ramp already drawn. Howzer squints in an effort to see inside the darkness of the vessel, looking for a spot of white plastoid among the shadows.

But what steps forward isn’t a clone at all.

Howzer recognizes you instantly, and he suddenly feels like he’s about to faint.

His vision tunnels, and the world tilts on its axis. He can hear his heart pounding in his ears, and his breath is coming too fast, too hard. There's a roaring sound, like the sound of a rushing river, and it drowns out everything else. He feels sick, and his legs are shaking.

It can't be real. It can't be.

But it is.

There’s a loud clang, and he dimly realizes his helmet has fallen from his hands. It's lying on the ground now, at his feet, but he can't seem to find the strength to pick it up. All he can do is stare.

You descend the ramp slowly and place a hesitant foot onto the ground. The corners of your lips curl into an uncertain smile, while Howzer remains frozen, trapped in disbelief.

You take a step forward, and he still doesn't move. He's rooted to the spot, his heart racing, and he's afraid.

Howzer knows he's hallucinating. He's been here before. This isn't the first time you've appeared to him, not the first time you've looked at him with those warm eyes and called his name. But every time he reaches out, the mirage vanishes. He's tried. He's tried so hard to reach you.

He knows he's going to wake up, and you will be gone again.

It doesn't stop him from wanting to believe that it's real. That you're here.

Your smile falters when you notice his helmet on the ground, and Howzer watches your eyes search his. They're the same as they've always been, bright and kind, and full of concern. It's too much. It's always been too much.

"Howzer," you say. "Are you okay?"

"No," he says.

You step closer, and Howzer instinctively backs away. You stop. Your brows furrow, and your eyes fill with hurt, and it makes his stomach twist. He wants to go to you, to pull you close and hold you, but he doesn't. He can't.

This isn't real. None of it is real.

He has to tell you.

"What do you mean? What's wrong?" you ask.

You're still walking toward him, and Howzer has to force himself not to run. He has to stop this before it goes any further. He can't let himself fall prey to his delusions, not again.

"No, it's not real," he says.

You frown. "What's not real?"

"You," he whispers. "You're not real. None of this is."

You stop, your eyes wide and worried. "Howzer, what are you talking about?"

He ignores you. He has to make you understand.

"You're dead," he says. His voice breaks on the last word, and it comes out as a choked sob.

The words hang between the two of you, and Howzer braces himself for the inevitable. He knows what will happen. You'll disappear. He's seen it happen enough times, and he can't bear to go through it again.

He closes his eyes and tries to focus, to steady his breathing and keep the tears at bay.

But when he opens his eyes, you're still there.

And then the impossible happens.

You move forward, and he doesn't stop you. He doesn't flinch or back away when you reach out and put your hands on his shoulders. He can't.

Your touch is solid. Real.

You're real.

His legs give way, forcing him to collapse heavily onto his knees. He can't bear the weight anymore. The grief, the guilt, the shame. It's too much.

“I failed you, General,” he says around the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. Howzer squeezes his burning eyes shut, willing the tears away, but they come regardless. He feels his body tremble, his shoulders shaking as he fights against the sob rising in his chest. He tries to take a deep breath, but his lungs won't cooperate, and all he manages is a choked gasp. 

“I…I’m so sorry.”

"Howzer, Howzer, please look at me."

It's not a request.

Your voice is commanding, the way he remembers, and it's enough to coax him into opening his eyes. Looking at you directly is almost too painful to bear, like looking directly at Ryloth’s sun, but he does.

Tears are streaming down your face, but a gentle smile still curves your lips. The hand on his shoulder moves to cup his face, thumb tracing the marred skin of his cheek. Unbidden, the memory of you holding him when he received the wound years ago comes to mind. Howzer hadn't seen it then, but the affection is clear now.

"It's okay," you say, softly.

"It's not," he replies. "I shouldn't have let you go."

Your hand moves to his jaw, and you gently tilt his chin upwards. He wants to lean into the touch, to bask in the warmth of your skin, but he can't. He doesn't deserve this. Not after what he did.

"I should've known. I should've—"

"Stop," you cut him off.

Your voice is firm, but the hand on his jaw is soft and gentle, and your eyes are still kind. He wants so badly to believe that this is real, that you're really here, but the doubts linger. He can't let himself fall into the illusion. He can't let himself lose you again.

"You can't blame yourself for this, Howzer. It wasn't your fault."

"I failed you."

"No, Howzer," you say. "You didn't."

He doesn't know what to say. Your hand is still on his face. Your fingers are trembling.

“I forgive you," you whisper the words softly, and it's more than he deserves. "I forgave you long ago."

It's too much.

His composure breaks, and he wraps his arms around your hips, burying his face in your stomach. His tears are hot and wet, and they soak through the fabric of your shirt. His sobs are loud and broken, and he can barely breathe, but he can't stop, and you don't push him away. The hand on his cheek cups the back of his head, and your other arm wraps around his shoulders.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers.

He isn't sure if you hear him. He's not sure if he wants you to. But you must, because your grip tightens, and your hand runs through his hair.

He holds you, clinging to you like a lifeline, and lets the tears flow. He can't hold back the sobs, the pain, the anger. All of the emotions are coming to the surface, and they won't be held back any longer.

He cries for you, for the pain you endured. For the loss and the hurt. He cries for himself, for the guilt and the shame. He cries because it hurts, and because he's relieved, and because he can't believe this is real and he's so kriffing happy to see you again.

When his tears finally stop, you're still there, still holding him, and he's still kneeling in front of you. His shoulders are stiff, his muscles sore, but he can't find the strength to move.

He doesn't want to.

He wants to stay like this forever.

Eventually, you break the silence.

“Is there somewhere we can go to speak in private?” you ask quietly. Your fingers run through the buzzed hair at the back of his head and linger on the scar there, the one he doesn’t have a story for. A shiver runs down his spine before his brain catches up to your question.

Howzer nods and clears his throat.

"Yeah," he says, his voice hoarse. "My room. We can talk there."

You help him stand, and he takes a moment to collect himself, wiping his eyes. When he looks at you again, he feels a hot sting of embarrassment. It's been a long time since he's let himself fall apart like this, and he's not sure how to act, and he's grateful there's no one else around to witness it.

You don't seem bothered by his breakdown. You smile, and it's soft and warm, and his heart does a strange flip.

"Are you okay?" you ask, and your concern is so genuine that it almost brings fresh tears to his eyes. His emotions feel raw, like an open wound, and he's not sure how much more he can take before he's completely overwhelmed, but when he answers this time, he speaks the truth.

"I will be," he says as he kneels to collect his helmet.

You nod, and there's a hint of relief in your eyes, but the smile on your face never wavers as you step up to his side. He’s surprised to feel your hand threading through the crook of his elbow before he realizes it was he who had held out his arm for you. A force of habit he didn't know he still had, but one that was very welcome.

It had always been your way, before. To walk beside him instead of ahead.

He takes a deep breath and straightens his shoulders.

"Shall we?"

"Yes," you say, smiling.

As the two of you begin to make your way across the landing zone, Howzer can't help but marvel at how natural this feels. The familiarity of your presence at his side, the soft pressure of your hand against his arm, and the sound of your breathing.

All of it feels so right, and Howzer thinks it must be a dream, a hallucination, something, because this is too perfect. It can't be real. It's been far too long for it to be real.

But the weight of your arm on his and the sound of your footsteps at his side feel real, more real than anything he's ever experienced. He's never had a hallucination this vivid before. He hopes it's not just a dream, but he keeps his eyes on you just to make sure.

You look different. Older, maybe. But also more beautiful.

It's a silly thought, but it's the truth. There's a certain peace and calmness to your expression, and it suits you. You look content, like you've finally found what you were looking for, and Howzer feels a rush of joy.

You're alive.

He still can't quite believe it, and he finds himself staring openly at you. He knows the path to his room like the back of his hand, and he could probably make the trek with his eyes closed. But he doesn't.

Instead, he keeps his eyes on you, memorizing every detail, every curve of your face and every twitch of your mouth. He's desperate to fill in the gaps in his memory, the details he's lost and the moments that slipped away. He doesn't want to forget again.

Your head is on a swivel as you take in the equipment and clones bustling around the enclosed space inside the temple. It reminds him of your first day, and he can't help but smile. You haven't changed at all.

Echo and Rex are in the command center along with a handful of other clones. They watch as the two of you walk through, their faces showing a range of expressions from surprise to confusion to suspicion. But they say nothing, and Howzer is grateful. He knows how he looks, with his reddened eyes and blotchy cheeks. They’ll no doubt have questions later, but for now, they keep them to themselves.

“What you’ve built here is impressive,” you say as you give a friendly smile to Samson when you pass by. He does a double-take, his gaze moving from your face to your arm wrapped around Howzer's, and back to your face again.

Howzer smiles back and doesn't offer any explanation.

Samson isn't the only one looking. Several of the men stare, and Howzer can't help the small thrill of pride that courses through him at their wide-eyed looks.

It's a silly thought, he knows. He shouldn't feel good about being seen with you, not after everything that's happened. But he can't deny the satisfaction he feels at the thought that the men can see the two of you together again, and he wonders how many of them had guessed about his feelings.

Probably all of them.

"This is it," Howzer says as the two of you stop outside the door to the room he claimed as his own.

It's not much—a single bed, a locker, and a desk—but it's enough. It's a quiet place to escape to when the chaos of the galaxy around him becomes too much, though he hasn't spent much time in it since he arrived.

Howzer steps forward and places his hand on the panel, and the door slides open. He motions for you to enter first, and you do, letting go of his arm as you step into the room.

You take a moment to study your surroundings before your eyes land on the lone chair in the room. Howzer can tell what you're thinking. You're going to offer it to him, and he doesn't want it. He can't imagine sitting right now. His legs still feel like jelly and his whole body is still buzzing from the adrenaline of seeing you.

Instead, Howzer leans against the wall by the door and takes a deep breath, watching as you walk forward to examine his desk, your back to him.

The room is quiet, the only sound the faint buzzing of the lights above them. He can't hear the commotion outside. He can't even hear his own heartbeat. All he can hear is you, your soft, slow breathing and the gentle rustle of fabric as you move.

He hesitates to break the silence, but he has to know.

“How are you—how did you survive?” he asks. How are you alive, he wants to say. You shouldn’t be alive. The words stick in his throat.

You stiffen slightly, but you don't turn around. The latest report on their medical supplies is held loosely in your grasp, and Howzer watches the datapad tremble slightly.

“You truly don’t remember?” you ask softly, dropping the report back onto the desk. You pivot to face him, your back pressing into the metal edge, and he can't read your expression.

He swallows. His throat feels dry, and his heart is pounding in his ears.

No. He doesn’t remember. But he needs to.

He shakes his head, the motion almost imperceptible. “No, I…I remember we were speaking in your quarters. I can’t remember what about. There was an incoming transmission, and then…nothing.”

Whatever he said, it must not have been the right thing. Your eyes close as if in pain, your fists clenching at your sides. You inhale a sharp, shaky breath. The sight is almost enough to make him drop the subject. But the need to know is greater than the guilt.

“Please." He says your name quietly, hating the desperation that creeps into his voice. "I need to know.”

He realizes that he’s never called you by your first name before, at least not to your face. It had always been General. He thinks he likes the sound of it, and the way it makes your eyes fly open, surprise and a little bit of warmth filling their depths.

The seconds drag on as he waits for your response, the tension palpable between you. The longer he stares at you, the more he notices. Your jaw is sharper now, your skin slightly more tan. Your hair is the same, and so are your eyes, but there's a new air of maturity to you that hadn't been there before. He's not sure how he feels about the changes, only that he wishes he had been there to see them happen.

When you finally speak, the words are careful and measured. “I can show you, if you let me.”

"Show me?"

"If I'm allowed, I could—"

"Yes," he says. He doesn’t hesitate. He trusts you, and he needs to know what happened.

"Okay," you say, taking a step toward him. "This may hurt."

A moment of silent understanding passes between you before Howzer nods, steeling himself for whatever revelation awaits. You reach out tentatively, pausing a few inches away, and he closes his eyes.

Your fingers press into his temple, and he’s suddenly thrust back into your quarters on Ryloth.

“You seem upset,” your voice says, wavering as if underwater until the haze of the memory begins to lift around you.

The blurry shape of you comes into sharper focus as you move to sit on your bunk. Your beige robes have been discarded, revealing the sleeveless wrap tunic you wear underneath. Another hot evening on Ryloth meant you'd forgone decorum again, loosening the top to allow airflow to your sweat-slicked skin. He remembers admiring the strong lines of your biceps and valley of your breasts revealed with the motion.

He’s in the memory but not entirely, watching himself from the outside like a specter in the shadows. Howzer watches as he forces himself to look away from your body to stare out the window. He can feel the same tension, the same anxiety that gripped him then. He remembers the argument you had that morning. Remembers the hurt, the pain, the guilt. Remembers wanting to reach out, to hold you, but stopping himself.

“What’s on your mind?”

“You,” he answers honestly, for once. It’s a half-truth that sticks to his tongue. “Is it true that this will all be over soon?”

“I’ve felt it coming for a while now,” you say.

Your eyes drift to your hands, and he turns to watch you lace your fingers together tightly in your lap. “Count Dooku is dead. Obi-Wan has moved to engage General Grievous. Saesee and General Windu are arresting the Chancellor as we speak. The war very well may be over now.”

“I see.”

A sense of fatigue washes over him, and he leans against the wall to prop himself up. He wants to leave, to soak the feeling in while in the silence of his own barracks, but something stronger urges him to stay.

“Permission to speak freely, sir.”

“You always have my permission, Howzer,” you say earnestly. It had taken some getting used to, being addressed so informally. The first few times, he'd had to force himself not to jump to attention every time you called him by name. He quickly started to enjoy the intimacy of it, and the way the sound of his name on your lips made him shiver.

He sighs, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. He doesn't know where to begin. The last few months have been hard, harder than most, and it's left him feeling raw and exhausted. He's never felt so torn before. Part of him is thrilled that the war is ending, but the other part, the larger, selfish part, is terrified.

“What will happen to us?” he asks, turning to look at you. 

Your face is neutral, but he can tell by the set of your jaw that you're tense. The memory of you takes a moment to collect yourself before speaking.

"What do you mean?"

"After the war," he says, trying and failing to keep the edge of panic out of his voice. "What will happen to us?"

“The clones have fought honorably for the Republic. It’s the least we can do to provide for your future,” you reply. “You’ll be given pensions and housing on Coruscant for as long as you all wish. I expect some will continue their roles in reserve, while the rest will be free to choose their own path.”

He nods appreciatively. He has no idea what he would do with such freedom, but he's grateful all the same. The thought of no longer having a purpose terrifies him, but not nearly as much as the thought of losing you.

He should leave it at that, he should thank you and walk away. Howzer is watching the internal battle he faced on that day and screams at himself to leave. He should leave you be, to enjoy the brief respite the two of you are allowed.

But he can't. Not when this could be the last chance he ever gets.

“Thank you. But I…I meant us, sir.” Howzer gestures between the two of you.

Your eyes widen almost imperceptibly, but he can see he’s stunned you. He forges ahead, moving to stare at the wall behind you so he can maintain his courage. “We’ve been together so long, I can barely remember a time without you. Without this. I don't want it to end."

There's a pregnant pause as you struggle for a response, and the fear in the pit of his stomach grows.

“What are you saying?” you ask slowly.

“I’m saying I want more,” he says. He meets your gaze and steps forward, and you rise to your feet at the same time, your tunic fluttering around you.

“Us clones try not to think about the future, but I can't help it. And the only future I want is one with you. That is, if you want that too, sir."

His cheeks are flushed, and his heart is pounding, and he's so nervous. This is the most he's ever confessed, and it feels like the world is crashing down around him, but he means every word.

“Howzer…” Your voice breaks, and it sends a hammer to his heart. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you feel the same,” he says quickly. Howzer’s hand reaches out to grasp your bicep, thumb caressing the bare skin underneath his glove. He moves closer, and your breath hitches as you lean back, but not away.

Your eyes close, head tilting down. He waits with bated breath for you to say something, anything.

When you look up, your eyes are filled with tears, and his stomach drops. Your voice is so quiet, he can barely hear you.

“I feel afraid.”

It's like the wind has been knocked out of him. He opens his mouth to speak, to question you further, but his vambrace begins to ping, the message marked urgent. Howzer watches himself let go of you and turn to receive the transmission, and he feels like he's drowning.

No! He screams at himself. Don't take the call. He can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but watch. You can't let this go. If you lose this chance, you'll never have another.

He's frozen, helpless to watch his past play out. You move toward the window to look out at the setting sun as Howzer opens the encrypted message.

“Execute Order 66,” the hooded figure on the holo speaks, its voice graveled and dark. In his memory, Howzer stares down at the projection with wide, unseeing eyes, before he begins to shake. Something is taking over, something he isn’t strong enough to control.

He knows what he must do.

A cold, heavy weight settles in the pit of his stomach, and his mind feels foggy, sluggish. Howzer looks up from the holo, and the room seems to spin. His hands are trembling, and his heart is pounding in his ears. He blinks hard, once, twice, trying to clear the fog, but it won't go away. A wave of nausea hits him, and his head feels like it's about to explode.

"Howzer?"

Your voice is far away, barely a whisper. You turn, your lips parted, brow creased.

He barely has time to get the words out, to fight the fog for just a second. Just one more second.

"Run," he croaks. He watches his eyes glaze over, watches the last remnants of his control slip through his fingers as he turns, drawing his blaster and firing.

You ignite your lightsaber just in time to deflect the shot aimed at your head. Behind the teal blue glow of your blade, your eyes are wide and confused.

“Howzer?” you ask incredulously. Your arms are raised, holding your saber aloft. But your stance is hesitant, your knees bent as if ready to run.

The blaster is in his hand, and it's pointed at you. It's an impossible weight. A weapon made for killing, a weapon he can't use on you. His hand trembles, and he wills himself to throw it, to break it.

But the fog in his mind is too thick, the orders too loud, and his body moves without him. The trigger clicks under his finger again and again. You duck and roll as a bolt goes whizzing over your head, deflecting another into the ceiling. Plaster and dust rain down, clouding the air around you. You cough, covering your nose and mouth with the back of your free hand.

"Howzer, please, it's me!" you cry, raising the hilt of your saber. It's not meant to fight, only to protect. A shield against the bolts that won't stop coming.

He's screaming at you, screaming for you to move, to run away, but the words aren't leaving his mouth. The next bolt grazes your shoulder, tearing your tunic. The pain makes you cry out. Howzer can see the wound, red and angry against your skin.

He hears the sound of footsteps and voices getting closer outside the door, but he’s too occupied with the need to fire his blaster to acknowledge them. Howzer’s mind screams that he’s trapped alone with a traitor to the Republic, a burning hatred he’s never felt propelling him forward to attack.

The small voice inside him begging him not to hurt you is silenced for good when an unseen force rips the weapon from his hand. His arm is held aloft above his head, and he struggles like an animal in a trap to free it.

His eyes are wide and feral. Yours are nothing but pleading.

"Please," you beg. "You're stronger than this. I know you are. I can't hurt you."

"Traitor," he spits, struggling against the invisible bonds. "You'll die a traitor."

There are tears streaming down your face now, and he can see the agony in your eyes. The anguish and pain. But also a strength, a determination he's seen many times.

Fists are pounding on the door, and it tears your attention away from him for a moment too long. Howzer’s arm frees itself, and he wastes no time reaching for the blaster carbine on his back. Your eyes snap back to him, and you quickly hold out both hands to push him back into the wall.

Even during training, you were remarkably gentle with your use of the Force. Howzer had seen you throw boulders and pull tanks with your command of the unseen energy field, but he’d never felt more than a soft touch until that day.

But in this memory, you hurl him across the room with the force of a landslide, knocking the breath clear from his lungs, his head slamming hard enough to crack the duracrete.

He tries to stand, but he can't.

His arms won't work, and his legs are leaden, refusing to respond. He's helpless as he watches you raise your arm, your eyes filled with sorrow. He's powerless as you reach out and touch your fingers to his temple.

A warmth emanates from your fingertips, and Howzer feels the pressure in his skull building, building, until—

The memory vanishes, and Howzer finds himself back in his own quarters, slumped against the wall. You're still there, standing a few steps away. You have your arms crossed tightly, your jaw clenched.

Howzer can feel his head pounding, a throbbing phantom pain where it had struck the wall. He raises his fingers to rub his temples.

It's quiet. There's no pounding on the door, no gunfire. Just the two of you.

"So it's true. I almost killed you."

You flinch. It's so subtle, he wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been looking for it.

"You didn't," you say.

He shakes his head. "I didn't? It looked pretty fucking close. You did that—" He motions vaguely toward the door. "—to stop me."

"To stop myself," you correct. "You didn't have a choice. I couldn't hurt you."

Howzer's jaw clenches, and his throat feels tight. The memory is still fresh in his mind, and the feelings it elicited are not ones he'd like to relive. The shame, the fear, the guilt.

"But I did," he says. His voice is low, and his tone is grave. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," you whisper, your voice barely audible. You look away from him, and your shoulders droop. "I didn't know. If I'd known the clones had been reprogrammed, I would have tried to find a way to reverse it. To bring you back. All of you."

You sniff, wiping your eyes, and Howzer feels his chest ache. You're blaming yourself. Of course you are.

"Howzer, if there's anything I can do—"

"Don't apologize," he says. His voice is stronger now, and he's glad. He's tired of being weak. Having you here is a reminder of everything he's done wrong, but also of what he could have. What he wants. He straightens, pulling himself away from the wall and standing upright.

"You saved my life. You didn't know what was going to happen. No one did. And even if you had, it would have been too late."

Your brows knit together, and you look back at him. Your lower lip trembles. "How can you forgive me?"

Howzer doesn't know how to answer that. He's not sure there is an answer. Instead, he walks forward, slowly, as if approaching a skittish animal. You look so small, so vulnerable, and he hates it. He can see the worry in your eyes, the guilt. It's the same worry and guilt he's seen in the mirror every day since the war ended.

He's only a step away when he stops, leaving enough space between the two of you that you could walk away if you wanted. But you don't, and the look in your eyes is enough to make him reach out. He wipes a tear from your cheek, and the corner of your mouth twitches.

"How can you forgive me?" he asks instead.

"Because you were doing your duty. Because I care about you. Because I missed you," you say.

"I missed you, too."

You're so close, close enough to touch, and Howzer can't resist the urge. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a hug, letting the tension ease from his body. You lean into his embrace, and he rests his chin on top of your head, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling of having you back.

He's not sure how long the two of you stand there, lost in the embrace, but eventually, you pull away. Howzer reluctantly lets go, dropping his arms back to his sides. You look up at him, and the smile on your face makes his stomach flip.

"What you said," you start, swallowing. "That night. Did you mean it?"

He doesn't have to think.

"Yes."

Your breath hitches, and your eyes search his, seeking something. He knows what it is, and it scares him. The last time he laid his heart bare for you, he’d lost everything. But he's spent too much time living in the past. Too much time wishing things were different, regretting the choices he made.

He doesn't want to do that anymore.

"I meant it then, and I still mean it now."

"Really?"

"I do."

He reaches out and takes your hand, lifting it to his lips.

You bite your lip. He can tell you're nervous, and he feels the same. His stomach is fluttering, and his heart is racing. The moment seems surreal, too good to be true.

But he can feel the warmth of your palm in his, can feel the softness of your skin.

"I missed you," he says softly.

"I missed you, too."

Your words are barely a whisper, but they echo in his mind. He can't resist any longer.

"I want to kiss you,” he admits, his voice low. He runs his thumb over the back of your hand, and your skin tingles beneath his touch. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes," you whisper.

He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, and your breath tickles his lips. He can't resist any longer.

Howzer tilts his head and closes the gap between you.

It's slow, tentative, and he's terrified. But when you melt into him, and your lips part against his, all of his fears and doubts are forgotten.

You're real. You're here, with him.

Your hand grips his armor as you kiss him back, and the world falls away. All that matters is you, and him, and this moment.

He feels whole.

The kiss is long and lingering. It's slow, and sweet, and everything he could have ever hoped for. Your hand finds its way to the back of his neck, and your fingers play with the short hair there. His own hands roam over your waist and back, mapping out the lines of your body.

He feels you shift onto your toes, pressing against him and pulling him closer, and his heart soars. He can't imagine wanting anything more than this, than the taste of your lips on his, the feel of your body pressed against his.

When the two of you finally part, his lips are tingling, and he can't help but chase yours for another quick peck before he pulls back. You're breathless, and your cheeks are flushed, and he feels his chest swell, his hands tightening around your waist.

He never wants to let go.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice cracking. He doesn't want to ruin the moment, but he needs you to know. He needs you to hear the words, the sincerity behind them. "I think I always have."

"I love you, too," you say, and it's like the sun coming out after a storm. "I didn't realize until it was too late, but I love you. I don't think I've ever stopped."

His heart swells at the words. He can't believe his ears, can't believe he's hearing you say them. His throat is thick, and his eyes burn, and he blinks back the tears.

Howzer pulls you close, burying his face in your hair and breathing in deeply as his arms wrap around you. He holds you tightly, and you cling to him just as fiercely.

"Stay," he murmurs into your hair, the words barely audible. "Please."

He can feel the way your muscles tense. You pull back, just enough to look at him. "What?"

"Stay," he repeats, looking into your eyes. "With us. With me."

He watches you blink, the surprise evident on your face. He realizes what he's asking of you. How much of a risk it is. You could be killed or taken prisoner by the Empire, and he's asking you to put your life in the hands of the very people who tried to kill you.

But he has to try.

"Howzer, I—I can't. It's too dangerous. If I'm caught—"

"I won't let anything happen to you. I promise." He reaches up and cradles your face in his hand, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "Please. I've lost you once. I can't lose you again."

Your eyes search his, and he can see the doubt, the fear. He's never begged anyone for anything before, but he'll beg for you. He'll do whatever it takes.

"Please," he says, his voice cracking. "I need you."

"Howzer," you say, but he can tell you're weakening. Your eyes are watery, and your brow is furrowed.

"I can't do this without you. I can't—I don't want to do this without you."

Your shoulders drop, and your head tilts slightly into his touch. You cover his hand with yours, squeezing gently. You sigh, and his heart sinks. He’s prepared to hear a no. To lose you once more, only this time, willingly. He watches as you take a deep breath, steadying yourself.

"Okay," you say softly.

He's speechless. For a moment, the word doesn't register. He's too afraid to hope.

"Okay?"

You nod. "I'll stay. If you'll have me."

He can't help the broad grin that spreads across his face, and he pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you and lifting you off the ground. You squeak, but you laugh, and the sound fills him with joy. He spins, hugging you tight as you giggle into his neck.

He's elated, and he can't hold back the laugh that bubbles up from his chest. He feels light, like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. As soon as your feet touch the ground he's kissing you again, cupping your face and tasting the smile on your lips.

He loves you. You love him. You're staying.

The thought is so incredible, so wonderful, that he can't stop kissing you, and you don't seem to mind. He pours all his emotions, all his love, into each brush of his lips, hoping that you can feel everything he's feeling, hoping that you understand how much this means to him.

He thinks you must.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him close. His hands drift down to your waist, and his thumbs brush against the skin where your tunic has ridden up. He kisses you deeper, and the moan that escapes your lips sends a bolt of heat straight through him.

His heart is pounding, and he can't get enough of you. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, and you part your lips for him, letting him taste you. The kiss grows deeper, hungrier, and his grip on you tightens, drawing you flush against him.

One of your hands moves to his chest, the other threading through his hair. Your touch sets him on fire, and he can feel himself straining against the confines of his armor. He doesn't know how far this is going, but he can't stop, can't bring himself to pull away.

Not when your teeth sink into his lower lip, or your nails scrape against his scalp. Not when you arch into him, your soft chest pressing into his chestplate. Not when his hands explore your body, mapping out every curve and dip, every muscle and bone.

His tongue brushes against yours, and he moans. He wants more, so much more. He's lost in you, and he doesn't want to find his way back.

"Tell me to stop," he says, his voice rough. His lips move to your jaw, and he trails kisses down your neck, the taste of you intoxicating.

 The room spins, and Howzer finds himself pressed against the wall, the cold duracrete sending a shiver down his spine. Your hands are gripping the edge of his chest plate, and your lips are hot and demanding. You bite his lower lip, tugging at it, and his eyes flutter shut.

"No." Your voice is husky, and the sound goes straight to his cock. "Don't stop."

His heart leaps into his throat, and his hands grip your waist, pulling you closer. "I want you."

"I'm yours."

The words are a balm on his soul, healing wounds he didn't know he had. He can't get enough, can't stop kissing you. He nearly whines when you break away from his mouth, but the disappointment is short-lived when your lips move to his neck. He gasps, the sensation of your hot mouth and wet tongue overwhelming.

Your hands trail down his body, and his fingers dig into your hips.

"I love you," he moans. His head falls back, and his eyes flutter shut. His entire body is on fire, and the sound of your lips smacking against his neck only adds fuel to the flames. "Fuck, I love you."

You hum against his skin, and he bites back a groan.

"I love you," you whisper, the words ghosting over his neck. "I need you.”

It's all he can take.

His hands reach under your ass and lift, and you wrap your legs around his waist. The kiss is sloppy and uncoordinated, and his teeth clack against yours as he spins and presses you against the wall. You grind against his codpiece, and he breaks the kiss, hissing.

"You're so kriffing beautiful," he groans, his voice ragged. "You drive me crazy."

You're panting, and your cheeks are flushed, and he feels his cock twitch at the sight.

"I missed you," you say again. "I needed you."

He doesn't want to admit how close to home those words hit.

"I'm here now." His voice is rough, and his hands are gripping your hips tightly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," you say, before pulling him back into another kiss.

It's hard and messy and desperate. You're both clinging to each other like your lives depend on it, and it's almost painful, the need that's taken root inside him. He's wanted you for so long, and now that he's here, with you in his arms, he can't get enough. He can't stop.

You pull back, and his head tilts up to chase your lips. He's dizzy with lust and want, his breathing shallow.

"Howzer, can we—" Your voice is breathless, and your eyes are wild.

He nods, understanding immediately.

He kisses you hard, and he can feel your hands fumbling for the clasps on his chestplate. He doesn't want to let go, doesn't want to lose the contact between the two of you, but he does, if only to help you.

It's not long before the heavy plastoid is removed, tossed haphazardly onto the floor. You waste no time, moving on to his greaves. You're so close, your scent clouding his mind, and his skin prickles beneath the intensity of your gaze. If he wasn’t so dizzy with want, he’d be amused at how focused you are, the way your brows are furrowed and your bottom lip caught between your teeth. But he can't think straight, can barely even breathe.

The pieces fall to the floor, and the sound echoes through the quiet room. By the time his bracers are removed, he's already shaking. He can't help it. It's been so long, and the desire coursing through his veins is threatening to overwhelm him.

He pulls at the laces on your tunic, loosening them enough that he can tug the material down. He leans down, trailing kisses down the newly exposed skin. Your breath hitches, and his name is a sigh on your lips. He smiles against your collarbone, nipping lightly before he sucks a mark into the flesh.

"Kriff," you gasp, your hips jerking forward. "Howzer."

The sound of his name sends a jolt of electricity down his spine, and he moans. He pulls back to lift your tunic over your head, discarding it somewhere behind him. You're bare except for your breastband, and his eyes rake over your body, taking in the sight of you, mapping the scars and curves and dips. Most of them he's seen before, the few times you were injured during the war, but the new ones, the ones he doesn't know, they're more than he can handle.

He reaches out, tentatively running his fingers over a blaster burn on your stomach, and the skin jumps underneath his touch.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"Yes," you say, nodding.

He runs his palm over the scar, tracing its edges. The flesh is puckered and pink, and he knows it's a wound that could have killed you. It’s one he should have been there to prevent.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

You shake your head. "Not anymore."

He traces the scar, committing it to memory. There are others, some fresher, some older, and his eyes follow his fingers, touching each and every one.

When he's done, he meets your gaze. Your eyes are wide, and your lips are parted, and he feels his chest tighten. You're so beautiful. So perfect. And you're here, with him.

"Are you okay?" you ask.

"I'm fine," he says, shaking his head. "Better than fine. You?”

"Me too."

His hands move to your back, finding the clasp of your breastband and releasing it. He holds his breath as the band comes loose, and his eyes drop down to take in the sight of your bare chest. His cock twitches in his pants, and he has to stifle a groan.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, reaching out and brushing his fingers against your breast. "Absolutely perfect."

His calloused thumb scrapes against your nipple, and it hardens instantly. Your breath hitches, and he feels his pulse quicken. He wants to hear the sounds you make, wants to know what his touch does to you.

He leans down, and his lips replace his fingers. His mouth closes around your nipple, his tongue flicking against the stiff peak. You gasp, and he feels a surge of satisfaction. His free hand squeezes your other breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your body arches into him, and your breathy sighs turn into moans.

He's intoxicated by the sounds you're making, by the way your body responds to his touch. He can’t get enough, and he sucks harder, teasing your nipple with his tongue. Your hands are gripping his shoulders, and your hips are bucking into his, searching for friction.

You're so sensitive, and his head is spinning. He doesn't know how long he spends teasing and torturing you, but it's not long enough. When he finally releases your breast with a pop, you're panting, and your skin is flushed.

“Armor off,” you growl, and he chuckles.

"Yes, sir," he says, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. He reaches down and tugs at his boot, and you slide down the wall. The look in your eyes makes him shiver.

"I'm not your General anymore."

"No, but I'm still your loyal soldier," he says. It’s meant to be a joke, but it comes out more serious than he intended.

You smirk, and the expression sends a jolt of heat straight to his cock.

"Then get to it, soldier."

He raises an eyebrow, and if he wasn’t so turned on, he might be embarrassed by how fast he rips off his remaining armor, his fingers fumbling at the clasps. When he's finished, you're grinning, and his heart skips a beat. He whips the top half of his blacks off, tossing it onto the floor, and before he can register what's happening, you've wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss.

The feeling of your bare chest against his sends a bolt of heat through him, and his hands find their way back to your waist, pulling you closer. You moan into his mouth, and his cock throbs.

He's so distracted by the feeling of your lips and tongue and hands that he barely registers the tugging on his waistband. Not until his blacks are sliding down his hips, exposing his hard length to the cool air of the room.

"Kriff," he hisses, breaking the kiss. "You're gonna be the death of me."

"Hopefully not," you murmur, nipping his lower lip.

"Well, you're sure making it hard."

You look down, and your lips curl into a wicked grin. He feels his cock twitch, and a drop of precome beads at the tip.

"Hard?" you ask innocently.

He groans, leaning his head against yours. "You're awful."

"I know." You reach down and take his cock in your hand, stroking it gently. He can't help but moan. "But I think you like it."

"Kriff," he curses, biting back another groan. "I love it."

He closes his eyes, and your thumb brushes over the head, spreading the slickness around. His breath hitches, and he can feel the pleasure coiling low in his belly. You're so good at this, and he's already so close, and when you sink to your knees and look up at him through those long lashes, his brain short-circuits.

You grip his cock firmly, and he sucks in a sharp breath, bracing his forearm against the wall. You lean in, and your lips brush against his stomach, kissing the soft skin just below his navel. He trembles.

"Relax," you whisper, pressing another kiss to his abdomen.

“Fuck," he groans. "Don't tell me to relax."

He's so wound up, so on edge, his whole body is tingling. Your tongue darts out, and you lick a hot stripe up his cock, and his hips buck involuntarily. You smile, and his eyes flutter shut, his chest heaving.

Your mouth is warm and wet, and you wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue over the slit. His eyes squeeze shut, and his breathing grows ragged.

You begin to bob your head, slowly taking him deeper and deeper with each pass. When he hits the back of your throat, you hum, and his knees nearly give out.

"Fucking hell," Howzer moans, his voice cracking. His head falls forward, and his forehead rests against his forearm. His eyes are closed, and his mouth is open, and he's trying desperately to hold back the embarrassing sounds that threaten to escape.

You pull back, and the cold air against his saliva-slick cock makes him shiver. Your hand is still working him, pumping his shaft, and his balls tighten. He can feel his orgasm building, his whole body tensing, and it's too soon, much too soon, and he needs to slow down.

"Stop, stop, stop," he chants, pulling away from you. He's so close, so painfully close, and he can't stand the thought of finishing before he even gets inside you.

You pull away, looking up at him with confusion. "Why?"

"Because if you don't, I'm going to come," he manages, his voice hoarse.

You smile wickedly. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

"And what if I want you to?" You hum, your fingers teasing the tip of his cock. It’s the lightest touch, but it makes him jump. He closes his eyes, trying to compose himself. He's never been this close to losing control so fast, and he doesn't want to embarrass himself.

"Please," he begs, his voice a choked whisper. "Not like this. Not yet."

The teasing expression on your face melts into something softer, and you rise to your feet, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. He tastes himself on your tongue, and it only turns him on more.

"Alright," you murmur against his lips, your breath hot. "How do you want me?"

He feels the question like a punch to the gut, and his mouth goes dry. "I—um—"

"Howzer," you say softly, nipping his bottom lip. "Don't make me order you."

His eyes fly open, and his cock twitches. The image of you ordering him around, telling him what to do, how to fuck you—

"Howzer."

He's so fucked.

"Bed," he says, his voice a low growl. "Now."

The corner of your mouth quirks, and you raise an eyebrow. "That's not an answer."

He swallows and reaches down, trailing his fingers along the seam of your trousers. Your eyes flutter shut, and a breathy sigh escapes your lips. He watches you, and he can see the way your chest is heaving, the flush that creeps down your neck. It gives him the confidence to continue.

"I want you to take these off," he breathes. “And I want you on your back.”

"Yes, sir," you say, a teasing smile on your lips.

His heart lurches. "Oh, now you listen to me."

"Maybe I like when you're in charge," you purr.

He can't help the groan that escapes him.

Your hands slide down his chest, and you walk away, turning your back to him as you loosen the ties to your trousers. You make a show of sliding them down your legs, bending at the waist, and he nearly chokes when your underwear slides off, too.

"Kriff," he mumbles, his eyes glued to your ass.

You straighten and toss him a coy look over your shoulder, and he's helpless, completely and utterly enraptured.

"Like what you see?"

"Always," he replies, his voice low.

He can't stop himself from reaching out, his hand running up the smooth skin of your thigh. But you dance out of his grasp, laughing.

"Not so fast," you tease.

He growls, a sound that rumbles in his chest. "Don't be a tease."

"What's the matter, Captain?" you ask, stepping towards the bed. "Getting impatient?"

Howzer lets out a laugh of disbelief. He's beyond frustrated, he's already the most desperate he's ever been. Usually he’d play along with your games, but right now, he needs you, and he can't stand the thought of waiting another minute.

"Yes," he says, his voice rough. "Now get on the fucking bed."

You raise an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Yes, sir."

You move, and in one fluid motion, you're laying down on the bed. You spread your legs, inviting him, and he nearly passes out. You look like every fantasy he's ever had, laid out for him, waiting for him.

"Like this?"

"Yes," he groans, his voice cracking.

"Come here, then," you say, your tone seductive.

He can see how wet you are, how ready you are for him. It makes his head spin, his heart race. He wants to taste you, to bury his face between your legs. But the ache in his cock is too strong, the need to feel you overwhelming. He has to take a deep breath before he approaches, afraid his legs won't work.

"What are you waiting for?" you ask.

"Just...taking in the view,” he replies, his voice low and rough. He tries to meet your eyes, but he can't stop staring at the apex of your thighs, at your glistening pussy, begging for him.

You giggle, a sound he's never heard from you before, and he decides right then and there that it's his new favorite sound.

"So poetic," you tease.

"I can be," he retorts, trying to play along even though all his blood is currently rushing south.

"Come on," you say. "Don't make me wait any longer."

He's never been able to deny you.

Howzer steps forward, and before you can register his movements, he's kneeling on the bed between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs. He's not gentle as he pushes them further apart, baring you to him. 

"Oh," you gasp.

He smirks, and his eyes rake over your body as he settles himself between your legs. He takes a moment to memorize the sight of you, your hair splayed out on the pillow, your flushed skin, the way your chest rises and falls with every breath. 

"Fuck," he mutters, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm going to enjoy this."

"Please," you whimper, your hips bucking. The sound of it wakes him from his stupor, and he grips your thighs tighter, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive flesh.

"What was that?"

You bite your lip and look away, but he can see the heat in your cheeks, the way your breathing is heavy.

"I said please," you repeat, turning your gaze back to him.

His smirk widens. "I couldn't quite hear you," he teases, his fingertips grazing the outside of your folds. He can feel how wet you are, how hot, and it makes his head spin.

You whine, and your hips buck against his hand. "Please, Howzer."

The sound of his name on your lips is like music, and he can't resist any longer.

Howzer leans down and presses a hot, wet kiss to your inner thigh. You gasp, and he sucks a mark into the skin, his tongue flicking out to soothe the sting. He repeats the process on the other leg, leaving a matching mark, and your body writhes beneath him. He pulls back, admiring his handiwork.

"You look good like this," he says, his voice a low rumble.

"You're a menace," you huff.

He chuckles and runs a finger along the length of your folds, gathering the slick that's pooled there. "That's not a very nice thing to say."

"You're not being very ni—ah!" Your words turn into a gasp when he dips his head, his tongue dragging through your folds, the taste of you coating his tongue. He feels you tremble, and your hand tangles in his hair. He loves the way you grip him, and the soft sound of his name spurs him on.

Howzer moves to your clit, his tongue circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips arch off the bed, and he has to use his forearm to keep you down, his hand splayed across your stomach. He slides two fingers inside you, curling them and rubbing the spot he knows will make you moan.

He's rewarded by the sound of his name, your breathy cries filling the room. He works you hard and fast, his tongue and fingers relentless. You're soaking wet, and he can't believe how hot and tight you are around his fingers.

"I've dreamed of this," he growls, his lips brushing against your clit.

"Really?"

He nods, and the movement causes his stubble to scrape against your skin. "Mhm. Ever since we first met.”

You let out a laugh, but it quickly turns into a moan when his fingers hit the right spot. "I-is that so?"

"Yes," he says, curling his fingers and pressing hard. "All those years fighting beside you, and I could barely control myself. It was torture."

You keen, your pussy clenching around his fingers, and he can't help but chuckle.

"I used to think about all the things I'd do if I ever got the chance."

"I thought about it too," you pant.

He looks up, surprised. The motions of his hand stutter, but he regains his composure, picking up the pace and making you gasp. "You did?"

You nod, and he watches your face, your eyes closed, your brows furrowed.

"What did you think about?"

"This," you breathe. "How you'd feel, how you'd taste, how you'd make me come."

The admission sends a jolt through him, and he moans against your clit, the vibrations making you writhe. He doubles his efforts, and his tongue draws patterns across your sensitive flesh. Your thighs tense around his head, and he feels the way you tighten around his fingers.

"I thought about you fucking me," you continue, and his eyes flutter shut. "About you filling me up and making me scream."

He can't help the noise he makes, a low, desperate groan. His cock throbs, aching for relief, and he knows he can't wait much longer. He needs you to come, needs to feel you come undone beneath him.

He can feel you getting closer, the way your breathing gets shallower, the way your muscles begin to tense. You're panting his name, and your hips are rolling, and he can tell you're close, so close.

“I’ll do whatever you want, sweetheart," he growls, the words muffled against your skin. "Just let go. Come for me."

The pet name seems to do the trick, and a string of curses spills from your lips as your body convulses, your cunt clenching and spasming around his fingers. Your hands grip his hair, tugging painfully at the roots, and he can't find it in himself to care. He keeps pumping, drawing out your orgasm until you're writhing, begging for mercy.

When you're finally spent, he pulls back, resting his cheek on your inner thigh. He can't stop looking at you, can't stop drinking in the sight of you, flushed and satisfied. You're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and his chest feels so full, so complete.

"Well?" he asks.

"What?"

"Was it everything you imagined?"

Your face breaks into a smile, and you shake your head, laughing. "It was better."

"Good," he says, kissing the inside of your thigh. He slowly withdraws his fingers, and his lips find your clit again, sucking gently and licking up the fresh wave of slick.

You moan, and your hands fall from his hair to the sheets, clutching at them. He can't get enough, can't stop tasting you. He could spend hours between your thighs, and it wouldn't be enough.

"Howzer," you sigh.

"You taste good," he mumbles, not bothering to pull his lips away from your cunt.

"Come here," you plead. "I want you."

"I am here."

"No," you laugh. "I want you inside me."

"Is that an order?" he asks, teasingly.

"It is," you reply.

"Then I better follow it."

Howzer is on top of you in an instant, his lips finding yours. You moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, and he groans, his hips bucking against yours. His cock is pressed against your slit, and you're so wet, and it would be so easy to slip inside. He can't stand the thought of waiting any longer.

He reaches between your bodies, and you feel him lining up, the blunt head of his cock teasing your entrance. He pulls back, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against yours.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Always."

The word fills his heart with warmth, and he can't stop the smile that spreads across his face.

He's still smiling when he pushes inside, and his grin only grows wider at the feeling of your tight, wet heat around him. He has to fight the urge to come right then and there, and his hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Kriff," he gasps.

"Don't stop," you pant, your eyes screwed shut.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He thrusts in deeper, sinking another inch, and the noise that escapes your lips is the hottest thing he's ever heard. He does it again, and again, and before he knows it, he's fully sheathed inside you, his cock stretching you open, his hips flush against yours.

"Sweetheart," he breathes, the nickname coming out almost unbidden. "You feel so good."

Your hands are wrapped around his neck, and your eyes are screwed shut. Your brow is furrowed, and your mouth is hanging open, and he can't tear his eyes away.

"I—" he starts, but the words die in his throat. He can't find the right ones, can't articulate the depth of his feelings for you. So instead, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and then another, to the tip of your nose.

You look up at him, and the expression in your eyes is so tender, so full of affection, that his heart skips a beat.

"I love you," he whispers, the words escaping him without thought.

"I love you, too."

His heart soars, and he can't help but lean down and kiss you, his lips crashing into yours. It's a messy, passionate kiss, full of heat and need and love. You cling to him, and he loses himself in the feeling of you, of your arms and legs and mouth. He sets a slow pace, his hips moving in shallow, lazy thrusts.

You break the kiss, gasping for air, and he takes the opportunity to hooks his hands underneath your knees, bringing them up and bending you in half.

"What—" you start, but your question is cut off by a moan as he thrusts deeper, the angle changing and his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you.

"Oh," you gasp.

"You like that?"

You nod, your eyes closing, and he grins. His movements are languid, and you're so wet, and it's the best thing he's ever felt, the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around his cock.

"So do I," he says, leaning forward to press a kiss to the side of your knee. "Feels so good, sweetheart. So kriffing good."

"Howzer," you murmur, the word a sigh.

He hums in response, and the feeling of it vibrates through his chest, his mouth still pressed against your knee. You shiver.

"You feel amazing," he says, his voice low and husky. "I can't believe how good you feel."

"Howzer," you groan, your hips bucking, the movement causing him to slide in even deeper on each thrust. "Harder."

"You want me to fuck you harder?"

"Please," you beg, your voice a whine.

"Fuck," he swears. "Yes, sir."

He pulls back and sets a new, punishing pace. He can't stop the noises that escape him, and his balls slap against your ass as he fucks you, the sound obscene. He's so close, but he needs you to come again, needs to feel you squeeze his cock, hear his name fall from your lips as you climax.

"Look at me," he orders.

You do, and the sight of your eyes, wild and dark with desire, is almost enough to push him over the edge. But he holds back, determined to make you come.

He wedges a hand between your thighs, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles. Your breath catches, and your cunt clenches around him, the rhythmic tightening sending him spiraling closer to the edge.

"Come for me," he groans, and he can't believe he's begging, but he is, and he doesn't care. "Please, sweetheart, come for me."

The pressure of his fingers and the sound of his voice are enough, and you shudder, crying out his name as your cunt spasms around him.

It's too much. He's been on edge for so long, and it's impossible to resist any longer. Before he can stop himself, he's coming, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, his cock pulsing as his balls empty themselves, coating your walls. He can feel his release dripping out, leaking down his shaft, and the thought of it is so filthy, so hot, that he nearly blacks out.

"Fuck," he gasps, his head falling forward. He's shaking, his body wracked with the force of his release. It feels like every single nerve in his body is on fire, and his vision is blurred, and the only thing keeping him tethered to reality is the feeling of your hands in his hair, gently massaging his scalp.

When his body finally stops trembling, he opens his eyes, and you're looking up at him, a smile playing on your lips.

"Hi," you say softly.

"Hey," he replies, his voice hoarse. He looks down and sees the mess between your thighs, his cock and your folds coated in his release. He groans. "Sorry, I—I should have asked if you were okay with that."

"It's fine," you reassure him, your hand stroking his hair. "It was good. Really good."

"I'll pull out," he mumbles, leaning down and kissing you.

"Wait," you say, and the sound is muffled against his lips. "Not yet."

"Okay," he whispers, pulling back.

"I just want to feel you for a little longer."

The words make his heart ache, and he leans down to capture your lips in another kiss, softer this time. Your legs fall from his shoulders, and they wrap around his waist, keeping him close.

"How's that?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Perfect," you murmur, running your hands down his back.

He presses his forehead against yours, and he closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling of you. The two of you stay like that for a few moments, neither of you wanting to move.

Finally, he pulls away, and the soft, disappointed noise you make sends a jolt through him.

"It's alright, sweetheart," he soothes. "Just trying to find something to clean us up."

You groan and bury your face in the pillow, and the sight is so endearing, he can't help but lean down and kiss the corner of your mouth.

"I'll be right back," he says, reluctantly untangling himself from your limbs.

"Fine," you huff, and the pout on your lips is adorable.

He climbs off the bed and walks to the 'fresher, and when he returns, you're propped up on one elbow, watching him. Your gaze is focused on his softening cock, and his cheeks heat up.

"Like what you see?" he asks, echoing your words from earlier.

You raise an eyebrow and smirk. "Always."

The blush deepens, and he clears his throat. He makes his way back to the bed, and he cleans up the mess that's leaking out of you, wiping up his spend. When he's finished cleaning both of you, he tosses the cloth to the floor and climbs into the bed, pulling the blankets up and tucking the two of you in.

"That's better," you sigh, curling up next to him.

Howzer wraps his arm around your shoulder, and you nestle into the crook of his arm. He rests his cheek on the top of your head, and the two of you lie in silence, enjoying each other's presence.

"I love you," you say softly, after a few minutes.

"I love you, too."

Your hand rests on his chest, and your fingers trace the planes of his muscles. He shivers, and he can't suppress the grin that spreads across his face. He feels like his heart might burst.

"So," you say, after a while. "How long have you been holding onto that?"

He snorts, and his arm tightens around you. "How long ago was that day on Kamino?"

"What?" you ask, surprise evident in your voice. You sit up and look at him, and he's pleased to see the blush that stains your cheeks. "You're kidding."

He shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "Nope. That's when I knew."

"Howzer!"

"What?"

"That was...that was ages ago," you stammer, and the way you can't seem to get your words out makes him chuckle.

"Yeah, well," he shrugs. "What can I say? I'm a romantic."

"Well, I'm sorry it took me so long," you murmur, laying your head back on his chest.

"It's alright," he says, his hand finding yours and lacing his fingers through yours. "You're worth the wait."

"So are you."

He closes his eyes and presses a kiss to the top of your head. He can feel his eyelids getting heavy, and the weight of your body is comforting. The steady rhythm of your breathing is soothing, and before long, his consciousness begins to slip away.

The last thing he hears is the sound of your voice, sleepy and content.

"I love you, Howzer."

"I love you, too, sweetheart."

He drifts off to sleep, and the last thing he feels is the press of your lips against his chest, just above his heart.

taglist: @covert1ntrovert @baddest-batchers @bruh-myguy-what @spicy-clones @qvnthesia

@stellarbit @arctrooper69 @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified

@heidnspeak @lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod

@puppetscenario @umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado

@aynavaano @burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony

[leenathegreengirl]

JESSE LIVES!!!!! And he’s in LOVE 😍💕

💚Tag List💚

@legacygirlingreen @thora-sniper @sukithebean @thecoffeelorian @neyswxrld @somewhere-on-kamino @clonethirstingisreal @royallykt @morerandombullshit @burningfieldof-clover @tbnrpotato @keantha @returnofthepineapple @justanotherdikutsimp @antisocial-mariposa @techs-stitches @resistantecho @kimiheartblade @dezgate

[dangraccoon]

Mando'a (but Horny kov'taakyc)

Honestly, this is as much a post for me to reference back as it is for other writers to use 😅

ANYWAY

** denotes words that I created based on the rules listed in this mando'a dictionary (found here)

mando'a - english - pronunciation

Body Parts

bevagol - penis, dick, cock - bayv-AH-gohl

murce - lips (pl.) - MOOR-shay

palon - hole, opening; aisle, passageway - pah-LOHN

pel'gam - skin - pel-GAM

pel'troan - cheek - pail-TROHN

petir - center - PEH-teer

shebs - backside, rear, buttocks (also rear of building etc) - shebs

yai - belly, womb, abdomen - yay

yaiten - vagina (anatomical) - yay-TEN

Actions

aar'betenor - groan, moan - ahr-bey-tehn-OHR

baa'ruir - shiver, shudder - bah-roo-EER

baar'murcyur - making love, having sex - bahr-moor-SHOOR

baar'mureyca - sex (lit. "body kiss") - bahr-MOOR-aysh-ah

bat'gaanir - rub, grind - baht-gah-NEER

chayaikir - tease, barrack, make fun of (not as hostile as mock) - chai-ay-KEER

dihaarir - undress, take clothes off, unbutton, unzip - dee-hah-REER

↳ ke'dihaarir - undress (command) **

gayiylir - spread - guy-ee-LEER

gedetir - plead, beg - geh-deh-TEER

↳ ke'gedetir - beg (command) **

irudir - hug, embrace - ee-roo-DEER

iviin'hiibir - grasp, grab, seize - ee-VEEN-hee-BEER

murcyur - kiss - moor-SHOOR

pehir - spit - peh-HEER

tigaanur - touch - tee-gah-NOOR

videkir - swallow - vee-deh-KEER

↳ ke'videkir - swallow (command) **

Feelings

adenn - merciless - ah-DEN

aiki’yc - desperate - ai-KEESH

baar'laamyc - orgasm (lit. body high) - bahr-LAH-meesh **

↳ baar'lamycir - orgasming **

dola - throughout, pervading, soaked - DOH-lah

etyc - dirty, filthy, grimy - EHT-eesh

gebyc - narrow, tight - GEHB-eesh

jatisyc - delicious - jah-TEE-seesh

kandosii'la - stunning, amazing - kan-doh-SEE-la

murey'lin - lust - MOO-ray-leen

murey'yc - sexy, erotic - moor-ay-EESH

nepel - solid, hard - nay-PAIL

nukut'la - naked, nude, bare - noo-KOOT-lah

ori'aal - passion - OH-ree-AHL

piru'lini - thirst - pee-roo-LEE-nee

piryc - wet - PEER-eesh

tsikala - prepared, ready - zee-KAH-lah

yaihi'l - full - YAH-heel

yaiyai'yc - bloated, satisfied - yai-YAI-eesh

Other

ash'emuurir - please someone - ash-eh-moo-REER

copaanir - want - KOH-pan-EER

haav - bed - hahv

↳ haavir - bed (verb; to bed)

jat'ad - good boy/girl (name of affection or praise) - jah-TAHD

jatisir - delight, please, indulge - jah-tee-SEER

linibar - need - lee-nee-BAHR

pel'tigala - tender - pel-tee-GAH-lah

pelid - mattress, something soft to lie down or fall onto - pai-LEED

tennir - open - teh-NEER

↳ ke'tennir - open (command)

Kinky

brii'tay - knot - bree-TIE

↳ brii'tayir - knot (verb, i.e. A/B/O) **

nadal - heat - nah-DAHL

↳ or'nadal - in heat **

mircir - cage, lock up, capture - meer-SEER

tay'briik - cord, rope, string - tie-BREEK

tay'briir - tie up - tie-BREER

tay'gaan - strap, belt - tie-GAHN

yaihad - pregnancy - yai-HAHD

yaihad'la - pregnant - yai-HAHD-lah

yaihadir - conceive, impregnate - yai-hah-DEER

aar'ika - sting, little pain - AHR-eek-ah

aarar - hurt, cause pain - ah-RAHR

ekur - choke - eck-OOR

gratiir - punish - grah-TEER

kadalikir - scratch, leave a mark - kah-dah-lee-KEER

nynir - hit, strike - nee-NEER

oya'karir - hunt, chase - OY-yah-kah-REER

ky'goy - edge, verge, break, precipice - kee-GOHY

↳ ky'goyir - edge (verb) **

Drop a note or ask if there's anything you think I should add!

[motherroam-rs]

Unattached

Fives x Fem!Reader

NSFW Ahead Minors DNI 18+!!!

A/N: To all the girls who wish they lost their virginity to a clone trooper - this one’s for us.

Tags/Warnings: Loss of virginity, Best Friends to Lovers, Alcohol, Gambling, Lil bit of angst, Fluff, Smut, Oral Sex (F! Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Slow burn (technically), Love Confessions, Happy Ending!!

Summary: Since the moment you were transferred to the 501’st as a Civ Medic you and Fives gravitated towards each other and over many months of friendship you can’t help but slowly fall for the charming ARC Trooper. The tension only increases when he finds out just how inexperienced you are.

Word Count: 9.8k

(For clarification, the italics are flashbacks)

The data pad read ‘Order for Civilian Medic Transfer’, which is really just a nicer way of saying ‘You can’t do anything about this, so just accept it and suffer’. 

You had no choice when you were inevitably rotated between legions, untethered. Your newest order was to the 501st, and you find yourself standing in an empty Medbay; it’s quiet. Too quiet. You’ve either been fortunately assigned to a legion that didn’t see much action, if that were even possible, or you were stood in the eye of a hurricane.

Your eyes are caught on the tattoo across the scalp of the head medic, ‘A good droid is a dead one’ and you suppress a smile at the sentiment. It’s why you were needed - clones weren’t fond of droids, even those programmed for medical purposes. 

“New?” The clone asks, eyes focused on a datapad. You weren’t, not by any means, you had been rotated countless times over the duration of the clone wars. But, you already begin preparing yourself for the usual gruff demeanour that often greeted you, although you were better than a droid, to many clones you were still just a ‘Civ’, despite the many sleepless nights of studying and GAR medical training. 

“No, sir, transferred from the 104th.” You keep your words short, formal, but the clone medic’s eyes light up in recognition.

“Under Commander Wolffe?” He asks, a hint of surprise in his tone as he actually looks away from the datapad.

“Briefly,” you admit, recalling how just a few days before the commander in question practically growled at you when you had to check his eye. You lasted a week there.  “I was with the 212th before that.”

The head medic eyes you with a curious look, waiting for you to elaborate, so you continued, “Typically Civ medics are just seen as temporary by the head medic, until a clone medic becomes available.” You explain, perhaps a bit too fast. How many times could you fit the word medic in that sentence? You internally groan, but he gives a small hum of acknowledgement, whether it was in agreement or disagreement of your statement, his face didn’t betray him either way. 

“Go get yourself settled, and then report back here in an hour.” He says with a slight sigh, passing you the datapad, a blinking spot on the screen indicating where your bunk is - at least this time you weren’t in the shared barracks. “We’ve only just got back from being planetside on Coruscant for a week.” Ah, that answers the question of why it had been so quiet then.

“Thank you, sir.” You nod, picking up your small pack of personal belongings, it wasn’t much, but it was the only anchor you had when you were transferred around so often.

“Kix is fine.” He nods, giving you a genuine smile. “Welcome to the 501st.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The small room is thrumming with energy that’s been ignited from an evening of drinking following a particularly rough mission for the men. Contraband in the form of amber liquid that burns your throat and fuels bad decisions, is grouped together on a small crate you’ve been using as a makeshift table for the evening. 

You’re currently sitting on the floor, leaning against a crate next to Fives as he divulges details to you about their most recent mission. Details that you probably aren’t supposed to know, but he tells you anyways, because ‘what are friends for if not to impress’, he had once told you with a sly wink. 

You knew most of the other Civ workers in the GAR weren’t as close to the clones they served with as you were. In all of the legions you had been bounced around from, there was a clear divide between the small number of Civ members, compared to the clones. But in the 501’st, those theoretical lines were blurred, or probably didn’t exist at all, with how Fives’s arm settled around your shoulder. He always had been the most friendly out of his brothers.

Your attention is drawn away from the warm expression of your friend, and you groan as you catch Jesse and Hardcase standing side by side, comparing their lengths. 

“Put it away, for the last time they’re all the same size!” You call out with a laugh, making Fives frown and whip around as he’s been interrupted from your conversation.

“Know from experience with clones?” Jesse sends you a drunken wink as his hands sloppily stuffs the offending body part back into his blacks.

“Medical experience with clones.” Your face almost hurts from smiling as you shake your head, before turning back to Fives. It’s faint and fleeting, but a look of annoyance crosses his features. You’re not awarded the opportunity to ask about it though, because he’s already delving into another over-exaggerated story of how he took out a whole group of droids on his own. 

You wouldn’t really care if they all weren’t true, you just enjoyed hearing him talk. The man could make even the most boring senate conversations interesting, you’re sure of it. So you smile, hooked onto each of his words, cursing the way your heart beats too fast when he reaches out to push away some hair that's fallen from the usual tight bun you have to wear it in. His fingers graze the skin of your cheek, leaving a burning trail.

It’s a small gesture that doesn’t even break the rhythm of his conversation. The touches are natural, instinctive on his part. He’s always touching you - you know to him it means nothing more than that, but your tell-tale racing heart screams at you that you wish it did.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once you had returned from being settled in, Kix had directed you to some neatly stacked crates containing new medical supplies to restock the old ones. Your sluggish movements remind you just how little sleep you’d managed on the transport here from the 104th, your body was still aching from the hours spent laying on the durasteel floor between containers of explosives. Not the best sleep you’ve had, and surprisingly not the worst.

“Hey Kix, can you tell me if this looks infected?” A voice pulls you from your thoughts, alerting you to the attention of a topless clone trooper, something that no longer phased you given how many entirely naked clones you had treated. Upon seeing you, the clone goes from being relaxed to formal instantly, clearing his throat as he fumbled to get the top half of his blacks on. 

“You,” he clears his throat, his voice now adopting the typical ‘trooper at attention’ tone as he pulls the clothing over his head, “Are not Kix.” His top blacks are on backwards, and he runs a finger along the collar which now presses uncomfortably to his flushed neck.

“No, I’m not.” You agree with him, suppressing a small smile at how he looks caught off guard, from his surprised expression you may as well be a battle droid standing in the medical bay.

“May I?” You gesture to his top, and he reluctantly removes it once more, taking a seat on a free bed. You see his issue, a common rash splaying across his shoulders from where his armour has been rubbing his skin through his blacks.

“You’re the new medic?” He sounds more nervous than you are, his jaw tensing when you run your fingers along the rash, checking for any signs of infection.

You give a small hum, confirming he’s correct as you step away. “And you are?”

“Echo. I, uh.. Wasn’t expecting a Civ?” They never do.

“Not infected, by the way, it’s just irritated.” You seek out a steroid cream, which you conveniently just restocked. “Here, use this twice a day, and keep the area as dry as possible.”

He gives you a short, formal nod before he redresses, correctly this time, and leaves the room with his face almost as red as his rash. 

You’ve moved onto another crate when you catch the movement from the corner of your eye, somebody passing the door to the Medbay. You think nothing of it until you see the figure again, this time he slows slightly to glance inside the room.

He walks past a third time - and then a fourth.

On what would be the fifth time you poke your head out slightly to watch him walk almost to the end of the hallway, just to turn around and begin his lap back past the door. He stops in his tracks when he sees you looking curiously at him, but quickly recovers even though he’s been caught, and strides back towards you. You catch a glimpse of a tattoo on his temple, but it’s his grin, framed by neatly trimmed facial hair, that seems to distinguish him from other clone troopers you’ve come across. It’s cocky, confident, and warm. Especially warm when he takes hold of your hand and presses it to his lips in a greeting that makes it feel as though you’re trapped in a boiler room, overheating.

“I’m Fives, and you are?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were settled between Echo and Fives, the three of you with empty cups waiting for the next round of the game. Each round you had to take a shot based on your answer to the question, which so far had ranged between ‘If you’ve been shot by a droid’ - which Rex groaned at, and ‘If you ever fucked a girl in the 79’s fresher’, which made several of the men cheer. 

Your heart sinks a bit when Fives drinks at that one, recalling the night just over a month ago on Coruscant. 

You had all been there together, his arm slung around your shoulder in the booth as you both laughed at some fleeting joke made by Jesse. You had grown closer, close enough to the point that he got teased relentlessly by his brothers for calling you his ‘best friend’ whilst under the influence of some strong pain medication in the Medbay. 

You left to get some more drinks from the bar when Sinker approached you, a spark of recognition in his eyes. You were trying to focus on ordering the drinks, blushing as you attempted to turn down the Sergeant who was whispering over-sweetened things in your ear at how he wished you’d stayed with the 104th for longer.

You smiled in thanks when Echo came to help, claiming he saw that you may need help with carrying the drinks. You were grateful for the assistance, laughing with Echo under the usual volume of the crowd until you caught sight of your best friend, stumbling through the crowd towards the fresher, his hand intertwined with a beautiful Twi’lek girl.

You remember how Echo looked at you as he realised the reason behind your tightened jaw and hoarse voice when you excused yourself for some air. You couldn’t stand the sympathy in his eyes, the eyes that looked identical to those of your best friend, the man you were in love with. 

So much for being unattached.

“It wasn’t that good.” Fives nudges your knee with his own, pulling you from your thoughts. A casual smirk plays on his lips and you’re about to laugh off the comment, ready to deflect the attention from your friend, when his twin interrupts you.

“Yeah, cause you couldn’t get it up!” Echo slurs as he leans against you, clutching his cup as some of the amber liquid sloshes down your chest before he apologises and wipes the stain above your breast with hazy eyes. Fives catches his brother's wrist, pushing it away from your chest lightly, and your mind races at Echo’s statement - Fives hadn’t slept with the Twi’Lek girl?

“Shut up, Vod.” Fives grumbles, his fingers tightening around his own cup as he looks away from the two of you. A blush, that must just be from a mix of alcohol and annoyance, creeps up to his face. Thankfully as most of these questions have been related to battle or women, you’ve barely drank, so you can at least try to be rational and push away thoughts that creep into your mind of how you think Fives would take you against the wall of a fresher stall. You can ignore the contemplation on if he would show restraint, or if he would make the walls shake.

“How about this - take a shot for how many people you’ve slept with,” Jesse calls out to the small group of you, an intoxicated grin on his face. Several hands reach for the last remaining bottle at once, ready to fill their cups, each of their owners immediately wanting to show off to the rest of the room's occupants.

“No!” Kix’s hand is the fastest to snatch the liquor away, holding it close to his chest plate.  “We are not looking after you all in the Medbay with alcohol poisoning!” He gestures between you both, and Jesse bargains, coming to a compromise for 1 shot for every certain number, but the specifics of the round are drowned out by your own heartbeat.

Your body stills and you look down to your half full cup. It would be easy to drink, to lie to yourself and those around you. You don’t even have to drink more than once and yet you just continue to stare at your reflection in the liquid, it’s as if the cup were judging you.

“You know you’re supposed to at least drink once, right?” Fives whispers in your ear.

“Yeah, just got distracted trying to work out which of your brothers are definitely exaggerating,” You nod, taking a sip from the cup as you avoid his eyes that burn you more than any liquor ever could. You place the empty cup at your feet and lean your head against Echos, managing a small smile at how he’s snoring against your shoulder. 

Fives gives a small hum of thought, finishing his own drink before placing the empty cup next to you, allowing his finger to linger on the rim for a moment. Your gaze is focused on the way the traces of liquor coat his fingertips, making the battle-calloused skin glisten. You close your eyes, trying to fend off the thoughts of how the whiskey tainted fingers would taste on your tongue, and the mental image of them coated in something sweeter than the alcohol.

“Remember the first time I dragged you here?” Fives’ amused tone forces your eyes open, his warm hand settling on your knee and he taps his fingers rhythmically, almost to the same beat as your unsteady heart.

It had been just over one standard month, one of your longest posts so far, and you were already finding yourself anxious that you could be transferred away at any moment. If you had told yourself just over a month ago that in your new assignment with the 501st that you would wake to two half-drunk troopers in your room, begging you to come play Sabbac with them, you would have diagnosed them with battle induced psychosis.

“Well, not with us-” Fives starts, rummaging around the small closet for something you could wear over your sleeping vest.

“For us.” Echo finishes, practically pulling you out of your bed with an eager nod as Fives approaches you with something in his hands.

“Hands up, sweetheart.” In your tired state, you obey thoughtlessly, allowing Fives to slip the sweatshirt over your head. His fingers trail down your sides, eliciting goosebumps across your skin as he pulls the heavy fabric down over you, and between the contact and his name for you, your heart skips a beat. It nearly stops when he winks before turning away to get your shoes.

Clone Troopers were often flirty, but over the last month, Fives seemed determined to earn the title of being the biggest flirt. Regardless which of his brothers got sick or minorly injured, he was always the one pulling them through the door and would then spend the entire time sweet talking you. Just last week, Rex had nearly concussed himself on a pipe and looked like he wanted to hit Fives who didn’t stop talking the whole time you examined the injury.

“And why do you need me to play for you? I’ve never even played before,” You swallow thickly, sliding your feet into the shoes as the twins guide you from your room, both of their hands on your back, ushering you down complex hallways that all look identical.

“Fives got caught cheating, so we both got banned,” Echo rolls his eyes, placing the blame on his brother, who begins telling you the rules of the game, which they are playing a slight variation of given that they only had items to bet, not credits. You had reluctantly allowed them to bring a full bottle of rather expensive vodka you had purchased last time you were on Coruscant.

“You did not wake up the new medic just to get her to play for you.” Jesse groans, and Rex begins apologising to you for his brothers, ready to scold them for waking you up, but you raise your hand to stop him.

“It’s no bother.” You shake your head, remembering Fives and Echo’s advice to act confident - so really you just had to ask yourself ‘What would Fives do?’

“You know how to play?” Kix asks, surprised by your sudden change in demeanour. He had been used to you keeping your head down in the Medbay, following orders, not showing up with a bottle of alcohol to bet on and Fives’s arm slung around your shoulder.

“Oh please, I’ve been playing Sabbac longer than some of you have been out of the tube.” You feel Fives give your shoulder a proud squeeze at your lie as he places the bottle of vodka on the makeshift table, and you both take a seat, “Deal me in?”

After several rounds of you finding your feet in the game, Fives drops his hand to your waist, giving it a squeeze - he’s signalling to go in for the kill. You turn your head slightly to look into his eyes, and he gives a slight nod that doesn’t go unnoticed by your opponents, he’s making it look so sure you’re going to win, but in reality your cards weren’t good. 

 You and Rex were down to the last cards, everyone else had folded. Either of you could have the winning hand, but if one of you backed out now before your cards were revealed, you could at least keep your own stake in the game. It was about the bluffing now, and thankfully you were good at that.

“Well, Captain?” You and Fives lean backward in sync. You press the cards to your chest, hiding how they’re on the verge of shaking from Fives’ grip on your waist, but also to hide your tell. It’s a small, barely noticeable movement, your forefinger running along the edge of your thumbnail -  a nervous movement that Rex hasn’t noticed past your arrogant smile that perfectly mirrors Fives’. “What’ll it be?”

There’s a short beat where the room is silent and you hold the gaze of the Captain, all of the others staring between you both like it’s an intense standoff. He looks away first, tossing the cards down with a huff as he backs out, giving the win to you; he actually had a good hand. 

“Oh and by the way, sir,” You lay your cards down, revealing that you had already gone bust, over the number limit to win. “I’ve never played Sabbac in my life.” You grin at the shocked expression on his face that melts into a warm smile and you’re enveloped into a hug from Fives while Echo reaps your winnings from the table.

After you all decide to have a drink from the bottle you bet with, the tiredness catches up to you, and you struggle to stay alert with the alcohol that casts a haze on your mind. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you back.” Fives nudges you, picking up the half-full bottle of vodka as he pulls you to your feet, shaking his head in amusement when he tugs a bit too hard and you fall into his chest. “Already falling for me, sweetheart?” his voice is low, something that can only be heard between the two of you in the room full of his boisterous brothers.

You roll your eyes in amusement, a defence against how the whisper makes heat spread throughout your body. You take a half step back, placing the empty cup on the crate as you exchange a short goodbye with Echo.

“I’m gonna walk our lovely medic here back to her room, I’ll be back soon,” Fives gives a mock salute as you both make your exit and you try to ignore the whistle from one of the men as Fives chuckles, shaking his head. “Animals aren’t they, Mesh’la?”

You hadn’t known this side to any of the clones you’d served with, albeit you were just a medic, none of them had ever been this relaxed around you. The entire time you had been in the GAR, it had been lonely. There was no one to celebrate with after battle, no late night conversations between friends, no one to just sit with and cry when you weren’t able to save a life. But walking through the corridors with Fives somehow made it all worth it.

“You did great, sweetheart, I’m impressed.” Fives brings the bottle to his lips, taking a swig of the clear liquid as you stop outside of your door. “You’re just full of surprises aren’t you?” His tongue darts out to lick the vodka off his lips and you can’t help but let your eyes linger there after the action. His gaze is already meeting yours when you look up, heat flickering in his eyes like the flame of a candle - he’s caught you staring.

Fives’ hand comes up to hold your waist once more, his grip tighter now, drawing you closer like you were a flower he wanted to admire. The scent of vodka from his breath intoxicates you, and you find yourself hypnotised, leaning closer. You don’t know what causes it, but at the last moment he freezes, his hand falling from your waist to press the panel outside your door, opening it.

“Goodnight.” He gives a tight-lipped smile before stepping away, walking back down the corridor in the direction of the barracks. Despite the heavy sweatshirt and warmth of the vodka in your blood, you feel empty as you enter your dark room. You find yourself lying awake in your bunk as you work through a mixture of disappointment, embarrassment, and something that ignites an ache between your thighs. 

He stopped himself from kissing you, and you didn’t know why.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

You know your way back, he doesn’t need to walk you, yet he always does. It’s been almost 8 standard months since you were transferred to the 501st, you could practically navigate your way around blindfolded. So, you know you're about to turn onto the corridor your room is on when he speaks.

“You didn’t drink.” 

Your mouth goes dry, it’s like you’ve just eaten a whole pack of ration crackers while sitting in the Tatooine desert with no water. The lights above feel harsher, as if you’re under a spotlight on the Medbay examination table, and Fives is the one inspecting you. He’s peering at you from the corner of your vision, gauging your reaction to his statement. 

“What are you talking about, Fives?” You shrug in an attempt to appear nonchalant, but unfortunately due to his metabolism he was as sober as you, meaning he was just as observant. You couldn’t brush off his attention when he places a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your place just as you round a corner. From here you can see the door to your room, the third from the end. It’s taunting you at how close you were to getting away with the secret you’d been keeping against your chest.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” His free hand grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger, directing your attention to him. You swallow as he draws your face closer, eyes raking over your features as he gives a small shake of his head. “You didn’t drink.”

“Yes I did.” Your voice is impressively steady, you’re good at bluffing. Fives already knows this, but he knows you better, and his eyes dart down in search of something. Your fingertip presses against the edge of your thumb in a movement that Fives had catalogued in his brain since that day you beat Rex at Sabbac.

The credit drops. You can see the moment it registers in Fives’ brain as his jaw goes slack, his grip on your chin loosening.

“Are you a- mph!” Your hand covers his mouth and you push him to the wall before he can shout aloud what you’ve kept unsaid for your whole time in the GAR. Fives was an ARC trooper, he could easily push you away, but his muscles seem to weaken against your grip. You feel the resistance in his body melt under your touch, as his eyes soften just above where your hand covers his mouth.

“I know you’re a loud mouth but please,” Your voice is low, urgent, as you give him a warning look, your face burning from embarrassment as he’s just come to the realisation of why you didn’t drink. You didn’t have any number to drink for. You can see him linking it together in his head - why you turned down flirtatious advances from his brothers, why he walked you back alone after every late night. It was why your body was so responsive to every small touch and honeyed word from his lips; like a flower chasing fleeting sunlight in the late afternoon. “Just this once, Fives, keep your voice down.” 

Fives gives a short nod down at you, assuring you he’ll be quiet. His fingers loop around your wrist, tugging your hand from his mouth. You unsuccessfully try to ignore the way his lips had felt against your skin, you’re so caught on the small patch of wetness on your palm that you miss the clench of his jaw and flash of emotions in his eyes.

“You’ve really never..?” He trails off, the words settling into the small gap between you, they’re not taunting or teasing, they’re simply disbelieving. Even though he’s released your wrist now, it’s still suspended in the air, as if you’ve been frozen in carbonite. You’re afraid to move away, that it would be just like all those months ago, that the moment would be shattered and lost.

Your breaths are mingling together, you’re like an asteroid orbiting, drawing closer and closer to his planet, bracing for impact. Fives is unblinking, waiting for the answer he already knows, but needs to hear for himself. 

“No.” 

Something stirs in the depths of Fives’ eyes and there’s a tension you could almost reach out and grasp from the air. Your body acts on its own, hand breaking free from its frozen stupor to find interest in a small scar on his jaw. You remember treating the small cut, he never even flinched, but you had let him hold your hand anyways. ‘It’s for comfort’, Fives had told you, accompanied by the usual sly wink that made it all the more difficult for your free hand to remain steady when you cleaned the cut.

Fives’ eyes slip closed when your fingertips graze against the shining scar, his breathing becoming carefully controlled. You recognise the pattern, it’s the same pace it was during the times he would take you to the training rooms, his body pressed to yours as he taught you to shoot. He would chuckle into your ear when your hands would shake, causing you to miss.

Your hands are steady now, no signs of the trembling are evident when you raise your attention higher. Your finger traces its way over the inky ‘5’ on his temple, and you’re about to move it away but you find yourself held in place, fingers still pressed against the tattoo.

Fives’ constant touches were always casual, fleeting, and meaningless. But this? This was deliberate. 

His gloved hand is circled around the bare skin of your wrist once more, keeping your fingers pressed against his temple. After a short, breathless moment, he moves your hand, but not to push it away this time. He pulls it closer, making your fingers trace across his cheekbone, against his warm skin all the way on a deliberate path to his mouth. 

Fives’ lips ghost across your fingertips and in contrast to his rough exterior and battle scarred skin, they’re soft. Just above the point of your fixation is his heavy stare, focused and serious, like you’re his target in the heat of battle.

Your heart is thrumming against your ribcage like blaster fire and you wonder if he can feel the pulse in your wrist through his gloves at the sheer force of it. There’s barely any space between the two of you, and it only lessens with every beat of your heart.

“Just… stay still for a second, please,” Fives’ eyes burn into yours and he’s like a black hole orbiting you, pulling you in with his gravity. “Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” His voice is a strained whisper, just cosmic background noise, all you can focus on is how his breath fans across your lips. 

His eyes close again when you nod, and you allow yourself to slip away into the same darkness as he consumes all of your senses.

The touch is light, a soft brush of his lips against your own, and the gentle contact has a shiver running through your body. His hand has placed your palm back to his jaw, covering it with his own as he pulls you in deeper. The second kiss is more confident, the swipe of his tongue over your lower lip has the world around you dissolving into a meaningless void as he becomes the centre of your universe. 

Before you can part your lips for him, Fives pulls away, just enough so he can look at you. There’s a dazed expression on his face, like he’s been concussed but is strangely happy about it. The momentary bewilderment melts away into an unusually shy smile and he’s about to kiss you again when you’re interrupted. There's laughter echoing from the direction you just came and Fives pulls back further, a suddenly serious look taking over his face.

You’re filled with a strange sense of deja vu when he steps away, your heart already sinking. Before you can open your mouth to apologise for getting carried away, to try and repair whatever strain the kiss could have put on your friendship, you’re being pulled along by his gentle grasp. Fives is making urgent paces down the short walk to your door, slamming his free hand to the control panel to get you both away from whatever prying eyes may have stumbled upon your private moment.

The door whooshes down to swallow you both in the darkness of your room and just like all those months ago, your back is pressed against the cool durasteel door. Only this time, you’re on the other side of it.

You immediately miss the warmth his body has been providing you with when he walks over to your desk, fumbling in the darkness from your lamp switch. Your lips still tingle from where his own were pressed against yours, and you swear you can still taste him.

The room is poorly illuminated from the dim bulb, but it's enough to highlight the figure of Fives leaning over your desk and you take in the full sight of him. He’s still wearing his armour from the waist down, but his upper half is only dressed in his tight blacks, and the lamp casts shadows that accentuate every ridge of muscle. It’s times like this where you’re reminded the man in front of you isn’t just your best friend, but also a highly decorated ARC Trooper, a man who spends most of his days in battle.

The serious look doesn’t leave his face, even when he’s moved back in front of you, blocking out the rest of your room with his large frame. At some point in the darkness, Fives has removed his gloves, allowing you to feel the rough skin of his hand as it cups your face. His thumb tugs at your lower lip, smearing saliva across the swollen skin as he teases the sensitive flesh. You can make out the apprehensive desire in his eyes as he marvels down at your mouth, before looking up to meet your gaze once more.

“Kriff, I…” His voice is light, and there’s an uncertain, almost desperate edge to it before he swallows it down. “Sweetheart, do you want this?” 

It would be easy to lie to the both of you and back out. You never expected to meet anyone when you enlisted into the GAR straight from your medical school. Back then you had wanted to be a doctor, it was expected of you by your family, you sacrificed your entire social life to work for it. 

You were never given the luxury of free-time, how could you ever have met anyone when all you did in your later teen years, when all your friends were partying and meeting their partners, was study? It was never a case that you didn’t want to be with anyone, but life simply prevented you from it. You were in your third year when the war broke out, two more years at the university and you would have graduated, but instead you decided to take your study credits and enlist as a medic. In less than a standard rotation from the moment you notified the university, you were on a transport to your first assignment.

You had let your work and the war rob you of so many experiences, you wouldn’t let them take this from you too. You wouldn’t let them take him from you too.

“Yes, Fives.” You nod, allowing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. You’re sure of this, sure of him.

“Tell me to stop,” There’s a hunger in Fives’ eyes when you say his name and his lips press back to yours in a kiss that’s over far too quickly. “At any time, tell me to stop.” He’s holding your face still, unmoving until he has your consent.

“Okay.” There’s no reluctance in your tone, just a breathless need that makes Fives’ jaw tick.

Fives exhales, his shoulders relaxing and your eyes close again in anticipation, awaiting his kiss. But instead you feel the heat of his forehead press to yours, as if he’s anchoring himself against you, just for a moment.

“Okay, sweetheart.” His mouth is instantly on yours, his right hand still cups your jaw, but his left slips around your back in search of the zip on your uniform. He makes quick work of pulling the zipper down to loosen the material from your skin, and both hands travel down to your hips, tugging at the edge of the fabric.

“Hands up.” Fives’ voice is low in your ear as he presses a kiss to your hairline, and you raise your arms, allowing him to slip the top from your body. He discards it on the floor, not wanting to waste any time that could be spent with his hands on your exposed skin.

Fives is slower this time. Each movement is purposeful when he guides you both towards your small bunk, his tongue slipping past your lips in a kiss that makes you dizzy as you taste him in your mouth. 

When the back of your knees meet the edge of your bunk, Fives’ lips begin to trail down your body. His path starts at the soft skin of your now exposed cleavage, and continues down past your bra, over the smooth skin of your stomach. There’s a soft scrape when his armour makes contact with the floor, he’s dropping to a kneeling position with his lips hovering over your abdomen. You look down at the man kneeling before you with his fingers hooked in the waistband of your uniform leggings, and you can’t help but smile. Fives pauses momentarily, sending a wink up at you before he tugs the fabric down, exposing the flesh of your legs. 

“Lay down.” Fives whispers, and you can feel his warm breath tickle your stomach.

You settle backwards onto the bunk, allowing Fives to remove your leggings entirely, along with your shoes. You’re left in just your simple, black GAR issued bra and panties. It’s nothing special by any means, but Fives eyes you as if you’re an oasis he’s stumbled upon in the middle of a month-long battle. One meant only for him.

You let your eyes slip closed as you hear the familiar noise of his armour being removed, clattering to the floor. It’s something you’ve heard many times when he’s come to relax with you on an evening and you find yourself counting each piece removed as a distraction until bare fingers brush your knee. It’s a comforting touch to draw you back to him.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart, look at me.” Fives is sat just between your legs, bare aside from tight boxers that leave little of his anatomy to the imagination. You already knew what clones looked like naked, you had treated enough of them to not be phased by any part of their body. But a clone on a Medbay table was different to your best friend whose lips were pressing to the soft flesh of your inner thigh. “Is this okay?”

He inhales against your panties and you attempt to swallow your embarrassment and nervousness at the sight of your friend between your legs with only a thin layer of fabric between you. The sight of his ever-present smile between your legs sends a flood of heat through your body before it concentrates in your lower stomach.

When you don’t reply immediately, he pulls back slightly, giving the thigh he’s hooked over his shoulder a light squeeze. His brown eyes are filled with concern, searching your expression for any hesitation. 

“You still with me?” His thumb traces patterns against your skin, each movement only encouraging the fire in your body.

“I’m still with you,” You nod, watching as something lights up in his eyes. “What are you-“ 

Fives immediately silences your question with an action. His wet, open mouth presses to your thigh again and you feel yourself exposed to him when he hooks a finger in your panties, pulling them to the side. 

“I’m taking my time with you Mesh’la.” His hot breath fans over your now exposed cunt and you fight the urge to clasp your legs together, you’ve never felt more vulnerable lying in your bunk, entirely bare to the person you trust most and it’s a vulnerability that makes your heart race as if you’re under attack. 

Fives seems to sense your nervousness as he holds your knees firmly apart with his shoulders and free hand, keeping your legs open for him to litter small kisses on your inner thighs, all the while keeping you exposed for him. 

“Focus on me, Cyar'ika.”

Before your apprehension can get the better of you, Fives is licking a slow, experimental stripe up your slit, parting your folds with his tongue. His eyes are on yours the whole time, studying the awed look on your face and gasps of pleasure when his tongue runs over your clit.

Fives shakes his head, grumbling something under his breath. Before you can decipher it, he’s using one hand to lift your hips from the bed while his other practically tears the panties from your body, leaving you in just your bra. Strong hands move to grip the top of your thighs and pull you to him so he can secure his mouth to your core without obstruction, filling the room with wet, desperate noises as he laps at your cunt. 

Your hands twist in the thin bed sheets, desperately searching for something to ground you as his tongue delves inside you. His mouth is attached to you like you’re his last meal before an execution, the first drop of water after a mission on a desert planet, something he’s denied himself for far too long.

One of his fingers circles your entrance and your eyes snap open, finding him already looking up at you with a question in his gaze, asking for permission. You can only nod, not trusting your ability to speak with Fives’s tongue dragging slow circles around your clit. 

Your head slumps back to the floor when he proceeds with your consent, the sensation is entirely foreign as you feel his digit sink into you, testing your tightness. Your own fingers were nothing in comparison to his, even just the one is beginning to stretch you.

“Fives…” Your breathless plea encourages him and your teeth sink into your lower lip as he adds another finger to stretch you further. You let out a small whimper at the slight burn and he slows his movements slightly to allow you time to adjust.

“Shh, Mesh’la,” He changes the angle slightly, massaging his fingertips against the walls of your cunt as they search for a particularly sensitive spot. Your body jolts, arching towards him when he finds it, and a moan escapes you. “That’s it, relax.” 

The heat in your core is building as you grow wetter, making it easy for him to work his fingers into your tight hole, only adding to the growing pleasure building in every part of you, begging to escape. He presses his thumb to your swollen clit, one goal in mind.

“Need to make sure you’re ready for me, Cyar'ika.”

Fives withdraws his fingers from your gushing cunt, his hands instead moving from under your thighs and securing themselves back to their original position on your knees, keeping your trembling legs open as he continues to suck lightly on your clit when you reach your climax. Your body shakes, set alight with pleasure that’s only intensified by the way his head rests against your thigh, looking up at you as if committing the moment to memory.

When you finally relax against the bed, the pleasure having temporarily robbed your body of energy, you expect him to be done and move onto the next step. Instead, he lets out a low chuckle and begins circling your clit with his thumb once more. 

“Do you think you can give me another one, Mesh’la?” His soft smile contrasts his words, but his eyes gleam with mischief when you whisper a small ‘yes’ in response.

He’s using just his fingers this time, two of them working you in a scissoring motion, stretching your walls as his other hand slips between you and the mattress. His fingers expertly find the clasp to your bra, freeing you from the last item of your clothing.

His pupils are dilated, drinking in the sight of your writhing body, now entirely bare for him. He leans back slightly, taking in every detail, something between a smile and a smirk on his lips when his eyes focus on his own fingers pumping in your tight hole. The moment he feels your orgasm hit, cunt tightening around his fingers, he descends on you once more. Teeth pulling at your nipple, his thumb secured to your clit as he lets you ride out your orgasm, your hips attempt to grind up against his hand, chasing pleasure.

The world is falling back into place around you when he shifts his weight on the bed, and you hear the final piece of clothing hit the floor.

Fives is kneeling in front of you, a hand on each of your knees as you take in the sight of his bare body. His large cock makes the breath hitch in your throat, but he presses a soft kiss against your lips, prepared to ease the tension that threatens to overwhelm your body. His eyes are filled with a warmth that reassures you when he pulls back to press another kiss against your forehead, “You can take it, Cyar'ika, I’ll go slow.”

Fives settles his hips between your parted thighs, hooking one of your legs over his waist to keep you open beneath him. Soft lips ghost over yours and you feel the head of his cock settle against your entrance.

“Are you ready?” His thumb brushes along your jaw, a loving reminder that it’s your best friend above you, the person you trust the most. The same man who you would stay up with late at night after every difficult battle, who you would always pick up an extra ration bar for, the man you were in love with. 

“Yes.” Your eyes slip closed as you press your lips back to his.

The initial pressure of his cock entering you gives way to a sharp pinch that causes you to suck in a sharp breath through your teeth. Despite all of Fives’s efforts to prepare you, the unfamiliar pain seizes your body in an uncomfortable grasp.

“Relax for me, Cyar'ika.” He murmurs the assurance against your mouth, forcing his own breathing to slow, unconsciously prompting you to calm down. A hand presses to the underside of your thigh, pushing it upwards as he rolls his hips into you, he’s only halfway inside and you try to force yourself to relax around his impressive girth.

“That’s my girl.” He groans into your neck as his hand drops from your thigh to drag precise circles around your tight clit. The added layer of stimulation makes you gush around the half of his length inside you, making it easier to take his cock, but he doesn’t push any deeper. Instead he rocks his hips in a shallow motion, allowing you to adjust to this size first.

“Shh, don’t worry, Mesh’la,” He strokes your hair, continuing to press soft kisses of assurance to your mouth as he works your clit in time with his shallow thrusts. “It’ll be easier once you cum with me inside you, then you’ll be more relaxed for me.”

Fives’ hips pick up their pace, but he still limits himself, expertly watching your body's reactions to his cock. He’s continuously ensuring he doesn't go too fast, too hard, too deep. It’s a balancing act, one he seems to be perfect at with the way he already has the beginnings of another orgasm taking grasp of your body.

“Fives!”

You’re grinding helplessly against him now, one hand on his tanned chest and the other grasping at the short hair on the back of his head. Between Fives’s whispered words of adoration in your ear, you can make out the wet noises as he thrusts inside you, each movement causing more of your wetness to drip between your joined bodies, smearing you both with your arousal.

You’re hooked onto his words like a lifeline as he guides you through the experience.

“Kriff-” He shakes his head as he takes in the sight of you cumming around his cock. But it’s not lust in his eyes, it’s something far more intense. “I promised I wouldn’t do this..” His voice is strained, like he’s trying to keep the words inside of him. 

Before you can even catch your breath fully to ask what he means, your world is spinning when he pulls you upwards, slotting himself underneath you so you can no longer try to read the emotions in his face. Your back is now pressed to his chest, his body supporting you to stay upright and he’s hooking his right hand under your knee, spreading you apart.

His chin rests on top of your head, the position allowing him a full view of your body as his cock enters your cunt from behind; it’s more than before, but still not the full length. Your right arm curls up around behind you to hold the back of Fives’ neck, needily pulling him closer in the moment as you writhe against his body.

“Look at that, Cyar'ika,”  You feel the rumble in his chest just as much as you hear it, and it draws your attention down to your joined bodies. He shifts slightly to support your head as you catch glimpses of his cock disappearing into your tight hole in a series of shallow, restrained thrusts. “Look how perfectly we fit together.”

His eyes remain locked on your body, the way your chest heaves and cunt tightens, dripping down his cock as you cum once more, you’re already losing count. From what you were always told by friends when you were in University, losing your virginity was supposed to be a far cry from this. In fact you don’t think a single one of your friends had cum when losing theirs, and yet here you were, the room almost spinning from the pleasure Fives had given you.

Fives chuckles at the blissful look on your face as he pulls his hand from your clit, allowing you to relax against his larger frame. “You are really something else, Cyar'ika.” He’s slower this time when he rolls you both over once more, cradling the back of your head as he rests you back onto the pillows. 

He resumes his original position above you, thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. His eyes are full of adoration when he looks down at you, and there’s no trace of the painful stretch from earlier when he slides the full length of his cock inside you this time.

He’s been so focused on your pleasure that his own has been forgotten, but you see the evidence of it. He’s coated in a sheen of sweat that makes him appear like one of those glossy paintings in the art galleries on Coruscant. He’s an artwork, beautifully crafted, every muscle in his body coiled tight in restraint as his hips grind against yours. 

It’s your turn to touch him this time, to appreciate every bit of the vulnerability in his face as he presses his forehead against yours and you angle your face upwards to steal a kiss. A tortured moan escapes his lips as his thrusts only increase in speed, he’s clinging onto you like it’s his sole purpose.

“Where?” His breathing is ragged against your neck.

You make a confused noise in response and he curses something in Mando’a.

“Where do you want me to cum, Mesh’la, hm?”

You‘re speechless from the pleasure, but thankfully your body answers for you, already locking your legs around his hips to keep you joined together.

“Alright, Cyar'ika, inside it is.” There’s a soft rumble of amusement against your throat before his mouth finds yours again. One hand tangles in your hair while the other grips your hip, both of them seeking to drag you closer. You’re two stars colliding in the void of the universe, no longer orbiting each other, instead becoming one as your light drowns out all darkness around the pair of you.

His name is falling from your lips, cries of it suffocated against him when his tongue slips into your mouth. Fives empties himself inside you, his cock unloading a flood of warmth that already overspills, leaking from your cunt with every slow movement of his hips. He pulls back, an unreadable emotion in his eyes before he buries his face in your hair, distracting himself by stroking at your burning skin. You stay there as you both begin to calm, hearts beating in sync with one another as your bodies remain joined.

He’s breathing heavily in your ear, an affirmation that you haven’t died and ascended to some afterlife when he drags his hips away from yours, leaving you empty as he stands up. 

“Where are you going?” You hate yourself for sounding so needy, but with his cum leaking from between your thighs, how could you not. You knew it was common for men to leave straight after sex. You’ve caught some of the boys’ one night stands sneaking out barely ten minutes after they had been brought to the barracks, hair messy and clothes dishevelled. 

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m not leaving.” He winks at you before disappearing into the small fresher joined to your room. You hear the water running for what seems like far too long, before he returns with a warm washcloth.

“Gotta clean us up before we make a mess on the bed, I’m not falling asleep in a wet patch.” He settles back between your legs, whispering soothing praises as he cleans your combined fluids. He’s thorough, making sure there’s no trace of him left before he presses a kiss to your inner thigh and discards the cloth into your laundry basket.

“C’mere.” He settles down next to you, lifting an arm to allow you to curl up against him and he pulls the bed covers over your waists. “You did so well, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, basking in a moment neither of you want to end. It’s sweet, intimate, and perfect. 

Yet you can’t stop yourself from asking the question.

“What did you mean when you said you promised you wouldn’t do this?” 

He pauses, an awkward smile tugging at his lips, you’d never seen him nervous like this, a blush creeping into his cheeks that he can’t even blame on the sex. “Caught that did you?”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. Your cards were on the table, it’s only fair that his should be too.

“I suppose it’s only fair given that I didn’t let you get away with not drinking.” There’s a nervous edge to his laugh as he drags you closer to him, like he’s afraid you could disappear at any given moment.

“Do you remember the first time we played Sabbac, you kicked Rex’s ass, and I walked you back to your room?”

You nod slightly. The memory still plagued your thoughts on sleepless nights, it embedded itself in a playlist of embarrassing moments that liked to keep you awake. Yet, it also featured on the list of thoughts that had your legs twisted in the bed sheets as you imagine what would have happened if he did kiss you that night. 

“I wanted to kiss you, but I couldn’t.” He sighs regretfully, admitting the truth he had been fighting against all of the months since that night.

“I think you’d only been here for what - a month?” You feel his laugh against your cheek as it rumbles in his chest. “And I couldn’t get you out of my damn head, I even made Echo fake being sick once just so I had an excuse to come to the Medbay and talk to you.” You remembered, and now felt slightly bad for insisting you give Echo all those unnecessary virus and anti-nausea shots.

“I needed the excuses to see you, because if I didn’t, and I saw you without them, it’d mean something that I’d been avoiding.” He trails off, trying to find a way to put it into words, it wasn’t something he had ever been good at. But he would try, for you he would try.

“The rest of the boys found out because I called you my girlfriend once when Kix gave me some of the heavy stuff in those green syringes.” He laughs, shaking his head and your mind begins to put the pieces together, that’s why they teased him so often about it. “They all promised they wouldn’t tell you how I felt though - I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

He drags a hand down his face, his jaw tenses. “And then I got jealous when I saw that Sergeant from the 104th talking to you, how he had his hands on you,” He shakes his head, an irritated look playing on his face, both at the other trooper, and his own actions on that night. “Thought I blew my shot, and I tried to cover it the only way I knew how.”

Your mind recalls him and the Twi’lek making a beeline for the 79’s freshers, how just a month ago you ended up crying in the alleyway, it was like taking a blaster bolt to your chest. No amount of Bacta could fix the pain that night, but you had certainly tried to heal it with whiskey.

“But I didn’t do it, and it’s not like Echo said, not because I couldn't,” He pulls himself back from you, but continues to hold you, to keep you in the moment with him as he explains what happens, a regretful look on his face. “It’s because she wasn’t you, Cyare.”

He presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and your fingers trace over the tattoo again, just for a moment, just until he finds the strength inside of him; the strength to override his programmed instincts to be a loyal, unattached soldier and nothing more.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t…” Fives trails off, opening his eyes. He needs to see your reaction, whether it’s good or bad, he needs to know. “Fall in love with you.”

You wonder if this is what the Jedi feel with the force around them, but instead of the whole world, you just feel Fives. The warmth of his skin under your fingers, the certainty in his eyes, the utter devotion for you in his voice as he fights against every form of conditioning he’s received.

“Fives, you idiot…” His expression is concerned at first until he sees your teary eyes and beaming smile. “I love you too.”

You had loved him since the moment he kissed your knuckles on your first day in the Medbay, every interaction after that only strengthened the bond between you.

Fives smiles down at you, his quiet laughs tickle your skin with warm air as you’re lured back into his embrace. He laughs disbelievingly, shaking his head as he allows his body to press back against yours, a perfect fit.

“We have so much time to make up for, sweetheart.” 

You never want to lose this feeling, his lips marking your body, peppering reminders everywhere that you’re his, you have been since the moment that fateful order flashed up on your datapad. You’re anchored, attached, tethered to him - whatever word you want to give it, you’re his.

[nahoney22]

One Night With Royalty***

🫧 Pairing: Prince Rex X Female Reader

word count: 3.5k

prompt:

“Can you be good for me?”

Summary: When the Prince Rex is admired by your beauty, he takes no time in taking you by your hand, offering you a dance and perhaps offering you a little more.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. AU fic. Cinderella Inspired. Explicit Sexual Content and Language, Dirty Talk, Praises, Face Sitting, Oral Sex ie Cunnilingus, Creampie, P in V Sex, Soft!Dom Rex, Female Reader Wearing a Ball Gown (your choice of colour), Reader Flees at Midnight.

Authors Note: I loved this idea anon! Fitting with the theme of Cinderella I’ve also done it that Reader leaves at midnight same as the film for ✨ drama ✨ i hope this is okay and you enjoy 😊

Entering the palace was like stepping into a realm of enchantment. With each stride you took brought forth a spectacle of grandeur that left you breathless. At first, you thought maybe it was the mountain of stairs you just had to climb in heels that had the wind knocked out of you but it was the crystal chandeliers that illuminated the vast expanse of marble floors with a soft, ethereal glow that had you captivated.

The soft hue casted intricate patterns of light that danced in harmony with the melodies of the orchestra; an unfamiliar sound to you. Not only that, but the air was a symphony of laughter and conversation, carrying with it the mingling scents of exotic flowers from an array of different planets.

The sights of Princesses, Noble men, Senators, and Jedi alike moved gracefully, their elaborate gowns and finely tailored suits exuding an air of regal sophistication. Making you feel like you stood out like a sore thumb as you navigated through the ballroom. Holding onto your dress to avoid tripping over yourself, you couldn't help but marvel at the sight of sparkling tiaras and impeccably polished shoes from the guests.

Despite the overwhelming opulence surrounding you, a nagging doubt lingered in the back of your mind - "I so don’t belong here…"

With a twist of fate and defying your disapproving family who didn’t even want you here tonight, a stroke of luck shined your way. But you couldn’t even think about that right now. You just wanted to take this all in.

Though all eyes were eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Prince Rex - the main reason for the ball - your focus remained captivated by the beauty of your surroundings; caught in a reverie. It hardly felt real.

Overwhelmed by it all, you sought for a moment of calm in the serenity of the outdoors. The far left door beckoned, leading to a spacious balcony offering a panoramic view of the landscape bathed in the stunning glow of a deep purple sunset.

As you stood there, momentarily lost in the beauty before you, a voice shattered the tranquility, causing you to startle. Turning, your eyes widened in astonishment as the Prince himself stood before you.

The tales of his valour in the Clone Wars had preceded him, his attire matching the hues of his armor - a finely embroidered doublet of blue and white. And the praise regarding his looks was indeed warranted, as he was undeniably handsome. It felt like a crime to even look at him.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" His voice was soft, his gaze kind as he regarded you.

"Yes, it is," you replied, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness as you instinctively dipped into a formal address, feeling suddenly small in his presence.

His smile was warm, his demeanor charming as he took a step closer, one hand casually tucked behind his back. "I hope you don't mind me coming to say hello. I noticed you when you entered and realised you were alone."

You struggled to comprehend how he could have singled you out amidst the bustling crowd, let alone why he would choose to engage with you. "Not at all, Your Majesty," you managed, your words tinged with a mix of surprise and admiration as you offered a quick curtsy.

He chuckles, laughter almost was infectious, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he drew nearer. "The pleasure is mine," he replied, his charm putting you at ease.

Stopping before you, he extended his hand with a gallant gesture. "Will you do me the honor of having the first dance with me?" he asked, his gaze unwavering.

Caught off guard, you stared at his outstretched hand, then back up at him, a mixture of disbelief and elation flickering across your features. "I...I would be honoured," you stammered, finally accepting his offer, your heart racing with excitement as you took his hand.

As the Prince led you back into the ballroom, this time to the dance floor, you couldn't help but notice the hushed gasps and murmurs that followed your entrance. You chew on the inside of your cheek as a sense of unease crept over you, a stark reminder of your perceived insignificance among the sea of nobility and royalty.

Sensing your trepidation, the Prince offered a comforting squeeze of your hand, his reassuring touch momentarily easing your nerves. With a subtle nod, he guided you to the center of the room.

As the orchestra resumed its melody, the Prince's gaze met yours. For a moment, there was a glimmer of something unmistakable flickering in his eyes. There was a hunger there, one that sent a shiver down your spine.

With each step, the Prince's presence enveloped you, his firm yet gentle touch guiding you effortlessly across the ballroom floor. As you stole glances at the onlookers, their reactions ranged from smiles of admiration to expressions of confusion and even disdain. You’re nervous, the weight of their scrutiny threatening to dampen your spirits, but the Prince's reassuring voice cut through the noise.

"Ignore them," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "Look at me."

You tore your gaze away from the judgmental stares, focusing instead on the Prince's intense eyes that seemed to hold a world of secrets. Yet, despite his attempt to shield you from the prying eyes of the crowd, you couldn't shake the gnawing feeling of inadequacy that lingered within you.

"I..." You hesitated, the words catching in your throat as you struggled to articulate the turmoil churning within your mind. "I can't help but feel... out of place."

The Prince's brow furrowed with concern, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly as he sought to understand your inner thoughts. "What are you thinking? If you do not wish to dance just say. I will not take offense," he observed, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

You swallowed hard, the weight of your insecurities threatening to overwhelm you. "It's just... I know why this ball is happening. You're seeking a companion, marriage. Someone who is worthy of your stature and position. And yet, here I am, dancing with you, unable to offer anything of value."

Your confession hung heavy in the air, the vulnerability of your words laid bare before him.

“So you are not a Princess or a Senator?” The Prince's unwavering gaze held yours, his question hanging in the air with a weight that made your breath catch in your throat. As more guests joined the dance, their attention momentarily diverted.

Summoning your courage, you met his gaze head-on. "No, Your Majesty, you are not mistaken. I am neither of those things."

For a moment, silence hung between you, the weight of your admission settling over the space like a heavy fog. Then, unexpectedly, he chuckles.

"May I tell you a secret?" His voice was low, conspiratorial almost. Anyway, it was enough to draw you in with its intimacy.

Intrigued, you raised an eyebrow, silently urging him to continue. "Of course," you replied, your curiosity piqued.

"I do not wish to marry. Not yet, anyway." His words were like a revelation, catching you off guard and causing your mind to reel with disbelief. "It is simply my duty. I did not want this Ball to take place knowing I had to marry a stranger."

The two of you danced more together, neither of you seeming to want the music to end. But there was something now different in the way he held you.

His touch was possessive, almost afraid that you were going to slip away from him at any point or have another man come and take you from him. His movements deliberate too, each step charged with an unspoken intensity that left you breathless.

The Prince's hold on you was undeniably suggestive, his every movement a tantalising invitation that stirred something primal within you. You felt foolish for getting so heated by him but there was a curious thought in your mind.

“Why have you asked me to dance with you if you’re not looking for something?”

Your question hung in the air, heavy with uncertainty, as you searched the Prince's eyes for answers. His hand, once intertwined with yours, now caressed your cheek with a tenderness that elicited an audible gasp from your lips, your eyes fluttering shut at the unexpected intimacy.

As his fingertips brushed against your skin, a rush of sensations coursed through you, igniting a fire that seemed to burn hotter with each passing moment in the bottom of your stomach. How could a simple touch evoke such a visceral reaction?

"Who says I'm not looking for something?" His words, laced with suggestion, sent a shiver down your spine, your eyes snapping open to meet his gaze once more. You saw the hunger in his eyes, a desire that started to mirror your own.

Heat rose to your cheeks, the feeling of his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "I cannot lie and say that's not flattering," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as his hands trailed across your body with an intimacy that left you stunned.

Leaning in close, his lips mere inches from your ear, he whispered words that sent a jolt of electricity straight between your legs. "Have you ever been with royalty?"

With a sense of excitement, the Prince guided you through hidden corridors and secret passages, away from prying eyes and into the seclusion of his personal chambers. Each step was imbued with anticipation, yet you were eager to see what was to happen.

As he opened the door, granting you entry into his private domain, you couldn't help but marvel at the sight before you. The tapestries that draped the wall, the size of his bed… all of it. But before you could fully take in your surroundings, the Prince stepped up behind you, his hands finding purchase on your hips, his lips brushing against your ear in a gesture that sent shivers down your spine.

"Do you want to do this?" His voice, soft yet commanding, filled the room with an intoxicating allure that left you breathless.

"Yes, Your Majesty," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, your desire evident in every trembling breath.

"In here," he murmured, his hands trailing down your back as he began to slowly, deliberately, undress you. Each touch sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your body that has your knees shaking, “you can call me Rex.”

As the fabric of your dress fell away, leaving you exposed in your corset and undergarments, a flush of heat flooded your cheeks at the Prince's appreciative gaze. "You are beautiful," he whispered against your skin, the warmth of his breath making your head roll back and rest in the crook of his shoulder. His lips found your exposed neck, gently kissing along your skin that makes you whimper under his touch.

Your body tingles with anticipation as Rex then led you to his bed. As he sat down, his gaze roamed over your form with a soft smirk, his eyes locking with yours in a silent exchange of desire.

Bringing your hand to his lips, he kissed over your knuckles softly that sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core. "Can you be good for me?" he whispered, his voice thick with lust.

“Yes, Rex,” you replied, your voice husky with longing. “Anything for you.”

"Good girl," he murmured, his words sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you as he quickly undressed you until you were now fully nude, him following suit before he reclined on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. The air crackled with tension as you crawled towards him, your movements deliberate and sensual.

As you drew closer, his lips met yours in a passionate kiss, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatened to consume you both. His lips were warm and delicious, tender and precise whilst his hands roamed over your body with an urgency.

But then, with a subtle command, he guided you into position, his gaze smoldering with desire as he whispered, "I wish for you to sit on my face."

A smile of anticipation spread across your lips, your eyes shining with desire as you straddled his face, feeling the heat of his breath against your skin. With a low moan of pleasure, you lowered yourself onto him, the sensation of his tongue exploring your cunt sent waves of ecstasy coursing through you.

"You taste so fucking good," he moans into your heat, his tongue working wonders as it explores every inch of your dripping arousal. Gripping your thighs firmly, he holds you in place, his determination evident in the fervour of his actions.

His hand roams upwards, teasing your sensitive skin until it finds purchase on your breast, kneading and pinching your hardened nipples. “R-Rex,” you whine beautifully, gazing down at him between your legs, his brown eyes staring back at you with desire as he sticks his tongue deep in your hole; the noises lewd, sloppy and messy

Feeling bold, you begin to move your hips, grinding against his face with increasing urgency. "That's it, ride my tongue," he encourages, praises, his words muffled by your slicked cunt that sends vibrations through your core.

You're on the brink of ecstasy after a few minutes, your body trembling. "I'm gonna cum, Rex," you moan, your fingers brushing against his buzzed-blonde hair as he pushes you closer to the edge with his expert ministrations.

"Go ahead, cum for me," he demands, his grip tightening as he doubles his efforts, pushing you over the edge into a euphoric release. With a satisfied groan, he laps up your essence, savouring the taste of your pleasure.

As you catch your breath, he guides you onto his lap, his solid cock pressing against you. "Are you ready for more?" he asks, his lips brushing against yours, his desire evident in the hunger of his kiss. “You’ve got such a beautiful pussy… I just need to bury myself inside you.”

Your mind is reeling from the intense pleasure coursing through your veins as Rex's lips devour yours, leaving you yearning for more. “Yes, yes fuck me please!”

He grins against your lips and flips you over, positioning himself above you, anticipation coils in the pit of your stomach. His cock presses against your slick folds, the size both intimidating and exhilarating. "You're so big, Your Majesty," you purr in desire.

"I told you," he replies softly, his breath hot against your skin as he begins to ease himself inside you, eliciting a hearty groan of satisfaction. "Call me Rex."

With each inch of his length filling you, a symphony of pleasure floods your senses, driving you to new heights of ecstasy. His hands grip the sheets beside you, his movements deliberate and controlled as he savours the sensation of being buried deep within you.

"Stars, you're tight," he murmurs. "It's been so long for me..."

You offer no words of reassurance, only the soft sounds of your moans and the tightening of your legs around him, urging him to delve deeper into each moan you make.

His pace starts slow but then quickens quickens, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. "You've got such a lovely cunt," he coos, his eyes locked on the intimate union between your bodies, his cock glistening with your slick arousal. "You feel so good."

"M-More, I need more, Rex," you whimper, your body arching against his, desperate for the relentless rhythm of his thrusts.

With a deep grunt, he obliges, his movements becoming more urgent and rough as he plunges into you with unrestrained passion. "Beautiful," he praises, his voice thick with desire as he loses himself, gazing into your brown eyes.

The room fills with the sounds of passion, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and lust. Your body is ablaze with desire, every nerve ending ignited by the intoxicating pleasure of Rex's touch. With each thrust, he elicits a chorus of moans and gasps from your lips, driving you to the brink of madness.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he groans, his voice a husky whisper against your skin as he buries himself deeper inside you, face buried in the crook of your neck as he practically folds you in half. "So tight and wet for me, just begging to be fucked."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, the sheer intensity of his desire sending shivers down your spine. "Yes, Rex, please," you whimper, your voice a desperate plea for more of him, more of the overwhelming pleasure he brings.

He responds with a sigh, his movements growing more urgent and desperate as he seeks to fill the hunger that consumes you both. "You're driving me crazy," he confesses, his voice raw with need as he loses himself.

You want more. You need more. "Harder, Rex," you beg, your nails digging into his skin as you urge him to push you further, to take you to the edge again.

With a fierce determination, he complies, his thrusts becoming one again rougher and more intense as he drives you towards the pinnacle of release. "You're so fucking beautiful," he growls, kissing your neck before resting his forehead to yours, locking gazes. “You look so cock-hungry.”

It was sudden, your orgasm hitting you like blaster-fire. With a shared cry of release, you surrender to the overwhelming tide of pleasure, your walls contracting on his cock.

You screamed his name, grasping at his body desperately as he gives strained grunt before he spilled deep inside you. He holds you tight, still slowly thrusting in and out, and you kept clawing at his back, murmuring incoherently.

Rex soon stops, staying inside you as you just laid there together, catching your breaths. “You are wonderful.” He murmurs, kissing your lips softly.

You smile lazily, your legs still twitching as you slowly come down from your high, gasping quietly as his softening cock slips out of you.

“May I draw you a bath?” As Rex offers to run you a bath, he covers you with a part of his duvet and you can’t help but feel touched by his consideration for your comfort, and a blush warms your cheeks at his respect for your dignity.

"I feel like I should be asking you," you chuckle softly, meeting his gaze. "After all, you are the Prince. But I'd like that, if you don't mind?"

"I would not have offered otherwise," he assures you, placing a tender kiss on your cheek before retreating into the refresher, the sound of running water filling the silence.

Alone in his room, you allow yourself a moment to reflect on the whirlwind of events that led you here. You had only wanted to have a bit of fun tonight, sneaking into the Ball without your family's knowledge and experiencing just splendor, only to catch the eye of the Prince himself. And what followed was beyond your wildest dreams. He had been kind, sweet, and utterly captivating.

But reality soon creeps back in, reminding you of the inevitable constraints of his royal obligations.

With a heavy sigh, your gaze lingered on a clock and your eyes widened as realisation hit. Time is slipping away and you must leave—fast.

Hastily, you gather your clothes, struggling to dress yourself. The intricate laces of your dress prove to be a challenge, and frustration mounts as the seconds tick by.

The sound of your hurried movements catches Rex's attention, and he emerges from the refresher, a quizzical expression on his face. "Is everything alright?"

"I..." you falter, meeting his gaze, the softness and confusion in his eyes tugging at your heartstrings. He looks almost like a wounded creature, not wanting to see you go. "I have to leave. But I've had the most magical night, Your Majesty."

As you turn to leave, a pang of regret grips you tightly. "Wait! I... I don't even know your name," Rex calls out, his voice laced with a hint of shame at his oversight, mentally cursing at himself for never asking. Supposedly it was because he felt like he did know you.

But time is against you, and you have no choice but to flee his chambers, leaving his question unanswered. With an apologetic glance over your shoulder, you bolt from the room, your heart pounding in your chest as you navigate the labyrinth passageways of the palace, praying you remembered the way he led you in.

Meanwhile, Rex scrambles to dress himself, his mind racing with thoughts of you. He curses his own foolishness for not asking your name sooner, knowing that now, you're gone, slipping through his fingers like sand.

As he races down the stairs of the palace, clothes askew and heart pounding, he scans the darkness of the night, searching for any trace of you.

All he has now are the memories of your eyes, the warmth of your touch, and the lingering scent of your lips to remind him of the moment you shared.

But Rex is determined. He will find you again, no matter the cost.

Masterlist

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 7 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot t @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @lulalovez @thiswitchloves9904

[starrylothcat]

Don’t know if you’re taking requests so disregard otherwise BUT… from your recent prompt reblogs, I’m loving:

“you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me” writer’s choice on the clone hehehe you know I’m just obsessed with your work-Alex🫶⭐️💙

Taken

Pairing: Tech x Fem!Reader

WC: ~900

Warnings: NSFW, 18+. Possessive Tech. PiV sex. Fem receiving cunnilingus. Established relationship. Tech being a lil dom? Jealous? Sexy?

A/N: ALEX! HI and THANK YOU FOR THIS PROMPT! Tech immediately came to mind. I have no excuse. Thank you so much for this. I hope you like this lil’ treat!

Smut Prompts

When Tech appeared behind you at the bar, his hand sneaking around your waist, you knew you were done for.

“She is taken.” Tech’s voice was low, almost lethal to the two men who approached you at the bar as you ordered drinks for you and Tech.

There was something in his voice that pooled desire between your legs, a possessive tone that you’d never heard before, and you already knew you wanted more of.

His grip tightened around your waist, standing up straighter as the two men rolled their eyes, before slinking away.

You turned to look up at Tech, who was staring down at you, something hungry flashing behind his goggles.

Before you could speak, you were whisked into a cramped supply closet, your pants pulled down to your ankles and Tech’s mouth and hands encompassing your entire being.

“You are mine...” Tech murmured against your stomach, his kisses trailing lower as he knelt before you. Tech hauled you up on a crate, giving himself better access to where you were so desperate.

Tech hooked his fingers under your panties, tugging them down to your thighs. You broadened your legs, giving him a better view of what lay between. You watched his eyes widen slightly under his goggles, studying your glistening pussy that was spread before him.

“…and I take care of what belongs to me,” Tech smirked as he buried his face in your pussy, a cry leaving your lips, your hands flying to grasp his hair.

His tongue instantly went to practiced work, knowing exactly what made you mewl and writhe in delight. Tech gripped your thighs, his dominating mood making you even more wet between your legs.

Tech let out a soft moan as he flicked his tongue at your clit, watching you for your reaction, which was immediate. You gasped his name, clutching his head even tighter, rocking your hips against his face to chase your release.

“You always taste so divine, darling.”

Tech mumbled into your soft folds, switching between fucking you with his tongue and swirling around your swollen nerve.

“A taste only I have the privilege of savoring.”

You could barely register his husky praise, pleasure building in your lower abdomen.

Tech now had one hand pinning you down, keeping you still as he focused solely on your clit. “Mine…” He murmured. “All mine. Come for me, darling.”

Tech watched as all the muscles in your body tensed, your legs shaking around his shoulders, ecstasy exploding in every nerve in your body. Your climax hit you like a tidal wave, pleasure washing over you with each pass of his tongue. Tech pressed a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries, gasping into his palm in bliss.

Tech drank every drop you gave him, not wanting to leave a mess behind.

He lifted his head, eyelids hooded, his face shiny with your release. His lips were on yours in an instant, his tongue exploring your mouth, sharing your juices with you. Tech rocked his hips into yours, feeling his hard cock against your thigh under his pants.

“I’m yours, Tech.” You gasped between kisses. “Always. Always yours.”

“I have never doubted it.” Tech whispered, pulling away momentarily to tug down his pants, lining himself up with your entrance.

He slid in slowly, inch by inch, both of you savoring the feeling of him filling you and your silky walls gliding against his cock.

Tech bottomed out into you, his body shuddering.

“I didn’t realize you…” You gasped, “had a jealous streak.”

Tech smirked, pushing himself as deep as possible into you, hitting that spot that made your vision go fuzzy.

“It is expected that other men would want to proposition you, ” He nipped at your neck, pulling out slowly and gliding back in. “Due to your pleasing appearance and personality.”

You couldn’t help but blush at his compliment, which was silly considering he was fucking you senseless in a dusty closet.

“Though I do have to admit…knowing that only I have the honor of hearing your alluring sounds and feeling your perfect body…”

Tech increased his pace, sweat forming at his temples, his moans becoming harder to keep quiet, as he pounded into you.

“It makes me want to claim you even more.” He panted in your ear, nudging a finger to your clit.

Another orgasm crashed over you, biting your lip to stifle your cries as Tech’s hips stuttered, feeling you clench and flutter around him as you came. Tech groaned, thrusting in one last time before spilling inside you, truly marking you as his.

Tech pressed his lips to your neck, slowly pulling out of you. He reached into one of his many pockets, pulling out cloth to help clean you up.

“Holy kriff, Tech.” You half-whispered, half-laughed, slightly delirious from the intense fucking. “That was-“

“Was it too much?” Tech looked sheepish, bringing a hand to your cheek. “I am not sure what came over me-“

You shook your head, placing your hand over his.

“It was hot.”

Even in the dimly lit closet, you could see his cheeks darken.

“I am glad it was enjoyable.” Tech touched his forehead to yours. “Though I am not quite finished.” That husky tone returned, his arm snaking around your waist, bringing you close to him.

He brought his lips to your ear, whispering dirty promises of what he still wanted to do to you when you were back on The Marauder.

You shook against him, feeling his fingers dance under your shirt, goosebumps following in their wake.

“I am not done taking care of you. Not yet.”

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Dividers by @dystopicjumpsuit

[bruh-myguy-what]

Hello! Could I possibly ask for a Echo/reader (Gn)

Setting could be 79’s maybe some angst with someone calling out echos “missing parts” after he rejects their advancements, and he feels a bit dejected about it. The reader (after insulting the other person) would take him back to the Marauder and comforts him (it can be smut or fluff either is fine)

Thank you! Have a nice day <3

He's More Than That***

Pairing: Echo x GN!Reader Warnings: Smut (my first so you must forgive any issues), Twi'lek woman being mean to our beautiful cyber-clone, cursing, filthy nonsense at some point, oral (Echo receiving), intercourse/sex, fluff Word Count: 5K Summary: Hunter, Wrecker and Echo waned a temporary reprieve from their constant stay in the Mauarder and decided you should be their babysitter for the night at 79's. Reluctantly you join and overhear a conversation Echo had with a Twi'lek who doesn't seem to take being rejected by him very well. After defending him and convincing him he deserves more, he shows you exactly what you deserve from him. A/N: When you requested this, anon I absolutely had just admitted- the same day!- that I was basically now an Echo girlie. I hadn't ever really noticed how adorable he was or how much I actually loved him until after the finale. Like I've always loved him, but I was never a girlie until now and now I simp. Also, I've never really written GN or smut so the two together really threw me for a loop lol so I hope this is alright for you! I do really appreciate you sending in a request, feel free to send in whenever you'd like!

Requests are open if you have anything you'd like to send in!

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The atmosphere of 79's was as smoky and dingy as ever, the blue/green lights of the neons hanging around illuminating faces and bodies as they moved about the bar. It hadn't been your idea to be here tonight, usually opting to stay back on the Marauder with Tech and Crosshair for the sake of serenity, but when the other three boys begged you to come along so that they have a designated babysitter who wouldn't get wasted, you couldn't deny them. Hunter wanted to get away from the ship to what he labeled "loosen up" which you knew meant he needed to get laid before the stress made him strangle his brothers. Wrecker wanted to drink some regs under the table and joke about how 99 was better in every aspect while listening to good music.

Echo, on the other hand, didn't give you a reason why he decided to join in on the outing. It wasn't his usual scene. Not anymore, anyway. As far as you were aware he also preferred the relaxed atmosphere of the ship; the two of you spending your time playing a game or watching a bad holomovie you'd downloaded on one of the datapads the Batch kept aboard for entertainment. It wasn't really like him to want to drink all that much, not since he joined Clone Force 99. He'd told you a few stories of him and his twin, Fives, trying to pick up a few women here and there while hanging around the clone bar back in the day but you never thought you'd actually see him here.

You peeked to the corner of the club, seeing Hunter cozied up with a pretty green Twi'lek woman- her legs draping over his lap as he kissed along her neck. At least he'd be less snappy on your next mission. Then you heard Wrecker laughing boisterously over the music as some reg tapped out, his squad mates dragging him away from the table. He'd be content too and it's almost as if you could already hear him hollering at Crosshair to regale his win over the regs. Resting your eyes back on the pale clone sitting at the bar independently, you watched from across the hazy atmosphere wondering if you should approach him or leave him to his thoughts.

You and Echo had a relatively close relationship. His reserved yet courageous demeanor was always something you had admired about him, and whenever he'd joined 99, you were among the first to buddy up with him. You knew exactly how it'd felt not to be "one of the brothers", even with how close you'd become with the Batch. So, it seemed easy for the two of you to cling to that shared understanding. You felt a smile reaching your lips at some of the memories you'd shared with Echo, a familiar ache settling in your chest and you determined that joining him at the bar was the best idea- even if not for him, but for yourself.

You made sure to clock him in the spot he was settled in before tearing your eyes away and descending the stairs to the main floor, losing sight of him through the dense crowd. Weaving through, apologizing to a few couples who were dancing or going about their "business" on the floor, you managed to emerge from the mass of people to find an empty bar stool- entirely devoid of your companion.

"What the-" you muttered to yourself under the loud music, "He was just here." Swiping a glance up and down the span of the bar, the friendly sight of a pale clone adorned by blue neons captured your attention. He seemed to be speaking to someone, though you couldn't quite see who it was from your current position so you stepped up closer to casually join the conversation when you overheard Echo decline whatever they had offered.

Curiosity got the better of you and instead of being a good friend, leaving the man alone to hopefully find some solace for the night, you stood just close enough to eavesdrop a little more. "I appreciate the sentiment, and you're stunning, don't get me wrong." His voice was as sweet as ever, a little solemn you could tell, but only if you knew him well enough.

Was she really all that pretty? Were Twi'leks the type of person Echo was into? Against your better judgment, you leaned forward onto the bar to glimpse the woman he had complimented, and your heart sank at how her pretty eyes glimmered against the neon lights.

Then you heard her laughter. It sounded as if she were laughing… at him. "Oh, honey," her accented voice cut through the music with its patronizing tone. "You can't honestly be refusing me when you look like," and you watched as her pretty eyes scanned the clone before her, gesturing lazily with her manicured hand, "that."

Maybe you'd heard her wrong. You'd definitely heard her wrong… right? There was no way in the galaxy that she was insulting him about his looks just because he told her no… right?

Echo stammered in shock, momentarily caught off-guard by her comment. It wasn't as if he'd not been used to people making remarks about his… unmistakable condition. He just hadn't anticipated the Twi'lek to be so hostile at his decline. "Well, I-"

"I mean, seriously? Look at you, you're a mangled mess." She let out an irked breath as if she were, suddenly, too good for the current conversation. You noticed her lean away from Echo, surveying the rest of the room full of clones, "I bet you don't even have all of the right parts to please anyone anymore, do you droid?" The Twi'lek's snide grin as she huffed out another laugh made your blood boil.

Droid?

Did she actually have the audacity to call a man of war, who kept her safe from the rising Separatist threats, a droid? She couldn't even begin to understand the horrors of war Echo had seen.

You heard a disparaging laugh bubble up from your friend, noting how his shoulders sank only a fraction, head inclining to the cup in his hand. His back had been facing you, turned completely to the attention of the Twi'lek in front of him, so you couldn't entirely make out his expression- though you'd felt as if you'd known him well enough to imagine the rueful smile etching his features about now. "Ah, yeah," he breathed with a soft, somber chuckle, "I guess I am a freak at this point, eh?"

"It isn't about that anyway," you finally chimed over his shoulder.

Echo's eyes widened at your raised voice, his hurried voice muttering your name in surprise. "What are you doing?" His brown eyes glanced between you and the Twi'lek nervously as you walked around to place yourself between the two of them.

"I don't think he'd have trouble pleasing anyone that had the decency to see past a few war scars. But clearly, that isn't you, you'd only be a waste of his time." The knuckles of your fingers began to ache because of your clenched fists and only at Echo's gentle touch did you relax.

The soft voice you'd come to rely on whispered past the music into your ear, "Cyare, please, it's not that big of a deal, really." Though his tone was even you could tell he'd been embarrassed that you'd overheard the conversation.

"It is though, Echo. You don't deserve to be spoken to that way just because you don't want to whore around for the night." You defended sharply, throwing a look back at him then quickly pinning the Twi'lek to her spot once more. "He has plenty of satisfying features, I'll have you know. He's funny, loyal, protective. He loves his brothers fiercely. He doesn't shy away in the face of danger. He's the first to answer when help is needed, he's reliable, and a wonderful man who deserves more than what most people give him."

Condescending giggles rippled over her pink lips as she covered them, a manner of mischievous glee sparkling in her eyes as she watched the protective display. "You defend him as if you two fuck."

A burn crept up your neck and into your cheeks at the allegation but you couldn't slow your words quickly enough before you said, "I'd be damn lucky if we did."

Echo's grip on your arm flexed at your statement, tentatively pulling you back toward him to de-escalate the rising frustration in you. "Cyare, maybe that's enough." He whispered again.

"You two are cute. No wonder he didn't want to sleep with me. Whatever," the Twi'lek waved you off noncommittally, then pushed herself off of the bar. "There are other handsome men around who need my attention." And with a subtle flip of her lekku, she merged with the swaying crowd.

Frustration simmered beneath your surface as you watched her disappear, more nasty remarks popping into your mind after the confrontation was over. "Stupid, nasty-"

"Cyar'ika," Echo's warm voice broke your hostility, his fingers raising your chin to meet his eyes, "what was all that about?" The pale brown hues narrowed in concern as if you had just been in a serious altercation on his behalf and were injured in some way. "It's not like that doesn't happen all the time, what with the regs calling us defective," his laughter dying as he noticed your soured expression.

You crossed your arms over your chest indignantly, "Just because people insult you, Echo, doesn't mean it's okay. You don't deserve to be treated that way. By anyone." The reassuring brush of his hand- passing from your chin to your shoulder- made you even more upset as if he were okay with being so dehumanized by someone. You pushed his hand away, not because you were offended by his touch- far from it- but because you needed him to take your words to heart. "And stop with the Mando'a, you know I don't understand what you're saying. I'm being serious right now, ya know? You're not a droid. You're you. You're Echo."

The slight tilt of his head made your heart lock up as he smiled at you. He didn't say anything, he just stood there, the pale brown of his eyes highlighted by greens and blues from the bar. It was something you two often did, communicate with just a few looks, something that Crosshair had hissed and griped about, witnessing it on multiple occasions. As the two of you stood there silently for a moment, you began to notice his smile shift and the color of his cheeks showed a little darker. "A-About what you said to her-"

Your entire world came raging back, the music suddenly too loud for you to think properly. "O-Oh right! The...uh-"

"F-Feeling lucky if the two of us-"

You hummed in agreement, with his sentence, not your earlier sentiment. Not that if you thought about it long enough you would've disagreed with your truthfulness brought on by impulse. In fact, you had thought about it quite a lot since meeting the Arc Trooper. You couldn't help yourself, really… he was quite literally amazing at nearly everything he did. He was fluid on the battlefield, quick to make decisions, soft, and compassionate when someone needed comforting. He walked around as if the horrors of his dreams didn't haunt him, opting instead to care even more for those around him. Echo was a man of honor and you marveled at how he carries himself. Not to mention being in close quarters with him, or any of the Batch really, only heightened your ever-growing desire toward him. It was practically inescapable to see someone either in their blacks, partially dressed, or completely naked while on the Marauder. You had seen Hunter and Wrecker shirtless on more than a few occasions and even once seen Tech remove his blacks to use the fresher, and nothing was really wrong with any of those instances. Though the one that lingered in your mind, that just kept nagging at you when you were particularly desperate to reach out and have his pale hand touch you, was when you'd walked in on Echo after he'd finished in the sonic. You thought Crosshair had been the last one to use the fresher and hadn't seen anyone else take a turn, but when you pressed the button revealing the cybernetic clone with just a towel hanging around his waist you froze. You could've acted normal about it, muttering an apology and turning around but you'd only stood there floundering.

And that was how you reacted in this very same instance- dumbstruck and speechless- as your cheeks and ears burned desperately.

Clearing his throat, jolting your attention back to his face, Echo rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "Well, we can just forget about it. I'm sure it seriously threw her off when you said that, so that was a good tactic." He joked kindheartedly, eyes closing in that familiar charming, laid-back smile of his.

He honestly thought you were joking. Or just trying to defend him by saying anything that sounded good.

Maybe that was okay.

Maybe you could get away with not making anything awkward between the two of you. Maybe he saw how anxiously you reacted when he brought it back up and was gracious enough to drop it for your sake.

But was that fair?...

He deserved to know how handsome he was, just as much as any of his brothers- 99 or otherwise.

"Besides, like she said- whether it was meant as an insult or not- I'm a mangled mess. We can't have you wasting your good looks on me, now can we?" Echo tapped the tip of your chin with his hand gently, winking mirthfully at you.

He was being serious.

He didn't have any clue how desperate you were some nights to call out to him. Echo genuinely thought he was unwanted and he harbored it like a man devised for loneliness.

Never reciprocating his humor or obliging him in his self-deprecation, you remained stern, eyes locked with his handsome pale face. "I would fuck you right now in the middle of 79's if I knew we wouldn't get banned from the only clone bar on Coruscant."

Disbelief filled the clone's expression, eyes dilated to the size of Tech's goggles, his cheeks flushing a red bright enough to rival the neon lights. It was a terrifying leap to take, conveying these tight-lipped secrets you'd been carefully preserving but if it made Echo understand that he was just as desirable as any other man- clone, Jedi, or otherwise- then you'd shout it at every single person in the bar tonight. Your name fell from his lips in an airy exhale, frantically his eyes searched for any sign of banter or sarcasm but he was only met with decisiveness in your returning stare. "You..." he breathed again, deliberately slowing his racing heart, "You're being serious." At your resolute nod, brows furrowed and eyes stern, Echo looked down at himself critically. "B-But, I-"

"Do I need to prove it to you?" you provoked.

Echo's bewildered stare snapped back to your face, brows raised high in astonishment. "Pro-Prove it?"

Again you nodded with resolve. "You deserve it just as much as Hunter. I'll prove it to you right-" and before you could finish your sentence you were yanked forward away from the bar, weaving through the crowd. Echo's pale hand gripping your upper arm tightly enough not to lose you amongst the moving bodies. Confused but curious, you followed his lead.

Pulled to one of the single restrooms you felt yourself being slung inside, Echo behind you now, locking the door. The dingy lights were also a staple in the small room, the most of the illumination coming from the neon lights outside the high window. "Echo, what in the galaxy-"

"Say it again." His voice rushed as you turned to meet his urgent but dangerously narrowed eyes, the low tone startling you.

You knew he was referring to what you had said by the bar, but which part, in particular, left you timid to respond. "Say what again?" You finally managed, anxiously fiddling with a loose string on your pants.

The clone across the room looked positively possessed as he took only a single step toward you. "Tell me you want me." Echo pressed, the gravel to his voice making you shiver. "Please," his whispered demand nearly lost to the bass rumbling the walls.

This was certainly not where you had envisioned the night to go when you agreed to come out with your squad mates, but as you took a breath, you dove right into the dream. "I want you, Echo." And with the speed of an Arc Trooper, the man descended on you, pressing you into the wall. His body crowded around you, leaving no room to breathe in anything but him as his lips furiously pursued yours. Though he seemed desperate in his actions, there was a hesitation you felt in him. He was leaning against the wall by his arms, keeping himself just a hair's breadth away, afraid to touch you. Pulling back enough to speak against his lips, your hand found his cheek. "Touch me, Echo, please," your own plea a whisper.

His breath shook against your mouth as he faltered, "I-I'm afraid of ruining this…" His sincerity was the fear of a desolate man. "It's been so long… way before I looked-"

Reaching up beside you where his arms lay against the wall, gently guiding his hand and scomp-link to your body. "You can't ruin anything for me, I promise. I've been wanting this for so long, just touch me." A breathy exhale that sounded like a soft chuckle washed over your face at himself and to keep him from overthinking anymore you surged forward to press yourself against him fully- lips connecting.

The kiss you shared this time, was less desperate and hasty, instead imbued with passion and certainty as your tongue came out to greet his bottom lip. Mandalorian curses escaped under Echo's breath, voice trembling as he did, welcoming the dance you challenged. "I can't believe you want me… How could you want me?" Disbelief greeted you as you kissed him again trying somehow to get your affections across.

"How could I not?" Your simple reply caused him to look at you squarely, again searching your face as if he could find some hint of sarcasm or deception- but he found none. With a warm smile, you started unstrapping your armored chest piece and undressing from your standard issue GAR clothes. "Like I told the Twi'lek," you started as you set the clothes on a bar beside you, trying to maintain your composure with intense brown eyes observing you eagerly. "You're loyal, and kind. Funny as hell, adorable when you get embarrassed, charming when you aren't feeling too tired to banter around with me or your brothers," the last one made him chuckle a bit but it died off when the last of your clothes fell away and you stepped back up to him. "And no matter what's going on down here," you glanced down to where his codpiece sat, "I know you'll satisfy me completely."

"Kriff..." Echo stammered softly at the warmth of your hands reaching to unclasp his armor, a questioning look in your eyes. He grinned timidly, "I didn't think at this point you'd even feel the need to ask, cyare," to which you went at undressing him, yourself. Upon lowering yourself to the floor to undress his lower half, even with him imploring you to not get on the bathroom floor for him, you marveled when his blacks were pulled past his thighs.

"Well, color me surprised," your wistful voice made the clone groan in embarrassment as he covered his mouth with his hand, looking away bashfully. "Looks like you won't be disappointing anyone, will you, Echo?" You teased, glancing between the adorably sheepish look on his face and the solid cock that greeted you. Nothing amiss whatsoever. How could he be so insecure when he harbored this under his blacks?

Echo shifted on his robotic legs, anxiously, "There's no need for the commentary, cyar'ika," he complained, his voice deeper than usual as he stole glances at you between his legs as if he were caught watching something he shouldn't.

Smirking, you shrugged nonchalantly up at him, "Guess I'll just have to keep my mouth busy then." Your tongue splayed out over your bottom lip to experimentally lick at the head of his cock, reveling in the shaking gasp that escaped the clone.

"Oooh, k-kriff," Echo groaned helplessly, eyes screwing shut at the feeling blitzing through him like a barrage of blaster fire. The way his husky voice stretched out your name made your body ache for his touch.

You wanted more.

All of it.

All of him.

Your tongue danced along from the base to the tip a few times, placing delicate kisses here and there over his pale skin. It was sweet, watching him enjoy himself with such a small form of affection. The way his eyes fluttered every time your tongue swiped over the tip, how his teeth found purchase on the skin of his bottom lip to keep himself from making too many sounds. "Y-You gotta stop t-teasing me, mesh'la, please..." Echo breathed desperately, hand falling to the back of your head.

"Please, what, handsome?" The naïveté in your tone betrayed the way your eyes twinkled dangerously up at him and made him groan again, hand coming around to thumb your bottom lip, mesmerized by you.

"Please suck my cock." Desire finally blossomed in his eyes, the adorable timidness dissipating and giving way to a man who hungered for more. "I want to feel your mouth around me… I've wanted that for so long."

The admission surprised you, but you couldn't focus on it for too long before you acquiesced and took his cock into your mouth as far as you could before he hit the back of your throat. Echo choked out a moan at your motion, feeling the way your mouth warmed his skin, your tongue lapping around him. "S-So long… oooh, kriff. Wanted to feel your pretty mouth suck me off."

The filth murmuring from his pale lips was only fueling your lust as you hollowed your cheeks and started to bob your head back and forth on him. "I-I can't believe this isn't one of my-my dreams, oh fuck," Echo whispered as he looked down to meet your gaze, groaning at the hazy look in your eyes and whispering an astounded 'look at you' as his hand pressed into the back of your head. His hips thrust, against his better judgment, shoving himself further into your throat provoking a moan from the both of you simultaneously. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you relaxed, allowing him to fuck into your mouth at his leisure, the sounds he makes stirring you up more.

You pull back to catch your breath, a string of drool trailing from your tongue to his soaked cock. "You've dreamed of me sucking your dick, have you?"

"I've dreamed of many sinful things concerning you, cyare." Echo's voice was solid as he pulled you up by your arm, crushing his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. His tongue tasted yours for a moment, scomp pressing into your lower back so you were flush with him. The large expanse of his hand explored your body, mapping every scar and dip of skin to commit to his memory. "Your body is even better than I could've fantasized it; much softer, stronger." He whispered against your neck, placing warm open-mouthed kisses along it.

"Echo," you breathed out his name, his mouth dizzying you. "Show me what you've dreamed… I want to know."

The chuckle that escaped through his lips and fell over your skin sounded dangerous as if you asked him to show you his crimes. "Bend over for me then," the drawl of your name spurred a whine from you that made him grin and you spun around in his arms to place your hands steadily against the bar drilled into the wall. "Kriff, and I thought the sight of you sucking my dick was going to make me cum..." Echo muttered from behind you, his hand brushing down the curve of your spine, admiring the way goosebumps chased after his fingertips. "This view is sure to ruin me."

"Echo, please," you whined over your shoulder at him. The sudden change in power lost on you as you shifted your hips back to meet his, yearning for some sort of relief. Teasing him had done a number on both of you and you needed him to relieve you somehow.

"Looks like I can't deny how badly you want me now, can I, cyar'ika?" The cybernetic clone chuckled from behind you, leaning his tall body over your back to whisper, "Not when you beg for my dick like that." The warmth of his breath tickled the back of your neck and you moaned at the feeling. Without any more taunting, Echo finally leaned away from you to watch himself slip inside of you. "Shit… look at how you take me," he sounded nearly astonished by how his cock disappeared inside, appreciating the sight before him- second only to how you choked his dick.

"Stars, Echo," you moaned desperately, wincing at the stretch of him inside of you, panting as you took more as he pushed deeper inside. "M-More, please, fuck me Echo, please."

"Greedy, aren't you," Echo teased lightheartedly, chuckling at how you begged for him to take you. He seemed to be enjoying himself as he sank into you fully, his typical jovial attitude returning. It wasn't even as if he were teasing you in an expected sexy way. He was teasing you as if he caught you with your hand in the ration box, looking to take extras. The feeling of his cock dragging inside of you as he gradually pulled out to just the tip and then just as slowly pushed himself back in nearly made you sob at the burning fixation for him to shatter you. "I love feeling you like this. I can't believe you want this as much as I do. Kriff, you are stunning. Everything you do floors me." You continually whined his name as he spoke, moving in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace then you felt his hand brush up your back and grip your shoulder tightly as if bracing himself. "You're the reason I said no to the Twi'lek. I just want this, only this," he moaned as he pulled out one last time before stopping, whispering, "Only you," then hammering into you at a fracturing pace.

"Oh fuck, Echo!"

"That's it," Echo praised in his warm encouraging tone, your name falling from his lips like a tribute as he drives his cock into you over and over until you were almost screaming. His stamina was devastating, the force behind his thrusts calamitous as your body rocked against his. "What a breathtaking sight you are taking me like this, kriffing hells. I'm gonna cum," Echo stammered as his hips faltered narrowly.

You'd hardly been able to process anything he'd been saying, too deafened by the passion though you felt his hips shift a bit, slowing their pace and you begged, "Inside, inside please."

"Maker, y-you can't say it l-like that," Echo chided with a choked moan, "I-I," and with a shocked gasp, Echo's hips stilled as they pressed into you. The Mandalorian praises that intermingled with your name, the way his mouth fell to your shoulder, leaving open-mouthed kisses, everything coalesced to a white flash shooting through your body. A sob of his name reverberated off of the bathroom walls, echoing around the two of you as your release hit you. The force seemed to hit your knees and you faltered on your feet but were caught quickly by Echo's scomp-link arm, reeling you back into him.

"Careful there," the smile in his voice evident as he nosed at your temple, pressing a few gentle kisses along your cheek. "Just relax, I gotcha." The gentleness of his touches weaved around you, lulling you against his firm body and the mechanical parts cool against your hot skin. "Sorry, I know some of the pieces might be prodding you." He winced at the thought abruptly.

You shook your head in response, steadying yourself against him by wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling closer. "Perfect… You're cool, it feels good, don't move."

Echo was once again left silent by your unconditional favor of all of him. "You continually amaze me," his chuckle affectionate as he hugged you closer. "Now, let's get dressed and get out of this filthy place. I've been thinking about another holomovie we could watch."

[tinywitchgoblin]

Good, Bad

Hunter x fem!reader x Crosshair, use of she/her but no use of y/n

Summary: nasty smut with Crosshair and Hunter (plot? who’s she?)

Word count: 3.3k (oops)

Warnings: smut MINORS GTFO, threesome (mmf) NO CLONECEST, unprotected piv sex (wrap it up in real life y’all), mention/use of sex toys and handcuffs, lots of degradation, also lots of praise, honorifics (sir), use of safewords, Tech makes sex toys, edging, face fucking/riding, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, creampies, choking, overstimulation, I think that’s it??

a/n: I rb’d this post ⬇️ with these tags and got an anon ask to write the fic so here we are!!

a/n 2: this is my first time writing explicitly kink stuff, so if I messed anything big up, please let me know. I did some research, but there’s a possibility that I missed something

What you had with Hunter and Crosshair didn’t really have a label. It wasn’t quite friends with benefits, given that you were exclusive, but you weren’t quite dating, either. What wasn’t ambiguous, however, was that the sex was top-tier. The two of them had lots of experience, and they sure put it to good use. They took you individually, together, in the bedroom, in the closet, in the shower, you name it. This dynamic gave new meaning to the concept of “variety is the spice of life,” and tonight, things were gonna get spicy.

So that’s how you found yourself in your room with the guys, Hunter stood behind you rubbing your shoulders to ease the tension there while Crosshair got things prepared. He’d grabbed lube, a couple of toys, a waterproof blanket for the bed, some water bottles, a couple of toys, and some other supplies to use throughout the evening. 

“You sure you’re up for this mesh’la?” Hunter inquired, always intent on making sure you gave consent. One of his favorite things was asking for your consent enough times to the point where you’d beg for him to fuck you- and he loved every bit of it. 

“Yes, I’m ready,” you affirmed. 

“You remember the safeword system?” Crosshair questioned. 

“Yes, I remember,” you reassured. 

“Then say it back to us. We want to make sure everyone is on the same page, and that we keep you safe,” Hunter asserted. You turned around to look him in the eyes before responding, “Green means ‘keep going’, yellow means ‘slow down’ or ‘proceed with caution’, red means ‘pause’, and black means we’re done for the evening,” you recited. “And I’m green right now; all set to go.”

“Well done, mesh’la, I’m so proud of you,” Hunter murmured, nuzzling into your neck. “So good at being good.”

“There’s no way this little slut would forget the system,” Crosshair whispered from behind you, turning your face towards him before continuing, “We couldn’t fuck it out of her even if we tried. Little cockwhore needs to be filled, and she knows she needs the safewords in order to get what she wants.” 

You let out a little whimper- so that’s the chosen dynamic for tonight. Hunter fed your praise kink, while Crosshair took hold of your need to be degraded. You lovingly referred to it as the ‘good cock, bad cock’ routine. “So… what are things looking like for tonight?”

“You see those toys over there?” Hunter indicated over to the dresser where Crosshair’s little ‘assistants’ for the evening were displayed. “Crosshair is gonna use these on you, and you’re gonna follow his directions exactly. When you do, I get to reward you. Deal?” 

“If she’s good,” Crosshair corrected. “Sometimes the little slut can’t help but break the rules. And if that happens… no reward.”

“She’ll be good,” Hunter asserted. Turning to you, he asked, “Isn’t that right, mesh’la?”

“Yes sir, I’ll be good,” you assured. Hunter gave his brother a knowing look, to which Crosshair gave his usual scowl. 

“Get on the bed, little cumslut,” Crosshair demanded, to which you gave a quiet “yes, sir,”

Crosshair led you over to the bed, grabbing a pair of cuffs on the way. They’d been specially made by Tech for these sorts of situations. In fact, all of the toys on display were ones Tech had made. His were better than any you’d been able to find at a store or online, so they showed up pretty regularly during scenes that involved toys. Holding up the cuffs, he asked, “What color?”

“Green,” you replied, holding your wrists to the bed frame where you knew he’d ask you to put them.

“Good girl, knowing exactly what to do,” Hunter praised, laying down next to you and brushing a hand over your cheek. 

“You give her too much credit, she’s doing exactly what I fucking told her to,” Crosshair retorted. “Little bitch knows I expect nothing less. Isn’t that right, naughty girl?”

“Yes sir,” you responded, but that wasn’t enough.

“Yes sir, what?” Crosshair demanded. 

“Yes sir, I did what you told me to,” you repeated. Hunter decided to stay quiet for the moment, letting Crosshair do as he pleased. Crosshair got up and walked back over to the dresser, looking down at his options for how to proceed. He definitely wanted to use the wand at some point; you always looked so pitiful when edged for long enough, plus hearing you beg to be allowed to cum turned him on like nothing else. He also considered using the buttplug, but that wasn’t the highest thing on his list of priorities at the moment. Browsing over the other options, he grabbed the wand and the lube, figuring he could come back and reevaluate later. 

Meanwhile, Hunter had tilted your face towards him, kissing you gently. As he did so, one of his hands went from holding your face to massaging a breast, earning a moan, which he swallowed eagerly. Noticing that Crosshair was ready to continue, he pulled away, but stayed within arm’s reach to give you support. 

“Color?” Crosshair asked. 

“Green,” you gave, a bit more breathless than before. Hunter’s kisses always did that to you. 

“This is what I’m going to do to you. I’m going to use this wand on you, and you’re not allowed to come. If you do, I’m going to use the cane on you, and for each second of your orgasm, you will receive one hit to the ass. Repeat back to me what I said.”

“You’re going to use the wand on me and edge me. If I come, I get one hit to the ass with the cane for each second of my orgasm.”

Without another word, Crosshair settled between your legs, squirting a bit of lube onto his hands and the wand before turning it on. He dragged it up the inside of your left thigh, watching you squirm, desperately trying to get some sort of friction. Putting down the wand and grabbing your legs, Crosshair forced them open even more. “Keep your legs open, little slut. I’ve seen you do it before, don’t be lazy.”

“You can keep those pretty legs of yours open, right, baby?” Hunter chimed in, brushing a stray hair out of your face. 

“Yes, sirs,” you affirmed, focusing on keeping your legs open and ready as Crosshair kept teasing you with the toy. He would bring it closer to your aching cunt before moving it away. You knew he loved teasing you like this; you also knew he could take his sweet time when he wanted to. Thankfully, he was feeling a bit impatient tonight. 

When he moved the toy to where you needed it most, your body jerked, trying to get more. A strong smack to the thigh told you to keep still as he ghosted the wand over your clit. You focused all of your energy on staying still and keeping your legs open, but it was getting increasingly difficult as Crosshair applied more pressure with the wand. The whole time, you could feel Hunter’s presence next to you, and at one point, he brought one of his hands up to hold yours where they were bound to the bed frame. 

As you felt yourself approaching the precipice, Crosshair pulled the toy away and sat there for a moment, watching your cunt spasm around nothing, longing to be filled. But he wasn’t about to let you get what you wanted so easily. 

“That was me going easy on you,” Crosshair divulged. “It only gets more difficult from here, and remember what I told you would happen if you come before I give you permission. No, tell me what happens if you come early.”

“If I come, I get one hit to the ass with the cane for each second of my orgasm,” you remembered. With a single nod, Crosshair redirected his attention to your pussy, reacquainting it with the wand. Tired from your first edge, your control over your body was slipping, and you felt your orgasm nearing once again. This time, Crosshair kept the wand on for longer, and you had to muster all of your energy to keep from coming. 

Finally, he pulled away, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Looking over towards Hunter, you saw he’d started palming himself, patiently waiting for the show to continue. When he saw you looking at him, he asked, “Think you could help me out with this, mesh’la?”

“How can I help?” you asked, glancing up at your still-bound hands. 

“Let me ride that pretty face of yours. Your mouth always feels so good, and it’ll give you something to concentrate on while Cross is edging you,” he clarified, looking over to Crosshair to make sure he was okay with that idea. With a nod, he looked back to you, he asked, “Is that okay with you? What color?”

“Green,” you responded, looking forward to having Hunter’s cock down your throat. 

“What is Hunter about to do to you, cockslut? Say it back to us,” Crosshair demanded. 

“He’s gonna ride my face and fuck my mouth, use me how he wants,” you whispered, looking over as Hunter climbed over your face. 

“Such a good girl,” Hunter moaned, and without another word, he sunk into your awaiting mouth, grabbing onto the bed frame for balance. Crosshair placed the wand back on your clit, and you moaned around Hunter’s cock as he bottomed out. He held still for a moment, getting used to the feeling of your throat, while you tried to focus on breathing through your nose. He was big, and it had taken a while to train you to be able to take all of him. He moved his hands so that they were holding yours, while still maintaining his balance. 

Crosshair kept his attention trained on edging you a third time. Hunter was right- this time, you were able to concentrate on sucking Hunter off, so you had something to focus your attention on instead of just the sensation from the wand between your legs. Hunter pulled out a bit before pushing back in, content with fucking your mouth nice and slow for the moment. 

As you approached your orgasm a third time, Crosshair sped the motions with the wand, forcing you to choke on Hunter, who only fucked your throat faster in response. As you held your orgasm off the best you could, he pushed into you as far as he could and spilled his cum down your throat. Finally, Crosshair relented, pulling the toy away as Hunter pulled out of your mouth. 

“Color?” Hunter checked. 

“Red. I need some water,” you admitted. Crosshair got off the bed and grabbed one of the water bottles as Hunter climbed off of you and whispered, “You did so, so well, mesh’la. I’m so proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself, too,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss you. 

Crosshair brought the water over and you opened your mouth for him to pour some water into. You drank deeply, not realizing how thirsty you actually were. 

“How're you feeling now? What’re you thinking?” Hunter questioned. You took a minute to respond before admitting, “I don’t think I can take any more edges.” You looked over at Crosshair before continuing, “I’m sorry, I wish I could do more.”

“Maybe another night,” Crosshair conceded. “You know your limits, and I won’t cross a boundary. Time to move on?” You nodded in response. Hunter kissed your forehead and added, “You’re doing so well. Your body can only take so much, and you were good for communicating your needs to us. You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“And can we take the cuffs off? My shoulders are starting to hurt,” you clarified. 

“Of course,” Crosshair affirmed, unlocking the cuffs and bringing your arms down slowly so as to not cause any more pain. Hunter massaged your shoulders, alleviating some of the pain that had built up there. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the break in activity when Crosshair came back over to the bed, buttplug in hand. “Think you’re up for this?”

You thought for a moment before responding, “Not tonight.”

“Look at you, setting boundaries. Such a good girl,” Hunter praised. “Is there something that we can do that you want to try? Another toy, a different position?”

“What does our filthy little cockslut want to try next?” Crosshair added, reaching over and tugging on your hair a bit. 

“I wanna come,” you begged. “I need to come so bad, please-”

“Shhh, we’ll take good care of you,” Hunter reassured, taking you in his arms. He sat back against the bed frame, pulling you with him and depositing you on his lap with your legs bracketed outside his own, legs spread wide so that Crosshair could see how wet and swollen your pussy was. 

“Wanna be a good girl and give Crosshair a show?” Hunter murmured in your ear. “Show him how pretty you look when you come on my fingers?”

“Yes sir,” you moaned, desperate to finally get your release. Normally, Hunter would take his time worshiping every inch of your body before even considering going down on you, but he knew how badly you needed to come. He brought his hand down to your aching pussy, circling around your clit a few times before massaging your entrance and slowly pushing a finger in. You gasped, grinding and clenching down on his finger. 

“Such a little whore, so desperate and aching just from one finger,” Crosshair chided, laser focused on where Hunter’s finger disappeared inside you. Hunter pushed a second finger in with the first and began curling them against your g-spot, making you see stars and squirm around in his lap. He wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you close to him, whispering, “You’re doing so well, letting me finger you like this. Let’s get you that orgasm, yeah?”

All you could do was nod as you felt yourself hurtling forward, getting closer and closer to finishing. Hunter dipped his head down to suck a hickey into your neck as he kept fingering you, feeling you get closer and closer to your orgasm. 

As you felt yourself reaching your peak, you tried to let them know that you were about to come, but given that the only noises you could make were senseless babbles, they figured it out pretty quickly. Once you hit your peak, you felt your entire body clench, losing all control and surrendering to the all-consuming pleasure Hunter was giving you. It felt as if every nerve ending in your body had been set alight, blazing from head to toe, and you could do nothing but take it all in. The whole time, you could vaguely make out Hunter whispering in your ear “that’s it,” “good girl,” “you look so sexy coming all over my fucking fingers.”

Eventually, you came down from your high, trying to regulate your breathing. Crosshair leaned in and captured your lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss before pulling away, looking into your eyes, and muttered, “slut” before giving you a quick kiss to the forehead. 

Once you’d fully regained control of your bodily functions, Crosshair asked, “Color?”

“Green,” you replied, eager to see what was next. 

“I think you’re finally ready for my cock, and I know your slutty pussy agrees with me,” he smirked. He looked to Hunter, who turned you around and put you on your hands and knees, ass in the air, just the way Crosshair likes it. Crosshair maneuvered himself behind you, taking in the view before giving your ass a couple good, hearty slaps that you knew would be visible come morning. Sliding the tip of his cock through your folds a few times, he eased himself into you slowly, giving your body time to adjust to him. He bottomed out for a moment before pulling out and thrusting back in again. Crosshair was known for being rough, and this was no exception. 

With every thrust, your body slid a little bit farther up the bed until your face was buried in the pillows. His grip on your hips was so strong you knew those would leave marks, too. Crosshair absolutely loved marking you up, especially in places most people wouldn’t get to see. As he pounded into you, he grabbed your hair and pulled you against his back, biting your throat and saying, “Little fucking cockslut, just waiting to be filled up and turned into a fucking cum dumpster.”

As Crosshair could feel your walls fluttering around him, he knew you were close, so he slid a hand down to your clit and rubbed precise circles over it. Before you could respond, your orgasm took you by surprise, walls clamping down over Crosshair’s cock. He kept pounding into you, chasing his own high, sending you into overstimulation. All you could do was cry out and claw at whatever parts of his body you could reach. As he reached his high, he pulled out and came on your ass, watching as your cheeks became adorned with white. 

Pulling away, Crosshair laid you back down onto the bed as Hunter approached. “Fuck, you looked so pretty coming all over his cock like that. You got one more in you?”

“Yes, please, let me come on your cock, too,” you begged. 

“Still so desperate to be filled, hmm? You want to be Hunter’s little cum dumpster?” Crosshair teased. 

“Yes, oh fuck yes,” you babbled. Hunter moved you so that you were on your back with your legs over his shoulders, cock poised at your entrance when he asked, “Color?”

“Green,” you breathed. Without another word, he pushed into you, filling you up. Sure, Crosshair was longer, but Hunter was certainly thicker, and you still needed a bit of time to adjust to his size. He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead as if he wasn’t buried balls deep inside you, showing his soft side.

“Fuck, you always take my cock so well,” Hunter moaned as he started to fuck you. You could feel him stretching you out, the breath getting knocked out of you with every thrust. As you lay there being repeatedly impaled on his cock, Hunter couldn’t help but reach out and wrap a hand gently around your neck. Not hard enough to actually restrict airflow, but just enough pressure to assert dominance. You, on the other hand, wanted him to choke you, so you put your hand on top of his and pushed so he would know to add pressure. He groaned and exerted a bit more pressure on your neck, adding that much more pleasure to what you were already experiencing. 

For the final time that night, you reached your high, coming all over Hunter’s cock. You could tell he was getting close, too; his thrusts were harder and more erratic. Before long, you could feel his cum filling you up as he finished inside you. Stilling inside you, Hunter tilted his head and kissed one of your legs as you smiled up at him, pussy still twitching from your orgasm. He slowly pulled out of you, taking your legs and resting them back on the bed. Crosshair came over with a damp cloth to clean you up with, and Hunter grabbed some more water for you, knowing you’d be thirsty again. 

The two of them knew how to take care of you during sex, and they made sure to pamper you afterwards. Even though you didn’t dare say it out loud, you loved the both of them so much; however, what you didn’t know was that they felt the same about you. 

[clu-ven]

Better than Meditation

soooo I haven't posted in a very long time but I'm trying to get back into writing!!! (so pls bear with me xoxoxoxoxo)

Summary: you come up with an alternative (smutty) way for Crosshair to gain some control over his hand - based off S3 E08

Tags: SMUT, vaginal fingering, semi public fingering?? (technically it’s done in an isolated but public place), lil bit of plot + smut, smut, smut

Word Count: 2.8k

“He’s still down there, y’know” Omega’s voice brings you out of your thoughts as she slumps down beside you.

You keep your eyes closed, letting the rays of the afternoon sun wash over you. Pabu’s climate is one you could most definitely get used to. It’s inviting and comforting atmosphere makes you feel at ease, a sensation that has become rare since the rise of the Empire.

“Well, you know how stubborn he is,” you reply casually. 

While Hunter and Wrecker are gone to meet some bounty hunter they know, Crosshair has spent most of his time on a secluded part of the beach, focused on correcting his aim.  Everyone has tried to talk to him about it but unfortunately, that only made things worse.

Now Crosshair is more defensive than ever, determined to prove that he is perfectly capable of correcting his shaky hand by himself. 

“Yeah but AZI said it might be some kind of mental block,” Omega sighs, subtly copying you as she closes her eyes too “if he doesn’t open up and let us help him, then how is he supposed to get better?”.

Her concern for Crosshair makes you smile, impressed by how she’s able to delicately balance trying to help her brother without being too overbearing.

The question lingers for a few moments before you open your eyes and glance down at her “And he’s already shot down your meditation idea?”.

Omega briefly mentioned the idea to you that morning and although you were sceptical, you encouraged her determination to help anyway. 

“Of course he did,” she lets out a heavy sigh “saying he didn’t like it is an understatement”. 

A comfortable silence grows between you both as you consider the situation. But before you can speak, Omega quickly becomes restless and blurts out “Can’t you try speaking with him? He’ll listen to you, I just know it!”. 

It’s no secret that you and Crosshair were once close and you can only presume Omega has heard about this from the likes of Wrecker, who wouldn’t give a second thought about mentioning it.

"I can try but..." you trail off, hesitating to make a decision. Doubt clouds your judgement, stopping you from promising anything. After all, you know how stubborn and closed-minded Crosshair can be at times, especially when it comes to being vulnerable.

Omega's face lights up at your hesitant help. "Great! Sometimes trying is all it takes". She seems upbeat and enthusiastic as she stands “I was gonna go introduce Batcher to Mox, Stak and Deek anyways so it’s good to know Crosshair won’t be alone”.

Giving the girl a tight-lipped smile in response, Omega whistles for Batcher. With one last goodbye, she hurries off happily.

You wait until she’s gone before you sigh and slump down again. Although Crosshair has been back for a while now, the two of you have yet to have a proper reunion, leaving you both unsure of how to approach the situation. 

Knowing you can’t put this off for forever, you begrudgingly get up and start the long descent down to the secluded beach. 

The subtle change in weather appears to align with your mood, as the sun dips behind the clouds and a warm breeze begins to pick up. It causes the light fabric of your skirt to dance in the wind as if it has a mind of its own. But it’s only a momentary distraction as your thoughts swiftly return to Crosshair, focusing fully on him and the impending catch-up. 

You and Crosshair were always close during the Clone Wars, constantly laughing at each other’s snide remarks, bickering simply for the sake of it and always trying to get a rise out of the other. Even back then, you knew where the constant teasing would eventually lead to… but then it didn’t. 

Instead, the war came to an end and before you even got the opportunity to speak with Crosshair, the rest of the Batch had turned up at your door and told you that he had already picked his side.

Since then, you have been travelling with the batch. It took a long time to accept that whatever was between you and Crosshair was gone, whether that be a friendship or something more. That died the day the Republic did. 

But in a strange twist of faith, Crosshair is back and so are your lingering feelings. Although, if it was difficult to confront this emotion before everything happened, it’s become utterly impossible now. Neither of you have mentioned it and yet you still catch his longing gaze whenever he thinks you’re not paying attention.

When you reach the beach, it’s exactly how you pictured; Crosshair is alone, his sniper positioned steadily on a rock as he tries to shoot the far off target. A blaster bolt sprints across the water as he fires, missing his target by a few inches. You hear him mutter something under his breath as he tries again.

Flicking his chewed up toothpick to the ground, Crosshair notices you. “Yes?” He asks impatiently, lining up another shot.

“You’ve been out here all day,” you state the obvious “Omega’s worried about you”.

Crosshair doesn’t reply immediately, first firing (and missing) again before he turns around just to make sure you see his eye roll. “Oh, is she?” His tone is underlined with sarcasm. 

A huff falls from your lips and suddenly you know all too well why Omega was so irked after trying to help the man in front of you. Despite the scowl on your face, you refuse to fall into the usual bickering you once had with him. 

“You know she is,” you sigh “maybe you should take a break, come have some lunch and forget about target practice for a while”.

He watches you for a moment, studying you the same way you’ve seen from the corner of your eye “And when did you become mother hen?”.

Scoffing, you walk closer, hugging yourself with your arms “Don’t act like that, you know you’re overworking yourself… Crosshair, please, you need to take care of yourself”. 

The concern in your voice takes him by surprise but Crosshair quickly recovers as he mutters “Oh, so you’re worried about me now?”.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You bat back at him.

“You’ve hardly looked at me, nevermind speak to me since I’ve gotten back” he practically spits the words out. 

You no longer hold back your glare “Like you’ve made any effort to talk to me!”.

“How can I when you don’t even look at me?” Crosshair challenges, his gaze unyielding as your annoyance fades as quick as it came. 

Coming up to the rock he’s based at, you slide down against it to shield yourself from the wind. Crosshair follows suit and kneels beside you, waiting cautiously for your response. 

Your tone holds a sense of sincerity as you speak, your words now free of any reservations. "I do look at you… of course I do," you confess with genuine intent, all annoyance and restraint vanishing within you. 

“Then you must see me staring,” he almost whispers the words, watching you carefully “I thought you would have gotten the hint by now that I’m still interested”.

A soft smile graces your lips and as if taming a wild animal, you slowly reach out for his hand. Crosshair makes no attempt to stop you and you gently slip your hand into his before you tug him closer. 

Settling his hand on to your lap, you begin to trace your finger up and down his palm until finally resting your hand delicately on his wrist. “Let me help,” you offer “seriously, Crosshair”.

“And how would you help?” Though the question almost seems backhanded, you know that’s just Crosshair being Crosshair.

The mischievous glint in your eye paired with the suggestive smirk plastered across your face doesn’t go unnoticed by him. 

“How do you think?” you question. 

He holds your gaze as if to challenge you to make the first move but you hold strong. This is your moment and you both know it.

A secluded beach? A chance for you both to finally reunite in a way you could only imagine? Both of your minds go to the same place.

You give his wrist a small yet reassuring squeeze and before you can make another comment, his lips are on yours. 

With an intensity fuelled by pure need, he slams his lips against yours in a heated display of passion. This isn’t just a build up of years worth of longing for Crosshair. No, it’s much more than that. It’s an act of rebellion against the time he lost with you because of the Empire, both in spite of his own misplaced loyalty to them as well as his time on Tantiss. 

The fiery kiss goes on for what feels like an eternity and yet the time seems far too brief when it finally comes to an end. The passion flaring between the two of you is intoxicating, causing you to crave more.

His fingers twitch on your lap, eager to do more for you. As if on cue, you both look down at his hand, your soft grasp still around his wrist.

“You have to be calm, be able to stay consistent with your shots if you want to hit the target, right?” you ask, trying not to smirk when you see his sudden confusion. 

In a moment like this, you seriously decide to give him some advice on shooting? Crosshair nods, silently waiting to see where this is going.

“Maybe you’re approaching this from the wrong perspective,” you suggest, noticing how his attention shifts to your lips “you’re focusing on your sniper abilities, looking to re-learn your techniques… but you need to re-learn how to use your fingers in order to effectively use your sniper”.

“And how do you propose I do that?” his voice is low, causing the skin on your arms to prickle with goosebumps. You can feel the effect of his voice in your panties.

With your free hand, you begin to bunch up your skirt, first revealing your thighs and then a glimpse of your underwear. Crosshair can’t help it as a groan escapes from his throat.

You guide his hand closer to your clothed core before Crosshair takes initiative and brushes his fingers teasingly against you. 

He can feel the warmth beneath your underwear, feeling more assured in his movements when he hears you take in a sharp breath. But even with the small boost in confidence, Crosshair can’t help it as a small tremor courses through his hand. 

“Take your time,” your voice is soft but firm in your reassurance “and if this is too much then we can stop”. Fearful that you’ve pushed him too far, you slowly begin to close your legs as you nervously fiddle with your skirt “I didn’t mean to push you so-”.

You stop your apologetic remark when his firm grip stops your legs from meeting. A brief look of disbelief flicks across your face as he spreads your legs to his liking.

“No,” there is no hesitancy in Crosshair’s voice as he takes control of the situation “you started this, don’t go shy on me now”. This time it’s your turn to nod silently.

His fingers glide down to caress you again, this time feeling the dampness from beneath your underwear. Each reaction you give, whether a sharp intake of breath or a slight quiver up your spine, only serves to fuel Crosshair’s determination. He savors these small responses, revelling in how you leave each reaction so bare for him to see.

Crosshair smirks “If this is how you react to such simple touches, do you think you could handle me touching you without anything between us?”. 

“You’d be surprised with how much I can handle” you taunt.

Oh how he has missed how you challenge him. Your snarky response is rewarded with a kiss but before you can melt into it, Crosshair brings both of his hands to your hips and swiftly pulls your panties down. 

The eager sight that greets him brings a smile to his face. Crosshair can feel his excitement growing but before he can get ahead of himself, he’s committed to take care of you first. 

Crosshair teasingly brings just one finger down to your core. A slight tremor causes his finger to waver but after a second, it stops as desire overtakes him. His finger teases you, feeling just how much you want him. Before he can make another teasing comment, you pull him in for another kiss, unable to help yourself.

Crosshair is quick to take control of the kiss, simultaneously pushing his tongue into your mouth as he sinks his long finger into you. You welcome all of him, moaning into his mouth. Taking your sounds as encouragement, Crosshair adds a second digit to your core. 

He pushes in until he’s knuckle deep, successfully finding that spot within you. Crosshair takes your advice to heart. He keeps a consistent rhythm, thrusting his fingers inside of you. He listens to each involuntary squeak and moan, adjusting his speed and pressure of each pump of his fingers to whichever makes you react the most. 

There’s not a slight tremble in his entire hand, his attention solely on you. There is no room for nerves or doubt to creep in and cause his hand to shake. That seems almost impossible now, especially with you like this in front of him.

There is nothing but you and him in this moment, the rhythmic movement of his fingers serving as proof that he has full control.

He buries his fingers into you, pressing the palm of his hand against your clit and delivering powerful jolts of pleasure into your body.

“That’s it,” he coos at your moans “you’re nearly there, aren’t you?”.

A flutter fills your chest as your breathing becomes more rapid. "Y-yes,” you manage with a strained voice, your mind becoming overwhelmed with arousal “keep doing that”. 

You squeeze around his fingers, feeling the tight coil in your lower stomach getting closer and closer to finally snapping.

Your body responds to his touch in the most natural of ways, your back arching and head bowing in a display of utter pleasure. Your hand instinctively searches for contact, grabbing hold of his knee as the overwhelming sensation begins to consume you.

Your legs twitch, eyes rolling back in your head and a rather loud moan escapes your lips as the satisfaction you feel begins to peak. 

Bliss floods your entire being and the mixture of your moans and whimpers blend together in a melodic harmony. Every movement of his hand guides you through the waves of ecstasy, sending shivers through your body. 

Crosshair hums approvingly as you come down from your sigh. Almost reluctantly, he takes his hand away from you and examines his sticky but steady fingers. “My hand hasn’t been able to do so much and remain so still since… well, ever since Tantiss” he comments.

Trying to give your shaky legs more time to recover, you fix your panties before you reposition your skirt. Stealing a glance at Crosshair, you’re glad to see you’re not the only one with flushed cheeks. You smile almost bashfully as you lean on the rock to stand. 

Crosshair is there to help, gently holding your upper arm as you steady yourself. Despite the sass you gave him earlier and the bliss he just brought you now, you find it hard to maintain eye contact. 

Clearing your throat, you try to regain some of that boldness from before “Well then… good luck with your target practice, I’ll go see if the others have made contact yet”.

“What?!” the sound is almost foreign to you; the sound of an utterly bamboozled Crosshair. 

Pushing yourself off the rock, you feel his grasp slip away from your arm. You continue to walk as you turn around to savor his shocked expression.

“What about me?” he asks, trying to be inconspicuous as he gestures to the tent in his pants “I thought this was about helping me?”.

“Yeah, I know,” you reply with a smirk “you’ll get your reward when you hit the target”. With a wink, you turn your back to him and begin the ascent back. 

Crosshair’s jaw hangs open as he watches you go, and he can’t help but laugh at your audacity.

[euphoriacafe]

Unpopular opinion- the clones deserve more fanfics ☹️ I wanna see some heartaching fanfics or spicy fanfics

[jetii]

The Bet

Pairing: Kix x fem!Reader / Kix x Nurse!Reader

Words: 8,981

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! coworkers to friends to lovers, some blood/wound care but it's very minor, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), a hint of a praise kink

Summary: You and Kix have been dancing around each other for months. When losing a bet finds you alone in your apartment together for the first time, sparks fly.

A/N: I honestly was not a Kix girlie before writing this, so hopefully he's not too ooc!

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Kix watches you move about your small kitchen from his seat at the counter. The beer he nurses in his hand is still cool, the condensation softening the label enough for his thumb to peel, a nervous habit you notice but are too polite to mention.

You pause your stirring momentarily to throw him an exasperated look over your shoulder. 

“I know.”

“I’m just saying you don’t need to do all this for me,” he says, gesturing towards the stove where a large pot bubbles, a delicious scent wafting through the air. “Pizza would’ve been fine.”

“And miss the opportunity to show off my excellent cooking?” you ask with a scoff, though it lacks any real conviction. 

You turn to face him. He looks so out of place in your tiny apartment, perched on the stool that is dwarfed by his size. His shoulders hunch as if he's trying to make himself seem smaller, a feat in itself for someone so large. 

You try to give him a smile that's more encouraging than teasing. “Not a chance.”

He shakes his head, returning the grin with one of his own as he looks down at his hands. The smile falls away when he sees the state of the label he had been absently peeling. He grimaces and balls up the ruined paper before throwing it at the trash can, a small ping echoing through the apartment as it lands in the center of the bin.

The corner of your mouth twitches into a smirk, and you roll your eyes playfully. Kix chuckles softly, and some of the tension dissipates from the room.

It's nice to hear him laugh after the week you've both had. You'd been near dead on your feet by the time the Resolute docked on Coruscant, but you'd promised Kix a proper home-cooked meal, and you weren't about to renege on your deal. A bet was a bet, after all.

Bets between the two of you were far from an unusual occurrence. Normally, it was simple things: what they were serving in the mess for breakfast, how many hangover remedies you'd have to administer after shore leave, or even just something as silly as who could finish their work faster. It had become so common to the point that the 501st was more than used to seeing you and Kix going back and forth, betting on just about everything.

This time was no different. You'd been arguing over a patient's chart one morning, and it had escalated until the two of you had settled on a bet. Whoever could get the most patients through their physical would win.

The only thing was that, by the time the two of you finally had the opportunity to settle the score, Kix had gotten the entire company in on it, and had somehow managed to get Rex to take his side. You had been absolutely furious at the time, but you got over it quickly when he made his request.

He could have chosen anything. He could have made you stay late or fill out paperwork for a week. He could have had you do something embarrassing.

Instead, he asked you to cook him dinner.

You don't have a lot of time outside of work, so when you do, you cook. It's your favorite hobby and one you're actually pretty good at. You take great pride in it. Cooking for Kix though? That's different.

It's not that you don't want to do it. On the contrary, you're thrilled by the opportunity. It's just that you want it to be perfect.

The apartment is quiet save for the sound of your work. You have the radio playing, the volume turned low so the music is more background noise than anything. You don't mind. You've always liked the sound of rain, and it gives you the opportunity to listen for Kix.

You'd noticed over the course of your friendship that Kix is usually quiet when he's comfortable. It had taken a while, but you learned his different silences. It was the same way he analyzed you: by the cadence of your footsteps and the tone of your voice. You'd learned to read him through those subtle indicators, and he had done the same.

Right now, he's content. There's no tension in his shoulders, and his breathing is even. You know he's watching you, his eyes tracking your movements. He looks a lot more relaxed here than he does at work, which isn't surprising. You've seen each other nearly every day since the start of the war, but you've never been able to spend time together like this. You're friends, sure, but you're also attracted to him, and you'd like to think he feels the same.

You've been dancing around each other for months, but neither one is brave enough to say something about it.

You make small talk, talking about nothing and everything while you cook. It's pleasant and comfortable and nice. You can feel his eyes on you as you work. The kitchen is small enough that he can watch you easily without having to leave his seat. You know he's enjoying the show.

“So, what are we having?” he asks.

You can hear the curiosity in his voice and grin.

When he'd made the request, he'd said he was up for anything, but you wanted it to be special. You have a plan, one that you hope he'll like.

You turn around, propping your elbows on the counter and leaning forward. He mirrors your position, and you're so close your noses almost touch.

His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn't pull back. You tilt your head. “It’s a surprise.”

And a good one, you hoped. You weren’t sure the last time you put this much effort into a single meal, but if you were going to impress him, you wanted to do it right.

You'd started the process early this morning and had been checking and rechecking your progress throughout the day. You're making a traditional Alderaanian dish, one of your favorites, and one you're pretty confident you can pull off. You're not a chef by any stretch of the imagination, but you know your way around a kitchen and have been told by those who love you that your cooking is exceptional.

You can only hope he'll agree.

Of course, this was a man who preferred to subsist entirely on ration bars and caf, who forgot to eat unless you forced him out of the medbay, but you still found yourself hoping to wow him with your family’s recipes.

When Kix showed up at your door, you could tell that he was nervous. You were too, but you tried not to let it show. You were doing this because you liked him, not to get a reaction out of him, but the anticipation of his response was enough to make your heart flutter in your chest.

He looked more than a little disarmed at the sight of you in your civilian clothes, and the feeling was mutual. You didn't think you'd ever seen him out of armor. When you invited him inside, he pulled out a bouquet of daylilies from behind his back, sheepishly explaining that Jesse insisted he shouldn’t show up empty-handed.

The bouquet he’d given you was beautiful. You didn’t have a vase to put them in, so they were soaking in water in the largest coffee mug you could find with ‘Galaxy’s Best Nurse’ in gaudy red letters on the side. You hoped they wouldn’t wilt before you could find something better to put them in. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time anyone had bought you flowers.

Kix was sweet, sweeter than you ever anticipated from your first meeting. On your first day aboard the Resolute, when Captain Rex first introduced you as the resident nurse aboard the ship, Kix took one long look at you and promptly rolled his eyes.

“She's not gonna last a week.”

Rex had looked ready to throttle him, but you merely gave him a wry grin and told him you were more than capable of doing your job.

He was quick to apologize, though you could tell he was more than a little skeptical, and the two of you had spent the better part of that first month trying to get on the other's good side. The first time he laughed at one of your jokes, it was like the floodgates opened. After that, it was easy, and the two of you quickly fell into an easy friendship.

You came to realize being blunt was just his way, though Kix was never as short with you as he was with his brothers. Jesse said it was because he had a soft spot for you, but you were more inclined to believe he just didn’t want to create a hostile work environment.

That was months ago, and a lot has changed since.

You enjoyed Kix. His dry humor always caught you off guard, even if you were getting used to it. He seemed to enjoy making you laugh. And at the end of a long day, he was always the first to ask if you needed help cleaning up the medbay, always the first to offer to walk you back to your quarters.

You shared plenty of late nights together, sometimes going over patient files or stocking supplies. Other times you simply sat together in the quiet, enjoying each other’s company.

You grew close. It was only natural.

Still, it didn't feel natural to invite him over for a home-cooked meal. You'd never been anything but professional with each other, even in private. You'd never seen him in civvies before and had certainly never imagined that his hair, longer now than you’ve ever seen it, might curl a little in the humidity.

It wasn't fair, really, how much you enjoyed the sight of him.

You had spent the day wondering if this was the right decision. You worried you were reading too much into his request, that you were imagining the interest you thought you saw. But if nothing else, you hoped tonight would provide some insight.

You wanted this to go well.

You didn’t know how much of that was for your sake or his.

You push back from the counter, and Kix makes no move to follow. You turn back to the stove and continue working, a grin pulling at your lips. You don’t think he realizes that you can feel his gaze on you. He doesn't make any attempt to hide his staring.

The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable, but there is an undercurrent of something else, a tension you're not sure what to do with. You know that you aren't the only one feeling this way. He'd been nervous when he first arrived, and though he was more at ease now, the tension hadn't dissipated.

It's not an unwelcome feeling. If anything, it's the opposite. You enjoy knowing he's watching you, that you’re having some kind of effect on him. You enjoy having him here, alone. It's a different sort of intimacy, a different kind of closeness. You wonder if it's a step in the right direction.

You're not sure what to expect from him, but whatever it is, you're ready for it.

“How long until dinner is ready, doc? I'm starving over here." You don't have to turn to see him smile. You can hear it in his voice.

"Don't rush me," you scold, and he chuckles. "Dinner isn't ready until it's ready."

"I can't believe you're making me wait. It smells delicious."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," you say, and you glance over your shoulder at him. "I was worried you wouldn't."

Kix raises his eyebrows. "Worried? About what?"

You turn away. "I don't know. I thought maybe you'd be disappointed."

"Why would I be disappointed?" he asks, sounding genuinely confused.

"I don't know." You shrug. "Maybe because we haven't really hung out before, and maybe you didn't want to, and—“

"No," he says, cutting you off. "I like spending time with you. I wanted to come."

You swallow, trying to keep your expression neutral despite the sudden tightness in your chest. "Oh."

"Besides, I've been meaning to ask for a while."

"Ask me what?" you ask, looking over at him.

He gives a half-shrug, the corner of his mouth twitching. "To have dinner with you."

Your face grows warm, and your stomach does a flip. You try to focus on the food, but it's difficult when all you can think about is the man behind you.

You hadn't realized just how much you wanted him to say that until he did.

"If it helps, I can promise that you won't regret it," you say, throwing a grin over your shoulder.

He leans his chin on his palm, grinning back. "I'm sure I won't."

You set a pot of water on the stove and turn on the burner.

"What're you doing?" he asks, sounding concerned.

"Boiling water."

"For what?"

"Kebroots."

He looks confused. "Aren't we having that stuff you're making now?"

"This is the sauce for the main dish," you say, gesturing with your spoon. It's easy to forget that he's never had a proper home-cooked meal in his life, and the thought of him getting to taste this one is more than a little thrilling. "The kebroots are going in the water."

"Why?"

"Because they need to boil."

He gives you a flat look, and you roll your eyes. "Do you want to know the answer to everything, or do you want to enjoy the surprise?"

"Fine," he says, sitting back. "But don't think you can keep me from learning your secrets."

You raise your eyebrows at him. "Is that so?"

He nods, grinning.

"Well, then," you say, smiling down at the pot. "I'll have to make sure you don't."

You're not usually one to play your cards so close to the vest. It's not like you to keep secrets, but there's something fun about the intrigue, something thrilling about keeping him in the dark.

"Can I at least have a hint?" he asks, resting his elbows on the counter.

You turn and prop yourself against the stove. "No. I already told you. It's a surprise."

"Come on, doc. You can't give me something?" he wheedles, his brown eyes sparkling with mirth. "Just a little something to tide me over."

"No."

"Please?"

"Nope."

"You're no fun."

"And yet, here you are,” you say with a teasing tilt of your head.

Kix grins, then sighs.

"Fine," he says and pushes back from the counter. "If that's the case, then I'm going to need more beer."

He disappears into the fridge. You don't turn, focusing instead on the task at hand. The sauce is nearly finished, but there are still a few steps left to complete.

You hear him move to your bookshelf, fingers lightly tapping along the spines of your books. You'd been surprised when he mentioned enjoying reading, since most clones you'd met didn't bother with it, preferring instead to watch holodramas or listen to the radio. But Kix liked books, which you were sure he kept to himself for fear of teasing from his brothers. You had a sneaking suspicion he was a romantic.

He stops to pull one out, running his fingers down the spine. "The Time Machine," he reads.

"It was one of my favorites as a kid," you explain. "I'm surprised it survived the trip here."

Kix puts it back in its place. "Have you ever read any of the Corellian Civil War holonovels?"

"No.” You shake your head. “I've never been a fan of war stories."

Kix snorts. "Me neither. There's only so many ways they can tell the same story."

"There's nothing like real-life experience," you say, and you immediately regret it.

"True," Kix agrees and doesn't press the matter. You’re thankful, your heart in your throat, that you hadn’t ruined the moment entirely, but you can’t help but feel a little on edge.

The two had been working together for several months, and though it wasn't uncommon for clone troopers and nat-born people to befriend one another, there was still an underlying tension between you, one that neither of you had the guts to address.

He'd asked you for dinner because he liked you. You accepted because you liked him.

Neither was quite sure what to do next.

The tension between you had grown more pronounced, and though neither of you made any effort to stop it, the unresolved feelings were starting to affect your work. You were both professionals and did your best not to let it interfere, but it was still there, a constant reminder of what was unsaid, a potential opportunity squandered.

Still, if you were going to pursue a relationship with anyone, you were glad it was him.

You had a fondness for him, and it had grown into something deeper. It wasn't just his looks. Though he was definitely the most handsome trooper in the GAR, that was never a primary consideration for you. You’ve spent nearly every waking moment around men who looked almost exactly like him, after all. But it was the differences, the small nuances that made him stand out, that drew your eye.

With the water finally boiling, you turn back to chopping the kebroot. The vegetable is a bit tricky to handle, its tough outer skin resisting the knife's edge. You steady your hand, apply more pressure, and try again.

You’re grateful Kix seems to be distracted by your books, allowing you to focus. If he saw you struggling, he’d probably try to offer help, and you want to do this on your own.

He was right earlier, when he said you didn't need to do all this for him.

You don't.

But you want to.

He's a good man, a hard worker, and you want to show him your appreciation. He deserves someone to take care of him for once.

When you think about it, the whole thing seems silly. You're grown adults, not hormonal teenagers. You can't believe you're making such a big deal out of something so simple.

But it is a big deal, and not just because he's the first man you've found attractive in a long time. It's the fact that you've been dancing around this for months, if not longer, and now you finally have an opportunity to explore the potential between you.

You’ve been trying your best not to picture him here, but with him in the apartment, it was difficult not to imagine. You worked together. You were friends. It was easy for you to forget that, and even easier to let your imagination run wild.

You can see him in the kitchen, helping you chop vegetables, or washing dishes at the sink. You can see him on the couch, his arm draped over the back, his legs spread wide, his head tilted back in a laugh. You can see him in bed, and that's where your mind wanders to the most.

You imagine how it might feel to kiss him, to touch him, to have him touch you. You wonder if he'll be gentle or if he'll be rough. You don't have a preference. You don't care as long as it's him. You want him to hold you. You want to feel him pressed against you, his chest against yours, his mouth against your neck, his hands running up your sides, slipping underneath your shirt—

You hiss out a curse as the knife slips, nicking the fleshy part of your finger. Blood wells up, a stark contrast against the green of the ruica.

"You okay?" Kix asks.

"I'm fine," you answer quickly.

You reach blindly for the towel, wrapping the cloth around the cut, trying to apply pressure. The cut isn’t deep, but it stings like hell.

"What happened?" he asks, appearing at your side.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Let me see," he says, and grabs the wrist of the hand holding the towel.

"It's not bad," you say and are about to pull away, but he doesn’t let go. He guides you to the sink and holds your hand under the tepid water. His eyes flicker from the wound to your face and back again, brows furrowed in a way you know means he’s gone into medic mode.

“Kix, I’m fine,” you huff. You try to withdraw your wrist, but he holds fast.

"Stop moving. You're bleeding all over the counter."

“Sorry,” you say. You can feel your cheeks burning. You should have been more careful.

His hands are warm. The pressure feels good. You can't remember the last time someone touched you like this. You want to pull away, to spare yourself the embarrassment of being this close to him, but he doesn't seem to mind. If anything, he seems determined.

“Where’s your med kit?” he asks, eyes still fixed on your hand.

You tell him where to find it, and he firmly instructs you to keep your hand under the water before he breaks into a jog toward the bathroom.

“Sit,” Kix commands when he returns, his tone no-nonsense.

You can't help but laugh.

He shoots you a glare as he opens the kit and begins removing the supplies. "I'm serious, doc. Sit."

He's so cute when he's bossy.

"Alright," you relent, pulling out a chair and sitting down. He grabs the chair across from you and drags it closer, positioning himself directly across from you.

"Gimme your hand," he orders, and you do as you're told, holding it out for him. He gently peels the towel back and sets it aside. You don't dare look. You're too embarrassed.

“Seriously, you don’t have to,” you assure him, but he just shakes his head and dabs the blood away with a clean corner of the towel.

“Should’ve known you’d be a Code 5,” he says your code word for a difficult patient with a roll of his eyes. He's only half joking.

“It’s a cut, not a stab wound,” you reply indignantly.

Kix shakes his head and reaches for the alcohol wipe. He opens it with his teeth and begins cleaning the area around the wound.

"I know that," he says, his voice softer. “I just don’t like seeing you hurt.”

He looks away to discard the wipe, and when he meets your gaze again, his eyes are filled with warmth and something else.

You don’t know how to respond.

It's a look that speaks volumes.

His touch is gentle, his fingers brushing against your palm. It's not necessary, but he does it anyway.

“Just let me take care of you,” Kix says quietly, his gaze locked on yours. “Please. For my sake.”

“Alright.” You nod, biting your lip once he turns away to grab a bandage. The intensity in his gaze surprises you. It’s different than the look he wears when you’re in the midst of surgery, different from the easy smile he wears when you’re with the men. This is something new, something unexpected.

It feels personal.

He tears the backing off the bandage and presses it gently over the cut. You try to focus on his hands instead of his face. His fingers are rough and calloused, and you how they'd feel against your bare skin.

The thought makes your stomach flutter.

It's not a foreign feeling. You've thought about this before, more times than you care to admit, but this is the first time you've been so close. This is the first time you let him.

When he finishes, he presses a kiss to your bandaged finger. The action is quick, almost thoughtless, and it catches you off guard. Kix freezes. His lips linger for a moment too long, and his cheeks flush pink.

He pulls back. "Sorry," he mumbles, not meeting your eyes.

"It's okay," you say, smiling shyly.

You're touched by the gesture. It's sweet and considerate, and exactly the sort of thing he'd do. His cheeks are flushed. You can't tell if he's embarrassed or if it's the proximity.

Your hand folds back into your lap. You can still feel the warmth of his lips on your skin. You don't know why the kiss affects you so much. It's not the first time you've been kissed, and it certainly won't be the last, but something about his touch makes your pulse quicken.

"You're sweet," you say, trying to lighten the mood.

He grins, shaking his head. "Don't let that get around."

"My lips are sealed."

He glances down at your mouth, his grin fading. You feel a thrill rush through you, the hair on the back of your neck standing up. Your heart starts to beat faster.

"Good," he whispers, his voice low and husky.

You don't move.

You don't want to break the spell.

Kix's eyes search yours, looking for some sign of reciprocation. He's giving you a chance to tell him no, to push him away.

Instead, your hand comes up to cup his cheek. Your thumb brushes across his bottom lip. You feel the breath leave his lungs, feel him lean into your touch. His eyes are hooded, pupils blown wide.

"Kix?"

"Yeah?" he whispers.

"You should kiss me," you breathe.

Kix rises to his feet, leaning down so that his face is only inches from yours. You take in his features, his warm eyes, the way they're trained on your lips, the way he's watching your every move as if waiting for you to change your mind.

His thumb caresses your cheek, and he waits a breath more before leaning in to press his lips to yours.

You sigh into his touch, bringing your other hand up to grab the back of his head. The kiss is soft, unhurried, a slow slide of lips.

Your tongue slides across his bottom lip, and he groans, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. His hands roam over your shoulders, down your back, over your hips, his fingertips brushing the exposed skin above your waistband.

You part, and you let your forehead rest against his, both of you catching your breath. Eventually, you pull back, swallowing nervously.

"I'm sorry," you say. "I don't know why I did that."

"I do," he replies.

You look up in surprise and find him watching you. His eyes are bright, and he's smiling, a real smile, not the forced one he sometimes uses around others.

"I've wanted to do that since the day we met," he admits, his cheeks reddening slightly. "And I'm not sorry it happened."

"Really?" you ask, trying not to sound too eager.

He nods, the hand on your cheek moving to play with the ends of your hair. "You're beautiful. And smart. And you take no shit, especially from me. What’s not to like?"

You laugh and lean in to kiss him again. He returns the kiss eagerly, his hand resting on your lower back to pull you closer.

"I wasn't going to say anything," he continues between kisses. "I didn't think you would want this."

"Well, I do." You grin. "Very much."

He groans and leans in to capture your lips again, but you stop him with a finger to his lips. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue.

"The food's burning."

Kix's eyes go wide, and he rounds the counter in a flash, quickly grabbing the pot off the burner and setting it aside.

"Shit," he curses, and you can't help but laugh at the panicked expression on his face.

"Relax. I'm kidding," you say, and you follow him to wrap your arms around waist. He relaxes into your touch, his hands coming up to rest on your hips.

“Can it be reheated?” he asks, his expression hopeful.

You quirk an eyebrow. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

His hands slide up to cup either side of your face and pull you into another kiss, one you can feel all the way down to your toes. He presses you up against the counter, his body flush against yours.

You whine into his mouth at the feeling of his tongue against yours, your fingers gripping his hair to ground yourself. He tastes like beer and something else, something dark and earthy.

It's delicious, and you can't get enough.

His lips leave yours to trail across your cheek to your neck, peppering kisses along your jaw, his teeth scraping along your pulse.

"We should probably wait until after dinner to do this," you breathe, tilting your head to give him better access.

"I can't," he replies, his voice rough, his hands roaming across your body.

"Me either," you agree, and let him lift you onto the counter. Your legs wrap around his hips instinctively, your hands cupping his face as you bring him in for another kiss.

His hands are everywhere, his touch electric, and you want him to touch you everywhere, his hands and his lips, his mouth and his tongue.

Your hands slide underneath his shirt, pushing the material up until he has to withdraw to pull it off over his head. You take in the expanse of his bare torso, the way the muscles ripple under your touch, and your heart feels like it's about to beat out of your chest.

"You're gorgeous," you say, your hands coming to rest on his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

"You are," he says. "And I've wanted this for so long."

He reaches behind you to remove your shirt, leaving you in your bra and pants. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and you want him to touch you, to make you feel good, to ease the ache that's been building inside you since the first time he smiled at you.

He dips his head to kiss you again, his hands sliding up to tangle in your hair. Your mouth opens to his, and he takes advantage, deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue against yours. He nips at your bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth, and you moan, pulling him closer.

His lips travel across your jaw, down your neck, along your collarbone. His hands find the clasp of your bra and make quick work of the latch, leaving you bare. You shiver, the cool air hitting your skin, goosebumps breaking out over your skin.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he whispers, and he leans down to take one nipple into his mouth.

"Oh," you gasp, arching your back into him.

He sucks the sensitive bud between his lips, swirling his tongue around the peak, teasing you. He takes the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging and twisting, sending sparks of pleasure through you.

Your head falls back, and you moan his name, your fingers holding tight to his neck, your thighs squeezing his hips.

You can feel the heat of him against you, the hard ridge of his cock pressing against your center, and you grind down against him, desperate for friction.

His mouth leaves your breast, and he kisses you, his tongue tangling with yours, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. You drag him closer, your hands running over his back, exploring every inch of his warm, firm skin.

His lips trail across your cheek, and you gasp as he presses open-mouthed kisses down your neck. He pauses to suck a bruise into the sensitive skin where your neck meets your shoulder, his hands massaging your waist.

"What do you want, mesh’la?" he murmurs, his mouth trailing along your collarbone.

"You," you reply, your voice breaking into a moan when he bites down gently on your shoulder, and you can't help but buck your hips.

You can feel him grin against your skin. "You have me."

"Bed," you manage, your hands gripping at his shoulders. "Now."

Kix chuckles, his hands sliding down to cup your ass. He pulls you flush against him, your arms wrapping around his neck as he lifts you off the counter. Your legs tighten around his waist and you bury your face in his neck to muffle your gasp as he walks you down the short hallway toward your bedroom.

Kix kisses you deeply as he lays you on the bed, hovering above you for a moment before he ducks down to press a kiss to your stomach.

His lips trail lower, dipping just above the waistband of your pants. Your breath hitches at the feeling of his mouth on you, the scratch of his stubble against the sensitive skin there. The idea of what he’ll feel like between your thighs has you nodding before he’s even asked the question, his hands hovering on your waist.

Kix’s fingers hook into the waistband, slowly sliding your pants and underwear down your legs. You help him, lifting your hips so he can pull them off. Your panties stick to the slick dampening your center, and Kix lets out a barely concealed moan at the darkened patch there before tearing them away. 

You expect him to discard them over your shoulder with your pants, but he shocks you by giving you a bashful smile and tucking them into his back pocket.

"Really?" you ask, trying to stifle your amusement.

"What?" He gives you a look that's almost innocent, if not for the fact that he's hovering above you, half-naked and fully aroused.

“Nothing. I just didn't expect you to want to keep them."

"Do you mind?" he asks, his expression turning serious.

"Not at all," you say, and watch with rapt attention as his expression turns devious.

"Good. I plan to treasure these," he teases, and he presses a kiss to your bare knee. You shudder at the touch, at the implication behind his words.

"Now where were we?" he murmurs, his voice husky, his eyes dark as he lowers himself to his knees on the floor in front of you.

He grabs the back of your ankles and tugs, and you let out a squeak as you're pulled until your ass is nearly hanging off the edge. It’s a precarious position that’s immediately rectified by Kix arranging your legs so they’re thrown over each of his shoulders, his face level with your exposed center.

The feeling of his breath against your cunt is almost too much to bear, your legs wanting to close instinctually, but he quickly stops you with a firm hand on either thigh.

“Hold still, beautiful,” he commands softly, his eyes fixed on your wet, swollen folds.

“Kix—“

Whatever you meant to say evaporates as soon he darts forward, tongue flattening to lick a stripe from your entrance to your clit. You nearly forget your own name when he parts your lips with one hand to give him better access, zeroing in on your clit without any direction from you. 

His licks start out soft, then steadily increase in pressure until you're nearly grinding on his tongue. The scratch of his stubble against you feels as good as you imagined. He eats you out like he’s starving, with a passion you knew he possessed but never dared to dream he’d apply to you in this way.

He withdraws for a moment to take a deep breath, his eyes flicking up to yours, pupils blown wide. “More?”

You nod frantically, though you aren’t sure what you're agreeing to. Anything to keep his hands and mouth on you. “Please.”

Kix dives back in, lapping up the juices leaking from you before returning back to your clit. Zaps of pleasure jolt up your spine and turn into a burning heat when you feel something nudge your entrance. His finger slips inside with ease, stroking your walls and the fire building inside of you, your eyelids fluttering shut. 

He finds the spongey part deep inside you within seconds, hooking his finger upward to press firmly and drawing a gasp from you. With his target found, he adds another finger and begins to slowly curl them, pushing his hand in and out in a rhythm that has you seeing stars.

His lips close around your clit, suddenly sucking hard, and you gasp.

Your hips jolt off the bed, thighs closing involuntarily around his head, and he groans loudly. Your eyes open abruptly, worrying you've hurt him somehow. 

Instead, you find his eyes closed, brow furrowed in pleasure, and the hand he’d been using to hold you open has retreated. From your vantage point, you can only see his arm moving, and you realize with a moan that he’s languidly palming his cock in time with the thrusting of his fingers.

As if he can sense you watching, Kix opens his eyes. Though his mouth doesn’t let up in its assault on your clit, you can see the smile in his eyes as he stares back. His fingers speed up as he pulls back to speak, punching the air from your lungs and sending you falling back against the bed.

“Can you take three?”

“Ye-es.” You hiccup at the feeling of a third thick finger slowly breaching you, stuffing you fuller than you've ever been able to manage on your own. The coil in your stomach tightens with each push and pull into your wet heat. Every thrust of his fingers sends you higher and higher, your entire body writhing with the force of it.

“Look at you," he groans. "So tight and wet. Taking my fingers so well, like you were made for me."

Your hands come up to fist the sheets at your sides, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter with each word, the way he moans between your legs, the way his eyes flutter closed in bliss as he fucks you with his hand. You can feel yourself approaching your peak, your walls clenching and fluttering around his fingers.

"Are you gonna come for me?"

"Yes." You gasp, your thighs starting to shake with the strain.

"Come on," he encourages, taking your clit between his lips and sucking, his tongue flicking rapidly against you. "Let go, beautiful."

Your eyes slam shut, and your orgasm slams into you with a force unlike anything you've felt before. It rips through your body, the heat coiled inside your exploding, your walls clamping down on his fingers as you writhe. You feel yourself nearly come out of your body, tingling pleasure coursing through you in waves. 

Just as you're beginning to wonder if it’ll ever stop, it begins to fade, leaving you panting and sweating as your body collapses against the bed.

“Holy shit,” you say breathlessly. Kix chuckles from the floor, and you push yourself up on your elbows to look at him after you regain control of your limbs. He’s staring back at you, a dreamy smile on his face, the entire lower half dampened with your arousal.

“How was that?” he asks.

“I think you know,” you laugh, breathless. “I thought I was about to suffocate you there for a second.”

“Worth it, trust me.” He sighs wistfully, his eyes a little unfocused. “I don't think I've ever seen anything so hot in my life."

"You're such a charmer," you tease, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair.

"Just telling the truth," he smiles, and presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

Kix helps you lower your trembling legs from his shoulders before glancing down at the hand that was just inside you. He lifts it up to his mouth, sucking his fingers and tasting your release with a thoughtful hum before he moves to stand.

“Just as I thought.”

“What?”

“I knew you’d taste incredible.”

He kisses you, tongue pushing its way inside your mouth to tangle with your own. You moan when you taste yourself on his tongue, chasing after him when he pulls away to push his pants off completely. 

You want to keep kissing him, keep feeling his mouth against yours, but you're distracted by the sight of his cock springing free from his small black briefs as he slides them down his strong thighs.

Your mouth drops open in disbelief.

“You’re kidding.”

Kix’s fingers, slick with his spit and the remnants of your release, circle the head of his cock. It’s half-hard from his concentrated efforts on your cunt, but it quickly springs to life under his attention. Even not fully erect, it’s by far the most impressive cock you've ever seen. Thick, a sizable length, and now curving up toward his stomach, you can’t look away.

Saliva begins to pool on your tongue at the thought of having him in your mouth, but before you can lean forward to act on your desires, he’s pushing you back on the bed.

“If I knew all you clones were packing —“

He cuts you off with a bruising kiss.

“Careful, mesh’la.” The Mando’a comes out in a growl as he crowds you against the bed, slotting himself between your legs. His hand slides up your thigh to your breast, pinching a nipple. “I’m not big on sharing.”

You let out a breathless giggle as his mouth descends to follow the path his hand has taken, sucking your other nipple into his mouth. The feeling of his mouth and teeth on your chest makes you moan, your hips bucking against his.

"Kix, please."

He kisses back up your chest and throat to press his forehead against yours. You can feel the way his fingers tremble against you as he reaches down to line himself up with your entrance, and your hand comes up to cup his cheek.

"Are you nervous?"

"Yes," he admits, eyes closing as he takes a deep breath.

"We don't have to do this," you assure him.

His eyes shoot open. "I want this more than anything."

"Okay," you smile.

He lets out a sigh, his body relaxing above you. "Sorry, it's just... I've wanted this for a long time, and I just don't want to mess it up."

"You won't." Your arms come around to wrap around his neck. "But I'll tell you if I'm not liking something."

He nods, ducking down to kiss you deeply. Your legs come up to wrap around his waist, and he groans into your mouth as the head of his cock rubs against your clit.

"Please," you whine as he begins to rock his hips. His cock glides easily through your slick folds, and his lips drop back to your neck. "Inside me, Kix."

"Maker, you're wet." His cock slips back down to your entrance, and you bite your lip as the head begins to breach you.

"That's what happens when you make a girl cum," you quips, moaning as he slowly inches inside of you. You feel every inch of him, the stretch more than you're used to but still deliciously perfect. "Oh, fuck!"

He stops, pulling back to look at you with concern. "Are you okay? Am I hurting you?"

"No! No, it's just... " you laugh breathlessly, your hand coming up to caress his cheek. "You're huge. Fuck, Kix."

He smirks, leaning down to kiss you as he continues to push inside of you. The stretch is unlike anything you've ever felt, and it's making your head spin. He feels amazing, thick and hot and throbbing inside of you.

"Fuck, you feel good," he grunts. "I wish you could see how good you look taking my cock."

Your cunt clenches around him at his words, and he groans. He buries his face in your neck, pressing kisses along your jaw, his breath coming out in hot puffs against your skin.

When he bottoms out, you both let out a shaky breath.

"Stars," you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders. "Kix, you feel amazing."

"So do you," he grits out. "You take my cock so well, mesh'la. Like you were made for me."

You moan at his words, his hips pulling back to thrust shallowly into you. You can't help the whine that escapes you, your legs tightening around his waist to pull him closer. The slow drag of his cock against your walls is almost too much, pleasure bordering on the line between pain.

"Faster," you pants, your nails scratching down his back. "Harder, Kix. I need it."

"Anything you want," he replies, his hips picking up speed.

He kisses you, tongue plunging into your mouth as he begins to snap his hips against yours. Your eyes roll back at the feeling of him filling you, the slick sounds of your cunt and his thrusts echoing throughout the room.

Kix fucks you like it's his last chance, hard and fast and rough, like he's afraid you’ll disappear at any moment, and you can barely do anything but hold on.

He changes the angle of his hips slightly, and your mouth drops open as a strangled cry is torn from your lips. His cock rubs against your sweet spot with each stroke, and his head drops to your chest as his hips slam against yours.

"Stars, mesh’la, you feel incredible," he grunts, pressing his face into your neck. His teeth sink into the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, and you let out a strangled gasp.

"Oh, fuck. Don't stop, Kix," you pants, your voice breaking into a sob, your hand tangling in his hair to tug on it. His hips stutter for a moment before he picks up the pace, your entire body jolting with the force of each thrust. He's fucking you so hard, his cock driving into you with enough force that your entire body rocks with the force of it. "Kix, oh kriff."

He withdraws from your neck, his mouth returning to yours. He swallows your moans, hips pumping into your faster as you squeeze around him. The feeling of him stretching you is intoxicating, and you never want it to end. You wonder if it would be too much to ask him to stay inside your forever, his thick cock plugging you up so nothing could slip out. You feel him everywhere, all around you and inside you. It's overwhelming in the best possible way.

"Kix," you whimper, breaking the kiss to bury your face in his neck. Your teeth scrape along his skin, and you revel in the groan that escapes him. His hands tighten on your hips, thumbs pressing against the bones there.

"Mesh’la," he gasps. "Kriff, I'm getting close."

"Me, too."

You can feel the fire burning low in your stomach, your walls fluttering around him. You dig your heels into his ass, encouraging him to go even deeper, and you see stars when he hits the spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

"Right there, Kix!"

He changes angles so he's hitting your g-spot on every thrust, his mouth dropping back to your neck. You can feel the sweat beading on his skin, the way his muscles flex under your hands with every movement. You scratch down his back, hips jerking to meet his, and you know he must be close. His thrusts are becoming more erratic, his breathing heavier.

"Kix, I'm gonna--" you gasp, your hand cupping the back of his neck.

He buries his face in your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses on every inch of skin in his reach. The hand on your hip slides between you, and you nearly scream when he begins to circle your clit with his thumb.

"Cum for me, beautiful," he mutters, biting your earlobe.

Your orgasm comes out of nowhere, your body seizing up as you cums. White-hot pleasure courses through you, your thighs shaking around him. You can vaguely hear him whispering praise in your ear, but you can't focus on anything except the feeling of his cock still pounding into your as you ride out your high.

"So good, mesh'la. I love the way your pussy squeezes my cock. You look so pretty when you cum, you know that?” he babbles with a low groan, hips beginning to stutter. “Fuck, I'm not gonna last."

You manage to regain your bearings after a moment, your body feeling like jelly. Your limbs feel like they weigh a ton, but you're determined. You need to see him lose control, need to see him fall apart because of you. You know he's close, can feel his thrusts becoming more and more uneven.

"Cum for me, Kix," you order. You can't help the smug smirk that overtakes your features as he groans loudly. "I want to see you."

"Mesh'la," he chokes out, hips losing their rhythm as he fucks you.

"Let go, baby." You lean up to nip his jaw, the hand on the back of his neck tangling in his hair. He looks so beautiful above you, eyes screwed shut, a flush coloring his cheeks. His skin is shining with sweat, muscles flexing as he pushes himself further.

"Look at me."

His eyes flutter open, and you nearly cum again. The sight of him, eyes half-lidded and mouth hanging open, is almost enough to tip you over the edge.

"Fuck," he gasps, hips pistoning into your erratically.

"Cum for me," you repeat.

The grip on your hips is almost bruising as he buries himself inside you. His hips jerk once, twice, and then he's gone, moaning loudly as he cums. You can feel the pulsing of his cock inside you, the warm wetness flooding your cunt, and you can't help the whine that escapes you.

"Kriff," he grunts, head dropping down to rest against yours. You stay like that for a moment, both panting, the only sounds in the room the faint hum of the rain outside and your heavy breathing.

You feel boneless, completely and utterly spent. If you were to die right now, you'd die happy. Kix props himself up on his forearms, brushing your sweaty hair from your face with a grin. He presses a soft kiss to your lips, and you smile tiredly.

"Hey," you whisper.

"Hey," he replies. He ducks down to kiss you again, his smile widening. Has he always had dimples? How did you not notice those before? "How are you feeling?"

"Messy,” you laugh. You glance down at the place where your bodies are joined, feeling him twitch inside you.

"Let me take care of that," he says, gently sliding out of you. The sound he makes when he leaves your body is positively sinful, and your thighs clench at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you.

Kix brushes another kiss against your temple before standing from the bed. You watch with half-lidded eyes as he disappears into the refresher, returning a moment later with a damp washcloth. He cleans you up gently, tossing the cloth in the direction of the refresher once he's finished.

"Come here," you murmur, reaching out for him.

He climbs into bed beside you, and you roll onto your side to press yourself against his chest, throwing your leg over his. His arms come around you immediately, holding you close as he peppers kisses on your hair. You snuggle closer, sighing happily as the warmth radiating from him cocoons around you. His hands run over every inch of available skin as if he's committing it to memory.

"I can't believe we waited so long to do that," you mumbled against his chest.

Kix laughs, the vibrations running through his chest and into yours. You're suddenly aware of how bare you both are, how you're pressed together from shoulder to toe. It should be unnerving, but it isn't. You feel safe.

"Me either. We should've been doing that this whole time."

You giggle, your hand running across his side to rest on his ribs. You can feel the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your palm. "Maybe next time you can fuck me on a med table."

He groans, the hand on your waist moving down to squeeze your ass. "That violates about ten different health codes."

"Fine. The supply closet, then."

"Mesh’la —" The words are a choked moan, and you can’t help but laugh.

"You're cute when you're flustered."

"You're a menace."

You lean up to press a kiss to his jaw, smirking. "But you like it.”

"You're right," he chuckles, leaning down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. "I do."

You hum happily, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips move slowly against yours before a rumbling sensation under your hand makes them shoot open.

"Was that your stomach?"

Kix blushes and looks away. "Maybe."

You roll your eyes fondly, pushing away from his chest. He whines, trying to pull your back against him.

“You’re hungry,” you laugh.

"I am not," he protests weakly.

You stand from the bed, grinning when his eyes immediately drop to your body. His gaze is so heated that you can't help but flush, and it only burns brighter when you bend over to pick up your pants, and he lets out a low groan.

"Mesh'la, if you keep doing that, I'll never let you leave this bed," he growls.

You bite your lip, your eyes flickering down to the sheet barely covering his growing erection. The sight is mouthwatering, and your mind fills with a thousand different ideas about what you'd like to do with him. But your stomach growls again, and you sigh, walking toward the refresher.

"Where are you going?" he pouts, propping himself up on his elbows.

"You're not the only one who's hungry." You stop at the door, giving him a mischievous smile. "And if you're a good boy, I'll make it worth the wait."

Kix is quiet for a moment before he speaks. "I can wait."

"Good boy."

His responding groan has you grinning from ear to ear as you disappear behind the door, your laughter echoing off the walls.

[bring-backup-99]

They Will Not See

Read on AO3

Am I in a bad way about Season 3 and the finale? Yes.

PAIRING: tech x fem reader

SUMMARY: You spend a sweet, unexpected night in bed with Tech.

WORDS COUNT: 1274

RATING + WARNINGS: 18+, spicy, porn with minimal plot, PiV

NOTES: This is installment eighteen of my reverse harem “Bad Choices” smutlet series on Ao3, but I think it’s also a sweet, intimate stand-alone Tech story. And I do love Tech losing a little of his control, especially since he’s kind of Dom in the series.

Although it’s written in second person, my heroine has a very established relationship with the Batch.

Tech watches you sleep. This is a recent development.

Usually, he would disentangle himself and leave the bed as soon as you drifted off, staying that long only because he knows you enjoy not falling asleep alone. He has spent his entire life sleeping in close proximity to one or more people, so he understands the general idea that this might be comforting. Tech can fall asleep anywhere, under almost any conditions. He has never accidentally fallen asleep, at least not since he was a cadet, but, when circumstances allow, he can just pass out. He overheard someone on an extended mission refer to him as the king of the power nap, which he took as a compliment.

You have always rested on Tech in casual moments; physical contact clearly being one of the ways you show affection. Touch has never been important to Tech. He has never had the need to show anyone affection or have it shown to him. In his life, he has categorized touch as negative or neutral. The addition of sex as physical intimacy has expanded the categories slightly. The touch associated with sex is usually positive. He certainly enjoys the physical sensations he experiences during sexual activities, and he understands that touch pre- and post- said activities is something you need, but it was not something he previously thought about for himself.

With the regular addition of multiple partners to your intimate activities, and their own needs for your attention, the idle time you spend with him has diminished, and, to his surprise, he misses that. He also finds that when he returns to the bedroom and sees you sleeping intertwined with someone, there is an unfamiliar feeling present. He wouldn’t call it jealousy, because he has never previously experienced that emotion, but he might acknowledge that it could be adjacent to that on an emotional spectrum.

So, he watches you, considering, then he puts down his datapad and stays next to you, your head resting on his shoulder. After a few minutes, your body fully turns and presses to him, your arm on his chest. He decides this is not a neutral touch and recategorizes it as positive, and then he falls asleep.

*

You are dreaming. Tech is kissing your neck, and his hand is cradling your head. He’s whispering soft words to you as he nuzzles your ear. You don’t understand what he is saying, but you can tell that the words are sweet.

For a moment, you feel bad; this must be Wrecker or maybe Hunter, but you refuse to wake up, instead basking in the gentle touch of someone who rarely touches you gently. You don’t remember either of them being there, but Tech doesn’t stay in bed with you.

Dream Tech kisses you, pressing his lips to yours before you open your mouth to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You hear your name whispered with such a tone that your whole body shivers.

A knee nudges between your legs, parting them slightly, and then another spreads you open, and his body is flush to your own. A strong arm nestles to one side of your head, and you finally open your eyes, ready to let the dream go, to stop this nighttime lover before it goes too far. But it’s still Tech above you, his eyes partly closed, and you feel an unexpected excitement and warmth course through your body. You pull his face down to yours to kiss him more, your fingertips running through his short hair, against the strap that keeps his goggles a permanent part of his face, like Wrecker’s scar and Hunter and Crosshair’s tattoos.

As he begins to slide into you, you softly cry out his name into his ear. He stops for a moment, as if confused, and you wonder if he thought he was dreaming as well. At least it was your name he called out. His eyes are fully open now, looking at you. You smile and tip your hips up to encourage him to continue. Another moment passes and then he is buried inside you.

He’s moving slowly, almost hesitant. It’s been a long time since someone was in your bed who could initiate the dreamy fun of middle-of-the-night sex, and maybe Tech has never done this at all, considering he rarely even falls asleep in your bed. Would he have slept in others’?

But it feels so good. So nice. So satisfying. His body is against yours, his strokes long and careful, and when he fills you, he presses in just a little more, and you murmur at the pleasure of it. You could do this all night, whispering encouragement in his ear, telling him how you never want this to stop, how good it feels. You squeeze yourself around his cock, gratified to hear him make a small sound of satisfaction, moving your hips to meet him. Your arms wrap around him, feeling those strong muscles in his back, feeling his ass tighten as he pushes into you.

He’s different, his breath catching more right now than when he is pounding into you. He hooks your leg over his arm, finding an angle to be deeper into you. He stays like this, rolling his hips against you as you moan in ecstasy.

Eventually, he has to stop, holding himself still as he tries to control himself, but you can tell he’s close. You move under him, tightening around him in tantalizing pulses, pressing him into you, not letting him collect himself enough to halt his body.

“Wait,” he whispers to you. “I will finish too soon.”

“No,” you answer. “I want you to come.” You keep moving against him, feeling his resolve giving way.

“But you…you have not…”

“It’s okay. This feels so good. I don’t want to change it. Come in me like this.” And you want him to lose a little of his usual control. He looks into your eyes before giving in.

His pace picks up slightly, as you push against him, your fingers raking along his back, your teeth finding his shoulder. His lips are to yours, muffling his moan as he starts to come, pumping inside of you.

You cry out in shared bliss, holding him tight, your legs wrapped around his, riding every wave, until his face is nuzzled against your own, his breaths against your neck.

*

You lie on his chest, his arm around you. You thought he’d fall right back to sleep, but you can feel the wakefulness in his body. You stroke your fingers against his chest, then absentmindedly lick his nipple.

“Mmph,” he groans in surprise, catching your hand in his. He turns his head slightly to you. “I feel that I have left a task incomplete.”

“Tech,” you laugh. “I’m not an item on a checklist…or are you concerned about your perfect record?” He rolls his eyes, but you can tell you’re partly correct. “Do I seem any less satisfied to you than at other times?” He has no response. “Then leave it…Or leave it til morning. Let me just enjoy this.” You feel his body relax slightly in acquiescence.

Yes, you want to soak this up. A few hours of soft Tech, with sex no less intense or satisfying because he wasn’t rough with you – with his strong, naked body against you, and his attention not diverted by his datapad. You don’t want to fall asleep yet, but slowly his warmth and steady breathing lull your eyes to close.

In the morning, he ticks off that final box on his checklist before he leaves.

*

The rest of the series can be found here.

Warning: It gets kinky.

[neon-junkie]

Private Affairs

Summary: Tasked with finding the General and the Captain, Dogma stumbles right into the midst of a private affair. To make things even worse, he rather enjoys the view… that is, until he's caught.

Word count: 4k

Tags: Established relationship, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Confrontation, Handjobs, Smut, Praise, Military ranks, Cuckolding, Virginity, First time, Dom/sub.

Pairing: Dogma x f!Reader x Rex

Curiosity killed the lothcat, but satisfaction brought it back - or so, that’s how the phrase goes. And as satisfying as this sight may be, he knows that curiosity will be the death of him.

He shouldn’t be watching. He should not be watching, let alone enjoying the view, palming his hard cock over his under armour, his codpiece abandoned long ago. It’s not like he can help it, seeing as the poor man is a virgin through and through. It’s been drilled into his mind by the Kaminoan’s that sexual activity is strictly forbidden, but if his General and Captain can go at it, then it doesn’t hurt to watch, right?

The he in question is Dogma - a straight edge, punctual, and obedient Trooper.

Poor little Dogma was given the order to find the General and Captain, and inform them about the next stage in their current mission. They weren’t in any of the tents, nor in the surrounding area. The gunships were clear, leaving the Captain’s ship as the only remaining option.

The door was open, a clear sign that somebody was aboard, only Dogma wasn’t expecting to find them tucked away in the cockpit, kriffing like their lives depended on it. Better yet, Dogma wasn’t expecting the cockpit’s door to be wide open, welcoming just about anybody to catch them in the act!

Maybe this was some weird fetish that Dogma had been unintentionally roped into, or maybe they were too horny to shut the damn door!

Still, Dogma was the poor soul who had found you and your Captain going at it. He should have turned, ran, and never spoke a word; instead, Dogma caught himself mindlessly gorming at the action, like a Cadet discovering holoporn for the first time.

Not that Dogma has ever watched holoporn…

Dogma refuses to dabble in anything sexual. He will, on an extremely rare occasion, have a drink or two, but always manages to resist the urge to get drunk! He doesn’t smoke, nor do drugs, and only swears during life or death circumstances. All in all, he’s a total virgin, which would explain why his eyes are prying to a whole new level.

And when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, he felt himself hardening, causing his codpiece to bulge uncomfortably. It took him a lot of convincing to remove the armour, seeing as it was causing him discomfort, just like it took even more convincing to let him finally touch himself.

“Just do it to help the pain… or until it goes down… or until they stop… or-” Dogma told himself, biting down hard on his lower lip to prevent himself from letting out a moan. How wonderful it felt, jerking off to the sight of his General being kriffed, all by Captain Rex, of course.

Everybody had a hunch that something was going on between those two, but nobody had ever caught them! How funny it is that Dogma is the one to discover the truth, and kriff, the truth is that they have some really intimate sex. Rex has you pushed face-down over the cockpit’s dashboard, taking you from behind. Your legs are spread, arms behind your back, with Rex’s hand firmly holding them in place. The ‘slap slap slap!’ sound of skin against skin is echoing around the ship - a warning for those with prying eyes, although that hasn’t stopped Dogma.

Throughout moans and groans, you’re mumbling away. “G-gotta hurry up, Rex. Someone’s going to come looking for us soon,” you pant, and you’re met with a shrug.

Dogma feels himself tense up at your comment - are you aware that he’s there, watching you two? Does the force work like that? Or is Dogma awful at being stealthy?

Still, if you two are aware of Dogma’s presence, it hasn’t changed anything. You’re still kriffing away, eager to let out some frustrations, and relieve yourselves before regaining your focus on the mission at hand. The last thing that the squad needs is a sexually frustrated General and Captain!

By now, your ass and the back of your thighs have turned red from Rex’s armour pounding against you. The sight only causes Dogma to stir even more, biting his knuckles as he feels himself getting closer. Sure, he’s touched himself here and there, but refuses to make a habit out of it. Plus, it’s difficult to get the time and privacy when you’re a soldier, but the others seem to make do.

Better yet, you and Rex seem to manage it. How did this all start? How long has this been going on for? Dogma would never dream of approaching his General with sexual intentions, unless you came onto Rex?

And if you came onto somebody else, how would that go? Dogma finds himself picturing what things would be like if you propositioned him instead - uneducated, timid, and total virgin. He wouldn’t even know where to start, let alone how to touch you. Although, Dogma knows you’re the type who would be eager to teach him. Could he ever kriff you like that? Pounding you deep and hard, making you cum untouched like Rex is right now?

With that, Rex lets out a long and deep groan, slamming his cock deep and spilling inside of you. Dogma firmly grasps the base of his cock to prevent himself from climaxing when Rex pulls out of you, revealing your used cunt, dripping with his load. How he longs to be in that position, filling his General up like it’s nobody’s business!

Now, the issues really begin to arise. You and Rex have finished your business, and now that you’re distracted cleaning each other up, Dogma has the perfect opportunity to sneak away. He needs to get his ass out of there now!

Pulling his under armour up and into place, Dogma begins searching for his codpiece. He could have sworn that he left it between his feet, yet it’s nowhere to be seen! It doesn’t help that the ship is dark, and somewhat cluttered with your personal belongings, but it was right there, wasn’t it?

Rummaging around, Dogma walks straight into his worst nightmare. He bends down to retrieve what he thought was his codpiece, but after realising that nope, that’s not it, he bangs his head on an overhead pipe.

DONG!

The sound is loud enough to be heard throughout the campsite, so undoubtedly, you and Rex overheard it! “Who’s there?” you question as you whip around, no longer sharing a few final kisses with Rex before exiting the ship to face your Troops. Instead, you’re darting across the cockpit to push a few buttons, lighting the ship’s hull within an instant.

And you’re met with an unbelievable sight…

One hand rubbing his bruising forehead, Dogma makes eye contact with you. The fear is apparent, given that all the colour has drained from his face, and he looks just about ready to collapse.

Rex speaks up before you can, simply questioning, “Dogma?”

No reply. He’s getting sweatier by the minute, so sweaty that his face tattoo might just melt away!

“Dogma?” you repeat his name. Before you can even finish your next sentence, Dogma begins begging for forgiveness. “What were you doin-”

“-I’m sorry!” He practically yells. “I didn’t mean to! I was sent to look for you two, and I just… it happened, alright?!”

Tears are threatening to spill from Dogma’s waterline. To him, this is the end of it all. No doubt, he’ll be blackmailed into keeping his mouth shut (not that it would open anyway,) then sent off for decommissioning.

“-Dogma, it’s alright!” you cut his apology short. “We’re not mad, okay?”

“I don’t believe you,” Dogma replies, firmly shaking his head.

“She means it,” Rex chimes in. “We’re not mad. Nothing is going to happen to you, understood, Trooper?”

Still as white as a ghost, Dogma sheepishly nods his head, begrudgingly accepting both of your reassurance. You might not decommission him, but you will certainly punish him, seeing as he was getting off to your little shenanigans.

Bridging the gap, you approach him. Dogma refuses to make eye contact, keeping his head down and arms at his side. He’s more than embarrassed - he feels like his soul has left his body, and you’re certainly not going to help him retrieve it. Or so, he thinks.

You look back at Rex, who remains in the cockpit, before turning back to Dogma. A hand comes up to gently cup his chin, forcing him to look forward, although his eyes remain down, refusing to look at you.

“Look at me, Dogma,” you order. It takes him a few seconds, followed by a large gulp of air, before Dogma can finally meet your gaze. His stomach is churning away, threatening to throw up his ration bars, all whilst his body begins shaking from pure fear.

“What were you doing?” you ask.

Dogma yanks his chin from your grasp, returning his gaze to the floor, yet he doesn’t run away. His body is failing him, glueing his feet to the floor, unable to escape this madness.

“Dogma,” you say his name, but with sternness. The Trooper in question ignores you, his fingertips fidgeting with each other as his nerves control his every movement.

After letting out a deep sigh, you fall back onto a method that you hate doing. Dogma is a soldier, and seeing as you’re his General, he has to follow your every order.

“Stand at attention,” you order. Automatically, Dogma snaps upright, his arms falling to his sides as his eyes look forwards, straight past you. It’s not eye contact, but it’s better than the whimpering state he was in before.

“To repeat myself, Trooper, you are not in trouble. No harm is going to come your way, but that doesn’t mean that you won’t be questioned. Understood?”

“Understood, General,” Dogma agrees with a firm nod. There’s still fear deep within his eyes, although you notice that his breathing is beginning to relax. It’s not much, but it’s progress.

“And Captain,” Rex chimes in. He’s moved from the cockpit, taking his place beside you and Dogma. Rex is essentially in the background, but his presence is known.

“And Captain,” Dogma corrects himself.

Rex lets out a soft, “good,” before letting you continue.

After sending Rex a scolding look, you silently browse Dogma’s form before speaking up again. “I want to know what you were doing, Trooper. Don’t skip out on any details.”

Dogma gulps. He lets out an uneasy breath, and with much difficulty, begins his confession. “Like I said before, the other Troopers ordered me to go and find you both so that we could go over the next stages of the mission. When I boarded your ship, I was completely unaware of what I’d find. The cockpit door was wide open, and I… stumbled upon you two…”

“That would be my fault,” Rex chuckles. “I got a little carried away, forgot to secure the area before diving right in.”

“You have such a way with words,” you sigh, earning another chuckle from Rex. “Do continue, Trooper.”

Dogma pauses once more, only this time, he makes eye contact. There’s a silent plea deep within his gaze, but you don’t let up. After a few seconds of silence, and accepting his fate, Dogma continues.

“I… you two… It was so… out there in the open, and I couldn’t help but watch. I know I shouldn’t have! But… I don’t know what came over me, I was so engulfed in it…”

This time, you’re the silent one. You raise a brow, questioning Dogma’s words. You’re well aware how straight edge he is, sometimes being called uptight by the other Troopers. But to become that engulfed in seeing people have sex? Has this man ever seen it before?

Well, what if he hasn’t? There must be a reason why the other Troopers tease him, calling him a virgin, and every other innocent name under the sun. Maker, has Dogma even seen boobs before?!

“Are you…” your words fall flat, and you put thought into how to word this. “Dogma, I know you don’t… do that stuff, but you have seen people having sex before, right? Holoporn, or something like that?”

Dogma’s colour begins to fade again, and suddenly, you understand why Dogma became so engrossed. “I don’t… uh, Kamino doesn’t have access to such things. We’re discouraged when it comes to… intimacy. I know the other Troopers tend to watch it, but I…”

“Interesting,” you sigh. Crossing your arms across your chest, you playfully bounce on your heels before straightening your figure. All this prying is rather fascinating, and dare you admit it, but it’s giving you… ideas.

“Tell me,” you speak up again. “What were you doing whilst you were watching your superiors having sex?”

“Superiors,” Rex repeats the word under his breath. “You don’t need to be that mean to him.”

“A little reminder doesn’t hurt,” you shrug, enjoying the sight of Dogma squirming from embarrassment.

Dogma’s lips remain sealed, but after giving him a look, they finally open. “Please don’t make me talk about it,” he begs, clasping his hands together in front of his chest.

“We need those details, Trooper,” you smirk. Rex remains silent, but he’s well aware how much you’re enjoying this.

A pained groan slips from Dogma’s lips, followed by a frustrated huff. “If you must know…” his words trail into a sigh, and Dogma scrunches his eyes shut before continuing. “I was touching myself! I know I shouldn’t have, but everything was so… much, and I couldn’t watch and do nothing about it!” To your surprise, Rex speaks up before you can. “You could have turned around, and walked away. Not only did you stay and watch, but you also pleasured yourself to it.”

“I know I should have walked away! But like I said, I’ve never seen that before… and… and-”

“That’s enough,” you end his sputtering with a gentle wave of your hand. Dogma watches as you turn to Rex, and silently make your intentions clear. His eyes flicker between you two, somehow talking without using words. The conversation ends with Rex shrugging before giving you a small nod, agreeing to something.

You return your focus to Dogma, who doesn’t hide his panicked expression. His demeanour worsens as you take a step forward, bridging the already small gap between your bodies. You’re mere inches from him, close enough to feel his short and uneasy breaths on your cheeks, them only worsening as more time passes.

For once, Dogma doesn’t look away from your gaze. He allows your eyes to meet his, seeing through every layer of fear that possesses his body. When you finally speak, Dogma is just about ready to pass out, but adrenalin keeps him going.

“Did you enjoy watching your superiors have sex?”

Dogma remains silent, but you don’t need verbal confirmation to know the answer. “I mean, you were getting off to us,” you coo.

To everybody’s surprise, your hand moves forward, and a palm is introduced to Dogma’s crotch. He gasps, his head falling down to look at the sight - you’re palming his soft cock through his under armour, all whilst you’re teasing him in a rather alluring tone.

“I know you enjoyed it, Dogma. That much is clear,” you continue, causing Dogma to look at you once more. “But I can tell that you didn’t get to finish, you poor thing,” you say with a soft click of your tongue.

“General?” Dogma pants, questioning what the kriff is going on. A minute ago, his knees were ready to collapse, falling to his pit of doom. And now, you’re causing his cock to harden, twitching away under the thin layer of clothing.

“Don’t interrupt her, Trooper,” Rex chimes in. Kriff! Dogma had totally forgotten Rex was there. His hands are clasped behind his back, chest puffed out, with a stern expression on his face. Is Dogma really going to stand here and allow his General to toy with him whilst his Captain watches? Is this what they silently agreed to moments ago?

“Eyes on me,” you order, your free hand coming up to draw his face back to yours. “Rex is there to ensure you stay in line. You are one of his men, after all.”

For some reason, Dogma catches himself nodding in agreement. He’s enjoying this, far more than he’s willing to admit, but his fully erect cock is telling you all that you need to know.

“How about you show me what you were playing with, hm?” you suggest, giving Dogma the opportunity to back out, if he wants to.

Instead, Dogma slowly frees his cock, letting it spring from its confinement. He lets out an embarrassing whimper when you wrap your hand around it, one hand lunging forward to grasp your arm, almost as if he’s scared about what’s in store for him.

“At ease, Trooper,” you order. Dogma can’t help but follow it, parting his legs whilst his hands clasp together behind his back. His back straightens for all of three seconds, slumping over as soon as you begin slowly jerking him.

“You’re so good at following orders,” you praise. Such a compliment never fails to drive Dogma crazy, and your words flow straight down to his cock. “But I still want to know what you were thinking about whilst you were watching your Captain kriff me…”

Licking his lips, Dogma mustered up the courage to speak. “I was thinking about… being in his position…”

“Don’t forget Rex’s ranking, Trooper,” you correct him.

“Sorry. About being in the Captain’s position, General,” Dogma corrects his mistake, earning a pleasing movement from your hand. Once more, he whines; there’s no point in holding back, not now that he’s in this position.

“Finding yourself in that position would be… almost unattainable, but not completely impossible. Rex is the one who you need to ask, not me.”

Dogma sends a pathetic pleading expression Rex’s way, but he’s met with a stern look. “I’ll think about it,” Rex responds. “As for now, your primary objective is making the General happy.”

“Yes, Captain,” Dogma agrees with an eager nod. His breaths are becoming heavier the more you play with him, and you question how long he was going at it before you caught him. The poor man could have been edging himself the entire time, and whilst you and Rex were only having a quickie, that’s far too long for an inexperienced man.

“If Rex doesn’t agree, I’m sure I can convince him to let you watch,” you tease the idea, dangling it in front of his face like a forbidden fruit. “I know you’d enjoy that, seeing as you’ve already done it.”

“I wouldn’t mind having him watch,” Rex says with a shrug. “But I won’t be gentle with you,” he directs his words to you, filling your mind with the idea. How wonderful it would be to have your Captain pounding the life out of you, all whilst innocent Dogma watches, cock in hand, so desperate to get his fill. He’ll take whatever he can get, and right now, that consists of you jerking him off in the hull of your ship.

“I know you’re already excited about that idea,” you tease.

“I am,” Dogma eagerly nods, and swiftly adds, “General,” before he can be called out on his lack of respect.

You smile, and whilst maintaining eye contact, you send a trail of spit down onto Dogma’s cock. It hits the tip spot-on, slicking up the rest of his shaft as you continue pumping him. Dogma’s knees threaten to buckle yet again, but he somehow manages to maintain his composure, hands still clasped behind his back.

With a hungry gaze, Dogma watches you jerk him off, his wet cock shining in the hull’s lighting. He’s never seen himself like this before - desperate, pathetic, willing to do anything for release. Dare he admit it, but he loves it. Maybe this is what he’s needed all along - a gentle hand to guide him. If only the other Troopers could see him now… Dogma may be a virgin, but who’s the one being jerked off by the General?

“G-general?” Dogma sputters, failing to meet your gaze. It’s disrespectful, but given the state that he’s in, you decide to go easy on it.

“Speak,” you grant him.

“Please… if it isn’t any hassle… please may I…”

“You may,” you agree with a nod. Dogma just about explodes the second that he’s given permission, spilling all over your hand, a few rogue drops meeting the floor below.

Falling out of line, Dogma finds himself resting against you. His forehead meets your shoulder, although he manages to keep his hand behind his back. He’s trying to be a good soldier - your good soldier, but any Trooper would fail to stay at ease when being milked by their General, even Rex!

Rather than scolding him, you help him through it. “It’s alright. You did so good for me, Dogma. What a good soldier,” you coo, allowing him one final round of satisfaction.

When all the wind has been knocked from Dogma’s lungs, he straightens his back - or attempts to, seeing as he’s struggling to keep it together during his post orgasm haze. Your hand moves away from him, and using the force, you summon a towel to clean yourselves up with. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” you ask whilst drying Dogma’s length.

“Very fun, General,” Dogma agrees with a nod. Even Rex chimes in. “You did a good job at maintaining your composure, for a first timer,” he jabs.

“Appreciate it, Captain,” Dogma responds.

Once dry, he tucks himself away. “We’re serious about that offer, just so you know,” you inform him whilst retrieving his long-lost codpiece.

“Y-you are?” Dogma stutters, and struggles to fix the missing armour into place, soon requiring your assistance.

“Yes,” you confirm. Once more, Dogma looks as if he’s about to pass out. Not only did he manage to worm his way out of decommissioning, but he was rewarded for his curiosity too! Dogma can’t help but question if you knew about his prying eyes all along, giving you the opportunity to bring him into the mix.

“But I haven’t decided on anything else, yet,” Rex butts in, putting Dogma back down into his place. Dogma keeps his gaze on you, dreading the expression that Rex possibly holds.

“Still, you can watch the action. And remember, Rex is a Captain; his performance is far higher than any regular Trooper. Don’t let it get to you.”

After a wink, you leave Dogma to it. Rex follows suit, retrieving his helmet from a nearby crate, and holds it snug under his arm. To anybody outside, you’re two superiors casually exiting a ship, ready to rally the men and discuss your next series of attacks.

Before your feet meet the earth, you turn back to poor Dogma. “Come and join us once you’re ready,” you order, leaving him to stand there and process what’s just happened.

No longer in his superior’s line of sight, Dogma takes a seat on a nearby crate, narrowly avoiding that same pipe from earlier that he banged his head on. A series of heavy sighs flow from his lips, and his mind spins in a whirlwind of confusion.

What the kriff just happened?

[huntershoe]

THE BAD BATCH PROMPT EVENT

A/N: I would like to thank @arctrooper69 for making this prompt and giving me a great idea. I am a little late tho because I only saw the post yesterday evening. I chose the NSFW prompt since I am trying to improve my smut writing abilities ;)

Summary: After intense past months, the tension between you and Hunter finally snaps.

Warning: NSFW (18+) minors DNI.

Word count: 2439

Thank you for reading!

It has been months since you, Hunter and Wrecker had any break, the fast pacing time and events simply wouldn't let you rest, even a good night sleep was rare. And with that of course came another few things to complain about. You and Hunter used to be so much more physically active together, and not just the flaming hot crazy sex, but also just small kisses here and there when no one was looking, the fleeting touches, just to reassure each other's presence.

It's not that you don't love him anymore, or the other way around, it's just that the stress from loosing Tech and Omega was too great, it wouldn't let you relax even for a second, knowing that Omega is still out there, suffering maker knows what.

So yes, you actually couldn't remember the last time you and Hunter managed to let out some steam and fuck and the only time you would get to kiss him was if you both managed get into your bunk at the same time to sleep and Wrecker took the watch.

The last few months consisted of constant deadly missions, doing the dirty work just to get some information, which usually ended up being useless but that didn't stop you and you kept on risking your life every day, to find Omega.

So once you got a mysterious transmission, sounding like Omega and telling you to meet at some backwater location, you didn't know what to believe. It simply sounded too good to be true. You could still remember the moment Omega ran down the ramp and into Wrecker's arms, it really was a sight to see, just like Wrecker said.

You were the second one Omega ran to, and you knelt down in front of her, squeezing her into a tight hug, until Omega spotted Hunter on top of the ramp, looking down at his two favourite girls with a small smile.

From then on, everything changed once Crosshair walked down the ramp to everyone's surprise.

Crosshair's arrival made Hunter a bit on edge, he didn't trust his brother as much as he wanted to. Who could blame him, Crosshair was the one hunting them just a little more than six months ago.

On top of that, with Crosshair now being around again, Hunter seemed more...pissy, it greatly bothered him that the sniper acted like nothing happened, like he didn't need to explain his actions.

With that, tension was all time high, because Hunter being pissy and on edge, made you pissy and on edge so you were constantly bickering. That's exactly why you were in the middle of a fight that was gradually becoming bigger and bigger, making Crosshair roll his eyes and go down to the beach with Batcher and Wrecker taking Omega fishing.

Not even realizing you two were now alone in the Marauder, yelling at each other about the most silly things until the topic somehow ended up on your failing relationship, or how it seemed that it was slowly failing.

And when Hunter tried to come up with a dumb excuse as to why he was pulling away, because he himself didn't actually know why but he just felt like he had to explain himself and when you called him on his bulshit he groaned, holding his head as he rolled his eyes and tried to walk away.

You weren't about to let him go, especially when you heard him mutter a quiet "Just go fuck yourself."

He couldn't help himself, it just escaped his lips and he knew he screwed up when you let out a loud scoff, crossing your arms in front of you and glared at his back. "Fuck me yourself, you coward."

That made him stop in his tracks and his breath hitched, not knowing if he heard you right and trying to decide how to respond back if he did indeed heard you right. Hunter turned around, his head moving before his body as he looked at you with raised brows. "What?"

You knew Hunter didn't mean it, he wasn't the type of man to insult someone and you knew very well that these past months weren't just bad for you but also for him. You knew it wasn't his fault that you two grew apart but still, you were frustrated. Frustrated that you can't have him like you used to, that you can't show him how deeply you actually love him, that even when you do, he barely acknowledges it. Frustrated with yourself that you were still thinking so selfishly. "You heard me, Hunter."

You rolled your eyes, still a little angry and tapping your feet against the ground. "I mean it's been months since you've last kissed me properly,"  You tried to justify your comeback, the last of your frustration fading away and embarrassment and self consciousness taking its place as you averted your eyes down to your fiddling fingers.

The embarrassment only intensified when Hunter stayed silent, just looking at you with his head tilted making you nervous in front of him for the first time since you've entered the relationship with him. "I...I know we hadn't had the time for us in these past months but I just miss us...I miss you Hunter." You started rambling, your voice getting quieter until you just barely whispered the last part but Hunter only stayed still, silently watching, making it worse.

The nerves finally got the best of you and you closed your eyes. "please say something." You whispered as tears started forming in your eyes. You let out one final breath waiting for him, to give you a sign, something, anything, to show you he still wants you and your relationship.

And when even after a few moments, he didn't let out a single sound, you turned away to hide your tears that finally spilled. Thinking that this was the end of it, you began walking away, trying to hide but you only managed to make a few steps before you felt someone grabbing your arm, stopping and spinning you.

Your eyes opened in shock as the world suddenly began spinning around you until your body came to a sudden halt and your chest was pressed against a solid and all to familiar armour. You didn't even get to look up at Hunter properly before his lips connected to yours and your body froze.

One of Hunter's hands sneaked around your waist, pulling you closer and securing you against his chest while his other hand moved up from your forearm to your cheek as he pressed a long and loving kiss against your lips. Butterflies exploded in your stomach and a warm feeling spread across your whole body. You slowly relaxed into his arms and your eyes closed as your own hands began sneaking up his armor plates and behind his neck. Hunter gently bit down on your lower lip, making you gasp in surprise. He took the chance, deepening the kiss, he slowly sneaked his tongue against yours, playing with it while exploring your mouth, trying to map every corner just like he used to.

This kiss was everything you wanted, everything you needed, everything...you missed these past months.

Your tongue danced around his, like two snakes, wrapping around each other as your hands moved higher up into his hair and he let out a quiet groan once you gently pulled on a strand of his hair.

None of you were even considering on pulling away, until your lungs began burning with the need for oxygen. Gently pulling away from his lips, you opened your eyes slowly. Your eyes locked with his as both of your chests heavied up and down, gasping for air.

His mesmerizing golden brown eyes were looking at you softly. Holding so many emotions, so much love for you, it made you feel bad about your latter outburst.

"Mesh'la" Shivers ran down your back at the Mandalorian nickname Hunter murmured while moving his hand from your cheek to a rogue strand of hair and tucked it behind your ear. "I'm sorry." Your eyes flickered from his right to left eye, until he closed them for a long moment and reopened them, watching you intensely.

"I never wanted to make you feel this way." His voice was laced with regret and he slowly moved his hand behind your neck, slowly pushing your head closer until your foreheads touched in keldabe kiss.

"Let me...us start this again."

Hope filled your chest and it almost felt like a giant stone rolled of off your heart. A smile grew over your lips and you moved your right hand on his tattooed cheek. Following the pattern of the black ink, your finger danced in small circles, until it stopped on his lips.

"Let's try this again."

You watched how his pupils slowly dilated, watching you with pure adoration.

"Good." Hunter rasped and then attacked your lips. It was like a switch in him flipped, letting out a man starving for you as his both hands moved down to your hips, pushing you against him while his tongue battled for dominance.

You felt dizzy, your eyes rolling back as they fell shut.

A breathy moan escaped past your lips as Hunter moved his hands lower to your ass, squeezing it hungrily and one of your leg automatically went up and locked around his hip.

You felt him pull back for a second to breathe, his chest violently moving up and down, just like yours.

"Good thing they left us alone."

Hunter murmured and a smirk spread across his lips as he kneaded your ass. You couldn't hold yourself back anymore and you kissed him again, pulling yourself as close to him as possible until Hunter gently tapped your ass, signaling you to jump and you did.

He caught you and you wrapped your legs around his waist, locking your ankles behind him. With your legs out of the way, Hunter began walking towards your shared bunk bed all while still managing to take your breath away.

He moved to sit down on the edge of the bed and with this newfound position, you could feel just how aroused he was, his hard-on poking through the gasps of his armor.

Moving your hands down his armored chest, you began taking off any piece of his armor that you could get your hands on. Helping you, Hunter took off his main chest plate, throwing it away mindlessly. With that, your hands found his cod piece and you began tugging it away, freeing his achingly hard cock.

Hunter let out a loud groan, his hands once again moving to your ass and pulling you closer and over his hard-on.

Moaning at how perfectly this position allowed you to grind your clit directly over his cock you began rolling your hips over and over.

Letting out a string of curses, Hunter broke the kiss and began planting open mouthed kisses all over your neck, starting at your jaw.

"Fuck mesh'la." Hunter groaned deeply before he started nibbling on that perfect spot just under your jaw.

After all these months of no physical contact like this, it made you so much more desperate to reach that perfect peak of ecstasy. Hunter could tell you were already close, with all those moans and gasps you were letting out. It was enchanting to watch you, so beautiful, sexy, mesmerizing. He couldn't take his eyes off of you as you neared your orgasm.

You felt amazing, in the arms of your lover and nearing your peak. Your eyes were rolling back and your breath hitched, just as you thought your orgasm would roll over Hunter stood up in a split second and gently threw you on the bed.

Gasping in surprise and then whining as that perfect peak subsided you opened your eyes wide, only to see him kneel in front of you and take off his black gloves.

"I want you coming all over my face and fingers." A quiet mewl escaped you, his voice was low, almost growling as he threw his gloves somewhere behind him and then grabbed your waist band, pulling it down quickly. A loud groan left him as he spotted a big wet spot on the crotch of your pants.

Hunter pulled both your pants and panties off in one go, throwing them over his shoulder just like he did with his gloves. Another growl escaped him as he grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulder and pulled you up, closer to his face.

You watched his face, how his eyes looked at you hungrily and he wetted his lips, you saw his nostrils dilate as he breathed in your sweet scent. He looked downright sinful as you saw him close his eyes and lick a long stripe up across your folds, making you moan. Another loud groan echoed through the ship as Hunter began feasting on you.

Wrapping his lips around your clit he began sucking on it as if his life depends on it. His mouth felt amazing on you and you couldn't help but to grab onto his hair as you felt yourself quickly approaching that wonderful high again. A loud gasp left you when you felt his fingers prodding on your entrance. "Please Hunter, more." Feeling desperate enough you begged, rolling your hips into his face.

Wanting to fulfill your every wish, Hunter entered two fingers in you, groaning when your pussy clenched around them immediately. He expertly hit that spongy spot, managing to pump his fingers in and out only a few times before your eyes rolled back and your lips opened in O shape, letting out a long moan as your orgasm hit you.

Your body shook and Hunter had to hold onto you to keep you from moving too much as he kept on sucking on your juices. After a few more moments of pure ecstasy you began feeling overstimulated and you had to actually pull Hunter off of you by his hair. He looked wild, licking his lips and his eyes black as night, he was panting when he finally pulled away a little more just to suck on his fingers full of your juices. "One of these days I'm gonna take my time with you and won't stop for hours." Hunter growled, looking down, directly at your pussy.

You looked at him, your face completely flushed and you grinned at him. "Come here soldier." And you pulled him closer, connecting your lips with him.

Maybe this will be even better than before.

[sinfulsalutations]

What do you think each of your favorite clones’ guilty pleasure is? SFW and NSFW? 🤣

𝕘𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕥𝕪 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕣𝕖𝕩 + 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕦𝕡 + 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕚𝕣 + 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕖𝕔𝕙 + 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕠𝕝𝕗𝕗𝕖

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ʀᴇx, ᴛᴜᴘ, ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱʜᴀɪʀ, ᴛᴇᴄʜ, ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴘɪᴄʏ ꜱᴛᴜꜰꜰ, ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴇx

⋆ ★ ᴏʜ, ᴍʏ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴄʟᴏɴᴇꜱ? ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ʀɪᴅɪᴄᴜʟᴏᴜꜱʟʏ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘɪᴄᴋ… ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ, ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ɪ’ʟʟ ɢᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʀᴇx, ᴛᴜᴘ, ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱʜᴀɪʀ, ᴛᴇᴄʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ!

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

Rex

SFW: Likes to be bathed or taken care of in the bath. While it doesn’t happen often, he loves it when you sit on his lap and scrub off the dirt on his skin, slowly massage soap onto his scalp and soothe him. Rex is not used to being taken care of or sitting back and just allowing things to happen without at least a little control, so it’s hard for him personally to come to terms with just how much he likes it, as well as even indulge himself too much when he gets the chance too.

NSFW: He wanted to record you two going at it to watch while he’s away for some time. You’d already sent him photos of yourself, domestic videos of you doing simple tasks, but none very vulgar. Now that he does have that recording, he watches it so damn much. One of his favorite ways to wind down after a hard day. Not that he’ll really admit it…

Tup

SFW: This boy LOVES self-care days. If he has the chance, he’ll beg to do one. Paint each other's nails, wear face masks, braid hair in intricate patterns, moisturize, he lives for it. It's just an excellent way of doing the little things to keep his spirits up, expressing his own self-worth, and showing how much you’re worth it. As well as just having some sweet bonding time with his cyare.

NSFW: Loves receiving a lot. He doesn't really ask for it necessarily, and don't get me wrong, making you buck into his face and gasp from all the pleasure he's giving you is still one of his favorite things to do. He just also really enjoys sitting back and watching the person he loves on their knees, doing their utmost to please him and make him feel good. Also, Maker have you perfected it. The moment he sees you slowly sink down he's already anticipating the filthy noises that will leave his mouth.

Crosshair

SFW: MASSIVE sweet tooth. It's his guilty pleasure for a few reasons. Firstly, well, it's unhealthy of course. They also don't get those kinds of pleasures or indulgences as a soldier. But if he gets a chance? He's gonna munch on some sour candy like a child on Halloween. It's a pretty interesting, delightful sight.

NSFW: Crosshair really, really likes it when you ride him. You rarely do it, mostly because he just can't give up that much control to you, albeit anyone, but on the rare occasions he allows it, Maker he comes so fast. You look so damn sexy on top of him, commanding his movements and taking pleasure for yourself equally without his say being a large contributor. For once, he's not in control, he's in your hands and so vulnerable and desperate... it rubs the strangest parts of his mind.

Tech

SFW: This feels a little obvious, but sleeping late. Tech knows it's bad for him, but he just gets so much work done! His brothers aren't up distracting or pestering him, he can be left to his own devices to stray from the task at hand and deviate to another interest of his own volition, it's great! ...Yeah, you have to drag him to bed all the time.

NSFW: 👏Tie👏him👏up! Tech's hands are the most dexterous part of him and give him so much control over things- including you. And if you tie him up and render him subject to whatever you want to do, he becomes a whimpering mess. He'll suddenly be begging for any salvation, bucking his hips up and attempting to grind against you `cause you're just that damn sexy to him.

Wolffe

SFW: Obsessed with holo dramas. Once you caught him screaming at the holo because apparently, the leading lady had made an unwise decision between the two men she was in a love triangle with, and when you asked him about it he immediately denied it. You didn't catch him watching it after that but saw him discreetly trying to find times when he thought you were asleep or working. So then you pretended that you showed interest in the drama to make him feel less bad about watching it. So now you always catch up on the latest episodes when he returns from a dispatch.

NSFW: Enjoys it when you make sorts of animalistic noises in bed. He hasn't expressed it directly, but you're beginning to catch on. He likes to sprinkle on some extra praise if you yelp or howl like a hurt puppy dog, give him those sickly eyes and whimper. And he always comes a little too hard, even letting a few growls rupturing in his stomach out to bless your ears. So in conclusion Wolffe is a furry

a/n: definitely gonna do more of these with other characters, this was really fun! if you guys have any other characters you'd like to see with these headcanons, let me know :) ~ @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm