#sw the bad batch fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sinfulsalutations · 3 months ago

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𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕨𝕒𝕧𝕖 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕙𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ꜱᴇʀɢᴇᴀɴᴛ ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ☆ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇꜱ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ʜɪꜱ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ.

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴘᴏʀɴ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴘʟᴏᴛ, ꜰᴇʀᴀʟ+ʜᴏʀɴʏ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ɪɴ ʜᴇᴀᴛ, ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴛᴇɴꜱɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀɴᴛᴀꜱɪᴇꜱ, ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟ ᴘɪɴɪɴɢ, ʀᴇꜱ��ʟᴠᴇᴅ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴛᴇɴꜱɪᴏɴ, ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴛᴏᴏ ꜱᴇxʏ ꜰᴏʀ ʜɪꜱ ᴏᴡɴ ɢᴏᴏᴅ, ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴜʀʙᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ɢʀɪɴᴅɪɴɢ, ᴍɪʟᴅ ɢᴏʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅꜱ, ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴍᴀᴏ

➼ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ☆ 9.1ᴋ

➼ ᴘᴏᴠ ☆ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ

➼ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ☆ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ - ᴇᴛʜᴇʟ ᴄᴀɪɴ, ᴍᴏᴏɴꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴋ - ᴇɴʜʏᴘᴇɴ

⋆ ★ … ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴇxᴀɢɢᴇʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ᴀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ʏᴇᴀʀ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɴɪꜱʜ. ɪ ʙᴇɢᴀɴ ɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴊᴜʟʏ ᴏꜰ 2023 ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ᴘᴜᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ᴏꜰꜰ ꜰᴏʀ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀꜱ ɪ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ɪᴛ ɪᴛ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜʜʜʜ ᴏᴏᴘꜱ ɪᴛꜱ ᴀʟᴍᴏꜱᴛ 10ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ, ʏᴇᴀʜ, ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ. ʏᴀʏ? ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ.

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Despite the gradual (yet quite quick, in retrospect) increment of your feelings toward the skilled soldier, you do, in fact, notice the blunt sexual appeal of Hunter when you first meet Clone Force 99.

It’s difficult not to; with his long hair you can’t quite place how the Kaminoans allow him to have, the striking skull tattoo, his toned body, and discernable shape even through the heavy armor, you can’t help but flutter your eyelashes and rock your feet back and forth like you’re a schoolgirl all over again. Hunter is the Bad Batch’s essential leader, the closest in appearance to the rivaled ‘regs,’ leading them as their Sergeant and CT-9901, and he stands out more than any other clone you’ve interacted with.

His warm, welcoming, yet slightly wary smile is just as firm as the handshake he gives you when you first meet him, leaning down a little to your height (you’d think clone defects would be the same height, or maybe even shorter than a veritable trooper, but instead you feel enveloped by his vertical. Not that you don’t enjoy the feeling, of course) and nodding firmly.

Then you hear his voice.

It’s only a short sentence; a brief introduction and warm gratitude for joining them as their medic before you acquaint yourself with the rest of the squad. But your ears wrap around the waves of his rough, musky baritone like a magnet. Everything feels as though it’s finally clicked into place and created the perfect picture of your desired man.

Your mind immediately begins to create dreamy rhetoric, wondering silly things to yourself.

Had your mind been aimlessly wandering the galaxy for this long, circling like materials until you finally found an opposite —An opposite so charmingly rugged?

The feeling that rushes through you feels so destined.

Lucky for you, Hunter seems to express his commands frequently with his voice; sometimes hushed through a link, the vibrations of your comm humming pleasantly between the soft undersides of your fingers as he talks.

It always during the times when you’re deep past enemy lines, taking down clankers more efficiently than a Starfleet. Initially too, as you were still trying to memorize their master list of designated plans and being weighed down by the extra weight of regulation armor.

“Don’t go through there yet. Squad of clankers waiting for us.”

“You sure, Hunter? I don’t hear any steps.”

“Take it from the person with enhanced hearing, little medic. Just wait for me.”

Other times when he speaks to you, it’s thunderous commands; ones that he yells out across a field or war front. It frightens you at first, your shoulders jolting and hands instinctively clamping over your ears to deafen the noise, but you quickly realize he’s ordering you to act. Once you get used to the intensity, you come to equally enjoy and indulge how his voice takes on a new edge in fleeting moments of urgency and demand; a once blissful burning of wood turning into threatening crackles, and from there a bleeding forest fire.

“Wrecker, move in! Now, now! Crosshair, how’s the bird's view looking?”

It’s incredibly embarrassing how something as simple as his voice can leave you this breathless. Even from the snide comments he can’t seem to help himself from saying when Wrecker retells stories to you, either from their days as shinies and cadets to missions where you stayed back on the Marauder. Between Tech’s rambling and Wrecker’s enthusiastic narration, the sound of Hunter’s voice becomes even more of a calming sedative to you.

Though it equally arouses you in other moments.

How his morning voice is somehow even lower and raspier than his regular tone is a study that must be researched and conducted by only the galaxy’s best scientists. It seems just so impossible, unbelievable; none of it is inauthentic either—the grogginess is always equally spread through his body, from his tired slouch and ruffled hair, lolling eyes, the unkempt composition of the clothes hung over his broad shoulders and slim waist. It’s unspoken the things you might do if you felt there was even the slimmest chance of starting your every day with that sound so deep and lovely right in your ear.

When he addresses you directly before you both allow yourself the time to sleep, asking you to check on old injuries or patch up new ones he got on the last mission. He always manages to get hurt in the most menial yet bothersome ways, and you’re once again forced into close proximity; you’re beginning to consider paying a few scientists and investigators to study the sexy phenomenon that is Hunter. But either way, you sit legs crossed at the ankles in the cockpit, forcing yourself to zone out on anything he might be saying every few minutes so you don’t have to squirm and change your position in your seat every so often and prevent showing how damn flustered and hot he makes you; in more places than just your cheeks and ears.

In flitting moments you get time to relish in his conjured wavelength, take in the scene you can create with just the sound of his voice; he transports you to a world of the dark morning fog, the red of his bandana the most vibrant sight in your nearest vision as he takes you on the forest floor just like that, no civil thoughts daring to come to each of your minds as he finally gives you the relief you crave for in real life.

Your depraved fantasy of Hunter is all you can dream of when you sit yourself on your fingers, holding back as many of the impoverished whines you wish to let out due to your true desperation for such an attractive man.

And the sweet indulgences you luxuriate in make you selfish. You want more, need to know how he’d sound grunting, moaning your name while his cock lay on your tongue. Or how the oscillations of his words feel on your inner thighs, against your clit when he pushes his fingers past your tight barrier. There’s much more you could learn, could explore if you could attempt an advance. Or simply given something more than slight moments of suggestion that he might have the same deviant desires as you to allow the green light.

You’ve yet to receive such signals. And flimsy fantasies, the work of your fingers to chase unattainable pleasure, and insistent memorization of his voice can only keep you quenched for so long.

“Hunter,” The inadvertent, pathetic whine crawls up your throat the moment you feel his breath on your neck, lingering over your skin even as he pulls back after hearing the noise you make.

“Just a little more,” He reassures you. The hand not firmly gripping your wrist pats your shoulder, and your cheeks flush at the passing fondness. “Let’s try to get one more shot on target and we’ll call it quits, how does that sound?”

With the warmth of your flushed face spreading to the rest of your body, you mutter,

“Sounds good,”

and try to softly shake off your arousal, eyes zeroing in on the middle of the tree, the finger hovering over the trigger surprisingly still. You’re about to take the shot before he starts instructing you again.

“Fix your foot stance,” Hunter gently guides your legs apart with one of his own, fixing the positioning of your feet planted onto the dirt and you take in a deeper breath than you intend to. The fire kindle of his voice and the fire kindle of your core are equal matches now; the husk of his chunked honey tone will certainly turn you to mush if he continues any further, it feels.

Really, how does this oblivious, heart-seizing bastard expect you to keep your focus on this pointless shooting practice when he’s got you this compromised?

“Try again now,” he says after he’s got you in the position he wants. You huff again, letting the fiery stimulation fall to your diaphragm, and breathe down your arousal. Just one hit on the target and you’ll be free of this torture.

But as you lift your arm again, eyes narrowing closer and closer to your prize, the imminent feeling of his leg between yours rears its head. You become so incredibly, annoyingly aware of it, and grimace, biting your lip softly and knitting your eyebrows together to fully get him out of your mind and body. You tug on your bottom lip and pull the trigger.

The bullet lands left side.

A deep groan of frustration leaves you; it sounds much quieter with Hunter’s rumble and grunt in your ear. You gently pull away from his grasp, handing him the blaster, and turn to face him directly. And when you catch that damned expression you promptly decide that you don’t like to see him disappointed; at least, it looks as though he’s disappointed. Eyebrows pinched together with the smallest frown, his chin curled into himself as he looks down at you (Maybe you should look into research for lawyers in the case of when you sue Hunter for the neck pain he’s caused).

“It’s alright,” He assures you, but it doesn’t feel right. And from the way he looks at you, it’s not alright.

“No, it isn’t,” You tell him exactly that, your fingers curling and interlocking together by your stomach. His eyes dart down for a brief moment of scanning, and they don’t linger too long; Maker, you wish you had the power for your eyes not to glue to him and his absolute stature instantly when you enter a space. “I should be better at this by now.”

Hunter clicks his tongue and turns away, as if deep in swirling thought. His gaze comes back to you before you know it.

“You should be,” He agrees, but nothing is degrading or critical in his voice. In his eyes, the wave of gentleness that cascades and shifts his expression, there’s unconditional empathy that you do not deserve and he wouldn’t grace you with if he were to know what you beg him to do to you in your dreams.

“We can try again,” You then insist, but Hunter quickly shakes his head.

“We’ve been working on this for an hour,” He tells you, slickly spinning the blaster back into his holster. He sounds tired as well, a new jaggedness in the smoke tendrils of his voice. “That’s more than enough practice.”

“But I just want to–”

“I know.”

Somehow, those words are more devastating than anything else he’s said. You look back and catch the mysterious glint in his eye, almost as elusive as his words might connotate on a foggy day.

“Trust me,” He continues. You don’t even realize his hand has wandered and softly taken your chin between two fingers until you feel the soft pads brush against your skin; your jaw slacks. He pinches your chin a little tighter to ensure your eyes are fixed on him. “You just want to prove yourself.”

Well, of course, you think to yourself vindictively. It’s enough that you feel ever-so-slightly out of place in a squad of clone troopers, let alone defective ones; not being able to properly handle a blaster in the mere presence of your crush is even more embarrassing. How juvenile.

“We can try again another time. But you’re tired. I can feel it,” He continues. There’s the slightest hint of gentleness you only pick up on because of how you hone all your focus on dissecting and admiring every single crevice of his articulations. Suddenly, he drops your chin, and your head lolls back into place, rather sloppily, and you look up through your eyelashes. “Time for us to sleep, I think.”

With that, Hunter whips around and heads toward the ramp to the Marauder. You’re left there with a smarting jaw, discreetly trying to rub your legs together and take the heat out of the area.

“Alright,” You sigh, glancing around before trotting after him, the white noise keeping your thoughts off of the man in front of you.

Yet, you still picture what his knee had felt like parting your thighs open only half an hour later. Attempting to recreate it with your arm and then your pillow, you give yourself a foggy release and whimper a jumbled version of his name into your pillow before drifting off, body still buzzing with frustration.

The next week, as if the weeks and months before weren’t as excruciating, is pure sexual torture. Not to say it’s entirely filled with frustration and dull aching, however. When you and Hunter have a moment of silence, alone by the cots or the engine or the cockpit together, you both relax into the same, comfortable silence that fills the time.

It’s better to have him not running his mouth off, for sure. You still have to deal with it on deployments and missions, but it’s manageable when you’re knocking down clankers or trying to listen to Tech’s very confusing instructions on how to fly the plane to a certain location to pick them up. But he’s allowing the silence to fester between you two. All the better to preserve the actual sweet, steady relationship you have aside from your fiery attraction, you think.

Hey, it could be worse.

But then the dumbass decides to get himself injured. Get pushed into and dragged against hard durasteel, leaving a gash across his stomach that could challenge Wrecker’s spiderweb scars in its damage. Your jaw practically drops when they return and you see the wound out in the open; you can’t stop yourself before you lurch forward with worried eyes and grasp his wrist around your fingers, pushing him down onto a bench.

As Tech pilots the ship off the planet, the rest all recline and lick their minuscule wounds beside him, while you and Hunter remain cramped in the back, avoiding his gaze and praying to the Maker that he keeps his voice to quiet rough grunts of pain as you try to unclip each different plate of his armor and lay them neatly beside him, tutting when more of his wound is revealed to you.

”Oh my goodness, oh my goodness ohmygoodness,” You stammer to yourself, more and more strained with each breath you take, peeling off the tarnished fabric of his blacks.

“It’s not too bad,” He argues with a soft grin, which slowly fades away when you glare.

“Don’t,” You retort, firm and simple, flashing a genuine look of empathy, and even a drip of fear. If you didn’t know any better, you might think Hunter practically melts under your look with how he slumps and his expression droops. But he’s still an oblivious, sexy fool, you remind yourself.

You don’t even have the energy to fawn over how incredibly attractive he sounds with the rough baritone and anguished sigh-like tone he wears; you instead scramble to open the first aid kit. You can feel his gaze set selectively on you and it doesn’t help. In the corner of your eye, he tilts his head.

“Is everything alright?”

You nod automatically.

“Everything is fine.”

The Marauder jostles in rough air; the ship tilts, your stomach dropping with the altitude change, and you’re unwantedly yanked onto Hunter’s lap with a yelp.

You still for a moment, waiting for the ship to steady again before you become acutely aware of how your chest is almost completely pressed up onto his face. And how your knees are caged over his thighs, your pelvis way too close to his wound for each of your comfort. And pressure against your waist, not too firm but still weighting you to his body–wait, is Hunter holding you to him?

Your eyes widen and you stumble off, stammering nonsensically and afraid to gaze upon his face. You don’t for a long moment, before grabbing the disinfectant and pouring it onto a cloth.

Silence festers between the two of you. When Hunter does speak, it’s not to you.

“Tech! Get her steady, would you?” He yells across the ship, vexed and evidently not in an ideal mood. Tech immediately retorts in his typical, inappropriately casual, intellectual tone,

“That is not a light request, Hunter. I am already trying.”

Hunter scoffs and you finally get the gall to look at him. He exchanges a mutual look of annoyance and manages to grin wider for you. The sight soothes your frayed ends ever so slightly, and you stare down at his stomach again at the wound, biting your lip as you inspect the damage.

Your hands come to the hem of his blacks and you give him a silent ask with your eyes.

“Is it alright if I take this off?”

He hums, which you take as a yes, and you slowly peel it off of his skin, trying very, very hard to ensure your stare doesn’t linger. He looks at you with a mysterious gaze that's too hard to place for your liking. But you just try and shake it off as you slowly dab his wound with the bacta-dipped cloth, pressing it firm against the injury.

When he hisses, you perk up with wide eyes.

“Did that hurt?”

Hunter clenches his teeth and nods slowly, and you pull away with shaky hands. His arms reach out, encircling his fingers around your wrist, and guides them back tenderly.

“It’s alright,” He says, his tone dropping down an octave as your hands tremble again in his grasp. You gain the courage to look up at him, biting your lip softly. The grin he wears manages to soothe your nerves, just a little. “I’ve got you, girl. Just let me guide you so you don’t hurt me.”

You let out a shaky exhale of relief, and he sighs, dipping his chin down, but keeping the intense eye contact.

“How does that sound?”

“Good,” You squeak, the rise and fall of your chest the only constant managing to soothe your fried senses. After a couple of breaths, you finish your thought. “Better.” You press onto a side of his wound, softly spreading the bacta onto it; your eyes don’t separate from his once. “How’s that?”

He huffs, not of frustration or annoyance, but more a comforting relief.

"Fine. Keep going."

The rasp stirs between the space between the two of you, and you take a deep breath before you can do anything else.

With the firm grasp on your wrists and the low tendrils of his voice softly directing you, you continue to tend to his wound, your hands moving deftly over his skin. The thick, intoxicating tension in the air is palpable; the lingering silence between you weighs heavy despite your best attempts to snap yourself out of it and take care of him like you're supposed to.

It's not your fault he just sounds so damn sexy all the time.

"Careful, careful," He tuts when you're stitching up a particularly bad spot, pressing your fingers around the skin and holding it there as you thread the stitch through. "Just a little gentler, please."

Then, "Avoid that spot, please. I can't even-- shit -- breathe without it hurting. Just stitch around it. Yeah, just like that. Good job, little medic," As you're finishing up.

Once you finish wrapping the bandage firmly over the wound and around his waist, taping it firmly to him, he dislodges his fingers from where it's wrapped around your wrist, bringing it to your chin and manhandling you slightly to get a better look into your eyes.

"See, ‘wasn't so bad, was it?" He flashes you a grin, obviously masking the pain etching into his limbs, all to calm your nerves. The fact that he's making such a constant effort to make you feel better despite his state makes you positively soft. "You did great."

You grin back, nodding and averting your eyes.

"Thank you."

There's a pause before he bludgeons you with his next sentence.

"You enjoy getting instructions."

Your eyes widen; you almost drop the first aid kit; everything stills, your chest tight as you process his words. Shit, what the fuck?

What the fuck?

"Wh--What?" You stammer, taking a small step backward and tilting your head to appear more confused and insulted by the accusation. Maybe if you appear offended, he’ll take it back. "Who said that?"

"You don’t need to say it. I can feel it," He continues, gaze thoughtfully fixated on you. He doesn't even falter when you seem to panic. "I can see it." You try to gawk at him to make him feel stupid, make him retract what he's saying, but either he's so certain or you don't seem very convincing.

No matter; you're still fucked.

"You like getting told what to do."

Your heart pounds, and Hunter just sits there, legs spread leisurely, his eyebrow slightly raised in expectation. Seriously, what does he expect you to answer with? Does he want you to fess up and admit how depraved and desperate you are for his touch, then run off mortified to never speak to him again? Surely he doesn’t expect you to take.

Defeated, you sigh and softly run your hands over your work again, avoiding his burning gaze.

"Only from you," you mutter, then immediately pray devotedly to the Maker he doesn't hear. Hunter hums, a tone of question in his voice, then you proceed to figuratively jump off a cliff as you remember this fucker has enhanced senses.

"Why’s that, mesh’la?" He asks. Instinctively, your eyebrows knit together when the new nickname graces your ears.

"What does mesh’la mean?"

Hunter doesn't seem very phased. Can't you just throw him off his rhythm once?

"Don’t worry about that," He quickly excuses your question as a distraction from the question at hand. "But tell me why you only enjoy getting instructions from me."

There's something smug to the way he talks, hidden behind insistent concern and curiosity.

"Why’s that, tell me."

Your hand comes up to hide your face, but he takes it and keeps it away from disfiguring his view of your expression. You want to babble; you can feel your face heating up. Instead, you frown.

"I, uh," You try to discreetly rub your thighs together languidly, easing the tension and buildup of heat in between them. A huff leaves his lips that sounds oddly close to a chuckle.

"Come on," You lift your head, perplexed for a split moment, but then he pats the top of his thigh. You blink once, then twice, then another time for good measure, just to make sure you're seeing correctly. Is he... what's he even implying?

"Sit down. On my lap."

Oh. That’s what.

Your mouth opens, a strange sound bordering on a choke leaving your throat as you try to retort or deny him. He only raises his eyebrows and dips his chin down, gesturing toward his lap again.

You huff, eyebrows knitted, and take a small step toward him, slowly, and you envelop his figure, trapping his legs between your knees and careening slightly, hands still meeting at your stomach, unsure of where to move. He nods encouragingly.

“Good job, just like that,” He praises you, hands slowly rising to rest on the handles of your hips, fingers tracing your waist. You take a sharp intake of breath, eyes drifting down to where your bodies meet, and look back up at him again. Hunter’s wearing this oh-so-innocent, deer-in-headlights expression you know is bantha-shit. “What’s got you so hot and bothered?”

You sough vindictively, averting your eyes.

“Stop teasing me.”

He laughs— though it’s more of a snarky, yet affectionate chuckle. You feel so naked in his presence, given such focused, vehement attention.

“I’m not teasing. Just concerned,” He tells you. The problem is, Hunter does well making you think he’s actually this clueless when he does know and just wants to hear it from your lips.

“Mhm,” You hum sarcastically with a pout.

He manages to grin at you, the corners of his eyes scrunching up as he looks at you. You let your eyes come back to him.

“I can do both, can’t I?” He offers.

“Sure,” You retort.

Squinting his eyes, he casually rubs his hands up and down the sides of your body.

“I’ll figure it out, one way or another,” He affirms, ending the sentence with a wink; you take a deep breath, letting your jaw slack. Hunter keeps talking like there’s nothing thick in the air between you.

“Put your hands on my shoulders.”

You furrow your eyebrows; he pouts like an upset child. Chastising, you huff and do as he says. When your hands shake slightly, he continues giving you instructions. They are so simple, yet they seem so alluring and nuanced in this context. In his voice.

”Steady yourself. Yeah, like that. Good.”

You wiggle your hips slightly, and something boils in his stomach slightly, something bordering on a groan. Your legs are warming up but you have no way to close them and satiate yourself. So all you can do is squirm.

Hunter perks up in concern.

“Are you comfortable?”

You take a moment to respond but then nod.

“Good.” Hunter grins softly, patting your left hip. For a moment, he decides to rake his eyes over you appreciatively, almost in the same way you do when you assume he isn’t looking. “I’m glad.”

Offering a civil smile of mutual understanding, you wiggle your hips, trying to find a better position if you’re going to be compromised on his lap.

”Trail your hands down for me.”

It's hard to deny or disobey him with a voice like that, especially when you know it’s directed toward you. So you slowly let your hands slip from his shoulders and descend his chest and torso.

“Yeah, down,” He encourages you when you reach the top of his wrapped wound. “Maybe try to avoid the gash.”

You lift your hands and let only the pads of your fingers place feather-light touches over the wrapping. When your hands begin to tremble again the further you descend, reaching his pelvis, he tuts to stop you. “That’s a good place to stop.”

You look up again with wide eyes, trying to stop your erratic (embarrassing) trembles and tilt your head. There’s more he’s going to say. At least it seems so.

“Whenever you’re ready, put your hand over my crotch.” He gives you a soft look of reassurance, making sure you’re completely comfortable in this position, before finishing. “I want you to feel me.”

Gasping softly, you pull your hand away, fingers curling into your palm and gripping tightly. A shiver runs through you, and you can’t seem to figure out if it’s from shock or pleasure.

“What?” You begin, eyes flitting from his face and back. “H-Hunter, I shouldn’t.”

“I’m asking you to.” Polite insistence is the game he plays. If this truly is a trap, you might happily fall if it means you get to touch him. He runs his hands over your curves again. “I want you to.”

You tense further, something bordering on fear in your eyes. Hunter notices and frowns while he clarifies:

“Unless you don’t want it. ‘Cause then… we can stop. No hard feelings…”

You can see how he’s getting lost in his thoughts. For a split moment, that perfect composure he holds in your presence fractures; he seems insecure and nervous; anticipating inevitable rejection because he’s pushed you too far.

That isn’t the case.

As you finally press your palm to his bulge, you contain your gasp. He’s big. And so hard.

“Fuck,” He groans, head tilting back. “Feel that?”

Oh kriff, that rumble. It’s warm and smooth yet rough all the same, creeping its way over your skin until you’re forced to keep the faintest whimper from leaving your throat. You string your lips tight and nod.

“Mhm,” Is the only thing that manages to leave your mouth, whiny and soft. You palm him further, as if the fabric would simply tear away and you could finally feel his skin on yours. He hums again, and you’re left looking doe-eyed in his direction. “Shit, Hunter.”

He throws a heavy statement onto you.

“It’s my voice, isn’t it?”

You tilt your head up, containing the urge to gasp.

“What?”

“What’s making you so hot and bothered,” He continues. You want to look away, hide your face in your hands with humiliating embarrassment, but you’re trembling so much on top of him that you can’t even flit your eyes away. “You like my voice. And you like it when I tell you what to do.”

You gasp lightly when you feel his warm hand on your thigh. Your cunt twitches and it really shouldn’t. He’s barely doing anything.

“Well,” he continues, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to deny it?”

The answer is delivered non-verbally. You relax into his lap, palm pressing further to his bulge, and then you squeeze oh so gently. That heavenly groan graces your ears and you devoutly catalog it into your mind for later recollection.

His chin dips down to catch a glimpse of your hand before he meets your eyes.

“Mesh’la,” he says; even without knowing what it means, just hearing how he speaks with such beguile and worship tells all that you need to know. “Mesh’la… can you do something for me?”

“Yeah. Of course. Anything,” You stammer out with a slack jaw, far too enthusiastic. Hunter doesn’t seem to regard it as anything distorting the absolute utmost respect that he must feel while he has you in his lap with your hand on his dick.

“Slip your pants off.”

It’s practically instinctual how efficiently you gingerly push yourself off of his lap and follow his order. With your hands chastely placed above your waistband, you let your thumbs push past, then await Hunter to grant you to pull them off. His eyes dilate with the view, and he nods.

The pants find their way to the ground clumsily, and you cringe internally at your lack of grace, but when you finally catch sight of Hunter’s expression, perhaps it’s nothing to worry about.

He looks… starved. Hypnotized by the splendor in front of him, for his eyes and his hands and his body only to touch, feel, hold, take.

“You’re… fuck,” he sighs, sounding out of breath, as though you’d just swept his leg and taken him off his feet. His hand methodically strokes up and down his thigh, only lightly grazing the tent in his pants as he takes his eyes over how you look, over and over again.

“You’re stunning,” he finally manages to say. His hand stops stroking to pat his thigh lightly, and his voice simmers in a way you know is on purpose. “C’mere, sit on my lap again.”

“Are you sure?” You ask for permission despite rocking your feet back and forth to shimmy your way back. As you gesture toward the bandages wrapped around his middle, Hunter huffs and frowns with miffed frustration. “You’re still injured.”

Hunter gripes to himself as he pushes himself up, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you to the free space between his two hard, firm thighs. His dexterity surprises you. The warmth radiating from his body does even more.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

Oh.

Shit.

He looks the part, certainly; you only try to feel the faintest tremble of his fingers when his hands float away from your hips to sit on the top of his legs again,

“Okay,” You mutter aimlessly, reaching up to your face to brush your hair away in a measly attempt to look more presentable. Your voice is just a squeaky little thing, and it’s so incredibly humiliating. “Okay…”

“It’s alright,” Hunter tries to soothe you, and you breathe shallowly.

“I know that.” Your tongue runs over your bottom lip and you heave. “I just…”

Before you’re able to process what’s happening, Hunter’s reaching a hand out to cup your face. Despite the coarseness of his skin, his callouses fall on your cheek, it’s so tender, and you melt into his touch.

“Do you need some guidance, little medic?”

With a slight whine, you nod, letting your lashes flutter. Hunter lets his thumb swipe over your bottom lip, and your mouth parts. He grins at your unprompted compliance.

“Then let me tell you what to do. Let me tell you how to touch yourself and make you come from that, and my voice too.”

A depraved noise is choked out of you.

“Fuck,” your head careens to the side, but his firm hold on the side of your face keeps your gaze on him. His grin turns more into a cheeky smirk.

“How does that sound?” He asks. You nod adamantly before he tries to change his mind, so worried that he’ll push you away at any moment. As though he can read your mind, the hand that was still on the back of your thigh takes a gentle squeeze before trailing up your body, taking appreciative feels of your ass and hips before settling on your waist again.

“Mm…” You hum, reveling in the sensation. “Really good.”

Hunter gives you a half-crooked smile, and you want to cuss him out, or yourself, you’re not sure who to be fed up with.

“Come on, little medic,” He urges you on, patting your hip. “Slip your hand down your panties.”

Wordlessly, you let a trembling hand descend down your body. You have little dignity left in you to try and make yourself appear more seductive, but you hope your image isn’t so repulsive. The moment your fingertips make contact with your heat, your fingers grazing over your mons and clit, your mouth falls open in a silent gasp.

Hunter tilts his head.

“How does it feel? Are you wet?”

He should know already, smug bastard.

“Yeah,” you nod, keening further into his touch when he tilts his chin down, leaning toward your ear.

He takes a gentle lick, so light that if you weren’t in his grasp you wouldn’t have noticed.

“How wet?”

Your hips instinctively buck to rub yourself over your hand, a rush of arousal washing over you.

“Re–“ You swallow a wad of spit sitting on your tongue. “Really wet.”

Hunter’s lips are gentle when they undulate as he speaks oh so close to your ear, quiet and warm, words just for you.

“Just from my voice?” When he asks this time, you don’t detect much smugness; he wants the confirmation and credibility for a foundation of fact he’s built for himself.

You nod, but add on more.

“Not just that.”

“Hm?” His dark rumble travels down your spine and you squirm with pleasant upheaval. Your hand is still awkwardly lodged down your panties with nothing to do.

“Tell me more,” he demands with an assuasive croon. With one last kitten lick that lingers on the shell of your ear, he allows his lips to wander, mouthing against your skin, leaving delicate kisses on your temple, your jaw, and any moles and freckles in his nearest vicinity while he awaits your answer.

“I, uh,” you begin, awaiting to land on a coherent stream of words loosely strung together to fall on your tongue. “your—“

Just as you feel something begin to tie, your gaze drops down. Hunter palms his full erection over his blacks, languidly as though without a care, and the thought of him being aroused by this, aroused by you, slaps your mind into a render less zone.

“—fuck.”

He chuckles right in your damn face, and Maker he’s just too pretty not to kiss. But you resist the temptation with the festering worry of crossing the barrier past simple attraction into affection.

So you swallow slow and hard and try to compose a sentence.

“Your, face—“

Yeah, real eloquent, idiot.

“—That skull tattoo, it’s, well, shit…”

Your tongue wraps around itself again, words becoming more and more hard to piece together the longer you think about it. All that your primal mind begs you to think of is the olympic man presented under you, and the heat that radiates off the both of you.

“Alright now, you don’t have to continue,” Hunter huffs with no real malice contained in his words. It still makes you cringe nonetheless.

“That bad?” You ask with a clenched jaw.

A simple head shake is all you receive, but it’s more than enough to sedate a growing burn in the pit of your stomach. The hand not pressed to his crotch gently holds your hip, thumb swiping over your panties and bare skin; he even dares to let it slip past the waistband. The accurate awareness of your hand pressed to your pussy returns to you.

“Don’t want you to focus your energy on that,” he clarifies, eyes looking into yours with a softness you’ve never associated with Hunter. You’d find it peculiar in a regular conversation, but everything about this interaction has been anything but normal.

You suddenly realize you’re at a loss again. “So what do you want me to do?” You ask because you feel humiliated just straddling him like this.

Hunter puffs out his chest and you prepare yourself for the worst.

A coarse hand presses to your navel, trailing up underneath your shirt to sketch an image of your body underneath, stopping right where “Rub your pussy for me.”

It’s worded like a demand, but he voices it as though it’s a request. Your body wants to tense and retract, but the palm spread over the expanse of your stomach prevents you.

“You can do that,” Hunter encourages you, almost as though you were a creature he’s saddled on to ride. Though in this instance, you’d much rather be the one to ride. “Can’t you? For me?”

With a huff, you look away and nod bashfully. It’s wordless when you begin to move your hand, let your fingers get soaked as they rub up and down, up and down… you’re almost too tense to really feel the sensation, but Hunter’s doting gaze and his firm hand on your stomach keep you grounded. As you collect slick, running your fingers through your folds, it takes heavy petting for you to relax your jaw and let out the most pleasantly pathetic whimper.

Hunter groans, adding fuel to the flame flourishing in your pants, a dark sound of thunder rumbling in the sky, forewarning something much more devastating.

“Yeah, just like that,” he encourages you in that same husky tone following the groan. “Rock your hips too.”

You do so diligently, using your palm to press against your clit as a foundation for the rest of your hand to move leisurely while you rock your hips into himself. Hunter’s hand retracts from your stomach, fingers curling into his palms as he lets his knuckles graze against your skin. When you shiver, he takes it as an invitation to shush you gently against your temple, before his hand falls to your waist again.

The moment you glance down, you have to tip your chin back with an ascendant sigh. He’s got his hand over his clothed erection, palming it with a firm hand, almost absentmindedly as he keeps his eyes on you.

“Fuck, Hunter…” The desperate, embarrassing whimper comes out of you far more loud than you intend. Hunter shushes you gently.

“Keep quiet for me,” he commands; how are you meant to be by him when he speaks like that?

“Good?” He then asks, seemingly seeking approval good enough for him to continue. “Do I sound as good as you imagined?”

You want to say yes, declare it to the entire galaxy, and tell him just how wonderful this man is, but you’re far too overwhelmed by all the pleasurable sensations disrupting your thought process. So instead you nod.

That seems to satisfy Hunter, and the smallest smirk curls on his lips as he watches you squirm and rock your hips into your hands.

“Don’t you as well.”

With a hum, you try to dismiss the comment. But only as you let it sit does the implication of his words sink to your stomach. But he doesn’t allow you to dwell on it for too long, it seems, as he continues,

“I want you to keep touching yourself. Do whatever you need to for me. Whatever makes you come.”

He pats his incredibly intimidating bulge as though it’s an invitation.

“Right here, on my lap.”

You resist the dizzyness that threatens to overtake your senses, but as you steady your breaths, you suddenly feel so exposed. Far too exposed compared to Hunter.

So you try to level the playing field.

“Would you… er…”

If only your words could come out correctly. Hunter raises an eyebrow, perked with a cheeky glint in his eye.

“Hm?” He hums.

You grunt and attempt again to tunnel out the words. Like a plow shoveling out snow or sand.

“It—It feels unfair that I’m the only one here getting off.”

You wince as you finish the sentence. Maker, you sound so clunky and awkward. So much for being seductive.

But Hunter hums with total compliance, letting his hand trail up to where his bottoms cling to his skin.

“‘Guess you’re right.” Slowly, oh-so-slowly, Hunter peels back the waistband of his blacks, letting his hand slip through to free his cock from underneath the garments.

You think you’ve been knocked out for a healthy minute when you get a proper look. You’d never imagine describing a cock as pretty, but just like everything else, Hunter may become an exception. His fingers curl around the base with rather ease, before reaching up with it to his chin. He opens his mouth, letting a wad of spit collect and drop onto his palm, allowing him to stroke his cock with a more slick movement.

Maker, he’s so… so…

No, that can’t be right. His cock is far too thick for his hand to wrap around it so easily. But then you remember his proportions, especially compared to yours. A small chuckle leaves you when you imagine how you might try to wrap a full hand around his length.

Hunter leisurely strokes himself, eyes set on yours with an intensity that makes your stomach leap bounds up to your chest.

“Now it’s more fair, little medic,” he says. “Don’t you think?”

You nod adamantly with no hesitation.

“Yeah, yeah…” Your fingers deftly move to trap your clit between your index and middle, your mouth falling open when you feel the pressure hum over you. “Shit.”

Hunter huffs with a smugly saccharine look, his hand slowly stroking up and down his cock, lingering at the tip before he returns down again.

“You look really good like this.”

You tilt your head and grunt in disbelief. It’s hard to believe him when you feel simultaneously so powerful and so humiliated. Even though he’s just as physically exposed as you, you still feel more vulnerable.

“Do I now?” Despite being sarcastic, you try not to come off too mean.

But then Hunter sighs out the most exasperated, “ Fuck yeah,” his chin tipping upwards as he gathers his breath, tongue darting out to lick his lips, eyes half closed while he squeezes the tip of his dick, and you’re left render less to your own attraction again.

He seems to see the disbelief in your eyes.

“Don’t you believe me, mesh’la?” He asks. You remain still. “You really need me to spell out just how hot you look right now? How sexy .”

“Hunter,” you whine.

He continues without regarding you.

“I’m trying so hard not to— fuck—“ he tenses his stomach as he tries to compose himself. “—just blow my load right now. You’re just so— so pretty and pliant and so damn obedient .” You tremble slightly, and Hunter reaches to hold the back of your neck; not before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, of course.

“Listening to my every order,” he continues, oddly affectionate.

A rush of confidence flows through your veins. You try to smirk, but instead it comes out toothy and bashful.

“That’s my job, sergeant.”

Hunter groans, his fingers curling into your neck, one pressing to your pulse point so purposefully.

“Fuck, don’t say stuff like that,” he says, shaking his head, though he doesn’t seem too displeased. “Or else this’ll be really short.”

You giggle, trying to look away, but Hunter’s grip on your neck keeps your head in place. You blink rapidly, suddenly overwhelmed by his stare. But you can’t. Move.

You whisper out a weak, “Keep talking,” before your eyes shut close. You press your palm to your clit, whining softly. Hunter uses the grip on your neck to bring you in closer, whispering slow and softly into your ear with purposeful oscillations of his lips,

“I wonder how you’ll feel around me.” You sigh out the faintest hint of his name in surprise, just as you begin to press a finger into your entrance. “I bet you’re so tight you’ll squeeze me out. Warm, and hot, and loud .”

“Fuck,” you swear, both in response to his words and to the feeling of a single finger pumping in and out of you. You’ve done little to stimulate yourself and cum, but somehow you’re already feeling an anticipated crawl up of an orgasm.

The things Hunter does to you.

“I want your mouth on my cock too.”

You clench involuntarily o over your finger, bucking your hip so your clit catches against your palm. Oh. He isn’t done.

“‘Thinking we’d both have fun if I tried a hand at commanding you around, fucked your face a little.”

Hunter tilts his head. as though expecting a response, so you nod your head — or tilt your chin down, you’re unsure— and he grins in deep settled approval at your compliance.

“How does that sound, hm?”

In a split moment of respite, while he awaits your response, you gaze down, watch his hand wrap around his cock with more insistence than before, stroke at the same rate you move. The hand on your hip drifts down to hold your hip again, rocking you with more fervor. Inadvertently, the movement forces your fingers in a new direction that grazes your g-spot just so perfectly, and you’re sighing again.

“ Oh… ”

The silence becomes too long for Hunter to bear, and he grunts.

“Answer me, mesh’la,” his tone is commanding, yet not overbearing. You appreciate it considering the sliver of shame remaining in your stomach. “Would you like that?”

“I’d–I’d like it,” you stammer out, slowly rubbing a second finger down your folds before pressing in slowly to meet the other. “A lot … fuck.”

With a tilt of his head, Hunter leans in closer, lips dangerously close to yours and for a split moment you consider pulling away.

“Something the matter?” He asks, but he knows the answer. Hunter can damn well see how your legs begin to twitch and shake more rapidly, the unsteadiness of your breathing as you simultaneously calm yourself and try to bring about your high.

“You fucking know what’s the matter, Hunter,” you bark back.

“I don’t think I’m sure exactly,” he responds dismissively. “Could you say it clearly, just in case?”

Something you hope sounds like a playful growl leaves you, but in reality, it probably sounds like a moth cat purring.

“You bastard .” There’s no real bite to your insult, and Hunter knows it, so he grins.

“I do my best.”

Your pleasure overtakes you and a shiver runs from the top of your spine to your legs, your thumb moving to properly rub your clit.

“Oh, fuck, I’m close,” you’re moaning out before you know it, voice dwindling so you’re not too loud.

“Ah,” Hunter hums, affectionately rubbing your hip. “That’s what I thought. ‘Was just making sure.”

His strokes have become more erratic and frantic, but his composure doesn’t give it away. If you weren’t to gaze down, you’d have no tell how aroused he truly was. Though perhaps that’s how he wants it to be— you’re a pretty mess while he’s the foundation to keep you upright.

Suddenly, he’s talking again, using the hand on your hip to encourage you to keep rocking.

“Come on, you pretty thing,” he rumbles. “Come for me and I’ll come for you.” Then you’re remembering what brought you to this attraction in the first place; that damn voice of his. Truly, and you mean truly, never saw yourself being in this position; situated over Hunter’s lap, touching yourself for him while he gets off to you and only you.

With one more curl of your fingers against your g-spot and your thump insistently rubbing your clit, you’re over the hill, and you’re twitching and rocking your hips over and over in arches of your back, jumbled syllables vaguely making up Hunter’s name spilling from your lips like sticky sweet sugar.

That’s when you hear it. When you glance down to catch his spend start to spill on his bare skin the bandages of his, he groans out the most pleasant incantation of your name you’ve ever heard. The moment the noise graces your ears, you’re certain that you never want to hear anything else. Or at the least, any other version of your name.

A few moments pass where you remain panting in each other's presence, his hands remaining render less at your side, rubbing up and down in uncoordinated patterns, while your hands grip his shoulders. You only start to pull away from him as you catch your bearings— and your dignity.

Hunter interrupts you by grabbing the wrist of the hand you had stuffed down your panties. He leans in closer, tongue darting out like a teasing little offer.

“Can I get a taste, mesh’la?” His voice is slow, and warm, like honey pouring into a pot of tea—in any other situation, it would sedate your nerves. But those words ignite that fuel inside you. You press your fingers still coated in slick to his lips, and he opens his mouth graciously, letting his tongue swirl around your digits with a gracious hum that vibrates your skin. Your other hand drops to his chest just before where the gash begins and holds onto it with a tremorous touch.

Hunter pulls away with a resounding ‘pop’ that makes you cringe, but not pull your eyes away.

“Delicious,” he remarks.

Your face is hot again and Hunter is smiling wide, but you’ve figured out by now he means no malicious intent with his mannerisms. His hand reaches out, cradling your face

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Hunter admires you with a glint in his eye you’ve never seen before. Sure, you’ve seen affection— plenty at this point— but there’s a tenderness to his words as he continues. It still doesn’t feel fair to not return the compliment, however.

“You’re one to talk.”

The only response you get is a scoff.

“Have you ever seen yourself?” He asks, posing the rhetoric as if you’d go out of the way to compliment yourself. It’s hard to feel anything more than pretty when you have the most handsome man trapped between your thighs.

Hunter doesn’t budge — states it like a fact, as though he truly believes it. “I always get ravenous just looking at you.”

“Oh,” You reply dumbly. “I… I didn’t think.” Your ability to talk to Hunter improves after getting off for him, it seems.

“You thought wrong,” he replies, shaking his head slightly with a smile. He leans his head down, looking better at your face before reaching with his palm to hold your cheek with hands so calloused they feel soft.

“You’re a capable woman, a great addition to the batch–” Your cheeks heat up, and he smiles. “--And I think you’re beautiful. Mesh’la. That’s what that means.”

Your hand crawls up slowly against his arm, unknowingly following the pattern of his skeleton tattoo before your much smaller hand is placed against his.

“Hunter…” You whine.

He tilts his head, that goofy smile still stuck on his face. “What?”

“You flatter me.” With a shake of your head, you unpeel yourself from his lap, and Hunter whines so, so soft as you do to the point you almost leap back onto his lap again.

“I’m being honest,” Hunter insists, lazily using the underside of his blacks to clean his spend off his skin and the bandages. You’re standing idly, stupidly, and you know he’s waiting for you to say something— and you do, you do, but you don’t know what.

“Well, thank you,” you finally answer, attempting to compose yourself. You awkwardly place your feet back into the holes of your pants, pulling them up in a swift motion that leaves you put away wet, but you care very little at this point.

You look up at Hunter, appreciatively looking over his features, before a forlorn feeling fills your stomach when you gaze down at his lips. You felt them delicately graze against your ear, wrap around your fingers to gently suck and lap at the spend coating them, yet you haven’t felt them against yours once.

He notices the look on your face.

“Something up?” He asks.

In retrospect, it must’ve been a rush of confidence through your veins after having him in such a vulnerable state only a moment ago, but you truly don’t know where your next words come from.

“Can I have a kiss?”

You expect, hope even, for Hunter to be thrown off his rhythm so he can be on the same level as you for once. Rather he takes a step closer to you, his hand methodically wrapping around the back of your neck again, thumb pressing the juncture between your jaw and throat for that extra leisure, feeling your pulse as he pulls you in for a kiss.

In your dreams, Hunter's kisses are wholly devouring. But in reality, it’s warm, tender, brimming with an underlying passion you least expected. As his lips press against yours, you can feel the velvet caress of his skin, the exchange of breath between the two of you that makes you hum into him.

His other hand rises to gently stroke your back before pulling you closer, and you feel so enveloped in his embrace that neither of you will be harmed again. You press your foreheads together and pull away, each taking slow, savoring breaths.

Truly, you never expected to be in this situation.

“...I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” you mutter shyly, a bashful look on your face. It’s that little smile, that damned voice of his, that delivers the final blow, sending you back into his striking orbit.

“Of course,” Hunter tells you, smooth as ever. “I still haven’t gotten to be inside you.”

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lightspringrain · 4 months ago

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This is for a chapter 4 flashback. Tech has some series PTSD from surviving Plan 99. I'm sorry, Plan 99 haunts me. At least in this AU he lives.

You can read chapter 4 "54 Hours" here.

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stellarbit · 3 months ago

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Unexpected Scenes

Word Count: 4.4k Pairing: fem!reader x Tech (with a side of simp Hunter oops) Warnings: unprotected piv, masturbating, voyeurism, creampie, self indulgence, simp hunter, poor proof reading Summary: Hunter is well aware of your relations with Tech, but it doesn't stop him from fantasizing about you - something Tech can sense and isn't happy about. He wasn't going to say anything about it, but things happen. a/n : save me simp hunter, save me. I don't have excuses I just have self indulgent fantasies. gif credit: @kamino-coruscant

Hunter’s speciality was sensing that which could not be seen. Whereas Tech’s was analyzing the visible without missing a single variable. Meaning, as subtle as it was, Hunter’s interest in you did not go unnoticed by Tech.

A variable that was irritating Tech.

While the brothers of Clone Force 99 accepted their fate of sharing most of life with one another, they all had things they kept for themselves. Recently, Tech was keeping you to himself.

Not in the sense that your interactions were isolated to him, but in the way that he knew a side of you the others didn’t. A condition he wanted to maintain for the foreseeable future.

Emotionally, he delved deeper with you than he had with anyone outside of his circle. Physically, you’d allowed him to experience ecstasy for the first time. While it was an exhilarating experience and an activity he didn’t regret, he found he was just as content exchanging quiet conversation with you. Perhaps moreso.

Although he would admit that the satisfaction of bringing you to completion did swell a very male side of him. That feat is the biggest thrill for Tech.

One that was instantly surpassed when Hunter caught Tech with his hands in your clothes. You’d failed to notice Hunter, but he watched you cumming on his brother’s fingers.

Since then, Tech kept a keen eye on Hunter’s every exchange with you. It wasn’t so much that he feared Hunter would overstep; it was more about the possessiveness that had begun to root itself deep within him.

The brothers never spoke of the instance, but Hunter’s softened approach with you and his new habit of touching the small of your back almost drove Tech to break the silence more than once.

The tipping point came when you arrived at Cid’s seeking assistance from the Batch. The Marauder was docked at the spaceport, suggesting that at least one of them should have been available to help. It turned out Tech, Echo, and Hunter were there, albeit engaged in their own activities. Echo and Tech were tucked in a booth together hunched over a datapad, and Hunter, seated at the bar with a drink, did a soft double-take as you descended the last step.

“Well, look what the tooka dragged in.” Hunter chuckled and lifted his glass to you. He caught his brother's attention, perking Tech up first.

Tech locked eyes with you first, adjusting his goggles as a soft flutter hit his chest. He recognized the smile on your face - the one reserved just for him, small and crooked to one side. He glanced at Hunter, who was now, unfortunately, witnessing it too.

Echo twisted in his seat and hooked an elbow over the back of his chair. With a short wave of his prosthetic he called over, “Hey there, trouble. What brings you in?”

“I need to hop off world to meet a client and I was hoping one of you could come along.” You explained. “He’s someone I’d rather not be caught alone with.”

Tech was elbow deep in deciphering an imperial code with Echo, a task he was not excited to step away from. Nonetheless, he agreed you should be accompanied. Sighing, Tech made to move when Hunter responded.

Slugging his drink back, Hunter slid out of his seat, saying, “Alright then, I’ll go with you.” He waved towards the stairs with a smile. “We can take the Marauder.”

Tech pushed out of his seat, quickly interrupting, “That won’t be necessary. I can-”

“No.” Hunter firmly pushed back, pointing a finger towards Echo. “You and Echo keep working on that code. I’ll take care of her.”

Hunter cutting off Tech’s access to you, knowingly or not, rippled an ugly feeling in Tech.

Tech looked at you, hoping you’d intervene, but instead, you flippantly waved your hand, “We’ll be back before you know it.” You added with a wink, “Don’t worry, your ship will be fine.”

That’s not my issue. Tech grumbled inwardly. Knowing he had no real ground to stand on Tech sat back down with a shrug, conceding a curt, “Fine.”

It was not fine. The entire time you were gone Tech weighed the likelihood of Hunter seizing the opportunity at hand. He imagined what he’d do if he’d been the one with the freedom of autopilot and privacy of space with you. He wasn’t one for lingering in fantasies, especially with a task at hand.

But he found himself preferring the imagined scenarios of what might transpire between you and him over the intrusive thoughts of what could be happening with Hunter. All of the places he’d pressed you against that Hunter could be discovering.

Meanwhile on the Marauder, Hunter was basking in your presence and the comfortable silence you brought. Of course you chatted, but the spaces between were filled with an easy peace Hunter rarely experienced. You didn’t want or demand anything from him and he was able to just think about what he wanted.

And stars did he want you. Hunter wanted you often and in every way. His mild interest in you escalated to full blown fantasizing after seeing you with Tech. He could barely think when you were near him with the scent of your orgasm coming to the forefront of his memory.

He imagined what you’d feel like squirming over his lap as you had for Tech. Did you taste as good as you smelled? He conjured the sound of his name on your tongue in his moments alone, distorting it into what it might sound like as you came for him and on him.

Reality stood in the way of that though. He wouldn’t do that to Tech. So, the most he could selfishly manage was an afternoon alone with you.

Tech’s distraction was at a dizzying high by the time he and Echo finally deciphered the code. Several hours after that, when you and Hunter had still not returned, Echo excused himself to find replacement parts for himself.

Tech’s foot tapped out a nervous rhythm until a ping from his datapad caught his attention—a signal from the Marauder’s proximity sensor. You were coming back.

He couldn’t help himself from shoving out of the booth at record speed. He took the back alleys to the Marauder’s port, ducking around corners the closer he got until his ship was in sight.

The ship let off air as the door hissed open and its stairs extended. You came out shortly after, laughing over your shoulder to Hunter, still wearing his helmet and trailing behind you. The two of you shortly chatted on the ground before you laughed again and left with a wave.

Even as you left, Hunter stood in place, watching you for far longer than Tech liked. Tech caught the way Hunter’s fists gripped a few times and his helmet tilted back. His brother took a large breath, but ultimately turned to leave.

Backing off from the scene, Tech took an educated guess on your egress and left before Hunter caught on to his spectator.

Tech made a beeline to intercept you, cutting through a maintenance room to between you and the main road. As he pulled you aside to face him, he anticipated your scream and quickly covered your mouth.

Your surprise morphed into something happier once you recognized the goggles in front of you. Pulling Tech’s hand down you giggled quietly, “Way to be a creep. What are you doing out here?”

Tech brushed right past your question, asking, “Are you headed somewhere?”

You watched him for a second, a suspicious smile creeping over you. “Not particularly.”

“In that case - follow me,” Tech said as he led you back down the alley. “I need you.”

“For what?” You called after him, tugging on his shoulder to catch up. Tech gave you a sidelong glance but remained tight-lipped.

The two of you were in silence all the way until you made it onto the Marauder. Once inside, you walked past Tech hands on hips, in the direction of the gunner’s mount. “Alright, what’s got you all-”

“I would’ve appreciated the time with you.” Tech interrupted, his voice unexpectedly close. You spun around to find him just an arm's length away.

Tech didn’t seem like the clingy type, not to mention - “You seemed busy with Echo.”

“That’s because I was.” Tech chirped matter-of-factly.

Your confused expression made Tech pause, realizing he needed to explain further. He had been busy, indeed, but the thought that he could have spent that time with you—and had been distracted by thoughts of you instead—made him reconsider his priorities.

“The code… could have waited.” His eyes glanced at the floor between, thinking for another moment. “I would’ve preferred spending the time with you.”

Tech’s unexpected softness made you stutter. You reached up to cup his cheek, saying in a light tone, “From here on out, you’re the only one for me. Besides,” You offered him that small smile he relished so much and playfully patted his cheek. “I’ll make it up to you.”

A smile ticked the corner of Tech’s mouth, accompanied by a soft hum. It wasn’t long until familiar thought crept back up.

Tech pressed a kiss into your palm. He turned away slightly, then fixed a serious gaze on you. “How was your time with Hunter?”

The shift in Tech’s tone sent a chill down your spine. Despite nothing having happened between you and the leader, Hunter had somehow become a tender subject with Tech. Tech’s hand slid over yours as he faced you once more, his expression unreadable.

You weren’t sure what answer he hoped for. Hoping for the best, you answered, “Perfectly ordinary.” You couldn’t help adding on a teasing whisper, “You wouldn’t be jealous would you, Tech?”

Tech remained silent, a flicker of something indecipherable crossing his eyes. He gently pulled your hand from his cheek and took a step toward you, causing you to instinctively step back. He advanced again, and you retreated, until you both stood between the bunks.

He leveraged his hold on you to guide you into turning with him, a pseudo dance that put your back to the cockpit of the ship. His eyes drifted beyond you again as he took on a pondering tone, “Remind me - to be jealous is to worry that someone might take something of mine.” Locking eyes with you again he finished with a lifted brow, “That is correct, isn’t it?”

You nodded, momentarily feeling like you had gained the upper hand. That sensation quickly faded as Tech’s expression shifted into a confident, knowing smile.

“In that case, no, I am not jealous,” he stated dryly, moving away to crouch down. As he peered up at you, his hand vanished under the bunk. “However, that does beg the question,” he continued, his eyes fixed on you while his hand rummaged through a few boxes, “What of mine would I be worrying someone might take?” He watched you process his question, expecting the lovely color you’d be turning

A blush flared up your neck to the tips of your ears. Was he asking for clarity or to put you on the spot? You and Tech had never outlined exactly what you were doing together.

Your fingers found their way to each other in a nervous fidgets. Through nervous laughs you only managed to stammer out, “Well, I… I thought it…”

Tech’s search hit its mark and he was on his feet again, watching and waiting for a legitimate answer. There was something about being pinned under the weight of Tech’s attention that flooded your core with heat every time.

“Me.” You finally squeaked out. “I thought you were worried about me.”

Your response drew a quick inhale from Tech as his eyes widened slightly, a little light sparking through them. “You’re saying… you’re mine?”

His bold streak inspired one of your own. “I am.” You responded with more confidence than you expected.

“I was hoping that would be your response.” Tech dropped his gaze as he slipped something into your hand. “Put this on.”

You brought the object up for inspection, a familiar piece of fabric you recognized as one of Hunter’s bandanas. Looking between the bandana and Tech, you slowly asked,“Put it on?”

“Yes, over your eyes.” Tech confirmed, pointing to the red bandana.

You gave one last, suspicious glance at Tech before obeying. As you tied the bandana over your eyes, cutting off your vision and leaving you with only the rustling of Tech’s clothes to let you know he was still nearby.

“Now,” Tech began, his voice closer than you before. “Get on the bunk.”

His hand helped you through his instruction, leading you to the bottom bunk. Hunter’s bunk. The makeshift blindfold made you miss the second pointed look Tech cast over your shoulder.

From the pilot’s seat, slumped down and regretting every step he’d made that day, Hunter hid as best he could. He’d started heading back to Cid’s after dropping you off only to doubleback to the Marauder, unable to shake his thoughts of you.

Hunter just needed enough time to sit in your lingering scent and please himself the way he ached for you to. He was lost in the thought of you perched in his lap, moaning his name and moving over him in time with his hand, when the sound of footsteps snapped him back to reality.

Frozen in place, his cock still throbbed in his fist when your voice sifted through the Marauder, sending a twitch up his length. Tech’s voice followed shortly after, forcing Hunter to bite back a frustrated groan. You’ve got to be kriffing kidding me, he cursed to himself. Hunter kept himself as motionless as possible while trying to tuck himself away.

Hearing Tech telling you to get on a bunk kicked something in Hunter’s stomach and kept him from fully concealing himself.

Tech didn’t know that Hunter would be onboard. After all, he’d watched the both of you walk away from his ship. His initial urge was to move you somewhere without an audience. Though, standing over you, blindfolded and sitting at the edge of his brother’s bunk, he decided Hunter’s presence was indeed a favorable situation.

At the very least, Tech would make good use of it.

Refraining from checking the pilot’s seat, Tech dropped to balance on the balls of his feet. You were waiting so patiently, shoulders high and lip tucked between your teeth.

“Sarad.” You jolted slightly when Tech broke the silence with his name for you, humming suggestively at his nickname for you. Your thighs squeezed together when you answered with his own name. Your anticipation was palpable.

Tech shifted forward, bridging the gap by sliding his hand up your thigh. His thumb barely grazed the apex of your thighs and you squirmed in place. Not a single one of your reactions was wasted on Tech. Every time he touched you, you gave him a new expression, a new noise. He wanted all of it.

The way you moved was affecting him more than usual, he gripped your thigh to keep from shoving you onto your back. Gripping your other thigh, Tech spread your legs to move between them.

Blindly, your hands found him, sliding up to his shoulders. Your thumbs worked into him, begging for more of his touch. It worked, Tech felt blood rush through him and his thumbs matched your rhythm.

“Typically, our approach to intimacy is measured.” Tech paused to maintain his calm. His pants were well beyond tight and the primal compulsion to strip you bare was starting to cloud his judgment. He swallowed, nerves weighing him down more than usual.

All of this was more than usual. He wanted far more than usual.

“This time I-”

“You don’t have to ask.” You cut him short.

Tech blinked at you, “You do not know what I’m asking.”

Breathing a laugh, you thumbed the bandana out of one eye. The look you gave him was heavy and drew Tech further between your legs.

“You want me, right now.” You murmured, pressing your legs into him. “So take me, Tech. Right now.”

Tech’s response wasn’t immediate, he was still trying to see reason. Your pulling the bandana back into place threw that out the door.

He moved on you, gliding his hands over your hips and hooking his fingers into your pants. With your help, your pants and undergarments were tossed aside in seconds. He’d already unclasped his pants and positioned himself between your legs by the time you fell onto your back.

Tech took one of his gloves between his teeth to yank it off at the same time you slid a hand between you. He didn’t have time to even tug on the glove when he felt his head smooth over your entrance. He’d thought he’d need saliva to begin, but your arousal proved him wrong.

He felt you drip down the length of him and that was it. Tech drove his hips into you, catching your hand to stop you from stifling your moan. He hissed as he pulled back, letting you feel every inch of him and indulging in the velvet of your insides.

“Please, don’t hold back.” Tech thrust into you again, filling you completely. “I need to hear you.”

Your arms fell back beside your head and a lazy smile lilting across you as you gave in to him. Afterwards, each of his thrusts coaxed a moan from you and in turn, he echoed you with noises of his own.

The two had been down this route before, but something was different before. His movements were harder, faster, and more desperate. His force alone was spreading warmth through you.

Tech wedged his hand under your shirt, shoving his gloved hands over your breasts. His usual gentle touch was nowhere to be seen when he pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You whined in a way he hadn’t heard before.

And apparently in a way Hunter hadn’t either.

Just your sounds alone put a rhythm back into Hunter’s grasp. Even without turning, Hunter could envision every thrust Tech made by the sounds of your bodies moving together and the sounds you made. The very sounds he imagined when alone.

They were more beautiful than he’d imagined.

The whine you made pushed him so close to his edge Hunter had to let go of himself to stop from cumming. A whine so enticing, Hunter’s feet moved without his say. His chair swiveled just enough to let Hunter catch a glimpse of the bunks.

Tech was over you, half crouched and moving his hips against you in short, hard thrusts. Hunter could just make out the cause of your whine, Tech’s working beneath your shirt, but your face was out of view. Out of view and splayed out over his bunk.

Tech’s movements slowed slightly, his head twitching as if to look towards the cockpit. Hunter almost ducked back, but Tech kept his sights on forward and, from the sounds you made, pinched your nipple harder.

Moving a hand under your back, Tech kept his fingers tight on you and pulled you upright. The sudden pressure and change in position made you reach for Tech in need for something to ground you in reality. He caught you as your arms looped around his neck and your face fell beside his, chin resting on his shoulder.

Tech stilled for only a moment to allow you to adjust to him fully seated within you. You didn’t allow that though. You gyrated your hips against him, needy and anxious for him to continue.

“Don’t stop. Please.” You pleaded.

To your displeasure, Tech removed his hand from your shirt and his cock from within you. You were whimpering for him when he ordered you, each word carefully enunciated, “Then I suggest you get on your knees.”

You didn’t question the order, eagerly following directions with his help. Tech put you on your hands and knees on the floor in front of him and facing the cockpit.

Your new position allowed Hunter to finally see your face and the bandana covering your eyes. The sight of his bandana on you created an almost painful ache that pushed a swell of pre-cum out of Hunter as he gripped himself again. From his base to the tip, he gave himself tight, slow strokes as he took in every inch of you.

For all that he could see in the moment, you appeared fully clothed again. Then Tech lifted your hips to meet his and Hunter caught a glimpse of the bare skin of your ass.

It made it so easy to imagine that it was him behind you.

Hunter was so consumed by this vision of you that it took him a second to realize something else - Tech was staring him down.

And for a moment, your pants were the only sounds in the Marauder.

Maintaining eye contact with Hunter, Tech leaned over you with one hand steadying your hip and another moving under your chin. Tech angled your head back as he brought his mouth to your ear and slid inside you once more.

Your mouth fell open, groaning as Tech stretched you again. He pushed deep inside you, pressing against your womb in a way he’d not yet explored.

He didn’t move, only allowing you to feel his cock spasming against your walls.

“Can you do something for me?” Tech pushed harder against you, testing how much of him you could withstand.

Your response was instantaneous, “Anything for you.”

Tech turned his face only enough so that his lips brushed your ear. “Imagine there was someone watching us,” Tech whispered just for you, gauging your reaction.

Had it not been for the way you constricted around him, your silence would have made Tech backpedal.

“Watching us?” Your voice fluttered as you clenched around him. Tech may have dropped his voice low enough to miss Hunter, but you had not and Tech caught the jolt of Hunter’s seat. It was exactly what Tech was aiming for.

“Precisely.” Tech purred, pivoting all his attention back on you. “Someone observing as you come undone for me.” He let go of your face and pressed his forehead into your shoulder and he slid fully out of you to sheath himself again. “Someone who thinks they might have you.”

Neither of the brothers realized the bandana across your eyes sat in a way that gave you a sliver of sight. It was only a glimpse, but you could make out the cockpit, the slightly turned pilot’s seat, and the boots in front of it. There was a shadow of a face peeking around the chair and you knew exactly who was watching.

You braced yourself on your forearms, keeping your face visible for Hunter as you leaned away from Tech. He caught your hips and yanked you back onto his cock.

“So show them who I belong to.” You shuddered as Tech ground into you.

“Oh I can do that.”

Tech wrapped his arms around around your waist, holding you in place as he fucked you into the floor. Your eyes stayed on Hunter, watching as the chair shifted slightly. He was moving in the chair and you may not have been able to see it but he was touching himself.

This was the closest Tech would let him get to you. Being on display for Hunter, vulnerable, naked, and pleading for Tech thrilled you in a way you hadn’t expected.

You began begging for more, letting your voice ring loud and clear. Moaning for Tech and the pressure building inside you. Shifting as best you could, you wormed a hand beneath you to circle your clit.

Tech knew what you were doing and knew what was coming. He moved his legs to either side of you, budging you to stand on your knees, your back flush against him.

Your view of Hunter vanished along with your resolve. You kept one hand on the bud between your legs and slipped the other one up over your shoulder to hang on Tech’s neck. He dipped his face close to you again, his eyes checking Hunter one final time.

“What was it you said earlier?” Tech panted out. “About being mine?”

Those three words almost shoved you both over the edge.

“I’m yours, Tech.” You gasped as Tech thrust up into you, angling into the soft spot that brought you to your release every time.

“Again.” He grunted on a hard thrust that finished you.

Your entire body shuddered and you cried out, “I’m yours - only yours, Tech!”

Tech had to focus on not dropping you as your words shoved him into his own orgasm. He didn’t have time to pull out, instead burying himself as far as he could and spilling out inside you.

Hunter had watched the entire scene, keeping pace with your rhythm and chasing the sounds of your moans. Multiple times he had to pace himself, hungry to finish as you did, anxious to stay quiet enough to witness it. It was the quaking of your legs and the scent of your orgasm that wrecked him.

Hunter put a hand over his head as he came, begrudgingly catching his seed before it hit the floor and gave him away.

The two of you quaked together until you collapsed back into Tech, sending you both off balance to the floor. It hadn’t been a long session, but the two of you were spent, sweaty, and panting together.

You fidgeted just enough for Tech to slide out of you and push up onto an elbow to look over you. At the angle you sat and the blindfold still in place, there was nothing stopping a stealthy exit for Hunter.

Without glancing at his brother, Tech lowered himself over you, hoping he could drown out any footsteps to come. It wasn’t necessarily an exit, or an entire event, he wanted to address. Now or ever.

Tech tended to you, speaking to you in a low voice as Hunter took the hint, tucked himself away and went for the exit. Had it not been that you were already aware of his presence, it would have been a successful endeavor.

You said nothing about it, letting the brothers keep whatever competition that was happening to themselves. You’d been truthful, you wanted nothing and no one but Tech. If he occasionally needed that validated and this was his way of getting it - you certainly weren’t complaining.

taglist: @baddest-batchers @bruh-myguy-what

#simp huter is my favorite hunter #dom tech wrecks me #i am but a feral woman #feral for clones #specifically the goggled one #the bad batch #tbb #tech #tech x reader #tbb tech x reader #tbb hunter x reader #hunter x reader #tech x you #hunter x you #star wars #fanfiction #sw #x reader

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leapingbadger · 26 days ago

Text

Tattoo

Read on AO3

***

“Does it hurt” Omega asked, hovering over her brother.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Hunter replied, eyes closed. The buzzing made his brain feel like it was vibrating but there was no pain to speak of. He’d had much worse in battle.

“Like you’d say if it did,” Crosshair said witheringly. “You didn’t even complain when you got that shrapnel in the neck, remember?” He was bent over Hunter’s chest, scraping at the skin with the tattoo gun and aggressively wiping away the blood and excess ink.

Omega gasped, “you got shrapnel in your neck?” she asked Hunter, alarmed.

“Omega doesn’t know that story?” Crosshair said, a toothpick hanging out of the corner of his mouth absentmindedly.

“We didn’t tell her all of them yet. We were kind of preoccupied,”

“But yeah,” he said, turning to Omega. “I had to leave it in until we could get back to base.” He said, moving his hair with his left hand so she could see the slit-like scar on the back of his neck. Omega shook her head at him, sat back down, cross legged on the floor, elbows on her knees, chin in her hand.

“I remember that. Made me feel sick,” Wrecker said. He was next to Omega, scratching Batcher behind the ear. Her collar jingled and her tongue dangled out of the side of her mouth.

Hunter chuckled. The sun was streaming through the window of the small common room.

“What about Skako Minor?” Crosshair asked.

“Are you kidding,” Wrecker said, “that was her bedtime story for a while. Tech and Echo loved telling her that one,” Omega nodded in agreement.

Hunter was stretched out on the couch, arms behind his head. It had been a while since he’d gotten a new tattoo.

He had paid a professional to get his face tattoo and the skeletal outline on the left side of his body, but the others had been done by his brothers. The skull with a 99 in aurebesh on his right bicep was done by Crosshair on a particularly stormy day on Kamino when the ocean looked like it might come through the window of their room.

Tech had inked the Mando’a for brother, ‘Vod’, while scrolling his datapad. Hunter had watched nervously as he waived the gun around wildly while info dumping to the rest of them.

Wrecker hated needles and had a hard enough time being in the room while the tattoo was being done but he had inked a small aurebesh number four just so Hunter could complete the set.

The most recent one he got, before now, was a small Omega symbol on his wrist. He’d gotten it in a dingy underground parlor during a particularly tricky mission while looking for intel on the Pikes. He told Wrecker it was the only way to get the information they needed but he also needed a reminder of what he was fighting for. It was by far his favorite, although he’d never told anyone else that.

The new one, the one Crosshair was painstakingly scratching into his skin on the right side of his chest, was a familiar skull with lightning bolt behind it. Tech had designed it in their cadet days. He drew it everywhere; it was repeated on the back wall of his bunk on Kamino. He had scratched it into the side of his data pad and carefully painted it onto his customized helmet for their first mission.

Hunter was sure Tech would call him sentimental, or at least think it. But it was a way for him to keep his fallen brother close. It would be a reminder every time he got dressed in the morning. A reminder of what this life on Pabu had cost.

“Did you tell her about windsurfing on the Keeradaks on Skako?” Crosshair asked Hunter, throwing an amused look at Omega.

Hunter laughed, “I’d forgotten about that,” he said.

“Tech didn’t, he was cursing the entire trip to retrieve you,”

“Really?” Hunter said, surprised.

Wrecker laughed, “yeah, said you’d dropped your only braincell during that trip.

They all laughed, that kind of laughter that filled a room. It was boisterous, childish laughter, the kind that only siblings could share. Except, there was one missing. The realization seemed to hit them all at once and the joy was sucked out of the air.

Crosshair finished up the last section of the lightning bolt. He pulled back, cocking his head to the side to take in his work. Hunter looked down. The lines weren’t as straight as they could have been. Crosshair was still getting used to his prosthetic hand, but his painting had come such a long way that Hunter thought his brother was ready to get back to his first love. He had loved tattooing so much he’d even help the Regs out on occasion when they were on Kamino. It had taken some convincing but after a few weeks of Hunter’s unwavering confidence in his abilities, it finally seemed to take hold.

As he checked his new ink out in the mirror, Hunter noticed a slight tremor in Crosshair’s prosthetic hand. He narrowed his eyes in concern but said nothing.

“Omega said you went to Kashyyyk,” he said quietly.

Hunter traded looks with Wrecker who was now bench pressing Gonky in the corner. Omega looked at Hunter in concern.

“Ah, yeah. We did. Found a young Wookie. A jedi, actually…we…ah…took him home.”

“I always liked Kashyyyk,” Crosshair said, looking at anywhere but directly at Hunter. “It was our first mission.”

“Yeah,” Hunter said, sitting on the couch closer to his brother and resting his hand on his shoulder. “We’ll go back again, someday.” He added reassuringly. He had expected Crosshair to shrug off his hand like he often did. He wasn’t one for sentimentality, at least, he didn’t used to be. But they sat there for a few moments in silence.

“I missed a lot.” Crosshair said, his voice low and gravely.

Hunter, Wrecker and Omega traded glances again. The warmth and joy that had been on his face earlier had disappeared, replaced with a grimace. The ever-present toothpick in his mouth left an indent in his lip as he pressed his mouth into a thin line.

“But you’re here now,” Omega said reassuringly getting up and giving him a hug.

Crosshair raised his eyes and gave her a halfhearted smile.

“Are you ready for yours?” Hunter asked Crosshair, trying to change the subject.

“That depends, have you gotten any better since the last one?”

Hunter laughed, “probably not. But unless you want Wrecker to have a go, I’m your best bet.”

“I’ll do it,” Omega said hopefully.

“No,” Hunter and Crosshair replied in unison. Omega sighed and rolled her eyes.

Crosshair sighed dramatically and pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, “fine.” He sat down on the floor, right forearm stretched out over the coffee table.

Hunter was taken aback. Crosshair wanted the tattoo near the stump where his right hand should be. He gave a questioning look to Wrecker who just shrugged.

“Are you sure that’s where you want it?” He asked in a would-be casual tone.

Crosshairs eyes narrowed, “Yes. I have to look at it every day anyway. Might as well put something there I wanna see.”

The answer satisfied Hunter. He shrugged and set about cleaning and setting up the new equipment. It had been a long time since he had done this.

They spent the afternoon huddled in the common room, regaling Omega with stories of old missions, laughing, teasing each other and sometimes sitting in silence except for the buzzing of the tattoo gun. The vibration in his hand tickled his senses and Hunter had to pause often to flex his fingers. Hunter was satisfied with how the skull and lightning bold looked, given his lack of experience, but Crosshair’s was definitely better.

The sun was starting to set outside. The amber glow of Pabu’s evening light display would spring to life any minute.

“What about it, Wrecker?” Hunter asked.

“Oh, ah…yeah, okay,”

“Really?” Hunter asked, surprised, “you really don’t have to.”

Wrecker had been scared of needles since he was a cadet. No real surprise given the amount of testing he and his brothers had to endure.

“No, I want to. I mean, I don’t, but Tech would do the same for me,”

He and Crosshair shared a look but set about making it happen. Wrecker sat on the couch as Crosshair worked on a small version of Tech’s design on his bicep. Hunter and Omega tried to keep Wrecker distracted. He would occasionally wince, but Omega would hold his hand or offer him a snack and his face would soften.

By the time Wrecker’s was done it was completely dark outside. They set about cleaning up, getting things tidied up and dinner on the go. Wrecker took lead on the latter.

“Hunter?” Omega asked quietly, “can I get that tattoo?”

Hunter had been afraid of this. Omega wanted nothing but to copy her brothers, it was no surprise she wanted a tattoo like them as well.

“Ah, you know kid…” he looked at her big brown eyes, hair flopping over her forehead and cascading down her back. “I think you’re a little young…”

“I’m older than all of you,” she said, hand on her hips, a confident grin on her lips.

Hunter looked over at Crosshair for support. He just shrugged. Hunter knew how much Tech meant to her and how affected she was by his death. He paused for a moment and ran his hands through his hair.

“You know what kid, you’re right. Sure. What were you thinking?”

Omega jumped up and down with glee and Hunter’s heart felt like it was going to burst. He really would do anything for this girl.

The sun had completely set by the time it was done. The skin on her wrist was red except for the heavy black ink. A skull with a lightning bolt behind it. Just like her brothers.

#the bad batch #star wars #tbb hunter #tbb #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #sw tbb #tbb tech #clone force 99 #tbb fanfiction #tbb fanfic #bad batch hunter #hunter tbb #the bad batch hunter #hunter bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction

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dontyoufeelitangel · 3 months ago

Text

What the official Star Wars TikTok just posted:

then the audio😭

WHO DO THEY THINK THEY ARE RAAHHHH🤬🤬🤬

They know what they’re doing n it’s pissing me tf off😤😤

(I’m joking - felt the need to clarify that lol)

Anyways

Happy tech Tuesday but fuck you Disney ❤️

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letsquestjess · 1 year ago

Text

The Comfort of Your Arms

Summary: When Tech wakes from a nightmare, Phee is there with open arms to comfort him.

Word count: 948

Warnings: Depictions of injury and interrogation (Tech is not having a good time of it). Hemlock being... well, Hemlock.

A/N: Since this has some depictions of interrogation right from the start, I'm putting it all under a read more.

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He couldn’t see anything. Darkness blanketed him like a shroud. Everywhere he looked held the same inky isolation, but he sensed eyes watching him, analysing his fear. He attempted to wrench his arm free from his restraints, but an abrupt jolt halted his endeavour. He pulled again and urged his muscles to work harder.

“Do not trouble yourself, Tech,” a slow, menacing voice told him. “You won’t be getting out of your cuffs. We’ve made sure of that.”

Clenching his teeth, he repeated the motion, straining his arms then his legs until, with a strangled cry, he thrashed against the chilly metal beneath him. A rapid stab to the side of his neck put an end to his frantic movements.

“I told you what would happen if you did not cooperate,” Doctor Hemlock said as he stepped from the shadows, a holo-transmitter in his upturned palm. “And yet you went against what I asked of you. Chose to be stubborn. You gave me no choice.” The silver disc flickered and images glimmered in the vivid light. Stormtroopers marched. Shots were fired. Siblings fell. Life blinked out, one after the other. Hunter. Wrecker. Crosshair and Echo. Little Omega. Phee.

Tech squeezed his eyes shut and recoiled. “You did nothing to them,” he growled. “I do not believe you.” He was brutally wrenched back to reality when Hemlock snatched hold of his chin and held his face towards the footage.

“Whether you believe it or not is of no concern to me, because I know you sense their loss. All of this is real.” The doctor stooped low, studying the scars on his exposed arms and poking at the lacerations and bruises on his collar. “You failed them. You did this.”

Unsteady breaths shivered within Tech’s chest as he kept Hemlock’s icy fingers and cruel prods from reaching the part of his mind that remained intact.

“They are dead because of you. If you’d have cooperated, they would be safe.” Hemlock tutted and lifted himself up, hands clasped behind his waist. “I consider it a great shame you choose to go against the Empire. Your intellect would have been appreciated here.”

The doctor’s clicking footsteps trailed into the darkness and Tech’s ribcage heaved. Droplets trickled and stung the open cuts on his cheeks. His body felt hollow. They were gone. And there was nothing in the galaxy that would bring them back.

He balled his hands into fists and grappled to move his limbs, but the solution circulating his system him held him aggravatingly still. Frenzy and fury igniting in his veins, he opened his mouth and screamed.

Tech’s eyes shot open. The crisp air sweeping through the window washed over his sweat-soaked face and cooled his clammy skin, soothing him with the smell of seaweed and sapphire blossom. For a moment, he couldn’t move, half in his dream and half stirring from the terror. He wriggled once he could shift and shuffled onto his side.

Phee propped herself up on her elbows and squinted at the faint morning glow. “Tech? Are you okay?” she asked within a yawn. “You cold? I can shut the window.”

His hold on the bedsheets loosened. Reminding himself of where he was, his eyes stopped frantically darting around the bedroom and settled on the woman beside him, his lashes damp with tears.

“Another nightmare?” Phee said, coaxing him into her embrace. He nodded against her shoulder. “You’re awake. It’s okay.”

Tech clung to her as though she contained all his oxygen, breathing in the remnants of her perfume and relaxing into her soft touches. “You’re here?” he whispered.

“I’m here,” she promised.

“You were all gone. My brothers. Omega. You. He… he took all of you.”

“Hush now, I’ve got you.” Little by little, the trembles subsided and steady sniffles sounded from the curled bundle in her arms. She handed him some tissues and lightly dabbed at the wet streaks sliding onto his chin. Golden brown eyes searched hers and she pressed a kiss to his forehead, carefully helping him to sit up. “Wait here. I won’t be long.”

Resting against the headboard as Phee padded out of the room, Tech filled his lungs and exhaled a shaky breath. He drew in another, and another, until the pounding of his heart calmed and the sweat on his palms began to dry. He dragged his fingertips along his neck, searching for the bump of an injection site, but all he found was unshaved stubble.

Phee returned with tip-toed steps and passed over a glass of water, climbing back into bed. “Your brothers are fast asleep. Omega is curled up with Wrecker, though how she can sleep next to him when he’s snoring like a speeder engine is beyond me.” She kept an eye on Tech as he sipped on the cold drink, and the tension in his shoulders slowly melted. “I counted them. Twice. They’re all there, sleeping soundly.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, setting the almost empty glass on the cabinet and nestling into her side. A smile of relief tugged at his lips when she encompassed him in her comforting arms again. “This is an illogical reaction and I apologise for waking you.”

“Don’t apologise,” Phee said softly. “Tech, you have been through a harrowing ordeal, and your nightmares, your fears, are perfectly natural responses to that. I only wish I had the power to wipe it all away.” She wove her fingers into his hair and caressed the pressure from his temples. “But I will be here for all the bad nights and the good, and the nights in between. That awful place is behind you. You’re with your family now. You’re home.”

#tbb #the bad batch #tbb fic #tbb fanfiction #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch fanfic #the bad batch fanfiction #sw tbb #sw the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb phee #sw tbb fanfic #sw tbb fanfiction #sw the bad batch fanfiction #tech x phee #techphee #phee x tech #tw: depictions of interrogation #tw: depictions of injury

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clone-wars-winter-challenge · 1 month ago

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Last time for a would you rather before the prompts begin!

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blackseafoam · 4 months ago

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Marked Part II

Part 1

A Bad Batch x Red Dead Redemption crossover AU (with illustrations :)

Word count: 1695

CW: Stuff you'd normally find in a western story. Swearing, smoking, gun touting, arrow wounds, horse jokes.

Two uneventful days went by for the Bad Batch Gang. They began to think the weird interaction in Valentine really was just that, nothing more.

“Why can’t I try a rifle?” Meggy kicked at a rock in her path.

“Because a rifle doesn’t work on small game.” Echo smirked, adjusting the shotgun in his elbow.. “There won’t be anything left of the critter. Plus, a bow is a great weapon. I’d have one too if I could.”

The youngest and oldest siblings picked their way quietly through the forest just north of camp. They’d managed to grab one squirrel all morning, but the forest was unusually quiet today. “Let’s head back, hopefully Crosshair had better luck.”

“No luck for you today, I’m afraid.” A strangers voice startled the pair as a towering figure stepped out from behind a tree. The blue-jacketed man from town. His revolver raised toward Echo.

Meggy froze, Echo raised his shotgun. “Stay away.”

“Don’t be a fool, we know that’s birdshot.” A scar-faced man appeared. Followed by three other armed men. “Just drop it.”

Echo let out a frustrated groan placed his shotgun on the dirt.

“Are you okay, kid?” one of the three goons asked, a young black man with a scarf.

“She’s exactly where she belongs.” Echo spat.

“Hey I wasn’t asking you!”

Meggy stood silently, still frozen.

“See? She’s terrified!” Another spoke up with a thick irish accent. “We outta blow your other arm off, kidnapper.”

“This is a misunderstanding, we saved-”

“Quiet!” The man in blue growled. “Walk back to camp, we’re gonna meet your friends. Sean, take the kid to the horses and wait for the signal.”

Arthur was somewhat relieved to see only two figures as he pushed his hostage into the kidnapper’s camp, but that only meant the remaining two were unaccounted for still. Theone with the red scarf was chopping firewood while the glasses-wearing one was grooming a horse on the farther end of camp.

“Hands up, drop the ax.” Arthur called from the edge of the clearing, gun still trained on the one-armed man’s back, using him as a shield. Lenny, John, and Javier fanned out on either side, weapons drawn.

“Weapons on the ground, or Lefty gets it. This is your only warning.” He put a hand on Echo’s shoulder and pulled him backward.

“Your knife too.” Lenny barked at Hunter.

With a nod from their leader the three gang members gathered the two new hostages.

Sean and Meggy watched the others disappear into the trees.

“Alright kid, let’s go. You’re safe now.” Sean beckoned the girl toward the horses where they were to wait for the signal. She did not follow. When the irishman turned around, her bow was trained on him.

“No, no. I’m here to save you kid. Meghan, right? We’re bringing you home!” He stammered.

“I am home.” She curled her lip, and let the arrow fly.

It had been ten whole minutes since Arthur had whistled for Sean to bring down the horses. “Where is that bastard?” Arthur said under his breath.

They had their hostages kneeling on the forest floor as Javier bound their hands. The trio eyed their captors with an intense vitriol but said nothing. It was abundantly obvious these were no run of the mill outlaws, these were battle-trained men. Arthur was not going to let his guard down.

Just then the sound of hoof steps came from behind. Sean led them from his steed, an arrow was embedded firmly in his thigh.

“Where’s the girl?!” Javier opened his arms in confusion.

“She got away!” Sean spat, grimacing and pressing on his thigh where the arrow shaft bounced with every stride of his mount.

“You gotta be kidding me, Sean. You had ONE job!” Arthur groaned.

“Goddamnit.” John cursed.

“She SHOT me!” Sean motioned to the arrow, as if no one had noticed it.

Arthur glanced at the hostages. Their intense, angry stares held a new smugness at the news that the girl had escaped. He drew a pained sigh. “Javier, Lenny, take these fellas to the sheriff in Valentine. Sean, John, ride with me we’re gonna find that girl.” He holstered his revolver and mounted up.

Sean nodded stiffly.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked in a low voice as he neared the horses.

“Not to worry, English, takes a lot more than one arrow to take out a Maguire.” He choked out.

“Leave it in, nothing we can do about it till we get back to camp.”

Sean’s positive demeanor wilted then, realizing he’d have to ride with an impaled thigh for another couple hours at the very least.

Javier and John mounted, guns still drawn, and walked Hunter, Echo, and Tech down the trail toward Valentine. The rest rode in the opposite direction.

Meggy ran like she had never run in her life. Her boots catching on branches almost took her out several times, but she didn’t let it slow her. Crosshair and Wrecker were somewhere out here, she had to warn them about what was going on.

“Meggy!” A raspy voice hissed out of nowhere.

Meggy stopped in her tracks. Confusion written on her face.

“Up here.”

Meggy looked up, Crosshair was perched high up in a Douglas Fir.

“Crosshair!” The girl said as loudly as she dared. “They took Echo!”

“I know, I saw the whole thing. Climb up here, they’re coming back.”

Meggy had never climbed a tree before, but she had to be brave. She clambered one branch at a time until she was a few levels below her brother, then decided it was enough.

“Where’s Wrecker?” She breathed hard from the exertion.

“I don’t know.”

As if on cue their brother appeared through the tree trunks below, striding back toward camp with an armful of game traps he’d retrieved.

“Psssst Wrecker!” Meggy hissed.

“He can’t hear you.” Crosshair threw a pine cone down toward his half-deaf brother’s head with pinpoint accuracy.

“OW!” Wrecker turned and looked up. “Hey! What are you two doing in a tree?!”

Meggy and Cross motioned him to be quiet and beckoned him up.

The three siblings balanced on their branches, the one Wrecker was on creaking concerningly. Holding their breath, they watched the bounty hunters searching for them in the forest below. Crosshair held his rifle ready to retaliate at the slightest glance in their direction, Meggy and Wrecker could do nothing but wait.

After several, slow, agonizing minutes, the men moved on.

“Who’s that?” Wrecker whispered.

“I don’t know but they have Echo!” Meggy tried to hold in a sob.

“We’ll get him back.” Wrecker growled. “Come on.” He started back down the tree.

“Stop. There are too many of them. We need a plan.” Crosshair hissed.

“Let’s go back to camp.” Wrecker suggested. “We’ll get Hunter and Tech and then get Echo.”

An hour of searching yielded no results, the bounty had fled. Arthur knew when the trail had run cold, and this one was ice.

“Don’t know how much longer I’m gonna last, English.” Sean gasped in pain for the twelfth time. It was time to give up. Even if they did find the bounty, Sean would be no help bringing them in, and he wasn’t confident with the marksman and the bruiser being the ones unaccounted for.

“John, get Sean home. I’ll meet the others in town.”

The cell in the Sheriff’s office reeked of must and the unwashed fabric of the thin mattress on the floor. Hunter, Tech, and Echo sat on the ground as far away from it as possible.

On their way in, Hunter had noticed Meggy’s bounty poster… her reward was more money than they ever would’ve imagined. Why all this fuss over one kid? Why couldn’t they just be left alone?

“The Van der Linde Gang.” Tech thoughtfully mumbled to himself.

“The Van der Linde Gang?” Echo scoffed. “What’s that?”

“I read about them in the paper, I have a hunch that’s who we’re dealing with.” Tech said softly, eyeing the deputy at the desk across the room.

“How do you know that?” Hunter whispered.

“The one calling the shots, I believe his name is Arthur Morgan, has a vicious reputation. He is one of Dutch Van der Linde’s right hand men.”

“Yeah he’s the one we ran in to in town.” Hunter said in a worried hush.

“QUIET IN THERE!” The Deputy scolded.

They fell silent for a few minutes.

“How long have we been here?” Echo whispered

Tech, the only one who wore a watch, checked it. “Four hours.”

Echo sighed.

“I SAID QUIET! Final warning.” The Deputy hit the table with his fist.

Wrecker, Crosshair, and Meggy ducked through the underbrush as quickly and quietly as possible. Stopping every so often to listen for their pursuers. When they arrived at camp they waited and watched for at least an hour, making sure the bounty hunters were not around.

“Is it safe yet?” Meggy dared a whisper.

“We need a plan, first.” Wrecker scratched his chin.

Crosshair’s uncanny stillness finally broke. “I’ll tack up Havoc. Wrecker and Meggy get Murray* on the wagon. We’ll go to town and carefully scope it out to see if we can figure out where they took them.”

(*Murray is Marauder’s nickname)

Meggy and Wrecker nodded and the troop finally stood from their hiding place. Meggy looked up at Crosshair, his brow was knotted with deep concern. She gently tugged on his sleeve. “We’re gonna find them, Crosshair, don’t worry.” She smiled.

The marksman nodded back but barely looked at her.

Soon enough they were on the road. Wrecker drove the wagon while crosshair took up the rear on his mount, and Meggy was relinquished to riding in an empty crate to stay out of sight. She jostled inside, now that the adrenaline had worn off the reality of the situation was beginning to set in. A few stray tears slid down her face. The universe had just given her a family and now it was trying to take it away. Maybe it really would’ve been better for everyone if she just stayed at that stupid school.

Taglist: @dragonrider9905 @omegafett99 @griffedeloup

Author’s note:

Hello beautiful readers! So many of you have given me such good ideas for this AU. This is a kind of “I’m making it up as I go” story with several solid story beats I’m working toward. That being said I’d love to hear more detail ideas for this crossover if you have them! And I will try to incorporate them in.

For example: someone suggested that Gonky be their disabled dog and I love that so much, I want to figure out how to ret con it in. Stuff like that.

Anyway thank you for reading and for all the enthusiasm!’ I read every single tag, reblog, and reply (multiple times).

#my art #star wars #sw tbb #the bad batch #rdr2 #tbb x rdr2 au #clone force 99 #tbb fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #western au #I need to re do that portrait at the top #i feel like my art has improved a lot since i did that just a few months ago #tbb hunter #tbb echo #tbb omega #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb tech

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aynavaano · 6 months ago

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Sunsets on Pabu

Old Hunter x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 3k

Summary:

You spend a wonderful day at the beach with Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair. In the evening the two of them decide to join the rest of your family at Sheps for dinner while you and Hunter stay at the beach to watch the sunset together but Hunter decides to turn his attention to you instead.

Notes:

Tadaaa! It’s finally here. I let you vote between a soft and a rough version and the majority voted for soft and loving. So this is what you get first. Reader is married to Hunter, you live on Pabu together and he absolutely worships you, we have oral (f receiving) and unprotected sex. Kind of public sex but not really. It’s porn with very little plot, just a little fluff. Also Tech lives, because I will die on that hill. And don’t worry all Hunter girlies that like it rougher, you will get your fic next week. (Spoiler alert: Hunter bends you over the dining table)

As the day winds down and the sun begins its descent towards the horizon, casting a warm orange glow across the beach, you find yourself grateful for the simple pleasures the island has to offer. You're dressed in your new cute bikini, that you let Hunter pick, feeling the warm sand between your toes as you stroll along the shore with him, Wrecker, and Crosshair. You spent the whole day at the beach together, swimming, basking in the sun and eating more Meiloorons than you probably should. The sound of the waves crashing against the beach is soothing, and you can't help but smile as you soak in the beauty of the moment. Unfortunately Tech can’t be bothered most of the time and only joins you for beach days when Omega pushes all his buttons and pulls the sweetest face on him, but you got used to it and instead often spend the evenings together at his and Phees place.

You hear Batcher barking in the distance before you even see Omega and Lyana approaching, making their way down from the town to let you know Shep invited everyone for dinner on his terrace. But despite the tempting invitation, you decline, having already decided you want to watch the sunset with Hunter. Wrecker and Crosshair however head off with the girls to enjoy Shep's famous cooking, leaving the two of you alone on the beach.

You watch them walking up the steep alley, Batcher happily running ahead and barking, while gathering your things and making your way further down the beach, seeking out a secluded spot, away from the houses, where you can enjoy the sunset in peace. The sand is still warm beneath your feet as you walk along the shore, hand in hand with your husband.

Finally, you find a spot that feels just right, a cove with a small patch of sand nestled between a few bigger rocks. You spread out your blanket and settle down beside each other.

Nestled in Hunter's arms, you watch as the sun paints the sky in beautiful shades of pink, orange and gold. It's a familiar sight on Pabu, one you've witnessed countless times before, but it never fails to take your breath away and with Hunter by your side, it always feels even more special.

"You sure you didn't want to go to Sheps for dinner?" you ask, snuggling closer to him.

"More than sure," he replies, his voice soft and warm against your ear. "It's not often that we get an evening just for us."

You smile up at him giving him a sweet kiss, his arms tightening around you protectively.

"They'll be fine," he reassures you. "Wrecker's probably already stuffed to the brim, like always, and complaining that he can’t fit more, and Omega's teaching Lyana new gambling tricks. And I'm sure Phee's doing her best to get Crosshair to open up, most likely with the help of her secret stash of Alderaan wine, while Tech is trying to argue that thats not the solution."

You smile at the thought of your friends enjoying themselves. Evenings on Sheps terrace are always a lot of fun, everyone’s together with good food and good talks but in this moment, all you care about is the feeling of Hunter's arms around you and the beauty of the sunset before you, as you lean in to press a gentle kiss against his lips, grateful for the love and warmth he brings into your life.

He pulls you closer to his chest, planting soft kisses on your lips, one of his hands tracing the curves of your body, gently caressing every inch of your skin, leaving goosebumps wherever he touches you. You playfully shift around until you're straddling him, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. Your hand moves to his cheek and you let your thumb brush lovingly against his greying beard.

"You're going to miss the sunset if you keep looking at me love," you murmur softly, breaking the kiss momentarily.

"Well, then I guess it's good that the one thing I like looking at even more than sunsets is you," he replies with a smile, his eyes filled with adoration.

A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you lean in closer. "In that case …you know… I can make that view even better," you tease, your fingers tugging at the strings of your bikini top and with a swift motion, you unravel the top, casting it aside to expose your bare breasts.

He instantly wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, burying his face between your soft breasts with a contented sigh. His beard tickles slightly against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

He carefully begins to lick and gently nibble on your hardening nipples, getting a few soft moans from you in response. His hands roam over your breasts, cupping them with just the right amount of pressure as he looks up at you with admiration in his eyes.

"Sometimes I still wonder how I got so lucky to have you," he murmurs, his voice filled with love.

You chuckle softly and reach behind him, pulling on the back of his bandana to release his hair, which cascades over his shoulders in soft waves. You marvel at how long it has grown since you first started dating, admiring the subtle streaks of grey that have begun to appear over time.

With a gentle push, he guides you to lay on your back, positioning himself over you.

"If we're going to miss the sunset, we might as well make it worth it," he grins, his lips trailing kisses all over your body leaving a line of fire in their wake.

He takes his time, savoring every inch as he carefully removes your swim bottoms. Each touch is deliberate and full of love, each caress sending shivers of anticipation through your body, heat already pooling between your legs.

"Let me make take care of you my love," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, turning his attention to your core, already yearning for his touch

He kisses along your inner thighs, his breath warm against your skin as he moves closer to your center. When his tongue finally makes contact with your folds, a low moan escapes your lips and you arch into his touch. He quickly wraps his arms around your tights to keep you from moving and to hold you flush against his face.

"Oh, Hunter," you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continues to tease and lick. His movements are deliberate and unhurried, each stroke of his tongue sending waves of heat radiating through you.

"You feel so good cyare," he murmurs against your skin, his voice husky with desire. "I could do this all night."

He slowly increases the intensity of his licks and kisses and when he starts sucking your clit you are already a whimpering mess in his arms.

“You want my fingers?” he asks looking up at you.

Your only response is a desperate moan, the words lost in a haze of pleasure as he pushes you ever closer to the edge with his tongue but he doesn’t need to hear you, after all these years he knows exactly what you like.

He slowly slides first one then a second finger into you without any resistance, your pussy practically dripping for him and when he begins to thrust into you slowly you can feel the tension building in your core, the familiar coil of desire tightening with each stroke of his tongue and thrust of his fingers.

“Oh fuck…Hunter…feels…so good” you moan,

“Mmmhm…don’t hold back love” he groans before he descends down on your clit, mercilessly sucking it into his mouth until your body begins to writhe under his touch.

“M…m close” is all you can get out between your whimpers and mewls, his fingers pushing into you with an intensity that leaves you unable to have any coherent thoughts.

"Come for me, baby," he murmurs, his voice vibrating against your core as he curls his fingers up to find that extra sweet spot, the one that makes you see stars, driving you higher and higher until you're teetering on the brink.

With a final, desperate cry, you shatter beneath him, waves of ecstasy crashing over you as you ride out the storm of your release on his fingers, you pussy clenching hard around him. You’re a whining and panting mess, it’s crazy what he can do to you only with his mouth and his fingers.

When you slowly come down from your high he carefully slides out of you, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace and your body starts relaxing against him. Hunter's lips find yours in a searing kiss, his hands moving to cup your face as he gazes at you with a mixture of awe and adoration. His eyes are filled with love and tenderness, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin.

"You're so beautiful when you come on my fingers," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe as he gazes at you with adoration, peppering your face with soft kisses. “I’ll never get tired watching you like that, it’s divine.”

You smile up at him, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude pulling him close, cherishing the moment and the man who means everything to you.

You wrap your legs around him, feeling his hardened length pressing against your thigh, your hunger for him in not yet sated and you eagerly wiggle around reaching down to free his cock.

“Can’t get enough, hm?” he chuckles.

"Mhm, help me take these off," you whisper, tucking at the hem of his swim shorts.

He quickly cast his shorts aside and crawls back over you, leaning in to kiss you, propped up on his elbows. You love how his body changed over the years, it got slightly softer as he let go of the hardships and battles, but lost not a single bit of his strength.

“I want to feel you inside me” you whisper desire lacing your words when his beautiful rock hard cock is finally freed from its confinement.

You reach down to stroke him, his lips grazing your neck, whispering sweet words of adoration and when you feel the precum already leaking from his tip you shiver with delight.

"Would you ride me a bit?" he asks softly, his voice a tender whisper against your skin.

"Who am I to deny you that wish?" you respond with a loving glint in your eye.

He rolls onto his back, effortlessly pulling you on top of him, his hands holding onto your hips, helping you to straddle him.

"Come here," he whispers, his eyes ablaze with desire, pupils blown wide, as you position yourself, sliding up and down his length, spreading your wetness all over him, before lining him up at your entrance.

With the last rays of the setting sun casting a reddish pink glow on your skin, you slowly sink down on his cock, until he bottoms out, relishing the sensation of being filled by him once more.

You both moan, taking a moment to fully enjoy it. You’ve been together for years but the sensation of taking him in completely, feeling yourself stretch around him, is still as good as it was the first time.

"Oh Hunter, you feel so good," you moan, steadying yourself against his chest.

You slowly begin moving up and down his length, relishing the sensation of being so full, his thick cock stretching you in all the right ways. Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, igniting a desire within you that only he can still.

As you bounce up and down on his cock, your hair cascades in loose waves around your shoulders, still slightly damp from your last swim and your beautiful breasts bounce with every movement, drawing his gaze like a moth to a flame.

"I love you so much" he whispers, his voice filled with devotion, reveling in the sight of you on top of him, his eyes tracing every curve of your body illuminated by the dying sun. In this moment, he feels like the luckiest man in the galaxy, blessed to have you in his arms. Unable to resist, his hands come up to cup your breasts, his thumbs trailing over your hardened nipples, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips.

"I'll take it from here," he whispers huskily, his voice heavy with desire as he gently but hungrily pushes you onto your back, with ease, positioning himself between your legs and slowly starts thrusting into you. Taking your legs up over his shoulders, he picks up the pace, each movement driving you both closer to the edge of ecstasy.

As he plunges into you with increasing fervor, you become a moaning, whining mess beneath him, lost in the throes of passion. Fortunately, the waves crashing on the nearby rocks dim everything around, preventing your lewd sounds and the squelching of your soaking wet pussy from traveling too far up to the village.

"Hunter, I'm close," you gasp, your voice trembling with need. "Come with me?" You ask him, your eyes locking with his as you plead for release.

He lets go of your legs and comes down over you, propped up on his elbows, his hair cascading around your faces like a veil. With a deep, passionate kiss, he whispers against your lips,

"Cum for me, let me feel that beautiful pussy clenching around my cock" his words send shivers down your spine and when he thrusts deeper, his tip pushing against your cervix, just the way he knows you like it, you feel your body responding eagerly to him.

“Oh…fuck..Hunter”

It takes only a few more of these deep, powerful thrusts until you feel your pussy clenching down on him, the tension in your core reaching its breaking point. With a lewd moan, the delicious heat begins pulsing through your entire body and you're consumed by the intensity of your orgasm. He follows you almost immediately. Before the first wave of ecstasy fully washes over you, you feel him harden even more, his rhythm becoming sloppy and his arousal driving him to the brink.

With one final, deep thrust, he releases himself inside you, filling you up with his hot seed. You feel a surge of warmth as he gasps, his body crashing down against yours, his lips seeking yours in a deep, soulful kiss. In that moment, the world fades away, your mind goes completely blank, all sounds dim around you, leaving only the sensation of your orgasm pulsing through your body and the feeling of his hot skin against yours.

You bask in the afterglow of your shared orgasm, his forehead resting against yours, reveling in the intimacy of the moment. Your bodies are sweaty and you’re panting when you slowly come back to yourselves, the sounds and view of the surroundings returning to your senses.

He leans in to kiss you, his lips conveying a depth of emotion that words could never express. With a soft whisper, he murmurs sweet, loving words that warm your heart and soul.

You revel in the feeling of you bodies pressed together and when his softening cock slowly slides out of you, you feel his cum oozing from your core dripping down into the sand.

“I know you like walking around with my cum leaking out of you, but we should get you cleaned up love”

“Mhm…can’t think…n…can’t walk…Cross took…took all our towels back home” you mumble, completely blissed out and cock dumb.

“Let me take care of you riduur, like I always do” he whispers, looking down at your flushed face and your silly smile with pure love and adoration before he scoops you up into his arms.

You know what he’s about to do. He always carries you into the ocean whenever you have sex on the beach and you love it almost as much as being fucked into oblivion by him.

The water on Pabu is always warm, enveloping you in its soothing embrace as he wades into its depths and you cling to him, your legs wrapped around his waist, exchanging tender kisses as the gentle waves rock you back and forth.

As you float together, you trace the lines of his tattoo on his face, your fingers brushing lightly over his beard before trailing down his chest. You let your hands rest there, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch. He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively as you nestle your head in the crook of his neck, his long locks tickling your face in the gentle breeze. In this moment, surrounded by the warmth of the ocean and the tenderness of his embrace, you feel truly at peace.

The sun has set completely when you reluctantly emerge from the water and the cool evening breeze sends shivers down your spine. You quickly make your way to your beach blanket and lie down, the chill of the night air causing your teeth to chatter. Hunter pulls you close, wrapping you tightly in his embrace. With gentle hands, he drapes his soft knit cardigan around your shoulders, cocooning you in its warmth until the trembling subsides.

Nestled against his chest, you watch in awe as more and more stars begin to appear in the night sky, their twinkling lights casting a soft glow over the beach. With each passing moment, the world around you seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you alone in the embrace of the night. In this tranquil moment, wrapped in his arms and surrounded by the beauty of the starlit sky, you feel an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment wash over you that he is able to live this soft and gentle live here on Pabu and that he chose you to be part of it.

“Let’s go home” he whispers “before you start freezing again. And I’m sure Omega got us some leftovers from Shep”

You chuckle.

“Then we better get home before Wrecker finds them”

#the bad batch #bad batch smut #tbb smut #clone smut #hunter x you #hunter x reader #old hunter #pabu #hunter on pabu #dilf hunter #tbb #the bad batch season 3 #tbb hunter #tbb season 3 #sw tbb #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb fanfiction #tbb pabu

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kometqh · 8 months ago

Text

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭

Captain Rex x F!Jedi!Reader Pt.2 of Forget Me Not Rex has finally settled down on a faraway, isolated planet. Finally, he has found some semblance of peace from the ongoing war against the Empire. Finally, he can take the time to recover from losing you, but how long will that last? Word Count: 3007 Warnings: Swearing, making out, old injuries. A/N: This has been specifically requested, and can be thought of as either the continuation of the previous story or an alternative ending :) It was going to turn into a big fat smut but my brain couldn't handle posting that (I've never written or posted a full smut before!!)

Vast golden fields swayed gently in the warm, evening summer breeze. The golden sun illuminated the landscape, a warm glow settling over the hay and Rex's figure, who was relaxing on his porch, hands behind his head as he observed the sight before him.

How many times had he dreamt of such a sight? Of owning his own little farm, of owning a couple of banthas and chickens and goats?

Too many times for his younger, prouder self to admit.

Where his brothers used to loudly fantasise over their ideal futures, he was too busy playing the perfect soldier, sticking to his obligations, rules and limitations.

But now? Now he had that one small bundle of joy, held tightly within his iron-hard grasp. And he wasn't about to go exchanging it for anything else. Not in a million lifetimes.

The loud, content bellowing of a few banthas stripped him of his thoughts, his gaze looking for the one particular creature that always seemed to make the most noise. Far ahead, to his left, was one bantha, rolling its body in the hay, short tail wagging left to right, continuous hums and moos escaping its throat in ground-shaking vibrations.

A soft smile tugged at Rex's lips; that was his oldest, and his first ever Bantha.

He had spent the last four years nurturing and caring for the creature, leading it over stretches of land, until he was finally able to settle down in an abandoned farmhouse, far away from any civilization.

The farmhouse itself wasn't in such bad shape. Sure, it needed repairs here and there, but it wasn't anything a tough solider like Rex couldn't handle. He got to work pretty quick, with his handy tools and a shit ton of determination, he had refurnished and fixed the farmhouse within a year and a half, and now, all that was left was to renew the coat of paint that seemed to chip away any time it rained.

But Rex figured that could wait, after all, no one would be able to tell that the farmhouse was being used as long as it looked old and rusty, right?

With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes, basking in the warmth provided by the rays of the setting sun. He was tired. It was a long day of working on the farm, planting the appropriate crops for the upcoming, much colder, season, as well as milking the banthas to make different cheeses the next day.

He thought over his schedule, already feeling a headache rising in the back of his head. The following week he was supposed to be making his way over to the nearest town, to sell whatever he had managed to produce over the last two weeks. Going to the closest town over was his least favourite activity; he preferred to stay hidden away in his little farmhouse with his Banthas and Tooka.

He preferred to relax on his porch, to watch over his animals as they grazed happily across the long stretch of fields, to feel the warm sunrays kissing his skin, to watch the sun lazily disappear behind the horizon.

He let his tired eyes fall closed, the wrinkles on his skin seemingly fading away, a soft smile shining on his face at the soft hum of the summer breeze and grazing animals, an all too familiar weight lifting from his chest inch by inch. The gentle breeze passed his body, leaving a pleasant, cooling chill to run down his spine.

Darkness and warmth surrounded him like a weighted blanket, though his body felt light. He dreamt of nothing, his mind jumping to and from consciousness, his body twitching at a sudden shift in atmosphere. His ears almost twitched at the soft whir of a ship flying above, goose bumps rising over the expanse of his bare, muscular arms as a much stronger wind grazed past his body.

But his eyes snapped open to the sound of panicked tip-tapping of his banthas, their heaved breathing and confused whines reaching his ears. The warm honeyed glare of his eyes was gone, now replaced by a deep black as he looked around, the night sky pitch black.

He must have snoozed off or something, how many hours have passed?

The banthas continued to make noise, but this time the briefest whispers accompanied them. With a strong, heavy inhale, Rex slowly rose from his seat, eyes squinted as he tried to cover for his lack of vision.

Who were they? The Empire?

Surely not.

Rex had made sure to cover all of his tracks, remaining classed as officially dead in the Empire's files.

Did someone betray him?

But who?

And how?

Only a very small number of people actually knew-

"Hey lady! Calm it!" A familiar voice said all too loudly, giving an affectionate pat to one of the banthas. The voice, it was so.. so like Rex's.

His eyes widened as the other figures shushed the man, and Rex couldn't help the relieved smile and sigh that escaped his chest.

He knew those people. After all, they're the ones he rescued Echo with.

However, one by one, various emotions swirled around in his head. Happiness? Of course. He was happy to see his brothers after four gruelling, lonely years. Confusion? Hell yeah! What was so important that they had to break their no contact? Relief too, he could feel the way his heart rate had spiked just at the mere idea of danger, blood rushing into his head, loudly pounding against his eardrums.

Slowly, one foot moved, followed by the other, taking turns leading Rex down the porch, towards his brothers. Towards his family.

At the sight of Rex's moving figure, some men groaned, whereas Wrecker and Omega began running at full-speed towards the male, tackling him to the ground in a long awaited hug.

"Rex! We missed you!" Omega exclaimed, erupting into fits of laughter as Rex's strong arm wrapped around her and Wrecker.

"Alright alright! Now get off of me, I can feel my bones being crushed!" Rex exclaimed, though his hold on the two didn't ease, nor did his smile disappear. Quickly scrambling off of him, the two couldn't contain their happy, yet seemingly mischievous smiles as Hunter extended a hand out to Rex.

"It's been a while, brother." Hunter nodded, pulling Rex in for a quick hug, patting his back. Hunter's body was stiff, his shoulders tense and breathing strained as he moved away, Rex noticed. That was unusual.

Though a smile remained on his face, Rex couldn't help but feel nervous at the strange tension surrounding the batch. As he looked around, one eyebrow quirked at the sight of Tech and Crosshair shielding Echo from view and.. someone else? Who were they?

"What's going on..?" He questioned, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two.

Echo and the figure stood in the very far back, Echo's arm was wrapped tightly around their shoulders, holding them protectively close to his chest, his grip tight as if the figure would disappear into the darkness of the night if his hold let up even by an inch.

His eyes remained trained on Echo and the mysterious figure, though Rex's head tilted slightly to the right, in Hunter's direction.

"Hunter-" Rex started, but was quickly interrupted by the look on Echo's face. His ears strained, almost missing the soft, trembling whimper. The figure brought a hand up to their face, too late in stifling the sound.

As their hand lifted, Rex noticed that all-too familiar, cuffed sleeve hanging onto their hand.

Time seemed to slow, his chest straining painfully at the sound. Rex could feel his heart drop, the air sucked from his body like a popped balloon.

His sight was stuck on that sleeve, visions plaguing his mind, replaying like a broken tape.

Memories, memories of her.

That voice.

His legs moved before his mind could even comprehend what was happening. Tech and Crosshair narrowly avoided being collided into, stepping to the side as Rex pushed through.

His lips twisted into a pained frown, his teeth gritted together like metal bars.

That robe.. That Jedi robe.

How didn't he notice it right away?

The look on Echo's face told him everything he needed to know, his hold easing on her as Rex reached his arms out, gripping her shoulders tightly.

"Y/n.." Her name spilled from his lips so easily, so softly, as though he was cursed, spellbound to only repeat her name, only those few simple syllables for the rest of eternity. It lingered on his tongue like the sweetest of syrups, leaving a fiery, burning trail in his throat, scalding at his heart like a molten fist, twisting, turning and tearing.

"Rex," A shiver fell down his spine, his breath hitching in his throat. How long had it been since he last heard it? Tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes, his gut twisting into a familiar knot, adrenaline spreading like fire through his veins. His heart pumped blood so quickly, so fiercely through his body, it was like a thousand fireworks had gone off in that instant. Many people have said his name, of course, but only her voice had ever evoked such strong emotions in him.

From the way she'd command his attention during meetings, her gaze lingering a second longer than necessary, the way she'd whisper it when it was just the two of them, hiding in a faraway corner on one of the ships, or even the way it rolled off the tip of her tongue whilst-

It felt like the world around had been sucked into the background, leaving only the two of them, hearts beating wildly, minds melting over one another, even the cold night failing to gather their attention.

His hands, which had been previously on her shoulders, were now gently cradling her face, thumbs swishing back and forth in soft strokes.

His whole focus was on her eyes- oh, those starry eyes.

How many times had he dreamed of them?

How many times had he cried at night, calling out for her in broken whispers and sobs?

Rex knew it was a few times too many, and yet at the same time, it wasn't enough.

A sob left his lips as he dropped the hood off her head, revealing the person behind the shadowy figure.

Something was different. Off.

Her face, although so familiar, was now so different. Bathed in aged lines, marks, grease and dirt, and worst of all.. A scar.

He hadn't noticed it under the shadow of her hood, but now, it was ever so prominent under the blaring moonlight.

A lone tear cascaded down his face, leaving a wet, salty trail from the midpoint of his eye, down the plush softness of his cheek, dripping off the edge of his jaw. Just like her scar. He let his thumb caress the rough, broken, damaged skin, his lips twisted in a pained frown, stunned to silence.

Her hand, one that used to be so soft and so gentle, was now gripping tightly at his wrist, a gentle shadow on her cheeks, on her scar, casted by her eyelashes. When did she get it? How did she get it?

Her head twisted to the side, making the most effort to hide that side of her face from his gaze.

"Don't.." Rex whispered, no, he warned, taking a hold of her chin, forcing her to turn his way, to face him. Lowering his face to hers, his voice was strained, rough, pleading. "I want to see you.. Let me see you, mesh'la." The word spilled from his lips with such ease, like a prayer, with so much delicacy, so much practice, as he brushed his nose against hers, his eyes fluttering shut. His lips hovered just an inch above hers, feeling the warmth of her breath against his skin.

He had dreamt of this day, every night, every day. For. So. Many. Years.

He had dreamt of lifting her into his arms, of kissing her, of crying with her, of pushing her against his bed, leaning on top of her, making love to her.

For so many kriffing years.

She's alive.

"I missed you. So. Kriffing. Much." He muttered, his voice becoming more strained with each oncoming word, his eyes squeezed shut, his forehead flush against your own as he fought every fibre in his body against the awful, suffocating need to kiss you. Another pained whimper left your lips, unknowingly acting as a trigger for his next movements.

His lips crashed against your own, his hands keeping your face steady, making sure you wouldn't slip away like the hundreds, no, thousands of dreams he's had before.

Your lips were as soft as he remembered, your touch featherlight and rough. Your hands were shaking, he noted. You were afraid. Afraid of him? You wouldn't be kissing back if that was the case.

Your scent overwhelmed him, it was that faint smell of peach shampoo that he loved so much, it was making his knees weak. Where did you manage to get that from? From the state of you, he was sure you were dying for a hot, bubbly bath. Maybe it was just his imagination playing up. Kissing you, it was addicting. He was like a starved man, pushing his lips against your own, his tongue slipping past to dance with yours in a sweet Waltz, full of grief and hope and longing and all the years wasted away by your separation, by his fear of your light having been snuffed out, like a flickering flame.

You were his light in the dark, his oasis in a never-ending dessert, his midsummer night's dream. You had that spark in you - the one that attracted individuals to you like moths to light. Your laugh, so easily evoked, and your kind smiles, so easily graced upon anyone and everyone, shining down like sunshine on a dewy, autumn morning. You were a breath of fresh air, but also a crackling, comforting fire on a cold winters night.

But he had lost you just so quickly, on that day. Never knowing, for years, if you'd be back. If you were alive.

Your touch slowly grew from soft, dissipated like cotton-candy and falling snowflakes, to eager, pleading for more as your fingers found solace in his slightly outgrown blonde hair, encasing his head in your embrace, pulling him closer as you kissed feverishly, afraid he will disappear like dandelion seeds on a spring day.

You couldn't hear anything but his heartbeat, you couldn't smell anything but his scent, one that had creeped up on you and wrapped around you in an invisible embrace, the smell of freshly cut grass and smoky campfires entrapping you. You couldn't feel anything but him. His hands, always so much bigger than yours, had completely and utterly gotten control over your body, feeling and caressing your hair, gripping your chin and pulling you closer by your waist, his lips hot against your own, his breathing stuttering and yet so laboured as his teeth clashed against your own, his eyes scrunched shut - afraid you would disappear.

Being held in his arms was like a dream come true. You could spend an eternity with him, never losing your love and affection for the soldier standing before you. His warmth planted butterflies in your stomach, and his touch ignited them, making them burn wildly in your gut, scalding and yet patching over the old scars and wounds, gently embracing your heart in a healing bandage.

Only Rex could do such a thing.

Only Rex could make your heart beat faster, only Rex could have adrenaline pumping through your veins just by a featherlight touch, or a sweet, candy-like, tooth-rotting whisper, or a longing, loving gaze of his golden irises and lush eyelashes.

So lost in each other, for so long, neither the two of you broke contact, until Hunter had to clear his throat awkwardly and speak up to make the two of you slowly, unwillingly, pull apart.

Rex's forehead rested against yours, crows feet tugging at the outer corners of his eyes, his lips slightly agape as he tried to calm down the galloping of his heart.

Slowly, eventually, his eyes opened again, the familiar warm colour of honey swirling around his pupils as he gazed into your eyes, a small, pained, and yet happy smile overtaking his features. His heart melted as that same smile reflected on your face, and tears brimmed in your eyes.

"Are you guys done yet?" Crosshair's voice called from a short distance, disgust and yet somehow a hint of endearment present in it.

"You lot go ahead, we'll catch up in a minute," Rex tossed the words over his shoulder with little to no care, rolling his eyes at the loud scoff that came from Crosshair. It was quickly followed by an audible smack, an 'Ouch', and the sound of retreating footsteps.

Your shoulders shook as a breathy laugh escaped you, and as you shut your eyes once more, tears began to escape one by one, sliding down the expanse of your cheek. Rex wasted no time in bringing a hand to gently wipe away at your tears, his own tears tickling at his waterline.

He missed you so damn much.

And finally, you were here, with him, crying and smiling in his arms.

His throat felt tight, as if someone was strangling him, daring him to say anything. His chest felt heavy, and he was sure if he was stood up any longer, he would simply collapse.

His thumb caressed the soft, and yet ragged, skin on your cheek, the corners of his lips twisted into a semi-frown, his heart hurting, blood pumping loudly in his ears.

His lips opened and closed, at a loss for words, but his voice found a way to come through.

"You have n-no idea," His voice was just above a mere whisper, afraid if he were to speak any louder, you'd crumble away under his touch, or he'd wake up.

His thumb moved to trace the outline of your scar, a loving look present in the golden pool of his irises.

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you.."

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