#tbb wrecker x reader

[trashy1turtle]

Yeah, I'm fine

*Types "«character name> x reader" into tumblr search bar*

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Hi Frost! Congrats on the 200 followers 😍 if you're up for it I'd love a little fic with one of the Bad Batch boys (your pick) and meeting someone online? Can be canon or modern au, but developing a crush before they've ever met in person. Fem or GN is fine. Details can be up to you!

Congrats again 🧡

Cyber Crush [Wrecker x Fem!Reader]

Story Summary: When a hot new dating site hits the Holonet dedicated to the soldiers of the Grand Army appears practically overnight, it becomes all the rage for many a hopeful romantic living in Republic space. No one’s admitting to who created it, or why, but you’re simply too curious to not check it out for yourself. You get lucky and end up hitting it off very well with the first soldier you match to, Wrecker of Clone Force 99. A mutual crush leads into a small handful of “digital dates” before there’s finally an opportunity for the real deal.

Warnings & Information: Second Person POV; undescribed, unnamed Fem!Reader living on Coruscant. Clone Dating Service AU. All dating profiles have little clues to various Clones [some are my OCs; most are Canon!]. Minor amount of Star Wars and real-world swearing. Some use of Mando’a. Narrative and stylistic use of italics. 

Word count: 6,630

The old proverb “Curiosity killed the Loth-cat, but satisfaction brought it back.” had never been more true than tonight as you opened a new browser on your home terminal and pecked in the URL scribbled upon a strip of flimsiplast taken from a tear-off flyer. 

You had just gotten home after a long day of running errands, making the very last just before the evening rush-hour was initiated by Coruscant’s diverse nightlife. It’d been a hurried grocery run; grabbing only missing essentials for dinner. You were probably in and out in less than five minutes. Seven tops. There was nothing out of the ordinary when you ducked into the store. Ducking out, however…

Well it was impossible to miss. Fliers had been stuck to every conceivable surface – probably a hundred more at the average eye-level alone. There must have been a huge group of people working together to hang up this many in such a short time. Nothing really remarkable about them from a distance, either. 

A closer inspection showed all of them bore the Republic’s eight-spoke Galactic Roundel along with a tantalizing offer. 

“Wishing the nice night you had at 79’s was EVERY night? Take one to find out how!” 

You couldn’t really resist discovering what this was for yourself. Pocketing one of the strips, you hurried home and threw anything temperature-sensitive into the conservator first, thinking this would only be a quick peek. 

Dinner could afford to wait a few minutes. You just have to see for yourself what was being teased about a popular hangout in the Entertainment District from such an otherwise nondescript flyer. Which… maybe you should have used the incognito feature for. The welcome message on the landing page is ambiguous enough to cause uncertainty of the “service” being advertised, but the growing allure proves more powerful than your caution. 

"WELCOME TO THE #1 HOTTEST SITE ON THE HOLONET – GUYS OF THE GAR!

"Looking for a sensitive, sweet or strong soldier to steal your heart? Please sign in or create an account to make use of our services!"

Curiosity nips at your heels. The cursor hovers thoughtfully over “Sign Up!” for a quiet moment. A dating service? For the Grand Army of the Republic? To hell with it, you decide. There’s no harm in looking! 

Clicking in, you’re presented with a small pop-up window after creating a username and password. 

‘Thank you for showing interest in the newly-developed and secretly-run Clone Dating Service (CDS). Be advised that our site is closely monitored at all times and in spite of our last “fumigation” before the site went live, there may still be a few stubborn bugs. They will be squashed shortly. - CDS Sysadmin’ 

Dismissing the pop-up opens the profile editor for you. (Rather convenient.) In the bottom left corner of the page sits an animated, digital “mascot” of sorts. It, or rather he, looks mostly like a standard Clone - granted one who’s been stylized in such a way to appear more “cutesy”. The helmet is slightly oversized, lending to a bobble-headed image, and the visor is very… shiny. 

Inclusion of a digital mascot is unexpected; that kind of quirk is rare these days now that the practice has largely lost its charm. Relievingly, this one is not immediately annoying. He salutes, informs you of his purpose through a small speech bubble, then falls silent and assumes a parade rest position. 

“Clicks, reporting for duty! I’ve been assigned to cover your six in case you run into trouble setting up your CDS profile!” 

For a site that went live very recently, you’re impressed by how many options have been provided. There was a matchmaking service run by “in-house” analysts, or the option to self-match with profiles that fit within selected parameters. Additionally, you could opt for in-person dates, long distance relationships, keep it strictly online, or, curiously, even be pen pals. 

That option creates some pause. Why would a dating service offer a pen pal program? You do a little digging around the site before editing anything. 

Was this something new cooked up by the Commision for the Protection of the Republic - some clever bit of COMPOR propaganda to drum up more support for their literal poster boys? Were they the ones behind this? 

Strangely enough, you can’t find anything that smells like their usual influence. You continue to look around, even trawl through other parts of the Holonet to find an answer while making dinner. (No sense doing detective work on an empty stomach.) There are many varying schools of thought muddying the waters, but nothing that puts a bad taste in your mouth about the Guys of The GAR CDS at the same time. 

Profiles promise to be “pretty painless” to create and deactivate. Militaristic lingo had two possible explanations: the CDS was made by the Clones themselves or it was part of the theming. Naysayers casting doubt on whether or not these profiles actually belonged to GAR soldiers were quieting as the mountain of evidence only grew. Incredibly, there were already multiple reports of dates set to meet at 79’s tonight - of which was rumored to involve one of the Corries. 

And admittedly, those reports looked pretty damn legitimate. Okay, the pen pal thing is still a little odd, but you decide to proceed as planned. 

Beginning with the basics, a few tiny embellishments are added to your lists of interests, hobbies, and personality traits. Not so much that it becomes dishonest, but enough to add intrigue. Then came the oft-dreaded photo selection process. Call it a stroke of luck that finding something high-quality and you liked well enough didn’t take too terribly long. And finally, an optional ice breaker question. 

This you opt to skip for the time being. You’re far too eager to get right into the heart of it and waste no time selecting your preference of services. 

Clicks “speaks” for the second time after you hit ‘Submit and Save’, breaking from parade rest to offer two thumbs up. “You’ll have your boots on the ground in no time! Please just give the CDS a moment to finish filling out the roster. It should be available shortly.” True to the digital mascot’s words, the site offers a batch of eight profiles to start with, labeled RO for Roster One. 

“Good luck!” he adds before assuming formation once again. 

Looking over RO, you feel your heart quickening with excitement. You have a promising listing full of very intriguing prospects. It provides a two word moniker, tagline of sorts, detachment, and the chosen services for every Clone - his likes and dislikes included in the expanded view of his particular listing. A small taste of who he is as an individual person. 

What truthfully grabs your attention the most is a promise of getting the trooper’s name on one fair condition: a successful match. 

The rest of your evening was free and there were no pressing responsibilities to take care of tomorrow. This gave you the freedom to spend however much time you’d like on the CDS tonight with the rest of the galaxy’s hopeful romantics. 

So what were you waiting for?

ROSTER ONE 

Blue Hawk 

Very experienced. 

Deployment: Legion

Preference: Matchmaking 

Gentle Giant 

Date me, and I GUARANTEE you'll have a blast! 

Deployment: Specialty/Commandos

Preference: Self Match, In-Person, Long Distance

Glorious Daylight 

If you think my scar looks bad, you should see the other guy.

Deployment: Battalion

Preference: Other/Hidden

Last Domino 

ARC troopers do it better.

Deployment: Specialty/Commandos

Preference: In-Person, Pen Pals

Lost Eyebrows 

Enough heart and soul to go around! 

Deployment: Specialty/Commandos

Preference: Other/Hidden

Missing Paintbrush

Made a profile because I lost a bet to my brothers. (Thanks, guys…)

Deployment: Legion

Preference: Pen Pals, Self Match

Silver Moon 

Only here to keep my one good eye on my men. Sorry in advance about “Filthy Flower”.

Deployment: Battalion 

Preference: Other/Hidden 

Young King

I’ll be as loyal to you as I am to the Republic. 

Deployment: Legion

Preference: Long Distance, Matchmaking

Taking a moment to peruse this small wealth of choices here within Roster One, you gradually gain a better understanding of the site mechanics available. There are no pictures to look at – conceivably, by design. Maybe the idea is once you match with a trooper, you get more than just his name, but some idea of his physical image. Mildly ingenious. 

Your given options are ‘Like’, ‘Dismiss’ and ‘Maybe’. Results will refine themselves accordingly, steadily supplying the best possible prospects for subsequent rosters. You wonder how large the CDS dating pool is at this very moment. Hundreds, maybe thousands of live profiles? How many more were well on their way - set to join the database by the end of the week? Hopefully the Clone Dating Service had a plan (or two) to accommodate the sheer number of civilians making profiles and the influx of digital foot-traffic they were likely to see... 

Could get hairier than a Wookie for their servers if everyone and their tooka created a profile on Coruscant, alone. A trillion or so people lived here. Turn the scope out to the entire rest of the galaxy and it was nigh impossible to get an accurate sense of the populace. You’d sooner find a way to reintroduce nature to the Jewel of the Core Worlds than acquire such records. 

How long will this ‘Guys of The GAR’ be sticking around, anyway? 

How likely would it be that you, competing with trillions of other sentient lifeforms, find someone who could end being right for you? 

You look again at Roster One. Unsure of what “right” looks like to begin with, you read what little information is provided again and again. Maybe you’re looking for casual, laidback experiences. Or yearning for depth and devotion. Putting what it is you hope for into words is not as simple as you thought. 

Something about the second from the top speaks to you over all the others. It starts first as a whisper. Before long it grew louder. Clearer. What could it be about this soldier who dubbed himself “Gentle Giant” that you return to his profile more than the rest? His non-specific promise of a good time? And in the midst of a war, no less. 

He identified himself as some variation of SpecOps; such a service might come with elevated privileges whenever he’s granted leave (or leisure or liberty or whatever they call it). Could it be that Gentle Giant has special connections and/or favors to collect on – something he hopes to make use of with slightly more select company? 

With another tooka for your curiosity to threaten, you take one final opportunity to consider. 

The bait set on this hook was mighty tempting. You’re willing to take a chance with it. Test your luck. You select ‘Like’, knowing that all you can do now is wait. Hope. Keep your search going. Requesting the next roster, your examination only takes you as far as the third profile before the digital mascot is vying for your attention. 

“Incoming transmission!” Clicks exclaims, his shiny blue-black visor now blinking green. “This is straight from command: you’ve received your first successful match! Shall I patch you through now?” 

For a beat, you do nothing, surprised. Hadn’t been very long at all and you already had an eager bite of your own. 

Curious, you open the notification presented to you by Clicks. The portal for direct messaging opens to some rather sunny correspondence from Gentle Giant - evidence of a social and friendly disposition. 

Giant: Hi miss! Thanks for matching with me. Love your pictures!

You type out a partial reply, half hoping there’s no indicator for Giant to watch. It might show him when you stop to open his CDS profile in another tab and have a look at the expanded information. At the uploaded pictures with… Are those hand-written notes? Aside from the commentary left on each of them, and perhaps the fact he wore (a majority of) his armor in most, there is a more immediate theme throughout all of these images. 

Gentle Giant wore his helmet in every last shot. 

That, you don’t entirely think too much of. He had been upfront about his classification as some variety of specialty soldier; which the unique shape and ominous rancor-inspired design would be very befitting of. You’re more focused (and perhaps even impressed) by the thorough attention to detail everything has been given. 

Safety measures, you would guess, that the helmet is an extension of. Reflective surfaces are covered by large drop cloths. Data screens in the background are set to display little bits of trivia, playful messages or jokes. Anyone in the frame had their face obscured by helmets, hoods, or strategically positioned items such as datapads. (And a whole GNK-series power droid, in one case.) That’s the sort of thoroughness Gentle Giant, and the squad with him, by the look of it, had put into everything. 

You won’t get to see his face or really anything that isn’t carefully curated. Maybe not for a while yet, depending on how the first exchange plays out. That doesn’t mean there isn’t already plenty about him that you can see. 

Showing off for the camera, the black undersuit has been rolled up past his elbows to show off well-muscled forearms in the third image out of the collection. Basked in the light of some midday sun, the familiar warmly tanned and rich brown skin many knew the Clones for almost appeared to glow. You can’t tell what planet he’s on. Nor what he’s holding up to the picture-taker with a pair of firm, dexterous hands. Some kind of quad-eyed fish, perhaps?

From the fourth picture you can infer that he must be strong. This, like the picture before, is also posed. Gentle Giant stands in a typical bodybuilder’s pose against a brushed-metal wall; his legs shoulder-width apart, elbows raised high. With a pair of troopers sitting on each arm you’ll have to settle for imagining the biceps firmly flexing beneath them. No clues come from the small-print annotations about who they are, only that they wear the same set of armor labeled with the following. 

“K-Class armor, 20kg; not that wimpy 6kg stuff!” 

A second annotation states the soldiers stand 1.83m tall, Giant at 1.96m. Damn, wouldn’t that put him at six-foot-five or six-foot-six? Now you see where the ‘Giant’ in his moniker comes from. 

That sets him apart from COMPOR’s typical poster boys. A fairly reasonable assumption to make is he may or may not stand apart from them in other ways as well. But so long as he continued to be pleasant and friendly, what did that matter?

You: Thanks for matching with me too. Didn’t mean to take so long to reply! Got a little distracted taking a look at your pictures as well. Kinda liked the one with the fish-thing, haha. 

Giant hardly seems perturbed by the delay. It appears he expected it, if anything. Given that you had listed your location as ‘On/Near Coruscant’ he had assumed you must be having dinner or taking care of some daily task. 

Giant: No need to worry! If you have stuff you need to do, take all the time you need! I was catching breakfast for my squad after saying hello - more of those fish since there’s a LOT of them here. (And we’re all pretty sick of rations, haha!) You: That’s very nice of you, but I already took care of the most important stuff so I’ll be free to talk for a while. Very kind of you to do that for them, too! Variety once in a while must be extremely nice and/or rare.  Giant: HAH, you have no idea!! 

He signs off the reply with a smiley face. A little thing that lends further credibility to your earlier impression about his friendliness. Makes it easier to talk to him throughout the evening and late into the night. 

Time manages to seriously get away from you. Before you know it, you’ve stayed up entirely too late. The dull burn behind each tired eye seems to flare when you glance at the first available chronometer. Ah, poodoo… You really should have gone to bed long before now. 

But you had been having a pleasant and easy-going chat with Gentle Giant for hours on end. Doing so was almost effortless; taking notice of less-immediate needs became less of a priority as a result. In the natural course of conversation he had shown incredible kindness and genuine interest over everything that was discussed. 

That made it easy to speak a little more playfully and jokingly at times, even when it came to asking one another the usual questions. 

Favorite colors, foods and beverages, what hobbies you had. Learn if you have any in common. Compare the list of planets the two of you know of – where you’ve been, and where you hope to go someday. Determine the farthest you’ve ever been from your respective homeworlds. Then the longest you’ve been away after that. And if it was too long, or not long enough. 

Long before belatedly bunking down and asking your final question of the night – when would he like to talk again? – you had learned his name. 

Wrecker. 

The line between get-to-know-you questions and first-date-together questions blurred somewhere very early on. 

Far sooner than either of you might have expected. Maybe even as soon as the night you had mutually matched on the Guys of The GAR webpage. 

It helped that Wrecker was an incredibly attentive and curious guy. Possessed a well of intelligence tempered by a humble streak. Left no room for doubts pertaining to whether he genuinely cared whenever he got a chance to hear from you. Peppering in little follow-up questions. Reaching out for recommendations regarding more mundane things. 

It hardly mattered what the subject was, either. You could, and often did, talk for hours together. 

Endlessly. Easily. Flirtatiously. 

Wrecker only wished it were more often, were it not for the nature of his detachment. He and his brothers do a fair number of the ‘dirty jobs’ the GAR might require. Getting more specific than that wasn’t something he believed would be wholly necessary. Not at this stage where there were healthy embers between you, to be certain, but no steady flame. 

Not just yet. 

The first dozen or so conversations were strictly text-based. A way of testing the waters before committing to the idea of taking a swim in the shallows. If the temperature between you was too chilly for someone’s liking, then no harm done! Just wade back to shore, acclimate, and try again. Your time in the shallows carried on for a good few weeks, paddling about in the current with cautious optimism. Only once there was more confidence did Wrecker think of proposing the transition. 

Audio only; no visuals to start. That way you could both be in the other’s ear while going about your lives, so to speak. Going to bed with the suns. Rising for a new day with the moons. Catching speedercabs and lunch. Putting away provisions and groceries. Cleaning. Killing time. 

Giddy giggles. 

Boyish laughs. 

Hearts racing, racing, racing. 

Elation, frequent. Excitement, boundless. Crushing all the while. 

Falling for one another. Steadily. Deeply. 

And subject to much teasing. By far, the vast majority of it was dedicated to Wrecker – given the source was his brothers. You often caught snippets of passing remarks and fragments of conversation from them when he tried finding the most private spaces on their small ship to chat with you. Hardly anything cutting. Nor relentless and cruel. Nothing more than standard sibling smack-talk. 

“Don’t forget to get some sleep, loverboy.” 

“Ohh, shaddup. I’m not gonna forget!” 

“Uh-huh…” 

Things were a little different once you graduated to video feeds and hologram projections over the same secured lines. These adjustments were far more intimate. More personal. More real. You were engaged in an exercise of trust and vulnerability by adding another sense - sight - to these real-time interactions previously limited to sound. 

Wrecker would return to the dedicated practice of wearing his helmet facing this change. Assumingly, it was just one of the precautionary measures that would be stubbornly holding on longer than the rest. He had been talking with you for well over two months, at this point. 

You could honestly say these last fourteen weeks or more had truly flown by. In that time, you had grown so incredibly fond of him. So you had asked Wrecker during one of these calls. Once. And not for him to shuck the helmet from off his head. Just about it. 

“I would imagine you’re largely used to your helmet Wrecker, but does wearing it ever get uncomfortable?”

He tugged on the neckline of his undersuit, offering only a guarded chuckle at first. 

“Uh… Yeah. Sometimes, anyway!” 

The careful way he had admitted this to you gave off the impression he would have been avoiding eye-contact had he not been wearing the black, gray and white bucket. The one you sometimes find yourself staring at the red double nines painted over the brow rather than the visor directly below. The aurebesh 99, perhaps unintentionally, functioned like an eyespot or ocellus. Difficult not to feel like the numbers were almost watching you. 

You wouldn’t press the question any further on that particular occasion. 

But it wouldn’t be long until it was brought up again, this time by one of Wrecker’s brothers. 

It was a rare instance where everyone was in the same galactic time zone. No chance of his squad making a ‘friendly pitstop’ on Coruscant, however. They were duty-bound, and it was late into the night. You and Wrecker were on yet another video call in spite of that. 

He’s midway through an animated retelling of a prior operation when the sound of someone yawning as they shuffle closer gets picked up by the audio transceiver. Wrecker’s brother stops just out of frame, voice full of unmistakable fatigue.

“Wrecker. Move already…” he orders tersely, “You’re in my bunk.”

Asking you to give him a second, Wrecker obliges. “Sorry. I’ll move to the hold. Won’t be much longer.” 

“Apologies if my desire to sleep is getting in the way of your little virtual dates… Only, it’s not much of a date if your cyber crush has never seen your face, now is it?”

He had already gotten up from his brother’s bunk by that point, intending to do exactly as he said. But something about his brother’s words provokes Wrecker to stop and protest. “Hey. We all came up with the idea about our helmets. I was-” Perhaps thinking better of whatever he had been about to say, Wrecker stops abruptly. “Forget it,” he says, “we’ll talk about this in the morning.” He bids his brother goodnight before disappearing into the hold. 

A quiet unease sits on Wrecker’s shoulders once he’s alone again. Settled on the floor of their shuttle’s tiny, tiny hold, back propped by a stack of secured crates, he lets out a tense sigh. 

“Sorry ‘bout that, mesh’la…” 

Frowning, you ask if he’s alright. You understand Wrecker couldn’t have anticipated one of his brothers saying something like that, so the thing he’s likely sorry about is you overhearing it. But your more immediate concern is whether or not he’s upset. This is not a candid or thoughtful kind of silence. 

“Wrecker? I’ll understand if you want to cut tonight shor-”

Please, wait, Wrecker insists. Before you say anything else, there is something he should say. His brother is right. That isn’t what upsets him. He should have been the one to bring it up. This was his conversation to have with you, when he was ready. And it would’ve been the next time the two of you talked – would swear to that on his blaster, if you wanted him to. 

Now Wrecker feels like it should be tonight instead. Because, truthfully, he has some really strong feelings for you. Had for some time now, as a matter of fact… Thinking of getting a little more serious, Wrecker might argue you’ve had a few long-distance dates at this point. (Without necessarily calling them that.) Something he would certainly like to continue, but not without taking care of a couple things, first. 

“You’re a nice lady. Real nice, even. Been real understandin’ of my anonymity this entire time,” Wrecker explains. His dexterous fingers nervously fiddle with a short length of spare wire, tying and then untying it. Each loop is roughly the size of his wrist. “I think it’s only fair I show ya what I look like before askin’ ya what you think of… Movin’ to the next step or somethin’.” 

After haphazardly stuffing the wire into a pocket, Wrecker adjusts the datapad he’s propped on the crate opposite from him to make sure he’s in focus and in frame. 

“Welp. Here goes nothing.” 

Wrecker wastes no time after his declaration. Reaching up, the helmet is unsealed before then carefully removed from his head. Wrecker offers you a boyish, charming smile before his helmet is even so much as level with his chest. He grips it tightly in his hands, giving himself something to direct all of his nervous energy into so he has an easier time maintaining eye contact. 

And it would be dishonest to say one could overlook the obvious. His left eye is a pale, blueish white; a stark contrast to the brown eye opposite it. A noticeable smattering of scar tissue sits on the left side of his face. It is a firework frozen in time - wrapping over his ear, spread across his temple and a portion of his hairless head. Several trails cut across his left cheek, even slashing through a healthy five o’ clock shadow. One disconnected band sits over the sloped bridge of his nose. It appears to be an older injury based on the color. An aged souvenir of battle, maybe a crash. 

With a palpable undercurrent of anxiety, Wrecker bravely breaks the silence once he figures you’ve had a good look at him. 

“S-sorry,” he says with a lopsided grin, “I, uh… I haven’t had time to shave this week! Hopefully my beard doesn’t look terrible.” 

You shake your head, telling Wrecker it looks just fine. He sighs in relief. 

“Whew! Was honestly pretty worried about that, haha!” 

“Really? I’m… surprised.” you admit carefully. 

There are implications obvious enough here to avoid putting both feet in your mouth and bring up those features more indirectly without being incredibly insensitive, even by accident. That certainly might sour… whatever it was you wanted to call these little video chats you’ve been having with Wrecker lately. Dates? 

Pre-dates?

They were happening pretty frequently, to be perfectly honest, with more than a few being less, shall we say, “cadet-friendly”. 

“Sorry,” Wrecker apologizes again. “I thought about telling you sooner. Honest. Even asked my brothers how I should do it, but, uh… I-I couldn't figure out how to make it sound like me, heh.” 

He knew showing you his face would be a big step. Huge, even. But… there was always a dash of worry that it wouldn’t go well. A blind eye and a large scar aren’t exactly “little” features he can hide all the time, so Wrecker has developed a strong sense of self-confidence and self-assurance in the time following what he only refers to as “the incident”. And if he wanted to ask you to meet him at 79’s next week or the week following, then…

“T-that’s if you want to, that is!” 

Great galaxies. 

How could you refuse? Wrecker had yet to fail to deliver on his punny promise advertised on the CDS; he truly was an expert not just in explosive ordnance, but in having a great time, all the time. His knack for seeing the silver lining in everything, perhaps with exception regarding his “problem with gravity” (as he liked to explain his fear of heights), had been a great comfort on several occasions when you might’ve otherwise felt glum. He was not shy about being excitable, or sweet, or even vulnerable with you. 

You had been shown Lula, a black-and-red tooka doll he occasionally brought aboard the Havoc Marauder (typically when their assignments were shorter, as he preferred to keep her safe on Kamino), on your very first video call together. And she was a well-loved doll, too. Lula’s fabric was clean and her belly plump with stuffing for “more effective cuddles”, but you could see it was just beginning to thin from constant use. 

Seeing how Wrecker clearly cared for little Lula only further endeared you to him. So no: his eye, his scar, were not going to be a dealbreaker for you. You would love to meet up at 79’s. 

Setting down your own device, you rifle around in search of where you’ve written down important deadlines and appointments for the upcoming weeks. 

“Sounds like fun, Wrecker. Count me in! Did you have a day in mind?”

“Next Taungsday? At, say, twenty-hundred hours?”

Middle of the week three hours after a majority of Coruscant has completed their nine-to-fives. 

It’s a date!

You hitch a ride to the Entertainment District via speedercab forty-five minutes ahead of the agreed-upon time, knowing after years of living on Coruscant that there is no such thing as a “lull in traffic” here. 

Not even in the middle of the week. Not with many establishments offering discounts and buy-one-get-one-s on their services. Something to entice people to abandon the hustle and bustle of the megacity and lighten their pockets of a few credits. Indulge themselves in the spoken and unspoken ‘District Dorns’. 

Dining. Drinking. Dancing. Drugs. Den-fights. Dating. 

Wrecker had thoughtfully informed you that 79’s—which already ran a little warm as an establishment—had reported a shift in temperature ever since the Clone Dating Service hit the Holonet. 

“Should see the way this place GLOWS on the heat sensors, cyar’ika!”  

You chose something to wear accordingly, wanting to keep comfortable as much as possible to enjoy as much of your date as possible. An outfit you believed was equal parts flattering, cute, and stylish without sacrificing anything that wasn’t unapologetically you. A suitable bag was also taken with a few small necessities for personal grooming and styling, including a decent fistful of credits, just in case. Fresh packs of breath mints and bubble-chew were tossed in as well. For the hell of it. But also just in case. 

The cabbie pulls up to the platform in front of 79’s ten minutes early, hesitating to throw the air taxi door’s release because they’re too busy staring at the main entrance in bewilderment. “Huh! Thought this place was just a Clone bar… but I’m seeing more than just soldiers…” they murmur to themselves, a free appendage scratching one of two heads in thought. “Did I take you to the right joint, ma’am?” 

“Yes, I’m meeting a date here,” you answer with a smile. 

Your heart flutters just hearing yourself say it. A date. With a man you had first connected with on the Holonet through a curious dating service. You haven't been able to think of much else all week. Only willing time to move faster. To please hurry up and be Taungsday, already! And now tonight was the night. 

Paying via surface pass, you bid the cabbie goodbye and hurry into the bar. 

It’s already a packed house. Clones and civilians alike are bustin’ it down on the electronic dance floor to energetic remixes of popular jizz-wailers at the moment. A static viewscreen over the long oval bar advises patrons there will be genre changes at every half-hour. 

Special requests can be made for two credits per song. The special tonight is something called the “buddy bucket”; five credits for the bucket, seven with the inclusion of two (non-alcoholic) drinks. 

You look around, hoping Wrecker is already here or not far behind. You consider asking the soldier wearing a volunteer’s name sticker on his chestplate and manning the CDS event booth. While briefly wondering what the story behind his ‘Squeaky Clean’ moniker is, you pay more attention to the scrap of flimsiplast taped below the badge. “Check-in assistant”, it reads. 

Oh good. Less need for guessing games. Presenting your name and profile code, you inform Squeaky who you’re here to meet. Information he’ll likely need to cross-reference any lists of RSVPs, meet-ups and the like. 

“Is Wreck- er, Gentle Giant here tonight?” 

Squeaky sets down the datapad in his hand in order to rifle through a small file box of reservations. Before he can locate it, a boisterous voice calls out your name across the bar. You were early, but it sounds like Wrecker beat you here. 

“Is that you?!”

He calls your name again. You turn to look in his direction. 

And you make eye contact. 

And you know. You know that face. The face that’s not a typical COMPOR poster boy’s. That smile. The gleeful and boyish—yet so charming—smile that drives your stomach wild with butterflies. And finally that laugh. That exuberant, resounding laugh as he carefully makes his way through a sea of partying patrons to greet you. 

In the flesh, at last.

Your greetings overlap once Wrecker has safely made it through the crowd, finding yourself wrapped up in a friendly hug. One long enough for him to say “It is you!” before promptly letting you go. He steps an arm’s length away to stand back and admire your attire, grin never dropping. 

“You look great!” 

You return the flattery. “So do you, Wrecker. Blast, you look good in civvie clothes!” 

He had cleaned himself up rather nicely for tonight. His facial hair had been trimmed, to start. A rather woodsy sort of aftershave was a nice touch too; complimenting the simple, heathered gray button-down and black slacks bought just for the occasion, judging by the slight stiffness of the fabric. Care had been taken to steam out the most egregious of the wrinkles. The manner in which the long sleeves had been tucked and rolled perfectly level with each other suggested assistance. 

The name on the reservation Squeaky Clean locates at long last confirms it. 

“I have a… corner booth set aside for Gentle Giant and the lovely lady; the request was made by Bookish Spectacles. That sound right to you, vod?”

“Oh, yeah,” Wrecker replies, taking the small square of flimsiplast with the corresponding number, “he’s one of my squad mates.” 

“You’re all set then. Hope you both enjoy your evening!” 

The booth is found in no time at all. 

Being slightly more removed from the dancefloor, there’s less need to talk quite as loud as you had near the entrance. A very thoughtful bit of placement on Spectacles’ part. Wrecker explains this where he and his brothers like to sit whenever they have leave close to Coruscant and crave whatever’s greasiest from 79’s. He kindly offers to hold your bag for you while you slide into the booth, being extra careful not to drop it on the sticky floor when handing it back.  

Scarcely a moment after Wrecker has gotten in the opposite side of the booth, an unhelmeted soldier steps up to the table with a wry smile. He sports a neural brace, his right arm is held behind his back at an unusual angle. Obviously trying to hide something. 

“You kids behaving yourselves?” he asks somewhat playfully, not quite sarcastic. 

You recognize the voice from various bits of brotherly background chatter over all the different calls you’ve had with Wrecker, but you’re not sure of his name. 

“We haven’t even gotten started, Ec- Domino.” Wrecker pointedly informs him. He almost slips up. Until it was safe to say that you and Wrecker were looking like a confirmed item, sticking to calling his brothers by their CDS aliases was a more neutral course of action. “You guys promised you’d leave us alone.” 

“I’m only messing with you, Wreck,” his brother chuckles. Moving his right arm—which is mostly cybernetic, to a small amount of surprise—from behind his back, Domino puts a red foil gift bag down on the table. “We fully intend to keep that promise. Just came to give you this like you asked.”

Wrecker grins sheepishly. 

“Oh, right. I did ask that. Uh… thanks, Domino.” 

Limiting his reply to “Anytime, Wrecker,” and some encouragement to have fun, Domino takes his leave. 

Now you know what one of his brothers looked like under the helmet. You watch him for a moment, thinking Domino might go back to the others who made up Clone Force 99. No luck. He finds a group of troopers sporting cobalt blue paint and decides to brush his shoulders with them for a while. Wrecker mentioned once upon a time that even after joining CF99, Domino has good rapport with his previous detachment, still. 

A legion. Five-oh-something. It’ll come to you in a moment. 

You’re distracted by the butterflies now that you and Wrecker have the booth to yourselves. There are matching, giddy smiles as he briefly pulls the bag to his side of the table. Just to make a quick check of the contents. “Sorry ‘bout that, cyar’ika,” is all Wrecker will say about the interaction with Domino. No sense dedicating further thought to it when you’re here for a date tonight. 

Your first in-person date. 

So once he’s satisfied there’s no damage and everything is accounted for, Wrecker carefully slides the gift bag back across the table. This is for you, he explains. And you can open it whenever. Now. After something to eat and a few drinks. When it’s time to leave. It’s entirely up to you. 

Curiosity gets the better of you once again.  

And it gives you a tooka. 

A tooka doll, to be exact. 

Carefully swaddled in a bundle of gift-paper, you find yourself face-to-felt with your very own “Lula” doll. The gifted plush looks just like Wrecker’s – key difference being it was made using your favorite colors. All the way down to the thread used to stitch the toy together. 

“Oh, I love them…!” you coo, squeezing the cloth tooka to your chest. “It was really sweet of you to find one in my favorite color.” Oh, you can’t wait to take them home, you add. 

Wrecker is soon wearing another of his boyish grins, saying he’s glad you like it. But… would you believe him if he said he didn’t find the doll? (And before you ask: no, it wasn’t one of his brothers who found it, either.) He had made it. Often spent a large amount of time while his squad had been in hyperspace working on it, lately. 

You’re honestly blown away. “By hand? That’s incredible!” How long did it take him to make the doll? And when did he start? 

That’s easy. 

Wrecker started working on them when he realized he had a crush on you. Luckily, he already had all the material he needed on the Marauder. A lot of soldiers in the GAR had learned basic sewing skills that might come in handy in the event of an emergency, so, if he had to guess how long…? It’d probably taken him three weeks, at most, to finish the toy. 

He sews a lot. It keeps his fine motor skills sharp. Something he needs when it comes to dismantling (or building) bombs. Or, say… 

Adding a little message to a tag on the doll’s back following the night he had shown you his face. 

A heartfelt dedication, of sorts. 

'For: My cyber crush

Love: Wrecker'

A huge thank you to Maniacalbooper for making such an entertaining request and being a part of my 200 follower event, as well as having incredible patience with me in order to complete this story! I hope you and everyone else enjoyed this Wrecker fic. 🩷

Taglist: @callsign-denmark @dukeoftheblackstar @dreamie411 @dystopicjumpsuit @msmeredithrose + @returnofthepineapple @lonely-day3636

[FFF Masterlist] [TBB Masterlist] [NEW Taglist] [Requests: CLOSED]

[mouwriter]

Hi again! Thank you very much for writing my request, I absolutely loved it!!! <3 I hope you post again soon, your writing is very good. Is it ok to ask for a part 2? It can go however you want, if you need any ideas I imagine they would probably show their interest in subtle ways, like cleaning/fixing reader's equipment, leaving anonymous gifts, etc, or maybe something regarding reader taking care of their wounds? It's really up to you. If you don't want to write this I understand and feel free to ignore, I appreciate you taking your time to read this, take as much time as you need, thanks again! <3

I LOVE THIS CONCEPT IM SO HAPPY TO WRITE MORE OF THIS <3

i gotta be honest though (short tangent here), i have been writing a LOT but just not posting it.... specifically mandalorian reader x tbb....

alr so the real truth is that it's a self ship type thing?? but like. i've been thinking about posting it as an x reader thing, just changing the name to y/n and stuff (cause idk about you guys but i don't like reading x reader fics where the reader is named lol)

so uhh lmk if you guys would be interested in that!! anyways tangent over <3

wc: 1.5k

bad batch x medic!reader (part II)

characters: echo, crosshair, wrecker, hunter, tech

It was a short mission—or, it was supposed to be a short mission. So, they’d told you to wait on the ship.

But an hour passed, then two, and you started to get worried. Of course there was Echo, constantly updating you over his comm device, but it wasn’t much to go off of.

A few minutes the thing would crackle to life in your ear:

“We’ve just reached the facility; we’ll be in and out. You doing okay back at the ship?”

“Some… complications have come up. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes to resolve. Wrecker says hi. I say hi, too.”

You thought you heard him smack himself before the comm cut out, and you giggled to yourself. Still, you were worried. The last update you’d gotten was approximately fifteen minutes ago.

“Our objective is complete—we’ll be seeing you soon. Stay safe until we get there.”

He also told you to keep the doors to the ship shut, but at this point you were keeping them open just to watch for them.

You sat in the threshold, bouncing your knee while your fingernails tapped the durasteel floor. 

You reached for the comm device, about to ask for an update, but you heard blaster fire. 

Leaping to your feet, you spotted the force at once. They exploded from the tree line, and you counted four forms barreling towards you. Concerned, you hopped out of the ship and started jogging towards them, squinting to see who was who.

Tech was up front, gesturing wildly to the ship. You realized he was probably shouting something into his comm, but you’d left the device back in the threshold of the ship. Echo followed him, pointing to his comm. You shook your head, coming to a stop. You still had to make sure they were all there.

Wrecker and Hunter brought up the rear. Wrecker was carrying something—someone, you realized with relief. Crosshair was tossed over his shoulder like a sack of vegetables, and you saw a blaster in his hand.

A few seconds later you saw who he was shooting at. Probably the local militia, by your reckoning. 

“Separatists!” Echo’s voice found your ears at last. You realized that if they were close enough to be heard, you should probably start running, too.

You turned heel, bolting back to the ship. But they were all faster than you, and you found yourself beside Hunter as you all booked it.

“What happened to ‘a short mission’?” you panted, side-eying him.

You heard him sigh before he suddenly fell behind you, just in time to get shot square in the back by a blaster.

“Hunter!” 

He shoved you roughly into the ship behind everyone else before leaping in after you, slamming the switch to close the door.

“Tech!” he rasped, out of breath.

“Already on it,” Tech’s even voice came from the cockpit. In seconds the ship was off the ground, and in a few seconds more you were in space. You all hardly had time to find something to ground yourselves with.

“What happened?!” you fretted, pacing between them all to glance them over.

Wrecker ripped off his helmet, ruddy-cheeked and gasping for air. “We had to run all the way back.”

“Well, yeah, but—” you shook your head. “Who else is injured?” 

You reached for Hunter. You could practically hear the grin in his voice when he chuckled tiredly, sliding his pack from his shoulders to reveal that the blaster had only hit the pack.

“You clever thing,” you huffed, fake-punching him on the arm.

“Didn’t wanna give you any more work than you were already gonna have,” he said, gesturing.

You turned around and immediately looked at Crosshair; he was the one being carried. He had pulled off his helmet and was examining the thing in his lap.

He straightened as you approached, and you put your hands up in surrender. “Can I look you over?”

He rolled his eyes, scooting away. But you took that as an invitation to sit next to him. 

“I’m fine. Wrecker was only carrying me because—”

“Because you were being slow!” Wrecker jumped in, scowling at Crosshair. 

“I was firing back at the troops who were actively shooting at us.” The fire in his gaze dimmed before he glanced at you again. He leaned in ever so slightly, murmuring: “I’m fine. Trust me.”

He planted his hand on your shoulder, pushing himself up and heading to the cockpit. But you noticed the way his hand subtly dragged down your arm as he walked away. You blinked at him, a chill running down your back. But he didn’t turn around to look at you as he disappeared into the cockpit.

“Uh, how about you, Wrecker?”

He visibly lit up at the sound of his name. “Oh, you know me. I’m practically indestructible!”

You tilted your head, only partly returning his massive grin. The grin didn’t last long—it quickly turned into a pout as he looked at his left arm, rotating his shoulder.

“Except… I think I got nicked on the arm…”

You got to your feet, crouching down next to him on the ground. You could see that his blacks were torn on the inner part of his left arm, which he held out for you to examine.

“Not too bad. Let me get some dressings.”

You stood up to get your pack, visualizing what you needed. Probably just a square of gauze and—

The gauze pocket was completely empty. You knew you were running low, but not this low!

Then again, I did patch up that kid on Ryloth… 

You bit your lip. What else could you use? Maybe if you cut a bit of your clean clothes, or—

“You’ll probably need a five by five,” Tech’s voice came from behind you.

“Well, yeah, but I don’t have any gauze,” you huffed, turning to face him. 

Your eyes immediately landed on the piece of gauze he was holding out to you. In his other hand was a small box; you recognized the packaging. It was all gauze.

“I noticed you ran out on our last mission. I figured you’d restock it yourself, but I got some just in case.”

“It’s a good thing you did!” You beamed, throwing your arms around him.

The gauze box fell to the floor, and you pulled away. “Sorry,” you chuckled, picking it up. “But thank you, Tech. Seriously.”

Tech fixed his goggles, avoiding your gaze. It was dark in the ship, but you perceived a faint hint of redness on his cheeks. “Well… I’m just making sure you can do your job.” He cleared his throat. “And here’s some bacta; I got this, too. Just in case.”

You nodded. It really was a superficial wound; you would’ve gotten away with some gauze and wrappings on anyone else, but you both knew Wrecker.

You tied the wrapping on his arm, gently tucking your finger under the fabric to check the tightness.

“Does that feel too tight?”

Wrecker bent his arm and straightened it again, examining your work. “Feels great! You always take care of me.” He grinned, clapping you on the shoulder with his other hand. 

You smiled, standing up and handing him his top. Your finger found the tear in one arm, and you held up the garment contemplatively. “I don’t think you’re gonna want to wear this.”

Wrecker planted himself on a seat, reclining with a sigh as he placed his hands behind his head. “Nah, I’m good.” He flashed a grin at you.

You couldn’t help but side-eye him, folding the top over your arm. “I’ll get you a blanket.”

There was a blanket laying somewhere around the bridge; you just couldn’t remember where. 

As you rummaged through one of the supply crates, you noticed Hunter approaching. He crouched down to rummage through another crate next to you.

“You sure you’re okay?” you asked, glancing at him.

“Just a bruise; I already had Echo look at it.”

You nodded. “How about Echo?”

“He’s fine. His job was just to keep checking on you,” Hunter joked. 

“So I noticed.” You smiled.

Hunter lifted a blanket from the crate, shuffling so he was crouched at the other end of your crate.

“Oh, thanks.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” he retorted. “You do a good job.”

You tilted your head, taking the blanket from him. For a moment you both just held the fabric, looking at each other, lost in thought. 

“Thanks,” you said again, more slowly this time. “You do a good job, too.”

“Even though I can’t keep ‘a short mission’ short?”

You snorted, jumping up. “Water under the bridge, sergeant. I’m just glad you’re all alive.”

He grinned at you as you walked away, reclining against the wall.

No matter how bad a mission went, they could always look forward to one thing: you.

yaaay ty for reading!! and tysm for this request, hopefully i can put out more of this soon... <3

[book-place-incorrect-quotes]

Y/N: Get out of my room, Wreck!

Wrecker: *being a little shit and standing outside the doorframe* I’m not in your room!

Y/N: HUNTER-

Wrecker: Hey! No fair! You can’t just call Hunter every time you want to get your way!

Y/N: Fine.

Y/N:

Y/N: CROSSHAIR-

Wrecker: *immediately running away* That’s so much worse and you know it!

[mandos-mind-trick]

Kinktober Day 28 - Cockbulge

Summary: He's just so big. 

Pairing: Wrecker x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, size difference, size kink, cockbulge, masturbation, fingering. 

A/N: I don't have much to say about this one. Enjoy the back to back Wrecker fics.

MASTERLIST

His cock never fails to shock you. You’ve seen it several times, held it many times, had it inside you more times that you can count on two hands and yet, you’re always shocked when you see him. 

He’s just so big. 

Of course, his entire body is big. It would be more shocking if he wasn’t huge everywhere. Still, every time his pants come off, you’re incapable of doing anything but sit there in shock and awe for a few moments as you take in the long, thick cock between his thighs. He always gets sheepish as you bask in his glory, mouth watering and pussy throbbing at the thought of taking him inside you. As bashful as he is, you know he loves it as much as you do. 

Perhaps even more. 

Your thighs clench together around your hand as you recline on the bed. You’re alone in the house. The others know what’s going on. Wrecker only turned down food trips for one thing, and that was usually a chance to have the house to yourselves, and your pussy. 

He’s less bashful this time as he approaches the bed, a mischievous glint to his eyes. He kneels on the bed, the mattress dipping under his large size. Tech had reinforced the bed, making sure it would not only hold him, but also withstand his...voracity. He kneels between your spread legs, eyes glued to your pussy. Three of your fingers are stuffed inside you, trying to work yourself open for him. It’s nowhere near enough, but you know going in with no prep would be foolish. 

He might actually split you open down the middle. 

He pushes your knees up, changing the angle of your hips as you continue you fuck yourself with your fingers, your eyes glued to his cock where it dangles between his legs. His thick fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling your fingers from inside you. He lifts them up, lowering his head down to take them in his mouth. You let out a strangled sound as he sucks on your fingers, his tongue licking them clean. 

“Taste so good, mesh’la.” He groans, pressing a kiss to your wrist. He drops your hand before pushing your thighs even further apart, bearing your glistening pussy to him. “So wet.” 

“Only for you.” You gasp, toes curling as he drags his fingers through your folds. 

You whimper as he slips two of his fingers into you, the thick digits reaching deeper inside you than your own fingers could. You stare down at his hand, watching his fingers slide in and out of you, skin glistening with your juices. He adds a third finger, stretching you open further so you can take his cock easier. 

"Still so tight." He groans, pressing against your walls as he pumps his fingers into you. 

No matter how much he preps you, it'll still be uncomfortable, at least at first. Your toes curl at the thought of the burning stretch, the painful pleasure as he forces your body open so you can take him. 

You moan, walls clamping around his fingers. You're soaking his hand, turned on already from your own teasing touches and the thought of fucking the giant man hovering over you. 

"You ready for me?" He asks, slowing his fingers. 

You nod. "Yes, kriff yes Wrecker!"

He withdraws his fingers from your pussy, using his slick hand to pump his cock. You moan at the sight of your juices wetting his skin, eyes locked on his hard member. He leans over you to grab the pillows from the top of the bed, slipping them under your hips to raise you up to a more comfortable height. Your legs drape over his thighs as he positions you, the head of his cock bumping against your slit. 

You moan at the sensation, body clenching in anticipation. You're so ready for him, so ready to take him, but he has to ensure you're comfortable first as always. He's always so attentive, always so caring. 

"Comfortable?" He asks, his hand resting on your stomach as you settle in. 

You nod again. "Yeah. Very comfortable."

He smiles, thumb stroking your skin. "Good. You ready?"

You smile. "Hurry up and put your cock inside me, Wrecker."

A wicked grin forms on his face, his cock brushing your slit again as he positions himself. "Yes, ma'am." 

You bite your lip as he drags the head of his cock through your folds, using your body's slick to ready himself. Your hands fist the sheets as he presses into you, the wide tip of his head breaching your hole. 

You moan softly as you stretch around him, body relaxed as he pushes his thick cock inside you. Quiet grunts leave his lips as he works his way in, thrusting shallowly to open you up to him. 

You take him, deeper and deeper until you can't anymore, until he's seated fully inside of you as much as he can. You're stretched wide, gaping around him. Your pussy throbs as you look down, lips spread wide around his thick length, your stomach bulging from where he sits inside you. 

"Look at that." He says, always in awe of how visible he is inside you. 

His hand smooths over your stomach, over the bulge. You moan quietly, eyes glued to the spot as he slowly withdraws from you, the bulge shrinking before reappearing as he thrusts back in. You watch the movements of his cock inside you, his own eyes focused where your stomach moves with every thrust. 

You desperately try not to cum as he fucks you, his cock filling you and pushing against every spot inside you that has your toes curling. You want this to last as long as possible, but it's always so hard with how well he pleasures you. 

You writhe below him as his hand presses against the bulge, pushing him against that spot inside you with every thrust. It has you nearly seeing stars, your pussy clamping tightly around him. 

"Feels so good, Wrecker!" You cry out. "Gonna cum!"

"Cum for me!" He says, hands moving to your hips as he picks up the pace, your entire body bouncing as he thrusts into you. 

Your eyes roll back as you cum, clamping tightly around him with a cry of his name. He continues to fuck you, working you through your orgasm until your fluttering walls force his own orgasm out of him. He groans loudly, hips jerking as he spills into you. 

You moan as he fills you, stretched even further by his cum. You stare at the bulge inside you, exacerbated by his release. He stays there inside you, enjoying the look of your body stretched wide around him. 

Ragu list:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @sinfulsalutations @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink @lickylickylicky @sweetheartsnips @commanderblood @crosshairlovebot @ghostperson69 @jediknightjana @jedi-hawkins @dalu-grantkylo @cw80831

[din-miller]

Soft edges, gentle touch

Pairing: Wrecker x f!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: Years after settling down on Pabu with each other, Wrecker has started gaining weight, becoming softer. You didn’t realize how self conscious he’s become about the change in his body. Once you find out, you try and convince him that you’re still insanely attractive to him

Warnings: insecure wrecker, weight gain, hurt/comfort, married couple, life in Pabu, implications to sexy times, I love wrecker and he needs to be appreciated more okay

A/N: I also wrote one for Hunter.

You kick the front door of your house open, awkwardly balancing on one leg as the groceries in your arm threats to take a nosedive onto the floor. You huff and lean back to try and right the bag you're holding against your chest, only supported by one hand underneath it.

“Whoa, cyare, careful,” Wrecker grabs the bag from you with one hand and the other is quick to wrap around your back to steady you, then, not surprisingly his hand wonders down to your ass, giving it a squeeze, “I thought you were going out to get us dinner, not buy the entire market!”

Thanking him, you properly close the front door, locking it despite knowing how safe Pabu is. You remember that one time where Crosshair wanted to prove a point about how locking the front door is crucial to your survival. He even snuck in one night and you woke up to him looming over you, smirking like he just proved a point. Which he did, you had to admit.

You’re still not sure if his nose ever properly healed correctly. Wrecker constantly jokes about how much he wished his brother was chewing on a toothpick at that moment. It’s a morbid sense of humour the Batch has, truly.

You try to reach for the groceries again but Wrecker is already walking towards the kitchen.

Figures.

You kicked off your shoes and followed him, appreciating the sight in front of you. He’s gone soft around the edges since he and the boys decided to settle down. Life away from war and blaster fire. You had met him shortly afterwards, he offered to help carry an armchair to your place. You had denied out of kindness at first, but he was ever so persistent in helping. It didn’t take you long to cave.

You’ll admit it, watching the way his arms flex, shoulder wide and back a mountain of muscle was a sight you had admired instantly. And the following days, weeks, months and years.

Now, three years after having met the love of your life you’ve begun to notice the softness around his hips, stomach and chest. The way his muscles are still very prominent, even underneath his shirts, but they weren’t as big as they once were.

It’s not a kink or anything like that. It’s knowing he’s able to relax and have proper meals; that you’re providing him food and healthy nutritions outside of his usual ration packs that make your heart skip every time you’re able to run your hands across the softness of his body.

You’re allowed to blatantly admire it too. You openly stare, sometimes lustfully, sometimes not, but it’s a daily admiration — an hourly admiration if you’re being honest.

So when Wrecker goes to put something up on the highest self, his shirt riding up enough to give you a clear view of the small belly resting just above his pants, you give a low whistle. You wonder if you could talk him into a little make out session and ignore the groceries for the time being.

But instead of his usual response; turning around and winking at you, he tenses. Muscles stiff and face angled away from you as his arms drop to his sides. You frown, baffled at his response.

“Babe?”

He doesn’t reply right away, but when he does reply it’s timid, “Do you still see me the same way you used to?”

You raise your brow, a playful grin forming on your lips, “You mean; smart, kind, a wonderful sense of humour-,”

“Attractive,” He cuts you off, turning slightly towards you, voice low. Self conscious, “Tech sent over the pictures from his wedding. I… I didn’t realise I'd gotten so…” Wrecker scratched the back of his head, eyes still avoiding yours, “Chubby.”

Your grin falls down into a frown, taking back at his question, at why he’d ever think of using the word chubby to describe himself. Realization hits you like a punch in the gut; while you’ve been admiring his softer form you never really took into account how Wrecker views the changes in his body.

Some partner you are.

You round the kitchen island taking Wrecker’s hand in yours, squeezing it, “I love you, I love your body, I love that you’re healthy because that’s what you are. You’re not fat, not chubby, you’re healthy,” You cup his cheek, tilting his head down until your eyes meet, “Wrecker you are beautiful.”

He sighs, taking your hand and draping it over his shoulder, giving him access to your inner elbow where his lips press a delicate kiss to your skin, “I’m being silly, aren’t I?”

“No, my love,” Your fingers lightly trail over the scars across the side of his head, “You’re still adjusting to a normal lifestyle away from being a clone. It’s a lot of change to deal with, mentally and physically. You’ve gained weight, so have I; it’s called getting older and I for one don’t want to grow old and flabby with anyone other than you.”

“I age faster.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I find salt and pepper insanely attractive.” You sent him a saucy wink.

Confusion paints his face, “Mesh’la, I’m bald and all my attempts at growing a beard have ended with poor results. The only hair on my body is-,” His eyes widened and a blush spreads across his cheeks, “Oh, i-I see, you’re talking about my pubs.”

You shake your head, laughing, “Yes, Wrecker, I’m talking about your pubs… In all seriousness, I’ll never see you any differently than the man I love beyond measure. Whether that be old, flabby and grumpy or muscular, lean and childlike; I’ll love it all. I want it all.”

“You have it all,” He leans into your hand, a pleased noise coming from his throat when your thumb brushes across the scar on the bridge of his nose, “I love you too, my beautiful wife.”

“Enough to forget the groceries and make out with me against the counter?”

Strong arms wrap around your waist and suddenly you’re being lifted up and set down the island, his lips already hungrily seeking out yours before you can squeal at being manhandled by your husband. You hum against his lips, tongue darting out to run over the seams of his, asking permission which is given instantly as his mouth parts and you're suddenly overcome with the taste of him, drinking it all in with a soft moan.

You know Wrecker will still struggle with the changes in his body, as you will your own, but you have him and he has you. It’ll all be okay.

[ghos-twinter]

The Bad Batch when you fall asleep against their shoulder

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦: 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪��:,)

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐵𝑎𝑑 𝐵𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝑆𝑒𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒)

ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ:

Freezes for a moment when he felt you gently place your head against his shoulder, he knew you were exhausted after the mission but he just didn’t expect you to suddenly fall asleep like that it actually makes him feel warm inside though, you trusted him to let your guard down around him which to him meant that you felt safe around him too.

He sees Crosshair smirk at him but he quickly brushes it off he’ll make sure not to move around a lot so you can get plenty of rest.

He might actually close his eyes for a bit too the warmth your body radiated was comforting to him in a way and it helped calm down his senses after you wake up you quickly apologize to him but he tells he doesn’t mind it at all.

ᴄʀᴏssʜᴀɪʀ:

At first he wanted to shrug you off his shoulder but then he remembered you telling him you were having troubles sleeping at night at times you didn’t get into the details about why that was but he completely understood what you meant, at times he could stay awake for hours and would have to report for a mission the next day lacking sleep.

Wrecker sends him a smug look but Crosshair rolls his eyes and mouths “don’t be loud” to Wrecker he would quickly send glares to anyone who got too loud while you slept.

Crosshair felt weird though you being close to him felt somewhat comforting to him he didn’t know why it made him feel that way.

If you wake up you quickly apologize to Crosshair but he shrugs mumbling a “didn’t matter to me you looked tired anyways.” Doesn’t mind lending you his shoulder again if you need a quick nap.

ᴡʀᴇᴄᴋᴇʀ:

It doesn’t take you a long time before you fall asleep against Wrecker’s shoulder he’s too warm which makes you sleepy at first Wrecker is confused and debates on waking you up or not but when Tech tells him you’re probably just exhausted from the mission he decides not to wake you up. He completely gets it though during a mission his adrenaline can be pumping but afterwords he’s totally exhausted.

Even though at times Wrecker can be loud he’s completely silent so he doesn’t disturb your sleep he can’t help but find it cute when you mumble a few words in your sleep, some of the words he can make out and some others he can’t.

You apologize to Wrecker about sleeping on him but he shrugs “I didn’t mind! Hey did you know you talk in your sleep?” You can only hope you didn’t say anything too weird.

ᴇᴄʜᴏ:

He’s actually used to it especially when it’s you he remembers whenever you would travel with them on missions you would fall asleep on his shoulder or Five’s shoulder (depending who was the closest to you) so it wasn’t someone new to him.

Might join in with you on taking a power nap but if he stays awake he’s quick to shush the others if they start getting too loud

“I did it again didn’t I?” You ask Echo as you finally wake up from your nap he chuckles “you really need to get your sleep schedule adjusted.” You groaned “tell me about it.. sorry Echo.” He smiles at you “I don’t mind.” Echo is willing to lead you his shoulder again if you need a quick nap which in return makes you happy.

ᴛᴇᴄʜ:

Tech doesn’t shrug you off but will definitely lightly scold you about your sleeping pattern and needing a better sleeping routine you let out a small grumble before falling asleep again, Tech doesn’t mind it honestly though he’s still able to work on his datapad and plus the others can fly the marauder.

He does appreciate though that you can easily let your guard down around him he’s like oh they find me safe and warm? That’s new but he’s smiling about it.

When you wake up you apologize to Tech about falling asleep on him he’s quick to reassure you that he doesn’t mind but PLEASE get your sleeping routine in check. Seriously the amount of times he’s found you awake until the sun rises is concerning…

[sinfulsalutations]

𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕖𝕒𝕥 ⋆*･ﾟ𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜱᴇx, ᴄᴜɴɴɪʟɪɴɢᴜꜱ, ꜰᴀᴄᴇ-ꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜰɪxᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ

⋆ ★ ɢᴇɴᴜɪɴᴇʟʏ ɪᴅʀᴋ. ɪ ᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴ ᴏɴᴇ ꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴛᴀɴɴɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰɪʟᴛʜ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴘʟᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ. ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜰᴜɴ

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

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Hunter - Actively drowns himself

Hunter thinks the best place he could ever be is buried deep into your cunt. He loves the feeling of every jerk of your legs, every single fold and crevice of your sex. Even then he feels like it isn’t enough, and presses himself to you so adamantly and for so long he leaves with his entire face drenched.

I’ve expressed before that his nose is a clit tickler and I still stand by that. He presses against it while he lets his tongue fuck into your hole, letting out heavy breaths that make you sigh and twitch against his face.

He wants everything from you. Wants you whining and bucking into him. Groans into your cunt “C’mon pretty, give it to me. Let me have it, oh, let me give you this,” when he’s making you reach your peak.

Tech - Treats it like a scientific experiment

There’s a method to making you orgasm thoroughly and pleasurably, Tech has discovered, and as a man of logic, it wouldn’t be correct to treat pleasuring you any differently than he does other situations.

The first time you let him between your legs, Tech takes his time to thoroughly take you in, and he collects his observations, infers what might make you cum the hardest, the fastest, and soon after he begins to run his “experiments.”

He concludes quickly that it’s all about the combinations of stimulation and how they’re applied, how hard or gently he sucks your clit in his mouth while his fingers probe your entrance, the speed of his index and middle pumping into you while his tongue gently licks around your folds. Tech won’t rest until he’s figured out everything that makes you click and cum.

Wrecker - Wants to be your chair

If you think Hunter is messy about how he eats your pussy, you haven’t seen Wrecker yet. This boy wants to be so roughed up and drenched you’ll be in need of a shower before he even gets his cock wet.

And he wants you to sit. Not hover, not squat, sit. You may express insecurities or worries of hurting him at first, but Wrecker is extremely adamant it’ll all be alright. I mean, come on. The man is huge, and any worry of crushing him is gone the instant he grabs onto your hips and situates you right on him.

Wrecker is incredibly eager when he laps at your cunt, tongue and fingers reaching any place he can, encouraging you to move and grind all over him so you can get your fill. If he gets your spend dripping down his chin and trailing down his neck, that just means hes given you and you’ve given him everything you can feasibly give, and he can wipe it away with a pussy drunk look on his face before asking if he can make you come again.

Crosshair - Does it more for himself than you

You could reasonably argue that Crosshair likes eating you out more than you like getting eaten out. This man craves it like he’s addicted, forever hooked on your taste, your body, every twitch and sigh and slight movement of your body forever ingrained in his mind.

Somehow, despite giving, he manages to be selfish. Crosshair is groaning into you, whispering things he knows you can’t hear because hes talking to himself (or your cunt). Even through that, he makes it good for you; being selfish doesn’t mean it won’t be enjoyable for the receiving party. If he’s slow and thorough about it (which rarely happens) he can make you see stars with the gentlest of pets. But usually, you come fast and hard. And no matter what, he makes you feel good.

Echo - Slowly but surely

Echo is probably one of, if not, the most romantic when it comes to eating you out. He doesn’t want you to do any work; “Don’t grind your hips, sweetheart. I’ve got it. Just feel good for me.”

Giving is something he feels is necessary to show his love and appreciation in the bedroom, so he wants you to lie back and let him make you fall apart at his own pace. And Maker do you fall apart.

Echo knows every single rhythm with his licks and pumps and sucks, every pattern he could follow that will make you feel so good your eyes are brimmed with tears once you do finally finish. But he’s quick to rise up and kiss them away, whispering little nothings while his hand traces the curves of your body, easing you back down from the high.

ragu list: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @kimiheartblade @followthepurrgil @wolffegirlsunite @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @aconstructofamind @padawancat97 @littlemissmanga @starqueensthings @freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar @clio3kantarella @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @dystopicjumpsuit @mandos-mind-trick @sunshinesdaydream @andrakass2 @jesjestraverse @crosshairlovebot @wizardofrozz @dangraccoon @lickylickylicky @thebomb-diggity @urmomsmattress @jedi-hawkins @who-would-want-a-broken-heart @cw80831 @ladyzirkonia @multi-fan-dom-madness @moonlightwarriorqueen @eyeluvmusic21 @mythical-illustrator @a-single-tulip @isaidonyourknees @salaminus @mekuiikore @crosshairscrustysock

[ivonhart]

FIC POSTED 🤯

a lil’ snippet of the wrecker fic I’m working on rn cuz I’m loving it sm

reader is a twi’lek (like usual I kept the skin color up to y’all’s imagination - she’s purple in my eyes hehe + I wrote her lekkus to be somewhat longer than shown in the show cuz if that nasty dude twi’lek Bib Fortuna - he scares me so bad man - can have long lekkus so can my girl 👹)

-

“Oh, I’m so excited to see what Phee has brought back!” Lyana said with bright eyes as the three of you made your way to the top of the island. You eyed her father with a small smile before responding. “As am I.”

A thoughtful hum passed by your lips as you pulled one of your lekkus over your shoulder, messing with the flower vines you decorated your head-tails with. “I wonder if you picked up any new seeds for me? The gardens could use some new friends.”

You were as close of a friend to Phee as she let you be after she freed you from slavers whilst on a mission to “liberate” an ancient Ryloth artifact the slavers wished to part with. As the three of you reached the summit and watched the ship come into view, you noted the four individuals that stood in front of her. One being a young girl with short, blonde hair.

Despite the fact they ranged from shape and size, they all sported the same colored armor. “After all, I am a liberator–” Shep was quick to announce their presence by finishing her sentence. “Liberator of ancient wonders.” Clone Force 99’s attention turned towards the new voice and that was when Wrecker saw you.

A Twi’lek dressed in a long, flowy dress that blew in the light ocean breeze, paired with an apron that was slightly dirty that held gardening tools looked at his brother from underneath her large floppy hat that was decorated with flowers along the top. Even though you wore a hat, he could still take in your lekkus that dropped down your back and swayed with each breath you took.

As you got closer, you saw that your head-tails were wrapped in small lines that sprouted a few small flowers along the larger parts of the vines. You were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on. His eyes never left your figure as you bounced over to Phee with a wide smile. “PHEEEEEEEE!”

The woman in question opened her arms with a small smile as she braced for impact. Everything about you drew Wrecker’s attention and he felt his heart speed up as passed him to get to her. Your scent was one of dirt and flora. It was intoxicating. “Easy now.” Phee started with a laugh. “Those tools you got might poke my kidney out if you hug me any tighter.” And your laugh. Wrecker had to force his legs to stay under him as the sound flowed through his ears like the sweetest melody.

He was so enamored with you that he didn’t see the way Hunter eyed him. “About time you showed your face around here.” Shep said with a laugh after you pulled away, allowing both him and Lyana to embrace him. “What’d you bring this time?” As Phee kneeled down to show Layana, you took the time to look at those she brought along.

From a closer distance it was clear that they were clones, but they weren’t like the ones you remembered from Ryloth. They had similar faces, but there were slightly different aspects about each and every one of them.

The one next to the little girl sported a skull tattoo that took half his face along with a notable, red bandana that held his long hair back a tad. The next one seemed to hide behind his data pad, but you could still see that his goggled-eyes were stuck on Phee as she spoke about the artifact. You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged on your lips.

Then your attention moved to the last clone and he was…breathtaking. He was as large as a house with broad shoulders and strong arms, but his eyes held almost a shyness from under your gaze. His brown and white eyes shifted side to side every few seconds as you kept your full attention on him.

You were so focused on memorizing the trail of scars along his eye that you didn’t realize Phee had been speaking to you until she waved her hand in front of her face. “Seems Flower here likes what she sees, huh?” Heat burned your cheeks as you snapped your eyes away from the man with an open mouth. You were about to rebuttal the woman, but she simply turned on her heel and began introducing everyone.

-

this fic for me all like

his literally my wife - I’m already three pages deep in a google doc rn - size 11 font NO sentence spaces

[kaminocasey]

Read to Me

Pairing: Wrecker x F!Medic Reader Summary: Wrecker loves it when you read to him. This time, he asks you to read something spicier. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI; Super light angst, Smut, uprotected p in v (wrap it up friends), oral (f receiving), fluff WC: 4k A/N: It's been a minute since I've written a SW fic and I started this literally a year ago but I woke up missing this gentle giant so I felt inspired to finish it. Listened to this song while finishing it.

Taglist Form | TBB Masterlist

“That doesn’t seem like a normal data report.” Crosshair’s smoky voice is behind you as you sit on the hatch of the Marauder.

You turn and see that he’s looking over your shoulder, staring directly down at your datapad that currently has a smutty scene in the book you’re reading. 

“It’s a book.” Your cheeks immediately burn with embarrassment. “Mind your own business.”

Wrecker’s ears perk up. “What kind of book?”

Your entire body goes warm at the thought of Wrecker knowing what kind of books you read when you’re not reading to him at night. It’s a nighttime tradition. You lay in your bunk directly across from Wrecker’s and you read him to sleep. He says he loves the sound of your voice and that it helps calm him down at night. You love reading to him as much as he does. Which is why this is incredibly embarrassing.

You shoot daggers at Crosshair and he reaches one of his incredibly long arms around you, plucking your datapad right out of your hands and starts to step away. 

“Crosshair! Give it back!” You shout. 

And then Crosshair does something even more mortifying. He starts reading it out loud. 

“Jahret takes Leema in his arms and pushes her up against the wall, forcing her legs to separate with his knee between them. As a result, she grinds her already wet warmth-” 

You tackle Crosshair to the durasteel floor of the Marauder and he smirks when you land on top of him with an “oof.”

“You’re such a karking asshole.” You snatch the datapad away and start to get up, Wrecker lending out a hand in the process. 

You take his hand and give him an appreciative smile, still embarrassed as you walk away to the fresher to hide for a bit. He follows you with concerned eyes. 

“Why’d ya do that?” Wrecker lightly shoves Crosshair when you disappear.

Crosshair smirks. “You ought to have her read that book to you. I think you’ll like it better than the other stuff she reads to you.” 

Wrecker furrows his brows at his brother, confused. When he heard Crosshair reading out loud what you’d been reading made him go warm in the face, though, that much he did know. He didn’t think it was embarrassing, though. He wants to ask you, though, he isn’t sure how, without embarrassing you further. 

Would you ever read that out loud if he asked? Would that be pushing it too far? It really has to do more with how you read. He really loves going to sleep to the sound of your voice.

There’s a knock on the fresher door and you get up off the floor and open it, thinking that one of the guys needs to use the fresher. Instead, and thankfully, you’re met with your favorite pair of warm brown eyes and a kind smile. 

“Oh, Wrecker.” You feel yourself flush and divert your eyes to the fresher sink. “Sorry, do you need the fresher?” 

“No, I was just…” He rubs the back of his head, as if he isn’t sure how to say what’s on his mind.

You’ve never seen the larger man so timid. 

“Just…?” You look back up at him.

He can’t stop looking at your lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss them. He always does, though. He always wants to kiss you. Always.

“Just wonderin’ how come you don’t read that kinda book to me?” He smiles. 

You go hot in the face at the thought of reading that kind of book to Wrecker. “Oh… I mean… it’s just… Kark. I don’t know.” You cross your arms, leaning against the wall.

“Would you… ever…?” He tries to ask you, tilting his head, smiling that incredibly heartwarming smile that you could never ever say no to.

“You really want me to?” You raise your eyebrows up in surprise. 

He shrugs. “I like when you read all sorts of books to me.” 

You smile up at him. “Alright… But… we should probably set some ground rules… shouldn’t we?” 

He guides you out to your bunk and climbs in with you, pulling the curtain closed. It’s a little cramped with him so close in such a small space, but you don’t mind. You cross your legs, sitting against the wall and Wrecker lays his head in your lap.

“What kind of rules, mesh’la?” Wrecker smiles up at you. 

“Well… I mean… I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you in any way. So maybe we shouldn’t… you know, act on any feelings this kind of book stirs inside of us.” You go absolutely hot in the face at the thought of recreating any of these scenes with him. Does he know you feel the way you do about him? Would he ever reciprocate these feelings one day? Probably not. 

“Mesh’la, you could never take advantage of me.” He reaches around and pats your knee and you smile down at him. “Trust me.” 

You nod. “Alright then.”

Pulling your datapad back up, you push one of the books that you’d not read yet that you’d been saving for a while. It’s a forbidden romance between a princess and a Jedi knight. 

At one point, Wrecker starts to close his eyes and you think he’s going to fall asleep, his breathing becoming deep and even. You didn’t get to any spicy scenes yet, so those will probably be for tomorrow’s reading. Tonight, you just enjoy the feel of the large man in your lap, smiling down at him as you trace lines over his face. When you trail your fingers over his lips, he presses a soft kiss to them and you go fuzzy all over, your chest tightening. 

You’re so gone for this man, it’s not even funny. Maybe to Crosshair, because that kriffing asshole absolutely knew what he was doing when he pulled that little stunt earlier. 

“Come here.” Wrecker’s gruff, yet soft voice tells you, his eyes still closed. 

“Hm?” You look down at him, sleepily. 

“Will you cuddle with me?” He asks. 

How could you say no? 

He lifts up his head slightly for you to maneuver between him and the wall. He rests his arm so that you can rest your head against it. You expected it to be hard and uncomfortable because of all of his muscles, but it’s not. He’s not. It’s the comfiest you’ve felt since joining up in the GAR. 

Wrecker reaches down and pulls your leg over his and it becomes even more comfortable. His arm that you’re laying on wraps around you and you move your head to his chest, which is somehow just as comfortable. It occurs to you that you probably won’t ever get to sleep this comfortably again, so you may as well enjoy it. And like he said… you aren’t taking advantage of this. Right?

The hyperspace and ship sounds lull you to sleep almost right away, and as sleep starts to take you, you think you feel Wrecker pull you even closer.

When you wake up, you find yourself still wrapped in Wrecker’s arms, practically on top of him. You realize that and then sit up. 

“Morning.” You hear Wrecker’s sweet voice and you rub your eyes, looking down at him.

“Good morning.” You smile. 

“Come back here.” He opens his arm again. 

You peek around the curtain and see that no one’s here, which means you’ve made it back to Kamino for your supply run. You lay back down in the crook of Wrecker’s arm, resting your hand on his warm chest and throwing your leg back over his own. 

You’re glad that Hunter’s not here so he can’t hear your heart absolutely racing against your chest. Can Wrecker feel it? 

Does he know how your heart beats only for him?

“Slept so good last night. Oughta sleep in your bunk like this more.” He tells you. 

You nod in agreement. “I agree. Anytime you want.” 

He smiles down at you and then looks at your hand on his chest. 

“D’you think maybe we could read more of that book. It was a really good story.” Wrecker requests.

You swallow and it sounds loud to your own ears. A spicier scene is about to come up, you know it. The princess and Jedi had gotten themselves into a tough situation where she was almost taken and now they’re hiding out and there’s a ton of sexual tension.

“Unless ya don’t want to, then we can get up and go meet the guys.” Wrecker offers, noticing you thinking.

You smile up at him. “Yeah, big guy. We can read more.”

He reaches up behind the pillow and grabs your datapad, handing it to you. You cuddle in close, getting comfortable again. His fingers trail down your arm, over your hand, until they settle on your hip. Heat courses through your veins and you try your best to keep a content sigh from escaping your lips. 

“A-alright.” You start reading again with a slightly shaky breath. 

When you get to the spicy scene, you pause for a moment and Wrecker looks down at you. 

“Y-you’re sure?” You murmur.

“Go on.” He squeezes your hip, sending electricity through your body.

You nod. “Right. Okay.”

So you continue reading, reading about how the princess gets down on her knees for Jedi . He tries to ask her if they should really be doing this but she tells him how badly she wants him. She needs him. He tells her the same. The Jedi  doesn’t stop her as she releases his length from his pants and starts to lick long stripes up it until she takes him in her mouth-

Your entire body is hot as you read and just when you think you’ve gotten used to the scene, you feel a twitch in Wrecker’s pants. It’s a normal reaction, of course. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling a certain way about it as well. But still… It's hard to ignore. 

As you continue to read about the princess and Jedi knight starting to make love, it’s impossible to miss the tent in Wrecker’s pants becoming more evident. His grip on your hip tightens and you nearly combust right then. This was a monumentally horrible idea. 

When the chapter ends, you put your data pad down and lay there with him. Both of your chests are rising a little more rapidly. 

“That was uh…” Wrecker rubs a hand down his face and then clenches his hand, sitting it to his side. 

His grip on your hip never lessens, though.

“We better go find the guys.” You whisper. 

“Right, right. Yeah.” Wrecker nods. 

You start to get up to carefully climb over him, but he moves at the same time that you start to stretch a leg over the side and it causes you to fall on top of him. Your warmth lands roughly against his hardened length and you both groan loudly. 

His hands find both of your hips this time and he grips tightly. You stare at each other, both afraid to move. 

“Mesh’la…” Wrecker whispers, pupils blown wide. “Please…” 

“W-we shouldn’t…” You whisper, really wanting to give in, your hands on his firm chest, gripping the fabric of his bodysuit. 

He’s only begging like this because of his sexual frustration because of the book. It has nothing to do with you. But still… with the way he’s looking up at you… 

He tests the waters by guiding you over his length. You let out a needy whimper as your underwear rubs against your clit just right. 

“Do… do ya… want it?” His deep voice goes straight to your warmth and you can only let out a nod. 

He nods back up at you and starts to guide you slowly, painfully slow, over his length, the friction building up the most agonizing, yet delicious feeling against your clothed pussy. 

He lets out a strained groan. “Please, mesh’la… I’ll treat ya so good.” 

You believe him. Fuck… you really believe him. 

Wrecker watches as you lick your lips, completely hypnotized, needing to taste you. All of you. He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted something or someone so badly. 

As if the Force itself is dragging him upright, he pulls you against himself and kisses you with more passion than he’s ever felt toward any explosive ever. Which is a lot. But kissing you is like his very own firework. It’s explosive and beautiful and makes his heart hammer in his chest. 

When you and Wrecker pull apart, neither of you can stop smiling at the other. His smile makes you feel whole, like all of the parts that have ever been taken from you are put back together, by him. 

Both yours and Wrecker’s pupils are completely blown with lust… and something else. At least, for you it’s something else. Could he possibly feel the same way you do? 

“Will you let me, pretty girl?” He murmurs, starting to grind you back and forth over his now painfully hard length again. “Will you let me make you cum? Please… I’ll- I’ll make ya cum so good…” 

You’d let him do whatever he wanted to you at this point because Maker, he’s huge… and the sound of his voice is doing something to you. 

His cock is throbbing against your clothed core and you know that the only answer could be yes at this point, your silly rule be damned. 

With an eager nod, you can’t help but practically beg. “Fuck… Wreck… Please.” 

You could definitely come like this for him. But before you get the chance to find out, he carefully guides you over onto your back, opens the curtain and gets down onto the durasteel floors of the Marauder, falling to his knees. 

You watch with parted lips as he smirks up at you. He guides your pants and underwear down your legs, letting them fall to the floor. 

The others could walk in at any moment, you realize. But somehow… you just don’t think you care. Let them watch if they want. You need Wrecker. Now. 

He slides his hands up your bare legs, settling on your thighs and you take note of how huge they look against your own skin. 

“So kriffing pretty.” He grins before lifting your legs and guiding them over his shoulders, his large hands gripping your thighs, holding you in place.

“You’re pretty.” You stroke his hand, looking down at him.

He gives a flustered look and kisses your inner thigh, making you squirm a little bit. The way he looks up at you makes your insides flutter and you can’t help but guide his face toward your warmth. He gives you a satisfied smirk that says that he knows what you want… what you need. 

He does exactly what you need. He dives his tongue deep into your pussy, making you gasp loudly. Your hand flies to his head, holding him there. He lets out a deep chuckle against your warmth, vibrating against you. 

“Fuck cyar’ika… Knew you’d taste so good.” He murmurs before his lips latch onto your clit. 

Wet sounds below you lead you to realize you’ve never been this wet before. Not even when pleasuring yourself. 

“You- you knew? You think about it?” You whimper.

“Ev’ry night.” He grunts as he continues to taste and tease you until you’re a shaking mess.

He pushes your knees back to your chest, spreading your pussy with his fingers as he continues to eat you like a man starved.

The way his lips latch onto your clit has your back arching up off the bed and when he starts to hum, you’re immediately thrown over the edge with virtually no warning, gasping loud enough that it trails into a moan, echoing throughout the ship. 

“Maker… Knew you’d cum so pretty too…” He groans, kissing your cunt like a man in love, causing you to tremble. “Like an angel…” 

“Yeah?” You go warm all over. 

He nods, trailing his hands up and down your bare thighs. 

“Come here.” You murmur, guiding him back into the bunk with you. 

He gets back up into the bunk, hovering over you as he leans down and kisses you, causing you to taste your eagerness on his lips and tongue. You moan softly against his lips and he smirks into the kiss. “You like the way you taste?” He whispers, roughly.

You let out a needy whine, nodding. 

“Pretty girl…” He hums softly as he trails his lips down your jaw and neck, to your collarbone, making you grip his shoulders.

“Too clothed.” You complain, softly.

He chuckles softly and leans back on his knees to pull his shirt off, dropping it to the durasteel floor. You sit up slightly to pull your own shirt off. His eyes go wide momentarily at the sight of you and he comes back down to crush his lips to yours. 

“You’re perfect…” He whispers when he pulls away to sit back up to kick off his pants. 

The moment that you see his length, your jaw drops and you start to wonder if he’s going to fit. 

“I’ll go slow.” He promises you as he comes back to you, clearly reading your facial expressions as he hovers over you again. 

You nod, trusting him. You always have, and always will. Whether it’s out in the field or here in bed… 

“You still want it?” He asks, looking between the two of you.

“Yes.” You murmur, reassuring him. “Stars, yes.” 

He chuckles and kisses you again.

“Never gonna get tired of kissin’ ya.” He promises you, lifting a leg so he can get a better angle. 

“Makes two of us.” You grin up at him.

He starts to line his tip up with your entrance and the stretch around his tip alone makes you gasp.

“Ready?” He looks down at you.

“Please…” You look back up at him and he gives you his grin that makes you feel whole. Wrecker’s eyes glance back down at the way your pussy starts to take his tip easily and he can’t help the rough groan that escapes his lips. His grip on your thigh tightens as he starts to push into you a bit more. He looks to you for permission to slide in fully and you nod. “Please…” You whisper, clenching around him already.

He lets out a soft growl and pushes into you the rest of the way, making both of you let out a breathless moan. He grips your other thigh as he bottoms out. 

“Feels better than I coulda imagined…” He groans. “So good…” 

You nod in agreement, rather speechless. You’ve never felt so full just from a partner before so it almost feels like the first time all over again. 

“You okay?” He murmurs, looking down at you with a confident and knowing smile.

You nod again. “Perfect… Keep going, Wreck…” 

Wrecker pulls out just to push back in and you let out a needy gasp. He groans loudly and repeats the motion, clearly loving the reaction he can get out of you. 

One of his hands travels up to your breast to grope you tightly making you clench around him. He lets out a low growl and starts to speed up his thrusts. 

“Feels so good…” He grits between his teeth. 

All you can manage is an agreed whimper, which makes him smirk. 

“Shoulda had you read more books like that before…” He groans as his head falls back, his hands roaming to your hips to grip you tightly, basically using you to get himself off.

It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. And heard. The wet sounds between the two of you is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. 

“Wrecker…” You beg softly.

“What is it, pretty girl?” He lets go of your hips and falls forward over you, burying his face in your neck, kissing and licking in a way that’s going to make you fall apart.

“Let me ride you…” You murmur, almost shyly. 

Wrecker pulls away from your neck to look at you and you can see his eyes darken. Wordlessly, he pulls out of you and rolls over onto his back so that you can climb on top of him. You waste no time sinking down onto his cock which makes the two of you groan loudly against each other. 

You grip his firm chest, steadying yourself so that you can grind against his hips, the new angle stretching you in a way that you’ve never had before. 

“So… big…” You gasp as you clench around him again. 

He smirks up at you, clearly pleased with himself as his hands find your waist, guiding you back and forth. 

“Wanna see you cum again… touch yourself…” He murmurs.

You go hot all over at his command and immediately do what you’re told. Your fingers fall down to your clit and you instantly clench around him.

“Atta girl.” He praises you, his voice low with need.

You let out soft whimpers and moans as you get closer and closer to finishing again. 

“Kriff… Look so pretty on top of me like that…” His hands grip your waist in a bruising manner, like he’s trying to hold back. 

You believe him when he says it. No man has ever looked at you the way that Wrecker looks at you. Like he… loves you…

“Maker, Wreck… I’m gonna…” You gasp. “Yeah you are… Go on mesh’la… cum for me again… Wanna feel it around my cock this time.” He practically begs.

Your fingers speed up on your clit, applying a little more pressure as you chase your orgasm that you desperately want to give Wrecker. 

“W-with me?” You ask, hoping he knows what you mean.

He nods. “Yes, ma’am.” 

You groan softly as you grip his firm broad chest with your free hand and end up moaning when he starts bouncing you up and down on his cock. Your head falls back as your moans get louder, more pleading. 

“That’s it, cyare… that’s it.” He groans as your orgasm is practically ripped from your body, causing your fingers to fall away from your clit so you can cup your hand over your mouth to keep from screaming. “Where-”

“In me…” 

“Kriff…” He groans as his hips still and he fills you with himself, causing you to fall forward against his chest.

You bury your face into his warm neck as you both pant against each other, trying to return your breathing to normal. He always smells like a warm sunny beach day and it’s intoxicating… comforting… You're both quiet for a while, his fingers trailing up and down your back. It’s the most calm you’ve felt in so long that you’re not ready to get up anytime soon. You just hope Wrecker’s brothers are willingly giving you privacy. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks you, softly. 

You rest your chin on the back of your hand, which is settled against his chest, and look up at him. “Perfect.” 

“Good. You are, ya know… perfect…” He murmurs, reaching and brushing his lips against your forehead.

You go warm again and reach up to brush your lips against his. His hand falls to your lower back, keeping you in place. 

“I’ve been waiting so long to do that…” He tells you.

“How long?” You smile sweetly at him as you brush your lips against his chest.

“Since the day you joined the squad…” He tells you, sheepishly.

“Me too.” You tell him, honestly.

“You have?” His eyebrows raise in surprise. 

You nod, grinning widely at him. “Of course I have.”

He crushes his lips to yours again and pushes you over onto your back, getting carried away, which you wouldn’t have a problem with except you hear footsteps coming up the hatch of the Marauder. 

“Kriff…” He groans, pulling the blanket up over the two of you so no one sees anything, not having time to pull the curtain closed. 

You hear Hunter and Echo’s chuckle but they don’t have anything to say… yet. Crosshair, however… 

“Looks like that reading really paid off for you, Wrecker.” Crosshair smirks as he walks by, taking note of the clothes discarded on the floor. 

You and Wrecker both roll your eyes and cuddle closer. For now, you won’t let anything ruin this moment between the two of you.

Taglist: @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz  @burningfieldof-clover

[nahoney22]

MA'AM *barges through the door and falls*

Biggest congrats on this milestone. May I humbly request some cuddling with Wrecker. Maybe the Marauder gets pretty chilly at night (and Tech doesn't bother fixing the A/C) so reader needs a big boy heater. much love <<3

Frozen Cuddles 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Wrecker X GN!Reader

word count: 760+

prompts:

none

When temperatures hits its lowest in the Marauder, Wrecker asks if you’d consider cuddling him. None surprisingly, you said yes.

warnings: Safe for Work, Cuddling for Warmth, Fluff, Mutual Pining.

authors note: sorry for the wait @cloned-eyes🤍🩵

The Marauder had landed on Hoth for a mission, but the planet's harsh climate was definitely unwelcoming. The icy winds howled outside the Marauder, battering against the ship's hull and making the cold inside feel even more oppressive. Even with what felt like a million layers of clothes on, you were still absolutely freezing.

As you move through the ship with a blanket draped over your shoulders, you sink into a corner next to some crates in the hopes that being in a closed space would offer you some warmth but it doesn't. You sighed miserably, the metal beneath you felt like ice, and your breath came out in visible puffs at your annoyance.

"Hey, ya look like you're freezing," Wrecker said, his voice a deep rumble that somehow managed to sound gentle as he came over, rubbing his hands together to get some friction of warmth.

You looked up, your chattering teeth turning into a smile at the sight of him. "Just a bit," you replied, trying to downplay your discomfort.

Wrecker's brow furrowed with concern. "Tech's got the heating off again, huh? Trying to save power and all that." He rolled his eyes but then grinned, his expression brightening. "Ya know, I've got a lot of body heat to share. Want me to come over there and warm you up?"

You blink up in surprise at him, his offer not exactly surprising but one that made your heart flutter considerably. “S-Sure,”

You scooted to allow Wrecker to sit down, and without hesitation, he enveloped you in his strong arms.

"Come ‘ere," he said with a soft smile, pulling you close. His warmth was immediate and intense, a stark contrast to the coldness of the ship. You let out a contented sigh as you nestled against his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the fabric of his civvies.

"This is much better," you murmured, relaxing into his embrace as you drape the blanket over your shoulders around you and him more securely.

Wrecker chuckled "Told ya. I'm like a big furnace." He adjusted his position, making sure you were comfortable. "Y’know, we could always gang up on Tech and force him to turn the heater on."

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes. "I don't think that would go over too well. He'd probably give us a long lecture about energy consumption and efficiency."

"Yeah, you're righ’," Wrecker admits, his tone playful. "Still, I'm glad I can help ya out. I hate seeing ya cold."

You sat in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of the ship's systems humming softly around you. You felt a sense of peace, a rare commodity in your line of work. Being in Wrecker's arms, feeling his warmth, made the harsh realities of your life seem distant and insignificant. Did he feel the same way you felt for him? Was he just being nice?

"You know," Wrecker said after a few minutes, his voice softer than usual. You feel your skin tingle with a warmth as his hand falls onto yours, gently entangling your fingers with his."I've always liked having you around. You're, uh, different from the others. Special."

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his sincere gaze. Sincere yet nervous.

Adorable.

“I've always felt the same about you, Wrecker. You seem to know how to make everything better."

His cheeks burn slightly, a flustered expression barely visible in the dim lighting of the ship. "I try," he said with a bashful grin. "It's easy when it's for someone like you."

Your heart swelled at his words. There was something incredibly endearing about Wrecker's honesty, his lack of pretense. He was straightforward in his affections, and it made you feel something you hadn’t felt for a long time - cherished.

As the minutes ticked by, you found yourself growing drowsy, the combined warmth and the steady rhythm of Wrecker's breathing lulling you towards sleep. You shifted slightly, resting your head more comfortably against his chest. "Is this okay?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wrecker tightened his hold on you slightly, a protective gesture to make sure you were as comfortable and warm as possible. "More than okay," he replied, his tone full of affection. "Get some sleep. I've got ya."

Feeling content, you allowed your eyes to close. The cold of the ship seemed like a distant memory as you drifted off, cocooned in Wrecker's arms. The last thing you heard before sleep claimed you was the soothing sound of his heartbeat.

Hours later, when Tech finally relented after being nagged at by the others and turned on the heating system, it barely mattered. You and Wrecker were already lost in a galaxy of dreams and warmth. Maybe Tech should keep the heating off more often.

Masterlist

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka

@theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 7 @staycalmandhugaclone

@ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog

@pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87

@ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi

@greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur r @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420

@ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @the-bad-batch-baroness @lulalovez @green-alm0nd

[moosgraphics]

⋆˚✿˖° The Bad Batch ~ dividers ♥︎

Please like, reblog & credit if you use them!

[sailorkamino]

i saw that requests are open, so could i request your headcanons about the bad batch reacting to a unexpected love confession from their crush (the reader)? ❤️🥰

you confess [bad batch]

relationships: gn reader x bad batch

warnings: inexperienced clones, jealous cross, insecurities, some internalized ableism (echo)

a/n: my first bad batch request! thank you so much!

crosshair

• cross will flirt with you all the time but when you confess he shut downs (like that brooklyn 99 episode where adrien is super flirty but when rosa asks him out he runs away)

• cross doesn't take your feelings seriously bc he doesn't see himself as lovable :(

• he rather keep you at a distance than be hurt when you eventually leave

• i think this fear is why he starts fights with regs, he rejects them before he can be rejected

• besides you're a liability, cross already has to keep his stupid siblings alive, he doesn't need another loved one distraction

• it might take seeing you flirt with someone else for him to admit his feelings

• i know that's low key toxic but so is crosshair so it works out

• within a second you're being pinned against the closest wall, long fingers squeezing your hips

echo

• echo's feelings are very obvious (he treats you like royalty ffs) but he never considers confessing

• his insecurities have convinced him that you could never feel the same way

• so when you do it feels too good to be true

• he's so expressive, you might as well just told him he'd won the lottery

• he doesn't understand why choose him when he has a million brothers with the same face and no baggage

• "because they're not you"

• you have to reassure him when it comes to his body

• "i like your prosthetics. they make me feel safe. like nothing can hurt me when i'm with you."

• your health/safety is echo's main priority so to hear you see him a protector >>>>

• thats when it becomes real for echo: the person of my dreams wants me

• he's instantly pulling you into him, kissing your check and showering you in mando'a compliments

hunter

• hunter first clocked your rapid heart beat around him as nerves

• does he intimidate you? he goes out of his way to be nice as possible but it keeps happening

• at this point he's concerned, he even brings it up to tech

• when he confronts you about your 'health issue' you're embarrassed but it's also funny as hell

• well since you've been called out you might as well shoot your shot

• "i'm love sick" "oh fuck is it treatable?"

• you can't help but laugh at your sweet, dumb, hunk

• "i want to date you, hunter"

• when he's silent you start to apologize but he quickly silences you with a kiss

• "oh sweetheart" he pants when you finally pull away

tech

• tech has a hard time understanding when someones serious vs joking

• so even if he does pick up on your flirting he might think you're kidding

• he's used to being teased by his brothers but no ones ever flirted with him

• when you confess you need to be very straight forwards

• "i like you romantically, tech" "...why?"

• he's not fishing for compliments, he genuinely wants to know your thought process

• tech, much like crosshair, is confused bc he doesn't see himself as boyfriend material

• in turn, he begans listing off everything he likes about you

• you actually have to cut him off because he won't stop-

• "i'm infatuated with you as well"

wrecker

• everyone knows about wrecker's feelings except for wrecker

• he's never had a crush before, or even a friend that's not a sibling, so he doesn't recognize the feeling

• but his crush is visible from space

• he considers you his best friend and wants to be with you all the time

• he will do anything for your attention (even share the good rations)

• when you first confess it goes over his head because you guys already have a really affectionate friendship

• "i like you" "aw i like you too" "no i mean i like you more than a friend" "like a best friend?" "no like i want to kiss you!"

• he stares at you in shock with those big puppy eyes, "you can kiss me. like all the time if you want"

• so you do

• he sweeps you off your feet and spins you around, almost knocking out poor tech who happens to walk by

• "TECH! WE'RE DATING!"

[mouwriter]

Hi! I read your Star Wars and Arcane headcanons and I loved them, congratulations on the amazing writing! I look forward to reading more of your works.

I'd also like to request a Bad Batch x reader headcanons/fic/blurb, you choose it. I had this idea that since they don't have a good relationship with regs, it'd be hard for them to receive appropriate medical care from clone medics, because of that a medic!reader would be assigned to assist them on their missions. In the beginning they'd be skeptical, but slowly they would warm up to the reader and secretly each of them would start to fall in love with their medic. How would they proceed? Would they be willing to share?

If any of this makes you uncomfortable or you don't write for these themes I understand and please feel free to ignore this, thank you in advance! <3

(Also English is not my first language, if there are mistakes or it's confusing I apologize, thanks again ;))

oh my goodness, first request on this acc!! tysm, this is such a cute concept!!! :D

wc: 1.7 k

reluctant bad batch x medic!reader

characters: Crosshair, Echo, Tech, Wrecker, Hunter

You’ve worked with some… difficult patients before, so when you were assigned to specifically join a force of specialized clones, you figured you knew what you were getting into.

Boy, were you wrong.

Not only were these men difficult, but there was something off about them; at first you thought it was your imagination, but as time passed, you wondered if maybe there really was something there—but what? 

Wrecker started off as your favorite. His wariness wore off within two hours of meeting you; you laughed at one of his jokes, and it was then that he knew he was going to like you. And he told you so, even though you’d assume the opposite when you were treating him.

Despite his tough, brutish appearance, Wrecker was a bit of a whiner when it came to wound care. He’d hiss at the cold packs, flinch away when you tried to disinfect anything. 

“Why can’t you just put me in the bacta tank?” he asked you one day, cursing and gritting his teeth while you pulled debris out of a nasty scrape.

“Because we don’t have a bacta tank,” you said with a gentle smile. “I’m sorry, I know this sucks.” You grabbed his hand and gave it a quick squeeze before returning to work.

He glanced at you through squinting eyes, and for a moment his face relaxed. He couldn’t watch you work—it’d freak him out too much—so he fixed his gaze on your face. You had been too focused to notice, but you did notice that suddenly he stopped twitching. He even seemed relaxed. 

If you had looked up, you would’ve seen the faint smile on his face. It was less than his usual grin, the one he gave you whenever you finished patching him up. It was something softer, something stemming from somewhere deep within him. 

He might’ve been your favorite, but you were certainly his favorite. Always laughing with him, amusing him when he wanted to show you something… you were almost kinder to him than his brothers were. What wasn’t there to love?

“All done,” you said, and he switched to his broader grin just in time. He threw a large arm around you, pulling you close enough that he could feel your heartbeat against his side.

“Thanks, Y/n! You’re good to me,” he chuckled, looking at you with a little too much fondness. You grinned, then both of you blushed and looked away.

“No problem,” you replied, clearing your throat.

Echo was another interesting one. An ex-reg, now half machine, half man. Sometimes you didn’t know what to do with him; you were trained in medicine, not mechanics. 

But he was patient, and mostly self-sufficient besides. He’d answer any questions you had when you (attempted to) treat him. 

You always noticed that he seemed… fragile, somehow. Make no mistake, he was probably the toughest guy in the troop, considering what he’d been through. But whenever it was just the two of you, sitting in silence, you could sense that there was something deep within him that he tried valiantly to protect—something soft.

You never pried. Instead you’d make casual conversation, even joke around with him. You weren’t sure what else to do, but it seemed to work with him.

Little did you know that he was fully aware that you had him figured out. But you didn’t treat him like a sob-story; that was what really got him. 

If anything, you were the mystery. He was curious about you; he’d try to ask questions while you worked, but he didn’t want to make anything obvious.

Make what obvious? he asked himself one night. What was there that he was trying to hide from you? Certainly not his past; you already knew about that. What more could there be?

At first, he didn’t want to say anything. Or do anything. Why would he? He valued your friendship above everything. But after a while—specifically after he was reminded time and time again that life doesn’t last forever—he decided he might try something.

That something turned into several things; small, but hopefully you’d get the point. Grabbing your hand to lead you somewhere, whispering in your ear, praising you. 

He feared he wasn’t being obvious enough, but you already knew from the moment he even wondered if he liked you. You always had him figured out.

Crosshair was, by far, your worst patient. He wasn’t a fighter—well, he wasn’t a fighter once you actually convinced him to sit down and let you treat him. Even when he was on the ground, unable to move, he’d curse and tell you to get away as you approached.

All that fire dimmed into red hot embers when you were close to him. He’d never look you in the eye. Occasionally he’d glance at what you were doing, making a snide comment about how he could probably do it better.

“Maybe,” you responded one day, “but then why would I be here?”

He just scoffed, but that did get him thinking. The thought of you gone somehow didn’t seem right. Had he gotten used to you being here? That couldn’t be it; every time he saw you, there was a distinct frustration stirring in his chest.

That frustration would spike whenever he saw you. The mere sight of your face would make him roll his eyes and scoff. 

Whenever you weren’t looking, he’d stare at you. Half of the time it was because he wanted you to notice and get uncomfortable. But as he developed this habit, he found himself memorizing your features. The curve of your nose, the exact hue of your skin. The way you smiled and laughed.

Why didn’t you smile at him like that? The answer was obvious, but not to him. Eventually he developed a kind of jealousy, a desire to be noticed by you in a way that wasn’t entirely negative. 

But he’d never actually put in the work to do that. His version of showing his newfound affection is continuing his snide comments, but with some odd twists.

“Wrap it up already, mesh’la-troan.” 

Compliments, and always in Mando’a. You’d ask the others what they meant, and they’d just look at each other with a little grin. 

“Crosshair said that?”

Tech was actually the most welcoming; or at least he claimed to be. When he heard you’d be joining the team, he was supportive.

���Having a designated medic is advisable for any operative group,” he had told his brothers.

But whenever you’d try to treat him, he’d backseat-doctor the entire time. You could tell that, internally, he was still getting used to not having to act as the medic anymore. 

For that reason he was also a very difficult patient. You once caught him trying to put a dislocated knee back in place by himself, and he insisted that he “knew how” when you tried to intervene.

“I know that you know, but just let me help you!” you pleaded, pulling his hands off his leg. 

He just sighed, gritting his teeth and letting you do your thing. Through all the pain, your words repeated in his head. He reflected that you never talked down to him while he tried to tell you how to do your job; but you never really did what he said, either.

You were aware of his knowledge, and you acknowledged it. But you knew what you were doing, too. As difficult as it was, he realized that he’d just have to trust you.

He tried talking about other things when you’d treat him. You were a good listener, though you may also have been considered a captive listener. 

Sometimes you’d reference the things he said to you offhandedly. When you returned to a particular planet, you’d spout off a few facts that he’d told you before. 

He found himself telling you more and more, trying to see what you’d remember. Or perhaps it was just the feeling that you were actually listening to what he was saying and keeping it in your head. 

Once, while he was ranting to you, he let it slip.

“The population of one of the planet’s moons is considered to be the most attractive in the galaxy, though I’d argue that you hold that title.”

You had stopped moving, looking up at him with wide eyes. He glanced away, clearing his throat and continuing his rant with bright pink cheeks. You just smiled to yourself, giving his arm a subtle squeeze.

Hunter was a little intimidating sometimes; as the sergeant of the group, he had a certain air of authority about him, which did nothing for your confidence. That, and the fact that he was deadly silent around you.

You knew that he had something to say whenever you’d treat him, but he wouldn’t be saying it to you. 

You would overhear him once in a while talking to his brothers about you, though. Mostly neutral or even positive comments—genuine or not, you weren’t sure. Maybe he was just trying to get the others to come around. At least at first.

It took a long time for him to warm up to you. Perhaps it was seeing how his brothers opened up to you, or perhaps it was the way you never gave up on him, but at last he came around.

You always talked to him while treating him, but never expected him to reply. Mostly you were just explaining whatever you were doing to him. He never seemed to care, and would just nod and let you do your thing.

Eventually you noticed a change. It was subtle, but it was there. He’d sit closer to you on the cot. He’d actually reply verbally when you tried to talk to him. And all that praise that he’d use to warm up his brothers, he actually said to your face.

“Thanks. You do good work.” Then he smiled. 

He’d pat your shoulder or your head next. Then he’d actually start calling for you when he needed you, or when his brothers did. 

“There you are. We need you.” 

You blinked at him, hands freezing on your kit. He nodded at you with a grave face, reaching out to you. You smiled, stepping closer and opening your kit. His hand rested on the small of your back for a moment before he stepped away, letting you get to work.

His words rang in your head; they were genuine, not just him trying to get his brothers to like you.

Privately, they were all thinking the same thing. They did need you; you were a fantastic medic, sure, but you were something more to them. You represented safety. You were what they fell back on after a harsh beating, physically or mentally. 

Because at the end of the day, they knew they’d be returning to you, and that you’d be waiting with open arms and a smile that made their hearts hitch.

might make a part 2 to this honestly, I had a lot of fun with this :D but take care lovelies, and ty for reading!! <3

[ddejavvu]

I would let Jango Fett (and any clone, to be honest) call me up when he's planet side, fuck me, then leave without saying goodbye and I'm tired of pretending I wouldn't

🧘‍♀️🧘‍♀️🧘‍♀️ mmmm i had to close my eyes and clench my thighs reading this. jango i think would be more callous and rough w it, whereas some of the clones might be more sincere. because i'm merely a series of holes for them to use I'll just talk about multiple. feel free to request others if i missed someone you'd like to hear about.

jango's rich and highly skilled at his job, notorious to those who know him and invisible to those who don't. it's not hard for him to get you in bed, nor is it hard for him to keep stringing you along, knocking roughly on your door, not because he couldn't get in by picking your lock, but because he wants you to hear that sound and know that it's a precursor to his own behavior: rough, fast, demanding. jango uses you for pleasure and not company, kissing at your mouth instead of letting you talk, smothering you with his broad shoulders and considerable muscle until all you're doing is wrapping your arms and legs around him, your actions solely reliant on his own. he loves pulling back to look at your flushed, sweaty face, your heaving chest as your lips perpetually part just to suck in air that he'd stolen from you with the heft of his body, your limbs weak and limp as he watches you. he's proud of the way he affects you, he's respected and feared in all endeavors he undertakes. he tortures you by never letting you know when he'll be on coruscant, and it means you wait eagerly in your apartment each night, longing for his gloved fist to pound on you door. you let him in every time, and you always will. he lets himself out every time, and he always will.

rex keeps in mostly good spirits with his team and his men, so when he shows up outside your door it's for companionship. He wants connection, he's mollified with claps on the shoulder from general skywalker but camaraderie can't replace intimacy. he nudges his face into yours, his nose bumping the space between yours and your cheek. he breathes your air, he presses himself to you like the space between you might kill him. he's proud to be in your bed, with you, kissing your skin and committing it to memory for late nights out in the cold vacuum of space. he holds you tenderly, his palms always pressed to your flesh to drink you in, and he lets you act as an outlet for his longing. being with you rejuvenates him, but watch out because if he's too happy the day after, his men are gonna know he got laid. general skywalker is all too proud to cover ahsoka's ears when he congratulates him for being in such good spirits

wolffe is so fucking stressed. truly he has to put up with so much bullshit and he's infinitely grateful for his general because if he had skywalker like rex he'd shoot himself. he knocks on your door to pin you to the bed and slam the headboard into the wall, he uses your cunt as a punching bag and he bites vivid, stinging marks into your neck and chest. He kisses them afterwards, letting his post-orgasm tenderness through, but he tires himself out before he ever croons at you. maybe it'd be different if you lived with him, but he's not on coruscant all the time, so frantic rough sex and an empty bed in the morning is what you'll get.

hunter bad batch finds it hard to get time away from his team because of their status as, uh, well, runaways. it's rare that he can let his guard down enough to spend a night in your bed, but that's why he leaves without saying goodbye. he slips out as soon as you're asleep, and departs coruscant before you even wake. you're his, 'be back in a few hours, i've got one last thing to do'. you're left wondering if he has go-tos on every planet, or if you're lucky. you're lucky, but he won't tell you that. he will, however, leave something to hold on to until the next time he sees you. probably a bandana, pardon the cliche, but it's the one he tied your wrists to the headboard with last night, so you keep it with you.

wrecker would genuinely feel terrible not saying goodbye i'm sorry. he might rock your shit and leave you numb but he'll always get all mushy when he's gotta go. he definitely tends to be one of the more romantic ones, he's a big softie and probably wouldn't treat you so callously even if combat was wearing on him. he prides himself for being in your life, and he'd assure you every time you got together that he wasn't just using you for pleasure. he'd comm you semi frequently if he was able.

fives is a little shit who might possibly fit into the scenario described. while i think he'd feel guilty for using you and treating you like he's using you, i can see it happening and just being a poor decision of his that he's not too proud of, but that he can't stop regardless. i can see him playing into a fuckboy persona and trying not to think about it too hard or else he might feel bad. he sweet talks you into letting him in every time and you can barely catch your breath before he's suiting up in his regulation blacks again and heading out the door. he doesn't do it because he's stressed, he doesn't do it because he's desperate to connect with someone, he does it because he's horny and wants a pussy to fuck. he wants to sink his aching dick into a warm body, and that warm body is you.

[mandos-mind-trick]

Big Boy

Summary: He's just so big, not that you're complaining about it.

Pairing: Wrecker x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, size kink, size difference, unprotected sex, fingering, squirting, sort of implied poly Batch at the end, it's just nasty smut with our sweet big boy.

A/N: I am in a mood tonight so everyone gets to suffer. I don't have much to say about this one.

MASTERLIST

You’re writhing under him, spread out on his bunk like some sort of meal. You’re so small compared to him, so delicate, so breakable. You always tell him he’s too big. He thinks you’re the perfect size. 

His mouth swallows your moans, tongue tasting like the candy you liked to sneak into the barracks. He’s got two fingers stuffed inside your pussy, your dress hiked up around your waist. You like to wear the dress on leave, a nice change from your tactical gear. The top is pulled down, exposing your breasts, nipples pebbled from the cold air in the barracks. 

He groans as you flutter around his fingers, a third pressing at your entrance. You have to take three if you want to take him. He won’t fit unless you’re properly prepped, and the last thing he wants to do is hurt you. 

“Wrecker!” You whine as that third finger works its way in, pulling away from his lips as you breathe through the sensation. 

You reach down, flattening his hand against your mount so you can grind your clit against his palm. He watches, eyes fixated on where his fingers are inside you as you move your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers. Your head drops back, lips parted as you moan. You’re so close, your walls clenching around him so tightly he couldn’t pull them from you without hurting you. 

He lets you work yourself up to your orgasm, your legs shaking and hips jerking as you cum around his fingers. He groans, the bulge under his blacks seeming to grow as he watches you. 

He pulls his fingers from inside you as you relax, lifting them to his mouth. Your eyes are lidded as you watch him, tongue darting out to lick your lips. He sucks his fingers clean before he leans back down, capturing your lips with his. You can taste yourself on his tongue. You let out a quiet moan, slick thighs rubbing together as you shift your position. 

Wrecker wraps an arm around you, lifting you easily as he stands. He moves to the couch, sinking down to sit on the thin cushion. He barely fit in his bunk alone, and you had quickly learned fucking in it was not possible unless you wanted a few injuries. Trying to explain to the medics on Kamino how you got those injuries was not something you wanted to do. 

You sit in his lap, legs stretched wide across his thick thighs. You grind yourself against the bulge in his blacks, staring up into those dark eyes as you work yourself up against him once again. He has yet to touch himself, to relieve himself. He’s been so focused on getting you ready, you feel bad that he’s been neglecting himself. 

You open his blacks, slipping a hand into wrap around his cock. He’s so big, a quiet curse leaving your lips as you take his hot length into your hand. He’s leaking already, and you wonder if he’s going to last just getting inside you. You flip the skirt of your dress up as you drag his head through your folds a few times. 

He groans, hands cupping your ass as you line him up, easing his head inside you. You gasp at the stretch, your free hand gripping his shoulder. He supports your weight as you ease yourself down his length, taking him inch by inch. He’s already a moaning mess, leaking inside you as you squeeze around him. 

Wrecker stiffens as you settle against him, his thick length stuffed as far inside you as you can manage. You grip his shoulders, hanging on for dear life as you adjust around him. 

“So big.” You pant, legs shaking from the effort of holding yourself up above him. “Fill me so good.” 

“Good girl.” He grunts, hands closing around your hips to support you. “Take me so good.” 

You whine, hips jerking a bit at his words. You gasp as he moves inside you, the sensation almost too much. You move again, the stretch burning a bit but you’ve learned to love the sensation. 

You’re being loud as you fuck yourself on his cock, anyone who walked by wouldn’t have to hear much to know what was going on. You don’t care, though. Repercussions be damned, you’re too far gone to care. 

You throw your head back as you bounce on him, his cock pushing against that spot inside you with every movement. You’re not going to last long, not for the first orgasm. You’re already so close, the heat coiling in your stomach as you fuck yourself on his big cock. 

“Gonna cum.” You moan, hands dropping to grip his forearms as he holds your waist. “Kriff, Wrecker!” 

You shake in his arms, his length falling out of you with a pop as you squirt across his chest and stomach. Your whole body spasms in the aftershocks of the intense orgasm as he holds you against his soaked blacks. You drop your head to his shoulder, taking a moment to breathe. 

“My, wasn’t that a show.” 

You lift your head at the drawling voice, turning just enough to spot Crosshair standing just inside the door. You wonder how long he’s been there, not having heard the door open at any point in the last hour. 

“Asshole.” You roll your eyes as Wrecker strokes his cock back to hardness, flipping your skirt back up to reveal your ass. “Either shut up or join us.” 

Taglist:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @annoyinglylegendarygoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis, @wolffegirlsunite