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nunanuggets · 17 days ago

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To Be His Wife***

🫧 Pairings: Crosshair X Female!Reader 🫧 word count: 12.5k (it might be worth it)

plot summary: Tasked to gather intel on a spice shipment, yourself and crosshair find yourself in a luxurious hotel but with only one bed and have to pretend to be married. But after a tense couples meal, you wonder what it would be like to truly be in his arms.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY. Fake dating trope, only one bed trope, sub/dom sexual content, explicit language, cunnilingus, blowjob, kissing, neck sucking/biting, spanking, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, praising and teasing, marriage kink, slight possessive sex, soft and rough sex, all consensual, creampie, aftercare, jealous crosshair, brief alcohol mention, reader wears a dress and minimal makeup, implied medium to long hair, minor sexist comment made to reader (not by crosshair), flirting, not proofread, pre order 66 so crosshair is not crossbald x

Anon, this is for you.

You pushed your way through the crowded bar, weaving between patrons with a small smile tugging at your lips. The parcel you’d just dropped off for some locals hadn’t paid much, but credits were credits. However, the smile didn’t last.

At the far end of the bar, the boys were clustered together in an unusually tight knot — heads tilted in, voices low. The closer you got, the more you caught the hiss of “shh, shh”.

You stopped in front of them and let your gaze sweep the circle. Hunter avoided eye contact by pretending to adjust the strap on his breast plate. Echo suddenly found his drink fascinating. And Wrecker’s big frame actually shifted behind Tech like he could use him as cover.

“Alright,” you said, planting your hands on your hips. “What’s going on?”

They exchanged a silent conversation with just their eyes. Eventually, Hunter straightened, cleared his throat, and said, “We’ve just got word on a potential new job. Good money.”

“Great.” You nodded slowly, scanning their faces. “…Is there a catch?”

Tech pushed his goggles higher on his nose, as if the gesture would somehow make his delivery smoother. “You will be the one doing the mission.”

You blinked at him. That wasn’t exactly unusual. “Okay… and what is it?”

Wrecker’s grimace was the first giveaway. Echo’s wince was the second. You knew those expressions — the last time they’d looked at you like that, they were trying to talk you into playing “happy wife” for some sleaze.

Your hands went up immediately. “Nope. Not a chance. I am not pretending to be married to some sleemo again.”

A vivid memory surfaced where it was one of Cid’s old jobs, where the fake husband in question had taken the role far too seriously. You’d told them you wouldn’t ever do something like that again after that, and a few months ago when they tried to pitch you something similar, you laughed in their faces.

“Maybe you’ll change your mind with this one?” Hunter offered, a faint smirk at the corner of his mouth.

“Doubt it.” You turned on your heel, but curiosity got the better of you two steps later. “…Go on.”

“You’ll be with Crosshair,” Hunter said.

Your gaze slid sideways to where Crosshair was leaning against the bar like the galaxy’s most bored sharpshooter, a toothpick balanced between his teeth. His eyes met yours for half a heartbeat before drifting away again.

You turned back to Hunter. “As in, he’ll be with me while I fake-date some idiot?”

“Not exactly,” Tech corrected, eyes still on his datapad. “You will be dating Crosshair.”

Your jaw actually dropped. “Huh?”

Hunter took over, laying it out in his steady, matter-of-fact way: a heavily guarded resort on Corellia, a contact who only worked with “registered guests,” the cover being a couple in a hotel suite.

“So, will you do it?” Echo asked, leaning on the bar.

“No,” you said instantly with a scoff. “Just because I know him doesn’t mean I want to spend an entire mission holding hands and pretending we’re madly in love. And did you even ask him if he’s okay with this?”

“Oh, he already agreed,” Wrecker said with a big grin.

Your head whipped toward Crosshair. “You what?”

He shrugged one shoulder, unbothered. “And hey,” Wrecker then added, “he cleans up real good.”

“Not the point,” you muttered, dragging a hand down your face.

“It’s good money,” Hunter reminded you, knowing exactly how to push.

You groaned, glaring at each of them in turn. “Fine. But if this blows up in our faces, I’m blaming all of you.”

“Atta girl,” Wrecker said, giving you a pat on the back that nearly sent you into the bar.

The others drifted off to start planning, leaving you and Crosshair alone. He finally pushed off the bar, sauntering past you as he pulled the toothpick from his mouth.

“Don’t worry,” he drawled, his voice low and mocking, “I’ll be a good husband for you.”

You opened your mouth to shoot back, but he’d already walked away.

This was going to be interesting.

When the Marauder settled down in the landing bay at the location, you and Crosshair stood side by side at the open hatch, bags in hand, both wearing expressions that could curdle milk.

“Maker,” Wrecker said from behind you, grinning in amusement, “You two’ve got faces like a slapped arse.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response as Crosshair just gave him a long, flat look that said Wrecker was lucky they were on a timetable.

The hatch closed behind them and the ship began to lift away, the sound of its engines fading as the Marauder disappeared into the hazy Corellian skyline.

You let out a quiet huff, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Well,” you muttered, “guess we’re doing this.”

Without waiting for him, you started up the paved path toward the resort. At least the place was nice. More than nice, actually.

The white stone gleamed in the sun, balconies lined with planters spilling over with flowers in deep reds and golds. There was even an elaborate fountain glittered in the courtyard. It was the kind of place you could almost enjoy if you weren’t here to play pretend.

You were halfway up the front steps when Crosshair’s voice stopped you.

“Wait.”

You turned just enough to give him a questioning look. “What?”

His brown eyes scanned the building like he was sighting a target. “You remember the plan?”

You rolled your eyes and resumed walking. “Yes. Do you?”

“Just making sure.” He replied, his mouth twitching in slight annoyance.

The two of you were… sort of friends. He was quiet, moody, and impossible to read, but you’d learned to tolerate him. In his own prickly way, he seemed to tolerate you too.

Crosshair fell into step beside you, lowering his voice as you reached the ornate glass doors. “We’re here to meet Sabaz Trill. Dinner with him tonight, part of some couples’ mixer the resort is hosting. You smile, you nod, you make it look like we belong here.”

“And tomorrow?” you prompted as he maps out the plan again just for reassurance.

“That’s when we get the intel on the spice shipment,” he finished. “Clean, simple.”

You gave him a side glance. “With us? There’s always drama.”

He snorted faintly but didn’t argue. You reached for the buzzer beside the grand glass doors when Crosshair’s hand landed lightly on your upper arm.

“Wait.”

You froze mid-reach and turned your head toward him, irritation slipping into your voice. “What now? The sooner we do this, the sooner it’s over.”

His eyes flicked past you toward the courtyard. “We need to act like a couple,” he murmured, his tone low enough not to carry.

You frowned but then followed his gaze. Right. All around you, other guests strolled hand-in-hand or with arms linked, smiling like they were in a holonet romance. Every one of them screamed we’re in love and on vacation. You and Crosshair on the other hand…

You bit your lip and nodded. “Right. Okay. Uh…”

The pause dragged, the two of you standing stiff as statues. You could probably fake coupledom with someone like Wrecker which would probably be more easy and natural. But Crosshair? Tall, quiet, and perpetually unimpressed? It felt like trying to warm up to a wall.

“Should we hold hands?” he asked finally, rubbing the back of his neck and looking very uncomfortable.

You hesitated. “Uh… no.”

His gaze dropped, not offended exactly, but definitely unreadable.

Guilt gnaws you, so you quickly held out your travel bag instead. “You could carry my bag for me, though?” Your smile was a little sheepish, a silent peace offering.

One dark brow arched at you, but then his mouth curved into the faintest smirk. “Fine.”

He took the strap from your shoulder in one smooth motion, slinging it over his own like it weighed nothing. Somehow, that small shift of just him holding your belongings made the whole act feel just a little more real.

“Better?” he asked, the corner of his mouth still twitching upward.

“Better,” you admitted, trying not to overthink why his smirk made your stomach swirl.

You both walked up to the reception desk, where a young, overly-joyous man practically beamed at you like the sun itself had possessed his face.

You tried to match his enthusiasm with a polite smile. Crosshair, of course, did not. His expression screamed I hate every second of this before the poor man had even spoken.

“Hello, and welcome to Under the Hearts Hotel! How can I help you?” the receptionist chimed.

“Hi,” you begin, doing your best impression of a cheerful tourist. “We have a room and meal booked for tonight?”

“Perfect! What name is it under?”

You froze. Right. The names. No one had told you what cover identities you were supposed to use.

For a heartbeat too long, your brain went completely blank. Then, mercifully, Crosshair leaned in ever so slightly: “Eres.”

You let out the tiniest breath of relief, glancing at him with a quick, grateful nod. He didn’t acknowledge it, eyes fixed on the desk clerk like he was ready to shoot the man for smiling too much.

The receptionist’s fingers tapped away at the monitor, his grin never faltering. Honestly, you were starting to wonder if it was painted on. Then he looked back up, eyes positively sparkling.

“Ah yes, here we are! The honeymoon suite — booked and ready for you! Rose petals on the bed and champagne on ice.”

Your mouth opened. Nothing came out.

You turned slowly to Crosshair, who looked equally frozen. Neither of you had been prepared for that particular detail.

The receptionist chuckled lightly at your strained expressions. “Oh dear, trouble in paradise already?”

Crosshair’s brow furrowed instantly. “Is that any of your business?”

“Cross!” you hissed under your breath, snapping out of your horror long enough to act. Quickly, you slid your arm through his and plastered on a sweet smile, tightening your grip on him — not a reassurance, but a don’t you dare warning.

“Sorry about him,” you said brightly, practically grinding your teeth through the smile. “We’ve… well, we’ve been traveling a long way to get here. Just need to put our feet up for a bit. Don’t we, my love?”

Your grip on his arm tightened enough to make the point.

Crosshair closed his eyes, jaw tight, then forced the stiffest excuse for a smile you’d ever seen. “Yes. Sorry. Long day.”

“Of course, of course,” the receptionist chirped, undeterred. He slid the room fob across the counter, still smiling that terrifyingly wide grin. “No worries at all. Our jacuzzi baths will wash that stress away in no time!”

You snatched up the fob like it was a lifeline. “Wonderful, thank you,” you utter quickly, already tugging Crosshair by the arm toward the lifts before he could open his mouth again.

Once you were safely out of earshot, you released him with an annoyed huff, spinning to face him. “So much for acting like a couple, Cross.”

He arched an eyebrow at you, unimpressed. “What? He asked, I answered.”

You threw your hands up at his lack of care. “Fantastic. Just fantastic. At this rate, they’ll kick us out before we even make it to dinner. Great job, husband.”

He smirked then, sharp and smug, clearly enjoying himself now that you were wound up. “Relax, sweetheart. Nobody’s buying the ‘happy couple’ act if you keep hissing at me like that.”

“Oh, don’t you start—” you groaned, stomping into the lift as soon as the doors slid open.

It’s not long until you get to the suite and as the key fob beeped and the door slid open with a smooth hiss, you both stepped inside and instantly froze.

The room looked like something straight out of a holovid romance: soft golden lighting, a massive circular bed in the center draped with pristine white sheets, rose petals scattered across the duvet, and a bucket of champagne on ice by the bedside table.

You blinked once. Twice. “...kriff,” you muttered under your breath.

Crosshair didn’t say anything, but you felt the shift beside you. His usual scowl faltered into something halfway between disbelief and annoyance. He let out the faintest exhale, almost like a laugh, before muttering dryly: “Subtle.”

Your eyes landed on the bed again, and your brain screeched to a halt. One bed. Of course it was one bed. It was the honeymoon suite. But at least there was a loveseat just at the end of it.

You didn’t point it out. Neither did he. The both of you just stood there, staring at the sheer lavishness of it all, like maybe if you ignored the obvious, it’d disappear.

You tugged at the collar of your shirt, suddenly aware of how warm the room felt. Or maybe that was just you. The whole setup—the petals, the champagne, the bed that looked entirely too inviting—was making your skin tinge in the worst possible way. Heat crawled up your neck, and you quickly turned toward the bathroom.

“Maybe I’ll, uh… check out the shower,” you said quickly, voice a little higher than intended. “Y’know. Before the dinner.”

Crosshair quirked an eyebrow at you, as if he could hear the nerves bleeding through your tone. He glanced toward the large jacuzzi tub visible just through the bathroom’s frosted glass door and gave a faint snort.

“Not good enough for the roses and bubbles?”

You shot him a look over your shoulder. “I’m thinking cold shower.”

The shower hissed to life, steam curling around the refresher stall as you stepped in. The hot water poured down your shoulders, washing away the travel grime and some of your stress. Eyes closed, you let out a soft sigh and tilted your head back.

But as the room filled with steam, another thought nudged its way in, uninvited. You hadn’t locked the door. Crosshair could come in at any moment. And for some reason… the idea didn’t repulse you.

It intrigued you.

Your pulse spiked at the thought of him stepping through the fog, his sharp eyes narrowing as they trailed over you, water dripping down your skin, steam sticking hair to your face. Would he hesitate? Or would he… join you?

You caught yourself sucking in a breath and immediately bow your head under the spray. “Get a grip,” you hissed at yourself, flicking water from your lashes. Maker above, what was wrong with you? Crosshair wasn’t someone you ever saw in that light. He was moody, sarcastic, aloof. Hardly your first thought for a lover. And yet… now, in this ridiculous hotel room, with only one bed and all the pretending you’d have to do…

No. Stop.

With a sharp twist, you turned the dial colder. The shock of icy water stung your skin, snapping you out of the fantasy as you scrubbed your face. By the time you shut the refresher off, the steamy images were shoved firmly to the back of your mind.

You dried quickly, wrapping yourself in one of the plush white robes—ridiculously soft, of course, because this was that kind of place—and wrung a towel through your damp hair.

When you stepped back into the room, Crosshair was leaning against the balcony railing. His posture was casual, but his eyes were distant, scanning the horizon like he always did. Always watching. Always wary.

“Like the view?” you asked, attempting something lighthearted as you rubbed at your hair.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Then he turned his head toward you and stilled.

Not long. Barely a heartbeat. But you caught it: the way his gaze flicked over you in that robe, the way his jaw tensed. It was gone almost immediately, his expression flattening back into its usual disinterest.

“It’s alright,” he muttered, eyes snapping back to the balcony. His voice was just a touch lower, rougher. “We’ll be safe here tonight.”

“I should hope so, if the client booked us,” you chuckled, padding over to the bed and perching on the edge. The mattress dipped under you, petals shifting with a faint rustle. It was ridiculously comfortable.

You tilted your head at him. “But I bet you brought your sniper anyway. Didn’t you?”

Crosshair’s lips twitched at the corner smugly as he moved back inside. Without a word, he crouched by his pack and unzipped it, pulling out the long, gleaming rifle like it was an extension of himself.

You let out a short laugh. “Figures. Romantic suite, rose petals, champagne… and you’re cuddling your blaster.”

He glanced up at you with that smirk which again made your stomach swirl. “At least it doesn’t snore.”

You scoffed, tossing the towel at him. He caught it one-handed, but instead of throwing it back, he just set it aside, unbothered. Somehow, that smug little win of his only made your chest feel hotter.

Crosshair disappeared into the refresher with a muttered, “Don’t touch my rifle,” which gave you just enough time to get yourself sorted.

The dress slipped smoothly over your skin, the fabric hugging in all the right places without being too much. Knee-length, off the shoulder—simple, elegant, and just enough to look like you belonged in a place like this. You dried your hair, styled it with a little extra care (because Maker forbid you look out of place next to a table of polished couples), and added a touch of makeup for good measure.

You’d barely finished adjusting the hem of your dress when Crosshair reappeared. His damp silver hair had been combed back neatly, and he’d traded his blacks for a crisp white shirt and fitted black slacks. And for a second, you forgot yourself.

He stood at the mirror, tugging at his collar and you just couldn’t stop your gaze from dragging over him. Simple, understated, but undeniably… handsome. You swallowed the thought down and busied yourself with your earrings, pretending you weren’t staring.

Neither of you said much as you left the suite. The quiet stretched between you as you moved through the elegant halls; both of you so out of place with the expensive décor. Crosshair walked with his hands tucked behind his back, eyes flicking here and there, ever alert.

Then, almost without thinking, your arm slipped through his. The movement was instinctive and you found yourself leaning closer, your shoulder brushing against his as if it had always been that way. He stiffened for a moment, but he didn’t pull away.

By the time you reached the dining hall, it was already in motion. A long, polished table stretched across the room, covered in glittering glassware and plates that looked far too pristine to ever eat from. Couples mingled and chatted with easy smiles. You had expected Sabaz Trill. You hadn’t expected all of this.

Crosshair leaned down, his voice low in your ear. “Didn’t realise we’d be dining with the whole kriffing hotel tonight.”

You gave his arm the faintest squeeze. “Smile and nod. Let me do the talking.”

He shot you a look, dry as bone. “Wasn’t planning on anything else.”

Together, you approached the table, sliding into your seats that were the only ones available. The schmoozing began almost instantly. Other couples introduce themselves, complimenting your dress and asking about “your story.” You smiled, laughed, told little fabrications as if you’d been rehearsing them for years. Crosshair played his part the only way he knew how: quiet nods, forced polite smiles. If you're lucky, he will push out the occasional one-word reply.

Then Sabaz Trill himself turned his gaze on you.

“Ah, there she is,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying over the chatter. “My dear, you look radiant tonight.”

Before you could reply, he lifted a bottle and poured wine into your glass—only yours.

The crimson liquid swirled in the crystal, catching the candlelight as you blinked at him, a polite smile plastered onto your face. Crosshair’s hand tightened almost imperceptibly on his napkin, but his expression didn’t change.

You raised the glass lightly in thanks, meeting Sabaz’s eyes with the same warmth you’d given everyone else. “You’re too kind. I should be careful though,” you added with a playful lilt. “A few more of these, and I might embarrass myself in front of the table.”

The other couples chuckled politely. Sabaz didn’t. He only smirked, his gaze lingering on you just a beat too long before shifting back to his plate.

Crosshair’s jaw ticked. You felt it more than saw it.

You smiled at Crosshair, soft and sweet and the way a woman in love ought to. But his eyes were elsewhere, distant. It made your chest pinch a little.

Slipping your hand beneath the table, you let your fingers brush his knee before resting there with the lightest pressure. It startled him just slightly, meeting your gaze.

“Are you okay, my stars?” you murmured.

The words left your lips in the same careful tone you’d used all night but this time, it didn’t sound like part of the act. Not to him, anyway. For the briefest moment, his chest tightened.

“Fine,” he answered steadily. “Just taking it in.”

You didn’t believe him, not entirely, but you didn’t press. Before you could, the couple seated across from you smiled warmly, drawing you into conversation.

“So,” the woman leaned forward, “How did you two meet?”

You let out a little laugh, your hand still ghosting Crosshair’s knee as you launched into the story you’d rehearsed.

“Oh, it’s hardly romantic,” you said, feigning modesty. “We met when I was visiting Coruscant for work. I was lost and asked him for directions. He was polite, but very blunt. I thought he was the rudest man I’d ever met.”

The table chuckled, and you reached for Crosshair’s hand on the table, lacing your fingers through his.

“But,” you continued, glancing at him with that same staged fondness, “I ran into him again two days later at a café. He bought me a caf to make up for being so… well, him. And we’ve been together ever since.”

The woman sighed, clearly enamoured. “That’s wonderful. Fate has a way of working, doesn’t it?”

Her husband, however, leaned back in his chair with a smirk. “And have you given him any children yet?”

The question caught you so off guard you awkwardly laughed aloud, shaking your head quickly. “No… not yet. We only recently got married.”

“Well,” the man chuckled, lifting his glass, “give it time, eh? And I assume you don’t have to work, not with a husband like that. He looks like the type who brings home the credits while you get to lounge about. Lucky thing.”

Your jaw ticked, but you forced your expression into one of pleasant neutrality. Beside you, Crosshair set down his knife with deliberate care.

“I don’t know about luck,” he begins, his voice calm but carrying an edge sharp enough to slice the air. “She does more than her share. I’d be nowhere without her.”

The man faltered, clearly not expecting such a clean rebuttal. Crosshair didn’t flinch or waver, just leaned back with the ghost of a smirk tugging his lips.

“I’d suggest you don’t underestimate her,” he added smoothly, raising his fork to his mouth. “Wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself.”

The table chuckled again, but this time the sound was thinner, laced with unease. You, meanwhile, found yourself fighting a different reaction entirely. The sudden, overwhelming urge to drag him back upstairs and–

Okay, stop.

Leaning in, close enough that your lips just barely brushed the shell of his ear, you whispered, “Thank you for that.”

Crosshair didn’t so much as twitch, though you felt the faintest tilt of his head toward you, like he was subtly indulging the warmth of your breath. “No need. I’m just saying the truth.”

Your chest gave an odd little pull at that, but you covered it with another soft smile as you sat back, reaching for your knife and fork to focus on the meal placed before you. You ate in silence for a few minutes, letting the rich flavours distract you, until Sabaz’s voice broke through the murmur of the table.

He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice. “Tomorrow,” he said, “we can speak of… private matters. No need for heavy words tonight. But I trust you understand what I mean.”

His words were subtle enough not to draw suspicion, but clear enough for you to understand. You inclined your head smoothly, lifting the delicate glass of wine to your lips.

“Of course,” you replied. “Tomorrow.”

Sabaz’s eyes glinted as he watched you drink. “And? How does it taste?”

You couldn’t hide the small hum of approval as the flavour lingered on your tongue. “It’s… honestly the nicest wine I’ve ever had.”

His mouth curved, amused. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Turning, you nudged your glass toward Crosshair. “Want some?”

He shook his head without hesitation. “Not my thing.”

Sabaz’s chuckle was low, a little too warm. “A shame. It suits her, don’t you think? Expensive tastes…”

You thought nothing of it, brushing off the remark as idle banter, but Crosshair’s jaw twitched almost imperceptibly. Sabaz was clearly referring to himself and as the meal stretched on,

Sabaz’s comments came in trickles. Harmless, on the surface. But Crosshair’s eyes tracked every word and every look.

Finally, after one particularly lingering comment about how “gorgeous” you looked in the candlelight, Crosshair snapped.

“Tell me,” he drawled, tone calm but carrying steel. “Do you flirt with all the women who are married, or just mine?”

The words silenced the table around you. You turned wide-eyed at him, stunned, your knife clinking faintly against your plate.

Sabaz chuckled, leaning back with the relaxed confidence of a man who already knew more than he should. “Married, are you? Mmm. Perhaps you’d give her more attention.”

Your eyes drop to your half-eaten grub, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. You can’t have tonight screw up over some… some… jealousy? Was he?

Crosshair, however, didn’t flinch at his words. He leaned back as well, long fingers drumming idly against the table, his gaze cutting through the man opposite him.

“She has all the attention she needs,” he responds coolly, voice like a blade sliding free of its sheath. “From me.”

The way he said it was utterly possessive and you can’t help but feel the heat curling low in your stomach.

Sabaz only chuckled again, raising his glass in mock salute before turning the conversation back to lighter topics. But you could feel it—the tension buzzing under your skin.

You left the dining hall together a little later on, the heavy atmosphere of the meal clinging like smoke. Another couple joined you in the lift, chatty and smiling, and you forced yourself to match their tone, your hand looped neatly through Crosshair’s arm. But the second the lift doors slid shut after the couple exited on their floor, your hand dropped from his arm like it burned.

The silence stretched for a beat before you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. “Want to tell me what that was about?”

Crosshair didn’t look at you, his gaze fixed straight ahead on the lift’s closed doors. His voice was calm, as if nothing had happened. “What’s the issue? We’re still meeting him tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you huffed, sharp and low. “Thanks to me. Because I had to apologise to him after the meal for the way you acted.”

Crosshair’s eyes flicked to you then, narrow and unimpressed. “The way I acted? You didn’t notice him? The way he kept looking at you? Talking to you?” His lip curled faintly. “I didn’t like it.”

Your jaw tightened, heat pricking the back of your neck. “You didn’t like it? We’re not actually married, Crosshair.”

The silence that followed was thick, humming with all the unsaid things between you. Crosshair’s expression barely shifted, but his shoulders set, rigid under the crisp fabric of his shirt.

The lift pinged. Doors opened. Neither of you moved at first, locked in that silence. Then you both stepped out, footsteps echoing too loud against the plush carpet of the corridor.

When you got back to the suite, you didn’t even glance his way as you made a beeline for your travel bag, pulling out the little bundle of satin nightwear you’d tucked away earlier. Without a word, you slipped into the bathroom and shut the door behind you with a soft click.

You perched on the edge of the jacuzzi bath, hands braced on your knees, and just breathed. Maker, tonight has been… a mess.

Crosshair had been jealous, there was no other word for it.

And yet… stars above, you’d never found him more attractive than when he’d calmly cut down that other man’s sleazy sexist little jabs at dinner.

It made your thoughts twist in knots. Jealous Crosshair was frustrating. Protective Crosshair was devastatingly sexy.

You rolled your eyes at yourself, muttering something under your breath that this whole place felt like a huge aphrodisiac. Soon you stripped out of the dress, letting it pool on the tiled floor. The satin nightwear slipped over your skin with a soft sigh, the fabric clinging in all the right places. The colour brought out the warmth in your skin, and though you weren’t dressing for anyone’s eyes but your own, you couldn’t help but imagine what Crosshair might think if he saw—

You stopped that train of thought before it could wind you up further.

A splash of cold water on your face dulled the day’s makeup, you tied your hair up, loosening the strands around your face, and studied your reflection for only a heartbeat before flicking the light off and stepping back into the suite.

Crosshair was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, still fully dressed and deep in thought.

“Do you want some caf?” you asked quietly after a moment, nodding toward the sleek caf machine gleaming on the dressing table.

He shook his head, then looked at you. The sight of your satin nightwear hit him like a blow, pupils dilating before he could stop it. His throat bobbed with the faintest swallow as he cursed himself silently and dragged his gaze away.

“You should get some sleep,” he muttered, voice low.

You tilted your head. “I could say the same thing about you.”

Your bare feet padded across the carpet, rose petals soft beneath your toes and you stood directly in front of him. He looked up, sharp eyes catching yours for a charged moment before closing them.

Crosshair pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll take watch.”

You frowned, confusion flickering. “Crosshair, the door is locked. We’re safe here.”

He didn’t meet your eyes, just reached for his rifle and moved toward the small loveseat at the foot of the bed. “You can never be too sure.” He gestured at the bed with a tilt of his chin. “Get some rest.”

There was so much more you wanted to say, but you swallowed it down. No good would come of pressing him tonight. Not when everything already felt odd.

So you slid into the left side of the bed instead, sinking into the impossibly soft mattress. The sheets smelled faintly of lavender and something warm and expensive. You didn’t even bother to remove the rose petals.

The lamp across the room threw a faint amber glow over Crosshair where he sat, long legs stretched out, rifle propped against his thigh. A sentinel in the half-dark, sharp eyes fixed on some distant threat only he could see.

Your body melted into the mattress, the exhaustion of the evening tugging at you like a tide. You watched him for as long as your heavy eyelids would allow, the image of him—silent, watchful, stubborn—burning behind your eyes until sleep finally dragged you under.

You stirred, rolling onto your other side with a groggy sigh, only to find the chair opposite the bed still occupied. Crosshair sat there like a shadow carved into the half-light, rifle propped against the armrest, a toothpick twiddling absently between long fingers.

Your eyes flicked to the chrono on the wall. Only two hours had passed.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you tilted your head as you sat up and whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, “Cross… come get some sleep.”

His eyes lifted, shadows and conflict tangled in his gaze. He shook his head once. “No… I can’t.”

You frowned softly, leaning forward. “Why not?”

The sound he made was halfway between a scoff and a tut, quiet but sharp. His jaw flexed. “I can’t sleep in the same bed as you. It’s…”

Your brows arched. “It’s what?” You pulled the duvet back and shifted onto your knees. The simple movement snagged his attention; his sharp gaze lingered, “It’s just me.”

Crosshair drew in a long breath through his nose, pressing the heel of his hand over his eyes as if that might ground him. “I don’t want to bother you,” he muttered, voice rough. “I’ve already done that enough tonight.”

For a moment, you said nothing. Then slowly, you crawled toward the foot of the bed, knees sinking into the mattress until you sat back on your heels, steadying yourself.

Your hand extended, palm open, reaching across the small distance between you. “Come to bed.”

His amber eyes locked onto you. He watched you as though weighing a hard decision, gaze running over your face, your hand and the space you’d made for him.

“We need to act like a couple, right?” You prompt and that’s when he finally, with the faintest exhale he flicked the toothpick into the bin and rose to his feet.

He crossed the few steps to the bed in silence. He stopped just before you, the mattress dipping faintly under your shift forward.

Your lips parted, breath caught, as you tipped your chin up to look at him. He loomed above, gaze tilted down, unreadable except for the faint storm flickering beneath.

You straightened, sitting taller on your knees, and without hesitation placed both hands flat against his chest. The warmth beneath the fabric hit you instantly, as did the hammer of his heart pounding against his ribcage. It made a small smile tug at your lips, your eyes softening as you whispered, “You can’t sleep in this shirt…”

His breath caught with an imperceptible hitch.

Your fingers curled into the fabric at his chest, tugging gently. He hesitated, but only for a moment, before his arms moved, allowing you to peel the white shirt away from him. Inch by inch, the fabric slid over his shoulders, revealing lean muscle and skin mapped with faint scars.

Your eyes went wide, breath catching as you pushed the shirt down his arms and let it fall to the floor. A sound, no, an almost moan, threatened to escape you, but you swallowed it back. Still, your hands had a will of their own and began trailing slowly up and down his torso.

You felt the hard ridges of his stomach, the steady rhythm of his breathing. His reaction was immediate, his eyes fluttering shut as his jaw tightened. The bottom lip caught between his teeth betrayed what he was trying to suppress.

The sight made a heat coil low in your stomach, your own breath turning shallow.

Your gaze drifted lower, tracing the line of his abdomen until it landed on the waistband of his black slacks. He seemed to sense the shift in your attention, because his voice came low, rough, like gravel dragged over velvet.

“Do you want them off, too?”

The rasp sent a shiver racing down your spine.

You blinked, meeting his eyes again, a laugh slipping from your throat, “If it will make you comfortable… yes.”

The corner of his mouth twitched into a faint smirk, but his gaze burned steady on you as he reached for the latch of his trousers.

You swallowed hard, watching as his long fingers hooked into the waistband of his trousers and pushed them down. The sound of the fabric sliding over his legs seemed louder than it should’ve been. When they hit the floor, he straightened, standing there in nothing but his briefs with hs hand not-so-subtly shielding the hard outline straining beneath the thin fabric.

A hot pulse bloomed deep inside you, your arousal pooling between your thighs as your breath caught. You broke your gaze away, feigning innocence, though the ache in your chest gave you away. “See? Is that better?”

Crosshair’s eyes dragged over you with open hunger, the sharp angles of his face softened by the shadow of want. “Much…” he breathed, like it was the only word he could find.

Your pulse stumbled, your eyes drawn back down before you could stop yourself. His hand shifted just slightly, enough that you caught the movement of the deliberate, slow palm against himself. Your heart stalled, then thundered.

You licked your lips, your voice almost breaking into a whisper as you shifted back. “Like what you see?”

“Do you?”

Your head tilted, eyes half-lidded as your fingers danced at the band of your satin shorts, teasing without quite committing. “I do,” you murmured, letting your body arch ever so slightly, the pose dripping with invitation as you leaned back on your hands. “Now tell me, do you… husband?”

His eyes narrowed, studying every subtle shift of your body. His jaw worked, and then he gave the smallest of nods, voice rough and quiet. “A lot.”

The words sent your skin prickling with awareness. Your hand slid from the band of your shorts to your thigh, fingertips tracing upward, grazing your skin softly as though demonstrating exactly what his stare made you crave.

His eyes followed your movements, darkening as though he were fighting to keep control.

You raised a single finger, crooking it toward him. A wordless summon.

Crosshair’s gaze burned hotter, but he obeyed without hesitation. His long, lean frame shifted forward as he planted both hands on the mattress for the first time, the springs dipping beneath his weight as he prowled closer. When he reached you, he hovered over your body, his face so close you could feel the warm graze of his breath against your lips.

“What do you want?” he asked, low and rough, his voice scraping like gravel, like he already knew but needed to hear it from you. He dipped his head nearer, inhaling deeply, his nose brushing your temple as though memorising the scent of your skin.

Your lips parted, your tongue darting out to wet them, every nerve in your body trembling as you leaned in, close enough your mouth brushed his. Your voice broke into a heated whisper, “I want you to fuck me.”

The words detonated between you.

A sharp hiss of need left him and before you could second-guess yourself, his mouth was on yours, scorching and demanding.

His lips moved with bruising force, teeth catching your bottom lip as though he’d been starving for the taste of you. One hand slid from the bed to your waist, gripping and dragging your body flush against his until there wasn’t an inch of space left. You could feel every inch of his arousal pressed against your belly, hot and unyielding.

You gasped into his mouth, fingers tangling in his short hair that soon became unkempt as his tongue swept past your lips, claiming you with a hunger that made your head spin.

When he broke from your mouth, it was only to trail searing kisses along your jaw, down your throat. His breath was hot, uneven, his teeth scraping sensitive skin before his tongue soothed the sting. “You have no idea…” he rasped between kisses, “…how long I’ve wanted this.”

You blush intensely, arching your back into him, craving more of that heat, that weight. His hand dipped lower, spanning your hip, fingers digging into the satin of your shorts as though he could crush the fabric away.

Your lips brushed his again in a soft, fleeting kiss. You pulled back with a mischievous glint in your eyes that made Crosshair chase the contact immediately but you giggled and tilted away, planting a kiss instead against his cheek.

“Tch,” he mutters, but you only laughed again, moving lower. You kissed along the sharp cut of his jaw, slow and deliberate, feeling the subtle twitch of the muscle beneath your lips. He exhaled through his nose, trying to keep control, but you knew you had him wound tight.

Your mouth hovered at his ear, your words a sinful whisper. “You like fake dating me, then?” you teased, lips brushing the sensitive skin just beneath. “Is this how you’d treat me if I was yours?”

He groaned under his breath, his hands clenching against your hips as though debating whether to hold you still or let you drive him mad. His chest heaved against yours, hot and solid, and when you kissed lower down his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

And then, almost in the same breath, you were pulling at each other’s clothes, the tension too much to keep contained. His hands fumbled your satin vest before he pulled it over your head meanwhile you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his briefs, tugging impatiently. He then stripped you of your shorts as you shoved his last layer down.

When his lips crashed back onto yours, your words slipped out between ragged breaths, needy but daring: “It was sexy… watching you defend me at dinner.”

Crosshair froze for only a moment, pulling back just enough to smirk down at you. “Sexy, huh?” His voice was a rasp of sin. “Did it turn you on?”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of a verbal answer. Instead, your hand slid boldly between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his rigid heat. The sound that left him was a low, primal and guttural groan that vibrated in his chest and into your palm. His head dropped against yours, lips parting as his eyes squeezed shut, every muscle in his body shuddering under your touch.

Your smirk was wicked as he whispered, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Confidence blooming inside you, you gave him a little push that made Crosshair fall back into the mattress. His long body stretched out beneath you, skin lit faintly by the bedside glow.

You straddled him, your bare skin sliding against his as you pressed down into the lines of his chest and abdomen. Lower still, the thick weight of him rested against your thigh, hot and heavy. His eyes tracked you like a predator and yet… there was awe in them too, something reverent, almost disbelieving.

It made you ache.

“Cross…” you purred, dragging your palms down his chest, tracing the scars and sharp dips of muscle, before raking your nails ever so lightly across his stomach. He hissed, the muscles flexing beneath your touch, his fists knotting in the sheets.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest before sliding lower.

Your hand wrapped boldly around him then—thick, hard and burning against your palm. His whole body jerked at the contact, a sound low in his throat. You gave him a slow, deliberate pump, feeling him twitch against your hand, and his breath hitched.

He bit his lip, sharp eyes flicking away as he tried to choke back the groan threatening to break free.

Now that wouldn’t do.

You leaned down, lips brushing against the swollen head of his cock as you looked up at him. “No,” you whispered, sultry and commanding. Your tongue flicked out, teasing a slow lick across his length, tasting the salt of him. His hips bucked despite himself. “Don’t hold back from me. I want to hear you, husband.”

That broke him. His marriage kink unable to be tamed any longer.

A guttural moan spilled free, raw and gravelly, vibrating through his chest as his head tipped back into the pillow. His long fingers shot into your hair, not forcing, but clutching like he needed to anchor himself.

“Fuck…” he rasped, eyes squeezing shut as you stroked him firmly, your tongue teasing at his tip. His voice dropped lower, almost desperate now. “You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.”

You let your lips ghost over the head of his cock, just enough to make him twitch. His sharp inhale was music, the kind of sound that made your pussy ache. You opened your mouth slowly, letting him slide past your lips inch by inch, your tongue flattening against the underside to savour.

Crosshair’s body went rigid, another deep groan breaking from his chest before he managed to stifle it behind his teeth. His hand clenched tighter in your hair, the other curling into the sheets so hard the fabric threatened to tear.

“Stars…” he hissed, voice gravel rough. His eyes cracked open to watch you, his pupils blown wide, jaw tight as he fought for control. “You’re—.”

“Mhmm? A good cock-sucking wife?” You hummed around him, the vibration making his hips twitch up involuntarily before you slap his cock against your tongue.

He cursed again, raw and breathless, as you then sank lower, taking more of him into your throat with a languid patience. When you finally pulled back, strings of saliva connected your lips to him. You stroked him with your hand, pumping lazily as you licked your lips, gaze never leaving his.

“Sloppy enough for you, sniper?” you teased, your voice husky.

He swallowed hard, chest heaving. His eyes darted to your mouth, wet and swollen, then back to your gaze. “Fuck—don’t tease.”

You smirked and slid him back between your lips, this time messy, unrestrained. Your spit coated him as you bobbed your head, tongue working every sensitive ridge. The wet sounds filled the room were obscene and echoing.

And Crosshair lost the last of his composure.

His hips thrust up, shallow at first, testing your tolerance. When you moaned around him in approval, he swore viciously and gave in, driving himself into your mouth with snapping thrusts. His groans grew louder, unfiltered now of pure need.

“Fuck—sweetheart—you feel so—” His head tipped back, tendons straining in his neck as he lost himself in the wet heat of your throat. His grip on your hair was tight but not cruel, guiding the momentum. “Don’t stop… don’t you dare stop.”

Your eyes watered, spit dripping from your lips and chin as you let him use your mouth, the sight of his unraveling making you slick between your thighs.

The more he thrust into your mouth, the less control he had, his rhythm breaking into jagged, needy snaps of his hips. His jaw slackened, head tipped back and his voice dropped into a low, desperate growl.

“Stars—” his hand fisted your hair tighter, his thighs tensing under you, “I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—”

You hollowed your cheeks and moaned, and that did it. Crosshair groaned in pleasure as he spilled hot and thick into your mouth, the taste of him flooding your tongue. You swallowed around him greedily, gulping down every drop, your eyes fixed on him while his face contorted with the kind of pleasure he’d never let anyone else see.

When his hips finally stilled, his chest heaving, you pulled back slowly, breathless, lips shining. A stray strand of saliva clung to your chin as you licked him clean and swallowed the last of him with a shaky exhale.

Crosshair stared at you like you were a miracle. In a blur, he sat up and pulled you into him, his mouth crashing onto yours. The kiss was searing, teeth and tongue, his taste mingling with the faint salt still lingering on your tongue. His hands framed your face like he couldn’t get enough, like he was starved for you.

Then he was easing you down onto the bed, his body covering yours as he grabbed a pillow, slipping it beneath your head with an odd, almost tender care. His lips broke from yours only long enough to mutter against them, voice rough and hungry:

“My turn.”

His breath fanned hot over your lips before he started kissing lower—your throat, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts. His hands roamed as though he had to touch every inch of you, his mouth trailing fire down your body.

When he finally reached the edge of the bed, Crosshair settled between your thighs, his sharp gaze fixed on your glistening pussy like it was the only thing in the galaxy worth worshiping. His lips parted, his breath hitching audibly, and he muttered low—more to himself than you—

“Fuck… you’re perfect.”

Crosshair didn’t dive in straight away. He hovered, eyes locked on your pussy as though the sight alone could undo him. His lips curved into a lazy smirk, and he dragged two long fingers down your inner thigh, stopping just short of where you needed him most.

“Maker…” he murmured, “You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”

Your breath hitched as he finally let his fingers ghost over your folds, feather-light, so teasing you nearly whimpered. He let them trail lower, then flicked—just the faintest tap against your clit. The jolt of sensation had your hips twitching and a broken whine slipping from your lips before you could swallow it back.

His smirk deepened. “There it is. Thought you were gonna keep all those sweet little sounds from me, hm?” Another tap, deliberate this time, making your thighs clench around him.

“Cross…” you gasped, tangling your hands into your hair in frustration as he refused to give you what you wanted.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he drawled, his breath ghosting hot over you as he leaned closer. “Gonna take my time with you.”

And then, instead of another flick, he pressed his lips to your pussy. Not a lick. Not a graze. A kiss—slow, tender, as if he were kissing your mouth. His nose brushed your clit as his lips molded against your folds, and your back arched helplessly.

“Oh, stars—” you whimpered, every nerve alight.

“Mmm,” he hummed against you, his lips moving in lazy, wet kisses over every inch of your cunt, the sound obscene and intimate all at once. Between each press of his mouth, he whispered filth in that low gravel of his:

“So soft…” kiss.

“So sweet…” kiss.

“Mine…” another kiss, deeper, his tongue teasing past his lips just enough to taste you.

Your thighs trembled around his shoulders as his hands held you steady, his kisses reverent and filthy all at once. The sensation was maddening, tender enough to make you shiver but edged with hunger that had your body straining for more.

When he finally let his tongue part your folds and give one long, deliberate lick, he groaned into you like he was the one unraveling. “Fuck, you taste better than I imagined.”

And then he was back to kissing, savouring and making you whimper and writhe with every press of his lips.

Your breath hitched when Crosshair finally gave in to what you’d been silently begging for. His lips parted and his tongue slid between your folds, slow at first and deliberate. He pushed deeper, tongue-fucking you with unhurried precision, dragging every needy whimper out of your chest.

Your fingers fisted the duvet, crushing a rose petal or two between them as your back arched off the bed. “Baby—” your voice broke, strangled, your thighs trembling against his shoulders.

He groaned low, the vibration making you gasp, before his tongue left you only to wrap his lips around your clit. He sucked once, hard enough to make you cry out, then let it go with a wet pop, smirking up at you with his mouth glistening.

“That’s it,” he cooed, voice soaked in lust. His grip shifted, long arms sliding under your thighs so he could pin your hips down, your body useless against his strength. “Such a good wife, taking it just like that.”

The filthy words made your pussy clench, heat flooding you in a new wave, and you let out something between a whimper and a moan. “Fuck…Crosshair…”

He chuckled against you, the bastard, and dragged his tongue back through your slit before sucking your clit again, longer this time. Your body jolted against his hold, toes curling, fingers grabbing fistfuls of bedding and petals alike.

“I’m so glad it’s you who volunteered,” you gasped, words spilling out broken, your thighs tightening around him. “So glad it’s—ah—fuck!”

His chuckle was muffled against your folds, his tongue relentless, before he pulled back just enough to mutter against your swollen pussy:

“The others wouldn’t treat you like this.” His teeth grazed your clit, playful, making you shudder. “They wouldn’t know how to worship you.”

Then his mouth sealed over you again, sucking hard, tongue teasing, his hands keeping you caged and helpless as he devoured you.

Crosshair pulled back again with that maddening pop of his lips leaving your clit, strings of spit shining between you. He didn’t go far though—just hovered, breath hot against your swollen flesh, and you swore the sound of him inhaling your scent was almost louder than your whimpers.

“Maker, look at you,” he murmured, thumb coming up to flick your clit once, twice—sharp little sparks that made your hips buck against his unrelenting grip. “All puffy and dripping for me. For your husband.”

“Cross—” you tried, but it came out as a broken moan, your thighs twitching around his shoulders.

“You like this, don’t you?” His tongue darted out, giving a light, taunting lap over your slit before moving away again. “Being spread out like this, my mouth on your sweet cunt, making a mess of my face.” He chuckled, low and dark, and flicked his thumb over your clit harder, making you cry out. “Bet you’d let me keep you here all night if I wanted.”

Your hands tangled in your own hair, pulling at the strands, desperate. “Please—” you gasped, voice shaking as your body jerked when he suddenly tapped your clit with his fingers, light but fast, like he was testing how far he could push you. “Fuck, please!”

He groaned, sounding almost feral, like your begging was better than any victory he’d ever had in battle. His teeth grazed you again, soft nips that made you jolt. “Not yet,” he rasped, giving your clit another sharp flick that made your whole body seize. “I want you begging properly first.”

You sobbed his name, hips fighting his hold as he alternated between sucking you into his mouth and pulling away with those obscene, wet pops that echoed in the quiet room. Each time he left you empty you wanted to scream, and each time he came back it was too much, your orgasm building like a storm he refused to let break.

“Tell me,” he drawled, lips brushing your clit, not giving you the pressure you craved. “Tell me you want to come for me. Tell me no one else could get you this way.”

Your head thrashed side to side against the pillows, sweat beading at your temple. “I—fuck—I want to come for you, Cross. Please. No one else—no one could—just please let me—”

He hummed in satisfaction, mouth closing over you again, sucking slow and deep while his fingers tapped in time with your racing pulse. “Good wife,” he muttered against your soaked heat, “that’s my girl…”

Your whole body tightened, teetering right on the edge, held hostage by his mouth.

Crosshair must have the way every muscle in your body went taut beneath his grasp. How your breath came in sharp little gasps like your lungs couldn’t keep up. He groaned into your cunt, and then mercifully gave you what you’d been begging for.

His mouth sealed over your clit, sucking hard and steady, tongue flicking in relentless little strokes that pushed you right past the edge. His grip on your thighs tightened, locking you down as your body jolted violently against him.

The orgasm ripped through you like fire, so sharp it almost hurt, and you cried out his name in an almost a sob as you broke apart as your vision blurred.

Crosshair didn’t stop. He groaned against you, drinking every drop of you down, his lips and chin slick as he worked you through it. “That’s it,” he rasped between licks, voice ruined but steady. “Good girl. Come on, give it to me. Give it all to me.”

You were shaking, trembling uncontrollably under his hold, pleasure crashing in waves so strong it left you breathless. He eased the pressure only when you began to whimper from overstimulation, his kisses softer now, soothing little laps that felt almost adoring against your swollen clit.

When he finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistened and he tenderly kissed the inside of your thigh before crawling up the bed. His body caged yours in, the hard weight of his cock pressing heavy against your hip as he gathered you into his arms.

You were still gasping, chest heaving, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity of it all. He brushed damp hair away from your face with surprising gentleness, thumb swiping at the sweat along your temple.

“Good girl,” he whispered again, voice gravelly, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. “You did so well cyare.”

You hummed weakly against his mouth, lazy and sated but achingly aware of the thick length pressed against you. He groaned as your thigh shifted, brushing it on purpose, and his hips twitched forward helplessly.

“Fuck,” he muttered, forehead pressed to yours, his cock throbbing now and resting against your stomach.

He kissed you slowly as though you hadn’t just come undone screaming his name minutes before. His tongue brushed yours, unhurried, while his hand slid down your hip, anchoring you. “More,” you moan beautifully into his mouth, “I want more.”

When he shifted, rolling halfway onto his side beside you, you felt the slick head of him glide down against your folds. You gasped, shuddering at the sudden jolt of sensation as your pussy was still swollen and tender from his mouth. He didn’t push in, though. Just stroked his length along your soaked slit, letting the tip bump your clit in maddening, teasing drags.

Your hips did a desperate little roll that had his lips curve into that infuriating smirk. “Still sensitive, huh?” he rasped, the gravel in his voice betraying just how tightly he was holding back. You tried to answer, but all that left you was a breathy whimper as he dragged himself down and back up again, coating his cock in your wetness.

“Look at you,” he murmured, gaze locked to your face as his hand tilted your thigh open wider. His tip nudged right at your entrance, circling but not pushing in yet. “So fucking ready for me.”

He then lowered his head, lips kissing your shoulder so tenderly that your heart melts. You caught his eyes when he finally lifted his head. Neither of you spoke, but the air between you thrummed with silent consent, the kind that left no room for doubt.

His forehead brushed yours, lips hovering as he rasped low, “I’ll go slow.”

And then, slow but steady as he promised, he started to press forward. His breath stuttered the second his tip pushed inside, the blunt head parting you inch by inch.

Heat—wet and velvet-tight—closed around him, and Crosshair almost crumbled then and there, his body trembling faintly as he held himself back. “Ffff—” He bit off a curse, jaw tightening.

You whimpered softly, the initial stretch making your walls flutter around him. It wasn’t painful. Just thick and slow. A fullness that made you gasp. Your fingers clutched at his arm, nails grazing the skin as you whispered, “Cross…”—your voice shaky, needy, urging.

His cock twitched deep inside at the sound, his hips rolling forward another careful inch. “You alright?” he rasped, voice breaking low.

You gave a quick nod, looking down as his cock disappeared inside you with every slow movement.

He didn’t slam, didn’t shove. He inched forward, then drew halfway back, then pressed in again with a rhythm of patience. The drag of him pulled a breathless moan from your throat.

“Breathe,” he muttered, his lips brushing your temple as if grounding you as much as himself. He let you cling, let you adjust, every tiny movement deliberate. “I’ve got you, mesh’la.”

The way he said it made your heart lurch, like it wasn’t just about sex…like he meant all of it.

And when you finally tilted your hips, just slightly, letting him know you were ready for more, his control frayed. He sank in deeper, a low moan slipping out of his throat at the way your body welcomed him.

Crosshair bent close, lips brushing over the shell of your ear as he murmured, voice roughened with memory, “When you called me ‘your stars’ back at that meal…” His hips pressed deeper, making your body jolt against the mattress. “…Maker, I wanted you then and there. Didn’t care who was watching.”

Your mouth fell open, breath catching, a whimper spilling out with the way his words wrapped around you as intimately as his body did. You tilted your head back, enough to find his lips. The kiss was soft, slow, your tongues brushing as his cock slid out and then back in with a steady glide.

Each thrust melted into the next, your body clenching around him instinctively as you clung into his chest. His groan rumbled against your mouth, and when he broke away, his forehead pressed to yours. “Feels so good like this. You, wrapped around me, taking me slow.”

The pace wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t about release. It was about every inch of him inside you, every shiver of your body responding, every sigh and moan you gave him like it was for him alone.

He kissed you again, even more gentler this time, lips brushing yours in little whispers of touch before pulling back to watch your face twist in pleasure as he filled you over and over.

His rhythm stuttered for a moment, pulling all the way out of you with a slick, obscene sound that made your body twitch in protest. The sudden emptiness tore a desperate whine from your throat, your hands clutching at the sheets.

“Shh,” he rasped, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Already needy, aren’t you?”

Before you could form a reply, he shifted up, long fingers curling under your thighs. In one smooth move he lifted your legs and hooked them over his shoulders, folding you open for him as he sat on his knees. You gasped at the change and at how vulnerable it made you feel… owned.

And you fucking loved it.

Crosshair smirked, eyes gleaming as he angled himself, the fat head of his cock nudging back against your soaked entrance. “Yeah,” he murmured, dragging it through your folds, coating himself in you. “That’s it. This is where you want me, isn’t it?”

You nodded helplessly, breathless. “Yes—fuck, yes, Cross—”

He slid back inside with a single, deliberate thrust that made your vision spark, filling you to the hilt. A strangled moan tore from your throat, your back arching against the bed. He groaned deep in his chest, bending forward so your calves squeezed tighter against his neck. “Shit, you feel so good. So fucking tight. Like you were made to take me.”

The pace changed—no longer slow and sweet, but harder, sharper, his hips snapping against yours with wet, slapping sounds that echoed in the suite. Every thrust pushed you further up the bed, rose petals clinging to your damp skin.

Crosshair turned his head to the side, his lips brushing your calf before biting lightly, sending another shiver racing through you. “Look at you,” he muttered against your skin, voice dark and possessive. “Spread out for me. Letting me fuck you like you’re mine.”

Your nails clawed at the duvet, head tipping back as the words spilled out of you before you could stop them. “I am yours, Cross. No one else—just you.”

The admission made his hips slam harder, a ragged growl leaving him. His hands wrap around your legs, holding them tight to his body, keeping you pinned. “Say it again,” he demanded, amber eyes burning into you as he drove deeper, harder.

“I’m yours!” you cried out, voice shaking, tears stinging your lashes with the force of it. “All yours, Crosshair!”

He smirked, satisfaction dripping from every thrust as he fucked you rougher, his possessiveness unraveling in every movement. “Good wife,” he groaned, bending lower so your thighs framed his face, “my perfect fucking wife.”

He didn’t even pause to catch his breath, just gripped your hips and dragged you to the edge of the bed. With a swift, fluid motion, he flipped you onto your stomach, and you gasped at the sudden change of angle, the cool sheets against your bare skin.

“You like it when I take control, don’t you?” he rasped, one hand landing hard on your arse, sending a delicious shock through your body. You grinned, breath hitching, letting out a low laugh that was part pleasure, part defiance.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, sliding himself back inside you from behind.

Your legs instinctively spread wider as he pulled you closer, his hand tangling in your hair. He tugged sharply, bringing your head back so you bounced against his cock with each controlled thrust. “That’s it, bounce for me. Show me how good it feels, wife,” he growled, every word thick with control.

You cried out, loud and unrestrained, the bed creaking under the force of him driving into you. “Oh, Cross—yes! Harder! Please—don’t stop!”

He chuckled darkly, leaning over you so your cheek pressed into the sheets, his lips brushing the back of your neck. “Good girl,” he praised, hand slapping your arse again, rough and loving at the same time. “So fucking good for me. Look at you, taking me so well.”

Your chest heaved, legs trembling but you kept bouncing back, your body obedient and desperate, lips parted in a moan that didn’t care who could hear.

He angled himself just right, hitting deep and slow at first, then snapping his hips faster, letting you feel every inch. “Maker, you’re perfect,” he groaned, voice low and commanding. “So wet, so tight… all mine.”

You pressed your face further into the sheets, moaning around the muffled sounds, your body arching up instinctively. “Crosshair! Oh—yes! I’m yours! Always yours!”

He responded by tugging your hair harder, his cock driving into you with relentless force, hand roaming over your hips and arse, marking you with every movement, praising and claiming you at once.

You turned your head just enough to catch his burning eyes over your shoulder. Your lips curved into a wicked grin even as your body shuddered with every rough slam of his cock.

“Look at you,” you moaned, voice sharp and sultry, “losing yourself inside me. You can’t help it, can you? I’ve got you wrapped around my finger just as tight as I’ve got you wrapped inside me.”

His thrust faltered—just for a second—as if the words themselves had tripped him. His eyes narrowed, mouth falling open, but the sound that came out was a raw and pathetic whimper betraying how undone he really was.

“You love it,” you taunted, rolling your hips back against him with a delicious grind that had him growling through clenched teeth. “My good husband, falling apart because of me. Cockdrunk.”

“F-fuck—” he hissed, the word tearing out of him. His pace grew erratic, desperate, like he was chasing something he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Then suddenly he hauled you, panting and trembling, onto your back again. Your legs spread wide as he pressed himself flush against you, cock sliding right back into your soaked heat without hesitation.

The air punched from your lungs as he buried his face in your neck, breath hot and ragged, his weight pinning you down deliciously. Your nails raked down his back, dragging red marks into his skin while he drove into you with merciless force. The headboard slammed rhythmically into the wall with every thrust, each clap of wood-on-wall punctuated by your screams and sobs of pleasure.

“Yes—yes, Crosshair, please—” your voice broke, cracking under the relentless pace. Your body arched under him, sweat slick between you, every nerve ending aflame as his hips pounded into yours.

“Where—” he groaned into your throat, biting your skin like he needed to anchor himself, “where do you want it, baby? Tell me—fuck—where should I come?”

Your head snapped back, eyes wild, desperate tears clinging to your lashes. You clutched at his back, pulling him tighter, legs wrapping around his waist to lock him in place.

“Inside!” you cried, voice shaking, pleading. “Please, Cross, come inside me. I want it, I need it—fill me with your hot cum. P-please!”

He groans like a man possessed, hips snapping even harder, his control shredding as he buried himself deeper and deeper.

Crosshair’s movements became almost frantic, hips stuttering as he drove into you with a desperate rhythm. His hand slid down between your bodies, fingers landing squarely on your clit, rubbing with perfect pressure and speed, coaxing you closer and closer to your edge.

“Come for me, right now, right now,” he growled, his teeth grazing your neck as he slammed his cock into you. “I’m going to fill you up, good girl—come on my cock.”

Your body convulsed at his words, every nerve screaming as your climax hit with a white-hot force. You grabbed his face, forcing your lips to his, biting his lower lip as you panted hotly into his mouth, gasping, moaning and utterly undon. .

“Baby…” you whispered between ragged breaths, your fingers tangling in his hair as your body shuddered uncontrollably around him.

Crosshair’s groan deep as he tensed, shuddered, and finally spilled inside you. Warm and overwhelming. You felt him pulse inside you, his hips stuttering with each breathless thrust, as your own climax trembled out against his hand, still pressing your clit with maddening rhythm.

Even after he came, he stayed buried deep, hips rocking slightly, his chest pressing to yours, letting you feel every lingering pulse of him. He nuzzled against your neck.

Crosshair let out a low, almost inaudible sigh of relief, his forehead resting against yours as you melted into his side. His hand lingered soflty on your waist, fingers tracing lazy circles over your hip.

There was a small tension as you saw him look down where his hands had been on you. You use your finger to angle his face back to you and say reassuringly, “you didn’t hurt me.”

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you rasp, voice trembling slightly from exertion and lingering arousal.

He hesitated for a moment, the usually unshakable Crosshair sounding almost vulnerable. “Do… do you regret it?”

You cupped his jaw with one hand and silenced any doubt with a slow, deliberate kiss. And when you pulled back, your eyes softened.

“Definitely not, my stars,” you said fondly, voice carrying sincerity. His lips twitched, almost a smile, though he’d never admit it outright. Relief settled into his posture, the tension leaving his shoulders, and for the first time since the two of you had been tangled together, he seemed… at peace.

Your fingers brushed over his chest, tracing the rapid rise and fall of his breath. “You feel… amazing,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his neck, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse beneath your lips.

He let out a low hum, nudging you closer with his shoulder. “So do you,” he murmured, still holding you like he was afraid to let go.

The two of you lay there, sweaty, sticky, and utterly spent, yet somehow more connected than ever.

You do eventually shift, muscles sore but tingling from the aftermath of everything, and groan quietly as you attempt to tug your nightwear back over your body. Crosshair watches you with a glint in his eyes, “You look ridiculous like that,” he teases.

You shoot him a mock glare, though your cheeks betray the flush of heat and lingering pleasure. “Oh, and you don’t?” you retort, finally wriggling into your nightwear.

He hums, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Maybe not,” he admits, voice edged with amusement, “but I think we’ve earned a bit more… relaxation.”

Your brow quirks, intrigued. “Relaxation?”

Crosshair tilts his head, smirk growing. “The jacuzzi,” he says simply, climbing off the bed. “Warm water, bubbles… think you can handle that after an hour like this?”

You let out a breathy laugh, the soreness in your thighs reminding you just how much fun you’d had. “I think I could manage. Maybe,” you tease, still rolling your shoulders to loosen the tension.

He steps closer, eyes tracking your movements, and reaches for your hand. “Then come on,” he says, dragging you toward the bathroom. “Let’s make the next hour… just as enjoyable.”

You let him lead you to the jacuzzi once it’s filled, the scent of soap and warm water filling the room. And as you both sink into the bubbling warmth, the world outside ceases to exist.

Crosshair leans back, one arm draped across your shoulders, and you curl against him, feeling both soothed and mischievous as you ponder just how long you two could stay here.

Silence stretched comfortably between you. He shifted after a moment, reaching for a bar of soap resting at the edge. Without a word, he lathered it between his hands, then pressed his palms gently against your back, his fingers smoothing over sore muscles. He was careful as he washed down your arms, sliding his touch from your shoulders to your wrists. Every stroke was accompanied by a quiet kiss to the back of your head, your temple, the damp strands of your hair sticking to his lips.

“You’re spoiling me,” you teased softly.

“Good,” he muttered against your crown, fingertips tracing over your skin like he was memorising it.

A sly smile pulled at your lips. “You know, you enjoyed calling me your wife a little too much back there.”

You felt him stiffen almost imperceptibly, his hands faltering just for a second before resuming. “…You noticed.”

You turned your head, grinning up at him. “Hard not to. You sounded like you meant it.”

For a long moment, he said nothing, eyes fixed on the water, jaw tight. But then his shoulders relaxed, and he exhaled, lips brushing your temple once more. “…That’s because I did.” His voice was low, almost grudging, but the truth in it made your heart soar.

“Crosshair—”

“You’re… marriage material,” he cut in, avoiding your gaze as you tilt your head back, as though the words embarrassed him more than any of the filthy things he’d whispered between the sheets. His thumb traced circles absently on your shoulder. “Don’t ask me to say it twice.”

You blinked, stunned into silence for a moment before a soft laugh slipped free. The sound made him glance down, eyes narrowing like he regretted saying anything at all—until you leaned up and pressed your lips against his.

“Good thing I only need to hear it once,”

Tags & those who may appreciate: @littlefeatherr @Kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @Jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @Echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @Pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tentakelspektakel @stellarbit @griffedeloup @Tech-Aficionado @grizabellasolo @Therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @Brynhildrmimi @Greaser-Wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @LadyTano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @Cw80831 @Knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @Imperialclaw801 @Temple-Elder @lulalovez @Mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894 @thora-sniper @skynikan @dreamie411

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nunanuggets · 1 month ago

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You have to admit it's funny

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nunanuggets · 2 months ago

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Thought you were a great writer and then saw the free Palestine and knew you were a great person too 🗣️🤞🏼

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nunanuggets · 2 months ago

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It Meant Everything To Me

Summary: After being stung by a bug on a remote planet during a mission with Torrent Company, your life is suddenly in danger, and it's going to take something rather...unconventional to fix it. Little do you know your decision might mean more than you thought it would.

Pairing: Fives x reader

Word Count: 11,105 words (sorry)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, explicit sexual content, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, sex pollen, slight dubcon because of sex pollen, feelings, idiots in love, medic!reader, some slight descriptions of injuries but nothing too graphic, slightly possessive Fives, good bro Kix, we love wingman Jesse, language

A/N: Did I need to write another sex pollen fic? No. Has this one been plaguing me for days? Yes. So I wrote it. Bit rusty with the 501st boys but here we are. Hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

“Why did you have to bring me along again?” You ask into your comm, firing a shot at a droid from the bushes where you’re hiding in the bushes.

“We just like having you around.” Fives’ voice sounds from your vambrace. You can picture the cheeky smile on his face beneath his helmet.

“I feel like Kix would have been more than capable of handling you idiots.” You say, flattening yourself in the dirt as a stray blaster bolt flies over your head. You weren’t necessarily trained for front-line combat, usually stuck at the back of the column to look after injured soldiers left behind by forward progress like most civilian medics.

You were getting more than enough combat experience hanging around these boys, though. They were making sure of that.

You let out a slow breath, pushing yourself back up to your knees to peer through the bushes. Droids are falling left and right as blue and red blaster bolts fly through the air. It’s utter chaos.

Yet, you trust the boys to take care of things. They’re here for a reason. The best of the best the 501st has to offer.

You take aim through a gap in the bushes, firing on another droid getting too close.

“Nice shot, Doc.” Jesse’s voice comes through the comm.

“Thanks.” You murmur, watching the chaos for any possible injuries you’ll need to treat.

You watch the field, the small droid army that had been guarding the base getting smaller and smaller as the boys work their magic. You keep a close eye out for any potential injuries, not that you don’t trust Kix can’t handle it, but you’d prefer he keep his focus on the fight and not one of these idiots catching a stray bolt to the groin.

You’ve gotten up close and personal with some clones for that very injury.

Just another day in your life.

You’re pulled from your reverie as something sharp pricks your neck. You slap a hand against the spot, pulling away to find a squished bug. You pick at the skin, pulling the stinger free. “Kriff.” It’s a decent sized stinger.

“You good, Doc?” Kix’s voice comes through the comms.

“Yeah, some kriffing bug stung me.” You say, the spot starting to throb painfully.

“Ooh kiss your mother with that mouth?” Jesse asks.

“Please, like you haven’t said worse.” You roll your eyes.

“Kriffing son of a bitch.” Hardcase grunts.

Yeah, like that. “What happened?” You ask, snapping back into medic mode.

“Hardcase took a shot to the shoulder.” Kix says.

“Drag him over here.” You say, pulling your pack off your back. You risk leaving the cover of the bushes, squatting down just past the treeline as Kix and Fives drag Hardcase over to you.

He grunts as he’s dropped, going limp. You roll your eyes, pulling off his spaulder before looking at the hole in his blacks. The skin is blackened and raw, burned from the heat of the blaster bolt. You open your pack, pulling out your med kit. “This is going to sting,” you say, pouring disinfectant over the injury. Kix kneels down on his other side, prodding at the wound.

“What’s the prognosis?” Hardcase asks, his helmet shifting side to side as he looks between you.

“I don’t know, Hardcase.” Kix says as you pass him a bacta shot. “You might not make it.”

Hardcase sighs dramatically, gripping your hand. “Distribute my sabacc credits evenly among the men, and give condolences to that Twi’lek from 79s.”

You roll your eyes again, but squeeze his hand as Kix jabs the injector into the wound. “You’re lucky that shot wasn’t further to the right.” You say, grabbing the gauze from your bag. “I told you to get bigger spaulders.”

“I keep forgetting.” Hardcase says.

A bead of sweat trickles down your spine as you pack your med kit back into your bag. The air is hot and heavy on this planet, your blacks already damp from sweat under your armor. It’s not as heavy duty or weighty as theirs, but you can only imagine how soggy they are under those helmets.

“Let’s get this communication tower down.” Rex says, the fight against the droids over. You quickly realize they were waiting on you to finish. “Hardcase, stay out here with Doc, the rest of you on me.”

Hardcase salutes him from his place on the ground before flopping back dramatically. You sit down next to him, fanning yourself. Sweat has pooled in your crevices, the day only seeming to get hotter and muggier.

You dig your canteen out of your pack, taking a long drink of the cool water. It soothes some of the heat for a moment, and your dry mouth. Has your mouth been this dry the entire time?

You offer the canteen to Hardcase and he takes it, pushing himself up to sit. He favors his right arm as he takes a swig, likely still in pain as the bacta slowly works itself through his system.

The jungle seems so quiet now that the fire fight is over with. The air is still and heavy, settling like a dome over the Separatist hideout. You’re aware and alert, and so is Hardcase, in case any straggler droids show up as the boys work to take down the communications tower, cutting one part of the Separatist army off from the others.

You slip your canteen back into your pack, leaning back against a tree. It’s getting hotter, and you tug at the neck of your blacks, trying to get some air between your skin and the tight fabric.

“You alright?” Hardcase asks, turning his head to look at you.

You nod, fanning yourself with your hand. “It’s hot.”

He hums, turning to look back at the building. He doesn’t seem bothered by the heat at all, not even a sweat breaking out on his forehead as you sit under the hot sun. You’ve always wondered if the clones were engineered to handle more extreme temperatures. You hadn’t read anything about it in the file you stole during a short stay on Kamino. Curiosity had led you to snooping about the clones and their genetic engineering. You’d simply made the excuse that it was to better understand how to treat them. Resources would be limited at times and if you knew how much they really could handle, then you could better allocate those resources between them.

You’d never give them less than you would anyone else, but that had been the excuse you’d come up with in case you got caught. You hadn’t, but you never do anything without a good reason thought up. Impulsivity isn’t your nature.

Sweat has soaked through your blacks by the time the doors open again, your hand falling to your blaster before you recognize your boys coming back through.

“Charges are planted.” Rex says, Kix offering you a hand to help you up off the ground. “Let’s get out of here and blow this place.”

“Hell yeah.” Hardcase says, putting his helmet back on.

Your group steps through the bushes again, slipping back into the jungle.

You’re not quite sure how far you walk before you hear the bang, jumping just a bit as the explosion reaches your ears. You’ve stopped for just a moment, long enough for them to detonate the charges and destroy the Separatist communication station. You take a moment to grab your canteen again, taking another big drink. Your mouth feels eternally dry, no matter how much water you drink, it doesn’t do anything to ease the ache in your throat. The canteen is half empty now, and you only hope you’ll come across water at some point so you can refill it before it’s completely empty.

You ignore the way your hands shake as you tuck the canteen back into your pack, slinging it over your shoulder again as you trudge along through the jungle.

The heat continues to intensify, sweat dripping down your forehead as you slowly weave through the bushes and roots. The wound on your neck from the bug is throbbing and achy, a bump forming where the stinger broke your skin. There’s an itch starting to build beneath your skin. Must be from the friction of your blacks and the sweat. Just what you need. Heat rash.

You can’t wait to get off this planet. You can’t wait to get back to the boring med bay, the greys and whites of the Resolute. You’d take cataloging over this. But the boys wanted you to come along, and here you are dragging ass behind them.

You pick up the pace, shoving past the exhaustion, something you’re well accustomed to. It’s not the first time you’ve had to push past the extremes, often pushing yourself further than sanity to save the lives of as many troopers as you can. You don’t want them to die, even if they do it with honor.

Your legs are starting to shake, sweat dripping into your eyes. The itch under your skin is intensifying, your fingers digging into the gap between your vambrace and rerebrace. The armor is getting heavier and heavier, weighing you down as your exhaustion continues to build.

Your vision is starting to swim, the colors of the jungle intensifying, becoming sharper. Your hand shakes as you lift it to wipe your brow, sweat soaking through your glove. The sun isn’t helping the heat any, bearing down on you through the trees. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought it was seeking you out, following you and shining its rays directly onto your head.

After a few minutes you finally stumble, sitting down hard on a root. Your pack nearly pulls you backwards and you quickly unclip it, letting it fall before it takes you with it. You need to stop, you need a moment just to breathe. The jungle around you is kaleidoscoping, the vivid brightness hurting your eyes.

“Doc!” Fives calls out, rushing to your side. His hand cups your face as you sit back against the tree, blinking away the dizziness. “Kriff, you’re burning up.”

Kix kneels down on your other side, grabbing his scanner from his belt. He holds it up to your face, and you can imagine his brows furrowing in concentration under his helmet. “A fever.” He tilts your head side to side, the motion nearly making you puke down Fives’ front. His fingers tug at the neck of your blacks, pulling them down slightly.

Jesse hisses, standing behind Kix. “That doesn’t look good.”

“What?” You slur, lifting a hand to the sore spot on your neck. The bump has gotten bigger, and it throbs as you brush your fingers over it.

“We need to find somewhere to set up camp.” Kix says, turning to speak to Rex. “I need to treat her before this gets worse.”

“There’s a clearing not far ahead.” Rex says, turning his gaze to you. “Think you can make it that far?”

You nod, standing back to your feet with Kix and Fives’ help. “Yeah.” You don’t sound very convincing.

Kix slings your arm over his shoulders as Fives grabs your pack, his grip around you tight to keep you upright as you stumble onward after Rex. If you weren’t so out of it, you might have been embarrassed or even ashamed. You can’t care about much besides putting one foot in front of the other right now, though. You don’t have that much energy to expend.

Kix is almost carrying you by the time you reach the clearing, half of the company jumping into setting up the tents while the others do a sweep of the area, making sure there’s nothing hiding in the trees that might cause a problem. You lean against a tree, fingers fumbling with your pack to get your canteen.

A gloved hand moves yours to the side gently, reaching in to grab your canteen for you. You look up at the familiar face of Jesse as he screws the top off for you.

“Thank you,” You breathe, taking a big sip. It’s almost empty now.

“You sure you’re alright, Doc?” He asks, brows furrowed in concern.

You nod. “Probably just heatstroke.”

He doesn’t seem convinced of your diagnosis, but he nods even as his brows pinch further together. He pushes himself to stand, moving himself in front of the sun, protecting you from its rays. It’s starting to lower in the sky, its rays reaching through the gaps in the trees.

“Come on,” Kix says, approaching you again. “Let’s get you in a tent.”

With Jesse’s help they get you on your feet, your legs trembling under you. Your body feels heavy, limbs dragging like you’re trying to move through mud. Everything feels harder than it should, even your breathing has become labored.

Kix and Jesse get you into the tent, Kix lowering you down onto the mat on the ground. It’s hardly comfortable, but you couldn’t care less right now. Kix turns on a lamp, casting a sterile looking glow in the tent as he digs through his own pack. Yours has been placed on the floor at your feet, your fingers reaching for your canteen. Your mouth is dryer than Tatooine, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. You take a long drink, drinking up every last drop of water.

“I need more.” You gasp, handing him your empty canteen.

“We’ll get you more soon.” Kix says, pulling out his med kit. He scans your forehead again, the scanner beeping ominously. “Your temperature is higher than it was.”

“That’s not good.” You say quietly, tugging at the pieces of your plastoid armor. You need it off, the weight of it pressing against your skin. That itch is still there, burning and scraping where you can’t reach it.

“Easy,” Kix says, grabbing your hands as you tear at the plastoid.

“I need it off.” You breathe, your chest tightening. It feels constricting, rubbing your blacks against your sensitive skin.

“Alright, let me help.” Kix says softly, easily peeling off a spaulder. He carefully removes your armor, setting the pieces next to your pack at your feet.

You can still feel the burn of fabric against your skin, though it has lessened a bit without the weight of your armor on your body. Kix tilts your head to the side, brushing back some of the hair that’s fallen out of your braid, the damp strands sticking to your skin.

“You said a bug stung you?” He asks, running his thumb over the bump on your neck.

You hiss as he presses against it, a sharp pain shooting through your body. “Yeah.”

He pulls his hand back, grabbing an injector. “When did these symptoms start? After you got stung?”

“I mean, I was hot before.” You say, wincing as he injects the bacta into your shoulder. “But everything else…” you let out a long breath. “Yeah.”

“It’s possible the bug released some kind of toxin into your bloodstream when it stung you.” Kix says.

What you wouldn’t give for a blood test right now. Maybe it could tell you what poison is coursing through your system right now.

Sweat continues to soak through your blacks, beading on your forehead and sliding down into your hair. Kix straps a monitor to your arm before rising, taking your canteen with him as he leaves the tent. You lay there, trying to take in deep breaths but your chest feels constricted. Your entire body feels constricted, like your very skin is starting to tighten and suffocate you.

“Easy,” Kix says, keeling back on the ground next to you, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Panicking isn’t going to help anything right now.”

“It’s...it’s too much.” You gasp, tugging at your blacks. They’re sticking to you like a second skin, the sensation enough to drive you insane. You feel like you are going insane, every nerve ending alight all at once, every sense on high alert. You’re pretty sure if you focused enough, you could feel your bones.

Kix’s touch is unbearable as he prods at your wound. “The bacta hasn’t helped any.” He says, worry evident in his voice. “Your heart rate is still high, and your blood pressure.”

That explains the painful pulsing behind your eyes.

There’s an ache starting to blossom deep in your pelvis, a deep cramping that’s building steadily. You press a hand to your abdomen, applying gentle pressure, as if that could get it to stop.

“How much longer until they arrive to get us?” You ask, tugging at your shirt.

“We’re not due to be picked up for another six hours.” He says. “Rex commed and they’re coming as fast as they can.”

“Kriff,” you breathe, rolling back onto your back. “I don’t think I’ll make it another six hours.”

Kix doesn’t say anything, but his silence is all you need to know.

The deep ache in your stomach intensifies, sharp shooting pain racing through your overstimulated nervous system. You grit your teeth, curling into a ball.

“What is it?” Kix asks, shifting to face you.

“Hurts.” You gasp, curling tighter into a ball.

“What hurts?” He asks, his hand on your shoulder.

His touch burns through your body, intensifying the ache in your stomach. You pinch your eyes closed, trying to breathe through the cramp. It’s worse than any cramp you’ve ever had. It nearly has you seeing double.

“Doc…” Kix says, his thumb stroking your arm. “Talk to me.”

“Can’t,” you gasp, the cramping starting to lower in your body. “Shit.” You force yourself to sit up, ripping your shirt over your head. “I can’t. I can’t take it anymore.”

Your skin nearly sighs in relief at the freedom from the tight material. You don’t care that Kix is seeing you in just your breastband. He’s a medic, he’s seen a lot of things. The last person who would judge you for having your tits half out is Kix.

You curl back up into a ball, the ache in your stomach starting to sink lower and lower until it’s pulsing between your legs. You squeeze your eyes closed, thighs pressing together. You try to breathe through your mouth, willing the ache to subside.

“Kix,” you breathe, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “What’s happening to me?”

“I…” he lets out a sigh. “I don’t know. I’m going to update the Captain, you try and rest.”

***

“How is she?” Rex asks, approaching Kix as he steps out of the tent.

“Not good.” Kix says honestly. He’s watched your decline over the last two hours. “Whatever that bug was...it injected some kind of toxin with its stinger.”

“Is there a cure for it?” Rex asks.

“I don’t know.” Kix shakes his head. “I couldn’t find anything in any databases.”

“Can you think of anything that might help?”

Kix shakes his head again. “I’m a combat medic, not a scientist. Bacta is useless, and a stim shot might make things worse. How far out is our extraction?”

“Four hours.” Rex says.

Four kriffing hours. How is he going to keep you alive that long?

He’s not sure you’re going to make it another hour, let alone four.

***

The pulsing between your thighs is intense, so intense it almost hurts. You grind against your palm pressed between your thighs, skin slick with sweat. It’s hot and you’re exhausted, yet the pulsing of your pussy refuses to let you sleep. You’ve given up on your pants, kicking them off into the growing pile at your feet, leaving you in just your breastband and underwear.

“What does it feel like?” Kix asks, dragging a hand across his shaved head. The two of you have been trying to brainstorm, with what little brainpower you have left.

“You want the truth?” You breathe, panting slightly from the exertion of simply existing.

“That would be helpful right now.” Kix says. You’d hit him if you could move your hands.

“It feels like I’m insanely horny.” You admit, trying not to get embarrassed. The last person that would make fun of you is Kix.

Kix hums, typing away at the datapad in his lap.

“I’m so horny it hurts.” You whine, grinding against your hand. “I feel like I might die if I don’t orgasm right now.”

“Feel free to…” he waves his hand. “If you need to.”

Normally you might feel ashamed for being so open with Kix, but neither of you seem to care right now.

You sink your hand into your underwear, fingers seeking out your pulsing clit. You’re soaked and it’s not just the sweat. You can feel the slickness of your folds as you start to circle your clit, sighing quietly from the sweet relief it’s finally getting. Kix doesn’t even glance your way, buried in his datapad as you masturbate next to him, seeking any kind of relief from the intense need burning through you.

“I think I found something.” Kix says, uncrossing his legs. “I think whatever toxin that bug injected into you was some kind of stimulant.”

“You don’t say.” You breathe, turning onto your back, still furiously rubbing your clit, seeking any kind of relief you can get, but the building pleasure only goes so far. It’s not quite enough, even your fingers dipping into your pussy isn’t enough.

“You’re only going to get worse if we don’t find some way to burn this toxin out of your system.” He says, still looking at his datapad. “There’s a little research on the holonet about toxins that can induce arousal, but…”

“But what?” You gasp out, pumping your fingers in and out of yourself.

“Prognosis isn’t good unless you can orgasm enough times to burn it out of your system.” He says with finality.

You let out a groan of despair, curling your fingers inside yourself. Your pussy is damn near tingling, light pleasure coursing through you but it’s not enough. It’s almost like your fingers aren’t enough, like you need something else, something more.

You let out a huff, withdrawing your hand. “It’s not working.”

“What’s not working?” He asks, finally glancing up at you.

“I can’t...I can’t get myself to…” You groan, flopping back dramatically against the mat. “I need help.” Your voice is soft, small, quiet, like you don’t want to admit it.

“Doc…” Kix says, setting the datapad aside. “I don’t know…”

“I need help.” You say again, scrubbing your hands over your face. “I’m going to die if I don’t orgasm and I can’t do it myself.”

Tears leak out of your eyes. It’s the truth. Your heart rate has only continued to climb, as has your fever. The bacta held it off briefly, but as the minutes pass, you can feel your blood pressure starting to rise again. The body can only take so much before it gives out. You don’t want to find out what your limits are.

Kix lets out a quiet breath, his hand falling to press against yours where it rests on the mat. “Let me go talk to the guys.”

You watch him go, laying there on the mat, the tears still streaming. You can just hear them outside, their bodies visible thanks to the glow of the small fire set up in the middle of the camp.

“She’s declining again. The toxin the bug injected was a stimulant. It’s sending her body into overdrive.”

“Is there anything you can do to fix it?”

“There is one thing...but you’re not going to like it.”

Their voices quiet down, and you can see them leaning in closer to each other.

“We have to what?”

“We can’t do that. She’s...not like that...we can’t.”

“We may not have any other choice.”

“She just needs to hang on for three more hours.”

“She’s not going to make it two if she doesn’t get help.”

It falls silent, only the sound of your labored breaths filling the air. You can almost picture the silent conversation, eyes glancing around, looking anywhere but at each other as they come to terms with what Kix is suggesting. Besides some harmless flirting from Fives, they’ve never pressed that boundary with you. There’s always been an unspoken rule with you. They don’t push past that boundary, and now they’re being asked to hurdle over it.

“At least...let her decide. Let her have the autonomy to choose.”

Footsteps approach the tent and Kix ducks back inside. He comes over to your side, kneeling down next to you. His hand brushes your head, brows pinched in a frown. “They’ll do it.” He says quietly, wiping the sweat from your brow. “But they want you to choose.”

You already know that, but you let him say it. It’s a finality, the gavel striking on this situation, making it real. You’re going to have to fuck one of your friends, one of the troopers you’d trust with your life. Who better, though? It could be some random trooper you’ve never met before who you’ll never see again…

Maybe that would be better than a trooper you’ll have to face regularly.

How are you going to face them after this?

Who do you choose? Rex? You trust the clone captain with your life, but you’d never be able to be in the same room with him again if you asked him to do this. You can’t ask Kix. You need someone aware in case this goes awry, someone who might at least be able to keep you alive. Jesse would make it too romantic, and you know he’d catch feelings. You couldn’t do that to him. Hardcase would wind up bragging about it accidentally and you’re not sure you could handle that eventual reality.

That leaves…

Fives.

The one least likely to care about this, the one to play it off as a one-time thing, like many of his other flings. You’d be just another notch on his belt, like all those other faceless bucket bunnies he winds up bedding during shore leave. He won’t care, and he’ll make sure he forgets after all of this is done. He’ll pretend like nothing happened, and everything will go back to normal.

“Fives.” You whisper, squeezing your thighs together.

Something passes across Kix’s face, but you’re too out of it to put a name to it. “You’re sure?”

You nod, letting out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

Kix is quiet for a moment before he nods. “I’ll...go tell him.”

Kix stands back up, leaving you alone as he ducks out of the tent again. You curl up in a ball, mind swimming with nothing but desire, nothing but an intense need to cum and fast.

The tent flap moves aside again, only it’s not Kix who enters.

It’s Fives.

He’s sans helmet, brows pinched as he approaches you slowly, like you’re a wild nexu about to pounce. He kneels down next to the mat, his gaze unreadable as he stares down at you.

“Hi, Doc.” He say softly, lifting a hand to brush some damp hair from your face.

“Fives…” you let out a soft gasp as a wave of pulsing pain throbs through your body. “Help me.”

You grab his hand, bringing it to your face. His glove is rough as it slides across your skin, your nerves alight and overstimulated from the simple touch.

“You really want me to do this?” He asks, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“Yes.” you gulp, squeezing his hand weakly. “I need it.”

He swallows thickly but nods, sitting back on his heels to pop off his utility belt and kama, laying them near your own pile. Your own hands tug your underwear off, the soaked fabric bunching as you kick it off onto the end of the mat. Fives pops his pauldron off adding it to the pile on the floor. He makes to take off his spaulders but you stop him, grabbing his hands.

“Don’t bother.” You say, laying back on the mat and pulling him with you. “The faster we can get this done, the better.”

“This isn’t going to be comfortable for you.” He warns, popping off his codpiece.

“You really think I care right now?” You ask, tilting your head back.

“Suppose not.” He murmurs, settling himself between your thighs. His hands trail up your legs, gloves gone at least.

This is so unsanitary, but you’ll worry about that later.

He stares down at you for a long moment, hands paused halfway down your thighs, just resting there. You try to part your legs for him but he keeps them closed, something passing over his face before he sits back on his heels. “Turn over.”

You do as he says, turning over onto your stomach. Whatever is going to get you fucked faster. He finally pushes your thighs apart, just enough for him to slot himself between them.

“Kriff…” he breathes, sliding a hand down the back of your thigh. His fingers glide through your folds before two slip into you, your body opening easy around him. He curses again, pumping his fingers into you. “So kriffing wet.”

“Hurry up.” You breathe, shifting your arm to wave back at him. “No time for that. I need you...like right now.”

You hear him shift, his blacks opening to free his cock. You lick your lips at the thought of what it looks like. Unfortunately you know from medical experience exactly what he looks like, just how hung they all are.

Your pussy clenches at the thought of his cock finally inside of you and the relief it’s going to bring. Finally you’ll be free from the intense overstimulation burning through you.

He leans between your thighs, kneeing them open further to make space for him and his armor. The plastoid digs into your skin but you don’t care, far too focused on the way your body stretches around the tip of his cock. He lets out a quiet groan, sliding into you easily.

“Kriffing hell, Doc,” He groans, settling his weight over you as he glides home in one stroke. His hands come to rest on either side of you, his hips pressed tight against your ass.

He starts to rock his hips, slow and steady as his cock presses into you over and over. Arousal seeps out of you with every press of his hips, soaking into his blacks. The itching is still creeping under your skin, the monitor on your arm beeping from your increased temperature and heart rate. Fives shifts, grabbing it and ripping it off, tossing it somewhere to the side.

“Fives,” you breathe, pushing back against him. “Faster.”

His hips still, pressed up against your body. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“If you don’t fuck me, I’m going to die.” you say, reaching out to grip one of his wrists. “So fuck me like you mean it.”

You can feel the weight of his stare for a long moment, wishing you could see his face in the artificial light of the lamp. It’s getting dark outside, the sun finally starting to set. “As the lady commands.” He says, lowering himself down on his elbows above you. His chest presses against your back, the plastoid armor covering his body cool against your heated skin.

His hips start to snap against yours in short, sharp thrusts, your eyes rolling back as you finally get some of the friction you’ve been dying for. Your hands grip the mat under your body, your hips pressing up against his, meeting his thrusts. For the first time in hours you’re finally starting to feel a hint of relief, an orgasm quickly building from the drag of his cock against that spot inside of you.

“Fives…” You breathe, fingers starting to cramp from how tightly they’re gripping the mat under you. Your clit is dragging across the rough material with every downward thrust of his hips, only adding to the pleasure coursing through you.

He curses, small groans leaving his lips. He’s trying to be quiet, even though the others outside the tent know what’s happening. The wet squelch of your soaked pussy can’t be helped, though, more and more arousal dripping out of you from the burning heat beneath your skin and the cramping in your abdomen.

“Oh, fuck, Fives.” You moan, back arching. “I’m gonna cum.”

“You gonna cum?” He leans down, groaning in your ear, breath hot against your sweat-slicked skin.

“Yes, yes!” You cry, your body shuddering as you’re thrown into an orgasm.

He slows his thrusts to languid movements, his body lifting off of you just slightly. There’s still a deep cramping in your stomach, the heat burning beneath your skin. It’s not enough.

“Again.” You breathe, reaching back towards him.

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “As you wish.”

He begins to thrust his hips against yours again, picking up the pace to a near brutal snapping of his hips. Already you can feel pleasure burning through you, almost as if you hadn’t just had an orgasm.

You cum twice more, shaking under Fives but this time he doesn’t stop, his hips still snapping against your ass in quick, short thrusts. The heat is beginning to dissipate, the itch finally calming. You’re a drooling mess, Fives’ hand wrapped around the back of your neck, keeping your head down as he plows into you. Breathy moans slip from his lips, his fingers curling into the mat like yours had. He’s close to his own orgasm. You’re shocked he’s lasted this long.

“Gonna cum.” He groans, his movements starting to get sloppy. “Where do you want me?”

“Inside,” you gasp, already getting close to another orgasm.

“Fuck…” he lets out a long groan, snapping his hips against your ass almost brutally before he stills, his cock pulsing inside of you as he cums.

Another orgasm shudders through your body at the feeling of him filling you, your body giving out as you lay flat against the bed. Fives collapses over you, pressing his face against your shoulder. He’s breathing heavily, almost as heavy as you are. You can feel his hot breaths against your sweat-slick skin.

“Feeling better?” He asks, pushing himself back up.

You are. The heat is receding from beneath your skin and the itch has been satiated. There’s still light cramping in your stomach but not nearly what it was before. In fact, you’re starting to feel cold. A shiver runs down your spine as you suddenly become aware of how much the air has cooled as it brushes against your sweat-slick skin.

Fives pulls away from you, your pussy clenching at the sudden loss. You can feel his cum dripping out of you, a wince crossing your face. That’s going to be fun to clean up later. Fives grabs a blanket from your pack, tossing it over you as you turn onto your side. He grabs his belt and kama before standing.

He won’t look at you.

“Fives?” You ask quietly as he redresses himself from the little he’d taken off. He hums, still avoiding looking at you.

A pang of hurt flashes through you. He could at least look you in the face after fucking you. He makes for the entrance to the tent, shoulders tense and tight.

“Fives!” You call, pushing yourself up onto a shaking arm. You’re exhausted, your brain fighting for something to say. You want to yell at him, beg him to look at you, but all you can come up with is a weak: “Thank you.”

He nods, glancing at you over his shoulder before he leaves the tent.

You lay back down, a tear sliding down your cheek from the awkward encounter. Maybe you should have chosen one of the others. Jesse would have probably kissed you after that.

Kix comes back into the tent kneeling down beside you. He straps the monitor back onto your arm, scanning your forehead to take your temperature.

“Your temperature has lowered significantly.” He says, setting the device aside. “So has your heart rate.”

“That’s good.” You murmur, snuggling under the blanket.

“The extraction team will be here in half an hour.” He says, grabbing your clothes from the end of the mat. “We should at least get you back into your blacks.”

Less questions that way.

You let him help you, easing your exhausted body back into your clothes, giving you at least a modicum of decency.

You’re half asleep when the ships touch down, Kix and another trooper easing you onto a stretcher. Exhaustion from the day and its events tugs at the back of your mind, all the adrenaline that had been pumping through you wearing off, leaving you shaking and weak.

You turn your head to the side as they get ready to load you onto the ship, meeting the helmeted gaze of Fives. He quickly looks away, climbing into the other ship with Jesse. You try not to let it bother you, but you can’t help but feel a bit hurt by his sudden avoidance of you.

Maybe it was as awkward for him as it was for you.

Maybe you should have chosen Jesse.

***

You’re back to work after some IV fluids and two days mandatory rest. Kix would have pushed for more, but he knew you’d break those rules anyway. A bacta shot had revived you after your return to the Resolute, but you did spend the better part of those two days resting. You still feel a bit sapped of energy, just your body ridding itself of the lasting effects of the toxic, the clone medical officer that had overseen your recovery said. The bump left over by the insect’s stinger has healed, down to hardly more than a blemish on your skin.

Your downtime also gave you a lot to think about. More precisely, to think about Fives and his reaction. You’ve come to the conclusion that he must have thought what happened between you meant more than it did. All he did was help keep you from dying in a rather unconventional way. That’s all it was. No feelings, no expectations.

Maybe he thought there were those things for you.

That’s why you seek him out after second meal, cornering him in the hallway. You’re glad he’s alone, catching him in one of those rare moments when Torrent Company isn’t moving together as a single unit throughout the flagship. It must be some miracle from the Maker, some kind of blessing after everything you went through.

“Fives!” You call out, his body stiffening as he pauses. He turns slowly as you run up to him in the thankfully quiet hallway.

“Yeah?” He asks, his brows furrowing as he stares down at you. Finally he’s looking at you, though he seems nervous. Maybe it was shame after all. Perhaps he feels ashamed for what he did, and in his shame he couldn’t look at you. You need to fix this stat.

“I just...wanted to talk about what happened...between us.” You say, suddenly nervous too.

He swallows thickly, lips pressing into a line as he nods. “Yeah.”

“I just...wanted to let you know that I picked you because I knew it wouldn’t mean anything to you.”

Something flashes over his face, his features twisting in almost a pained look for merely half a second before he cools them, finding his composure. “Right.” He clears his throat. “It wouldn’t mean anything.”

“And I also wanted to say thank you, again.” You quickly add, trying to ignore the way the look in his eyes is deepening.

He nods. “You’re, uh, you’re welcome.”

You nod, glad you got what you needed to say off your chest. “So...it just...it didn’t mean anything beyond you just saving my life.”

He winces, his gaze lowering from your face for a moment before he nods. “Yeah. It didn’t mean anything.” He shifts on his feet. “I should, uh, get going.”

“Right.” You say, stepping to the side. “I don’t want to keep you.”

He walks away without another word, his back tense and tight as he makes his way down the hall. You watch him go, something nagging in the back of your mind about the conversation that just transpired.

***

You don’t see Fives again for days.

If you thought more about it, you might have come to the conclusion that he was purposefully avoiding you, but as the 501st is thrown into another campaign right away, you don’t have much time to dwell on such things.

You’re busy as always, patching up troopers, saving their lives, doing everything you can to keep as many of them alive as you can.

It’s when things are beginning to calm in the med bay that you see him. Fives. He’s sitting on a gurney, waiting in line to be looked at. You nearly run over to him, elbowing one of your fellow medics out of the way as you come to a stop in front of him.

“Fives!” You say cheerily, his eyes widening as you appear in front of him.

“Oh, hi, Doc.” He greets you, clearing his throat. He holds out his arm, revealing a rather nasty scratch on the inside of his elbow. He’s already removed his vambrace and rerebrace, his blacks tugged up to his bicep.

You hiss through your teeth, grabbing some disinfectant and a bacta patch from the drawer next to the gurney. “That looks painful.”

“I’ve had worse.” He shrugs.

It’s true. You’ve seen him in worse shape.

“Still,” you say, your fingers wrapping around his arm to hold it still. “This might sting.”

He winces as you dab the disinfectant on the wound, careful to get any possible debris out.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.” You say softly, wiping his arm clean.

“It’s been a busy campaign.” He says.

“Right.” You nod, placing the bacta patch over his wound, waiting for the lights to turn blue before stepping back. “Leave that on for a couple hours. It’ll probably scar though.”

“That’s fine.” He says stiffly, pulling his sleeve down. He slides off the bed before grabbing the rest of his armor.

“I’ll see you around.” You say to his back.

“Yeah.” He says, turning to glance at you over his shoulder before he leaves the med bay.

“Well that was awkward.” Mira, one of your fellow civilian medics says. “Usually he’s all up on you when you’re that close and personal with him.”

“He doesn’t get all up and personal.” You say, shaking your head.

She gives you a look. “Yeah. Sure.” She shrugs. “Something definitely happened between you two.”

Your face warms just a bit. Both Rex and Kix had agreed not to go into details about what happened during...that mission. They’d given the barest possible description. Just a bug bite that went wrong. Some bacta stabilized you until you could get proper treatment. Nothing about you fucking a clone to survive.

“N-Nothing happened.” You say, quickly disposing of the supplies you used.

“Mhm.” She hums in a disbelieving tone. “Let me guess...he saw you with someone else.”

You make a face. “What? Why would that matter.”

Mira rolls her eyes. “Please, he’s totally in love with you. He practically drools every time he sees you.”

“No he doesn’t.” You scrunch your nose. “He’s nothing more than a friend.”

“Mm so that’s it.” She says, making her way to the next clone in line. “You friendzoned him.”

“Can’t friendzone someone who has no feelings for you.” You say, moving to the next gurney.

“Uh huh. Sure. No feelings.” She rolls her eyes. “Girl, you’re denser than a doornail.”

You shake your head, focusing on the clone in front of you with a blaster shot to the shoulder. Fives doesn’t have feelings for you. Sure he’s comfortable and flirty with you, but so are the rest of Torrent Company. Hell, even some of the other clones in the 501st like to hit on the civilian medics. When you’re that up close and personal with them...you don’t blame them when they spend most of their time around each other.

Fives doesn’t feel that way about you...right?

He can’t. He’s just your friend.

You jab the bacta needle a little too hard into the clone’s shoulder, earning a yowl of pain.

“Sorry…” You make a face. “Got lost in thought.”

“No kidding.” He says, rubbing his shoulder. “You know, if things don’t work out with Fives, you’re more than welcome to hit me up.” He grins salaciously at you.

“Why does everyone think there’s something between Fives and I?” You ask.

“It’s pretty obvious how he feels.” The clone says. “You could ask any clone on this ship and he’d know. Hell, I’m sure even the General knows.”

Your face heats up, and you shake your head. “No, I still don’t think so.”

He shrugs. “Have it your way.” He jumps down off the cot after you wrap his shoulder. “Just keep my offer in mind.”

“Thanks…”

“Tup, ma’am.” He says, saluting you playfully.

You roll your eyes. “Get out of here, Tup.”

He chuckles and you move on to the next clone waiting to get his wounds addressed.

***

You’re starting to believe them.

Fives has continued to do his best to evade your presence, even going so far as to leave the mess hall with a half full tray of food when you enter. It hurts, knowing you’ve messed up your friendship with him. Even the others are awkward around you now, like they’re tiptoeing around live ammunition when you’re near. More than once it’s left you in tears. It’s not fair. You couldn’t have stopped getting stung by that bug and you couldn’t help what happened to you after.

Of course sleeping with one of your close friends, be it for survival or not, would make things awkward, and you don’t blame them for taking their brother’s side. Bros before hoes right? The thought that they might think of you that way makes you wince.

Kix is the only one acting normal around you, but then again, working in close quarters makes it hard to avoid each other. Perhaps it’s just guilt that keeps him cordial, that he couldn’t do more to help you, that he couldn’t fix what was wrong without having to resort to those means.

You’re not sure what to think anymore.

You finally grow tired of their attitudes after another campaign. You’re exhausted and overworked and perhaps a tad bit emotional over how many men were lost during this battle. It’s perhaps not fair that you corner Jesse as he’s coming out of the med bay covered in bacta patches.

“Jesse!” you call out, racing down the hall to him.

He turns, his brows raising in surprise for a moment before his face cools. “Yeah?”

You come to a stop in front of him, forcing his back up against the wall. “Spill.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “What?”

“I want an explanation as to why you’re all treating me like I have the plague. Why Fives keeps doing everything in his power to avoid me.” You say.

Realization crosses his face for a moment before he lapses back into a neutral look, his back straightening. “I don’t really think it’s my place to-”

“Jesse,” you cut him off. “Please. I-I don’t know why you’re all so upset with me. It’s not like I could help what happened and…” you sigh. “I didn’t want it to ruin things between us. That’s why I wanted Fives to be the one to do it. I knew it wouldn’t mean anything to him.”

Jesse gulps, wincing as he stares down at you. “You thought it wouldn’t mean anything to him?”

“Well, yeah.” you shrug. “None of his other...escapades have meant anything.”

“Yeah, but...you’re...you.” Jesse says. “You’re our Doc. It was always going to mean something.”

You drop your gaze to his chestplate, frowning. “But I’m just a medic.”

“You’re so much more than that.” Jesse says softly. “To him, to all of us.”

Your shoulders slump, tears blurring your vision. Of course it would mean more to them than you thought. You’re not just some one night stand picked up at 79s. You’re…you.

“Look...I think it’s best you just sit him down and talk to him.” Jesse says.

“That would be easy if I could find him.” You say.

“He likes to hit the range after second meal.” Jesse says. “He’s there pretty much every day.”

You nod. “Thanks, Jesse.”

He nods, patting your shoulder. “Get some rest, Doc. You look like you need it.”

You look him over, at the many bacta patches covering him. “I could say the same to you. I don’t know why they’re letting you walk out of here right now.”

“It’s nothing too bad.” He waves you off. “Mostly just superficial.”

“Uh huh.” You say, but you take a step back. “Take it easy, okay? For me?”

He grins. “Anything for you, Doc.”

***

You do find Fives after second meal, just as Jesse said, in the range. You’ve only been in the training areas a handful of times, mostly responding to injuries the men get when they go a little hard on each other. Some bacta and a slap on the wrist is usually the standard of care for those kinds of injuries.

Fives is firing rather angrily at a droid, over and over and over. He’s tense, shoulders squared and you can see the way his brows are pulled together. You wait until he’s done, not wanting to startle him and possibly have to make your own trip to the med bay. Fives probably wouldn’t shoot you, but with him wound so tight, you can’t be sure.

“Fives?” You say quietly once he’s done, blaster lowered to his side.

He glances at you over his shoulder. “What do you want?”

“I’m here to talk.” you say as he raises his blaster once more.

“What makes you think I want to talk to you?” He snaps.

“Because I want you to tell me what’s going on.” You say, shouting over the sound of his blaster.

He pauses, his shoulders sinking a bit.

“We’re friends, Fives. Nothing about that has changed.” You say.

“That’s just it.” He says, turning on you. He holsters his blaster, taking a step towards you. “Nothing changed. You made me…” he cuts himself off with a sharp breath, his hand curling into a fist. “And it was supposed to mean nothing?”

You gulp, eyes widening at the intense look on his face. “I-It wasn’t. That’s why I chose you. None of your other one night stands have meant anything to you.”

“Because they’re not you.”

The words echo in the silence, your heart beating hard in your chest. “What?”

He swallows thickly, taking another step towards you. “They weren’t you, Doc. They were just...distractions from what I couldn’t have.”

Tears burn behind your eyes, your heart thumping rapidly in your chest. “Fives…”

It’s all coming together for you. His playful flirting with you, the way he always made sure you sat next to him, his protective streak when you were caught in combat with them, his reaction after...his stiff avoidance of you after you told him it meant nothing to you.

Kriff, you’re an idiot.

His steps are slow, careful, like he’s approaching a wild animal. You don’t move, your body tingling from all of the realizations slamming into you left and right. They were right. They were all right.

He stops inches from you, staring down at you. You hold his gaze, a stray tear sliding down your cheek.

“It wasn’t supposed to mean anything to you.” You whisper.

“It meant everything to me.” He says quietly.

More tears slide down your cheeks, your breath hitching in your chest. His eyes are so big, so soft as they stare down at you. His hand lifts, sliding up your arm to your elbow. The touch is so gentle, so intimate.

“You have no idea what it meant, that you trusted me like that. You trusted me to take care of you when you were so vulnerable. But you didn’t know...how could you have known?” His grip tightens just slightly around your arm. “I tried to imagine it was just another bucket bunny, but...I couldn’t.” His hand slides up your arm, over your shoulder to your face where he cups your cheek. “It was you, Doc. It was always you.”

“Oh Fives,” you whisper, sniffling. “Everyone knew but me...I couldn’t see it. Why didn’t you say anything?”

His gaze drops from yours. “I didn’t know how you would feel about it, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“It wouldn’t have ruined anything.” You say, leaning into the rough fabric of his glove on your cheek. You can feel the warmth of his hand through it seeping into your own skin.

“Well, I know that now.” He says, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

You groan, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his chestplate. “Couple of idiots, aren’t we?”

He chuckles, his arms wrapping around you. “I think you could say that.”

You lean against him for a moment, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest against you. The sharp shard of fear strikes through you at the thought that someday you might lose him, but you push it aside, focusing on the here and now.

His hands grip your arms, pulling you back away from him. One of his hands slides up your arm as you stare up at him, at the deep emotion shining in those big brown eyes. His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing your lips. He stays there for a moment, just staring at you, taking you in.

“Kiss me, idiot.” You say, breaking the silence.

His face breaks in a grin before he’s leaning down, pressing his lips to yours. It’s soft and sweet, everything you hoped it would be. His hands drop to your waist as yours wrap around his neck, pressing against his pauldrons.

“I really hate your armor sometimes.” You murmur against his lips.

He smirks, kissing you again. “Would you prefer me without it?”

You pull back for a moment, pretending to think about it. “Well, you’ve seen me mostly naked, so it’s only fair.”

A wide grin forms on his face, his hand dropping to yours, lacing your fingers together. “Well, lucky for you I’m free this afternoon.”

***

The two of you slip into the barracks, giggling like a couple of teenagers, fingers entwined.

The barracks are miraculously empty, Fives approaching his bed to find a datapad sitting on top of the blankets. He picks it up, reading the text on the screen.

“Jesse.” You both say at the same time.

“Cheeky bastard.” Fives grins, tossing the datapad onto the bed next to his.

“I mean, I did corner him in the med bay yesterday.” You say.

“You did what?” Fives asks, turning to face you, halfway through pulling off his pauldrons.

You shrug. “I wanted answers. He’s the one who told me where to find you.”

Fives mutters something under his breath as he drops his pauldron to the floor, making quick work of his belt and kama as well. You help him remove the rest of his armor with well practiced fingers.

“You’re good at this.” He says, almost jealously.

You roll your eyes. “Calm down big guy. I’ve had to remove enough clone armor in the infirmary I know all the seams and pieces.”

“Right.” Fives nods, dropping the last piece into the pile on the floor, leaving him just in his blacks.

He pulls off his gloves before leaning down to kiss you again, his hands falling to your waist to tug at your own clothes. You’d dressed down today, finally free from the med bay until the next campaign.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” He says against your lips, tugging your shirt up before he pulls back.

You pull your shirt up over your head, goosebumps forming on your skin from the cool air in the barracks. Fives makes quick work of his own shirt, exposing his toned body to you. You lick your lips, tracing every line of his muscle. That was one way in which they all varied beyond just the way they styled themselves. Different clones with different jobs had different muscular builds. Fives is all hard muscle, biceps bulging as he tugs his pants down, kicking them off.

You try not to stare at the half-hard cock between his thighs, just as large and veiny as you imagined.

Fuck, he’s just as pretty as you imagined.

You tug your pants and underwear down, stripping off your breastband so you’re standing naked before him. His eyes trace over your form, a low whistle leaving his lips. “Kriff, you’re gorgeous.” he almost sighs, hands falling to your waist to pull you close, bodies pressed together. “This is how I pictured our first time going.”

You avoid his gaze, turning to look to the side. “I’m sorry it wasn’t.”

“Don’t,” he says, gripping your chin lightly to turn your face back to his. “I don’t know if I could have handled having to listen to one of the others in that tent with you.”

“Well, my second pick was Jesse, so…”

Fives rolls his eyes, moving you closer to the bed. “That idiot would have fallen in love with you after that.”

You grin, maneuvering yourself onto his bed. “That’s why I didn’t choose him.”

Fives crawls onto the small mattress with you, pushing your legs apart with his knees. You lay back, staring up at his face as he stares back at you. He pauses there for just a moment, taking you in under him. “This is how it should have been.” He says softly.

He leans down to kiss you again, his body pressing against yours. You hum at the feel of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His tongue presses past your lips, flicking against your own. You moan softly, sinking your fingers into his curls. His hips grind against your stomach, dragging his cock across your skin. You’re already wet, arousal seeping out of you at the prospect of having him again...properly this time.

Fives pulls away from your lips, kissing his way down your jaw to your neck. His teeth sink into your skin lightly, leaving a mark below your ear.

“Fives!” you complain, tugging at his hair. “Everyone will see!”

“Good.” he almost growls, kissing his way across your throat. “Let them.”

You swallow thickly at his show of possession, your hand sliding from his hair as he continues to kiss down your body. His hands cup your tits, thumbs running over your nipples.

“I love your tits.” he says, squeezing them gently. “Shame that they get hidden under armor so much.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. “They don’t like it either. That armor is tight.”

“My poor girls.” He whines, leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth.

Your laugh comes out as half a moan, back arching from the pleasurable sensation.

“I’ll give them love later.” He says, sliding the rest of the way down your body. “Right now, I have better things to do.”

You swallow thickly as your head lifts, watching him lay himself between your legs as best he can on the small bed. His warm breath fans against your wet folds, sending a shiver through you. His lips press against your inner thigh, blazing a path of kisses upwards. His gaze lifts to meet yours as his hands shift to grip your hips, adjusting your position on the bed before he leans in, dragging his tongue through your folds.

You gasp at the sensation, your thighs pressing against his broad shoulders. His mouth is warm as it closes over your pussy, his tongue licking another slow stripe up your folds until he reaches the spot that has your inhale turning into a gasp.

“Fives…” You sigh.

He focuses his attention there, dragging slow lines across your clit with his tongue. You flop back onto the bed, back arching from the pleasure. Little whimpers leave your lips as he teases your clit, your thighs already trembling. It hasn’t been that long, but the thought of it being Fives doing this has you riled up. You’re not going to last very long, not with his sweet mouth eating you like a man starved.

You don’t last very long.

Your thighs squeeze around his shoulders as your orgasm is ripped from you suddenly. You let out a cry that’s probably too loud, but you don’t care who could have heard you as your back arches off the bed, pressing your hips closer to Fives’ face. His hands hold your thighs, keeping you still as his tongue continues to tease your clit, working you through your orgasm.

It’s not until you’re writhing in his grasp, letting out little whimpers that he relents, lifting his face from between your thighs. His face is shiny with your slick, his tongue darting out to lick his lips salaciously. It’s obscene and yet, it has heat pulsing straight between your legs again.

He lets out a chuckle, pushing himself back up the bed until you’re face to face. You can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you again, his hard cock dragging against your stomach. His knee hooks under your thigh, pushing it up higher as he slots his body between your legs. He pulls away from your lips, holding himself up so he can grip his cock.

“Ready?” He asks, staring into your eyes.

You nod, breath hitching in anticipation.

He drags the head of his cock through your folds, gathering some of your wetness before he presses into you. His cock spreads you open, your hands lifting to grip his shoulders. The stretch is delicious, your body opening to him as he sinks further and further into you.

His forehead presses to yours as he seats himself fully into you, both of you breathing deep. “Kriff, you feel so good.” he groans, slipping his arms around you. “Better than the first time.”

You moan softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Fives?” He hums in response. “Move.”

He grins, kissing you. “As you wish.”

He begins to move, rocking his hips into yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, hands pressing into his back, feeling the way his muscles flex under his skin with every thrust. You moan softly, head spinning from the thought of being so close to him like this, without the added threat of dying if you don’t cum.

Though you feel you might pass away if he doesn’t make you cum this time.

The wet squelch of your pussy is loud in the empty barracks as he thrusts into you, the mattress squeaking a bit as he thrusts into you, slow and deep. It’s so different from the frantic fucking you had the first time. This is slow, intimate, dare you say romantic. He’s taking his time, drawing out your pleasure so it lasts as long as possible.

“Kriffing feel so good.” He groans in your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

“Fives…” you moan, clinging to him tightly. “Don’t let me go.”

“Never.” He promises, tightening his hold around you, one hand sliding to cup the back of your neck as he grinds his hips against yours.

You’re getting close, the drag of his cock sending you reeling. He’s close as well, his thrusts starting to get sloppy. Your toes are curling, body squeezing his. It’s better than you thought, but that’s probably because it’s Fives.

“Fives…” you moan his name again, nails digging into his back as he picks up the pace, snapping his hips into yours.

“Gonna cum for me? Need you to cum for me.” He grunts, in your ear, lips brushing your skin.

You let out a whine, arching against him as you seek your second high of the day. His cock brushes that spot inside of you, stars nearly erupting behind your eyes.

“Right there.” You gasp, thighs shaking around his hips. “Fuck, right there!”

You’re being loud but you don’t care, nails dragging down his back as he focuses his thrusts right at that spot inside you. You cum with a cry, pussy squeezing around him. He lets out a loud groan, his hips stilling as he twitches inside you. His muscles go lax, his body falling on top of yours. He manages to keep himself from squishing you beneath him, his face pressing against your neck.

The smell of sex is thick in the air, but you don’t care. You’re shaking, still wrapped tightly around Fives as he lays on top of you. He’s breathing heavily, warm breaths fanning against your neck. You don’t want to move, your mind buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasm still.

“You alright?” He murmurs, lips pressing a gentle kiss against your throat.

You nod, still holding him tightly. You don’t want to let him go yet. You want to hold him here, keep him here forever.

But you can’t. You both have lives you have to go back to, jobs you’re expected to do.

You’ve never understood desertion, but now you do.

“Fives?” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

“Yeah?” he breathes, pushing himself up so he’s staring down at you.

You stare up at him for a long moment, taking in his face, those soft brown eyes. “Don’t die.”

His lips twitch as he stares back, something flashing across his face. “I don’t plan on it.”

“Good.” You pull him back down against you. “I’d never forgive you if you did.”

He chuckles, rolling over so you’re on your sides. He pulls the blanket up over your bodies, tucking you against his chest. The moment is tender, soft, intimate. So different from what you had the first time.

You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Fives?” You murmur, resting your cheek against his chest.

He hums, his fingers drawing patters on your bare back.

“How long until the others break in?”

He thinks for a moment, going still before you feel his grin against the top of your head. “Long enough for another round.”

“Good.” You say, pushing him over onto his back, sitting yourself up over him. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

He smirks, his hands settling on your thighs. “Yes, ma’am.”

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @freesia-writes @returnofthepineapple @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @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 @hellhound5925 @salaminus @tallrock35 @euphoriacafe @lamiliani @sleepycreativewriter @yagurlyvonne @cw80831 @trixie2023

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nunanuggets · 2 months ago

Note

I would like a request which is heavy. I checked your do and don’t list and didn’t see this here so I thought I’d request. Please ignore if you don’t want to do this at all.

I was wondering if you could do something with tech and a female reader where reader gets attacked and experiences attempted SA (it does not have to be detailed) and he finds her after. I do not want it romanticised in any way, I’m just curious how he would react. It’s important topic for me and many and I feel like you of all people will do it justice. Thank you if you consider to do this. I’m also going to PM you about it ❤️

Heavy Rain

Pairings: Tech X FemaleReader

word count:

Sensitive content -please read with caution.

Plot: When Tech receives a transmission for him to help you alone, he did not expect what he would stumble upon.

Warnings: Trigger content ahead. This is your warning. ⚠️ Heavily implied attempts of sexual assault, descriptions of blood, scratching and bruising. Platonic relationship. Care and comfort. There is no romanticism in this fic.

The rain was falling harder now. A steady, unrelenting downpour against the durasteel walls of Ord Mantell’s alleyways and freight zones.

Tech didn’t notice it at first, his time taken up by being wedged beneath a control panel, coaxing frayed wiring back into order with practiced focus.

Then came the comm ping. At first he didn’t think much of it but then noticed that it was private and from you. Usually, you would access the shared comm channel and he was not typically your first point of call.

You had recently just gone out, maybe thirty minutes or so to ‘stretch your legs’ as you recalled to Echo. And despite your better judgement after Echo told you it was to rain soon, you still went out.

“This is Tech,” he answered automatically, pressing the switch at the side of his helmet.

There was static. Then a voice. Small and what sounds like shaking. “…Tech… I need… assistance.”

He didn’t look away from the panel. “I am a little preoccupied at this moment. May I pass this on to someone else—”

“No!”

Your voice cracked, the panic bleeding through even with poor signal. The single word halted him mid-sentence.

“J-just… follow my coordinates. Come alone. Please.”

That made him pause.

He pulled himself out from his task and sat up fully, eyes narrowing at the screen as your location pinged across his datapad. The map showed you just outside the freight district, not far from where the Marauder was docked.

“Do you require medical assistance?” he asked.

There was nothing but then , barely audible:

“…Yeah. D-don’t tell the others.”

Tech exhaled slowly through his nose. He didn’t like keeping things from the squad — especially not things that clearly involved distress, injury, or anything that altered plans. But something in your voice was off. He couldn’t parse it logically, but it felt wrong.

“Very well,” he said at last, grabbing his datapad. He stops by the gangplank, seeing the heavy rain and acknowledges that might need something warm and so grabbed a cloak that belonged to wrecker. “I am on my way.”

The walk turned into a jog the moment he stepped out into the rain.

It was heavier than expected, water soaking into his boots and gloves as he followed the tracker. The city around him was unusually quiet, the usual hustle muted by weather and late hour.

Tech’s eyes stayed glued to the scanner. The ping grew stronger.

He turned a corner, slowing to a halt as the signal chimed its proximity. The scanner indicated you were directly in front of him… but he didn’t see you.

Nothing but crates, a flickering streetlamp, and rain.

Then—

“Tech,” your voice croaked.

He turned sharply. You were behind a crate. Tucked away between two stacked shipping containers, your legs drawn to your chest, soaked through. Your body shrouded in the shadows.

He moved instantly, closing the distance in three long strides before crouching down to your level.

“Your nose is bleeding,” he observed, scanning your face, his tone neither panicked nor passive. Just focused. “And your lip appears swollen. Have you fallen over?”

You didn’t answer. Just closed your eyes as the rain poured down around both of you.

He leaned in, angling your shoulder forward to check for a head injury. No visible signs of concussion, though you were trembling. Your fingers dug into your sleeves. He didn’t miss the way your breathing skipped unevenly in your chest.

“Have you sustained a head wound?” he asked again, a little more gently now.

You shook your head.

Tech hesitated.

“Then I require clarification,” he said carefully. “You called for assistance. You are injured, visibly distressed. I need you to explain to me what has happened.”

Your breath hitched.

Then came the sob — sudden, strangled — as your hand flew to your mouth, like you could shove it back inside. Tech blinked, startled. It was a sound very rarely heard from anyone in the squad. He watched as you collapsed further into yourself, shaking from more than just the cold.

He reached for his comm, thumb brushing the toggle to alert Hunter.

Your eyes widened and then your hand shot out, grabbing his wrist with frantic force.

“No! Don’t!” you gasped. “Don’t call them, don’t call anyone!”

Tech froze in confusion. The strength of your reaction jolted him.

“I don’t want them to see me like this,” you stammered. Your words were broken, breathless, collapsing over one another.

“Omega, Omega can’t—I can’t and Echo will ask questions and Crosshair will know, and I just—”

You were hyperventilating now, voice tangled and messy, and Tech’s hand remained frozen where you held him.

“Okay,” he said at last, quietly. “I will not contact them. Not unless you ask me to.”

Your grip loosened slightly, and your eyes dropped to the soaked ground.

“Tell me,” Tech continued. His voice was low, unwavering, his expression unreadable. “Please tell me exactly what has happened. Have you been attacked?”

You bit back a whimper, your breath faltering again. Then almost mechanically you began to shift.

Your legs parted slowly, and Tech instinctively leaned back to give you space. His eyes stayed on your face at first, respectful and careful — until they dropped.

His breath caught in his chest.

The inner seams of your pants were torn jagged, uneven rips that didn’t look accidental. Bruising already darkened your upper thighs. Scratches crisscrossed your skin, raw and red. The rain couldn’t wash those marks away.

Your body was trembling violently now, arms tight around your middle. You couldn’t even look at him.

“I see,” Tech whispered, eyes scanning the injuries, brain parsing faster than his heart could follow. The moment held in silence; save for the rain.

His voice dropped further. “You need to answer me… have you been raped?”

You shook your head. “H-he tried…” Your voice cracked with the admission. “I fought… he heard people coming and ran.”

Tech didn’t blink. “And which direction did he go?”

There was a shift in his tone. Still steady, but something simmered beneath it. A sharpness. You barely managed a shrug, shoulders curling in.

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I didn’t see.“

“I just wanted to go for a walk.” The last sentence broke apart as the tears came again, full and raw, spilling hot over your cheeks even as the rain streamed down your face. You hid behind your hands like it might stop the memory from clawing forward. Your voice had gone, and so had your breath, caught and broken in your chest.

Tech didn’t move for a moment. His mind raced, measuring the options, assessing your condition, calculating the risk of calling the others versus giving you time to stabilise. You were conscious, responsive, but clearly in shock. Medical protocol urged him to alert Hunter. His emotional instinct which was less familiar and less logical told him not to.

He made his decision.

Without a word, Tech shifted from his crouch and moved closer. His knees sank into the puddles, he sat down beside you, just close enough for his shoulder to brush yours. He silently grabbed the cloak he brought and pulled it over your body, shielding you from the rain and the horrors you found yourself in.

And he stayed there. No more questions. No more requests. No orders. Just silence.

The rain fell hard around you both. Fat, cold drops hammered the ground, pooling in shallow gutters and bouncing off crates. A flash of distant lightning briefly lit the edges of the alleyway.

Eventually, the sobs slowed. Your breathing didn’t settle, but it staggered into a softer rhythm. Your hands dropped from your face, fingers shaking as you tried to wipe the mess of tears from your cheeks. You glanced toward Tech.

He was speaking. His mouth moved but you couldn’t hear him over the echo of your own thoughts. Everything else was drowned by the sound of your innocence cracking like glass. The memory still clung to your skin, as real as the bruises. Shame curled in your stomach. You wanted to crawl out of your body and vanish.

Without thinking, your frame folded toward him.

You didn’t ask. You didn’t think.

You just collapsed into him.

Tech stilled in surprise — his back stiffening as your arms clutched his sides and your face pressed to his chest. He hesitated, his own arms suspended in the air for a beat too long, unsure.

Then, slowly — one hand touched your back. The other settled across your shoulders. Not gripping, not pulling, just holding.

You clung tighter.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, barely above a whisper. “You’re safe now. No one will harm you again.”

He wasn’t sure if it was true.

He wasn’t sure of anything except the sound of your breathing against him, the weight of your trembling, and the bitter taste rising in his mouth — rage, cold and clinical. It filtered through the cracks in his logical mind and settled in his chest like ice.

He didn’t raise the comm.

He didn’t activate his visor scanner.

But he was already mapping the area, cross-referencing your coordinates, timestamps, route logs. Estimating who might’ve been in the sector. Measuring likelihoods. Piecing together a profile.

Someone had tried to hurt you.

And Tech — who never believed in vengeance — was already calculating how to find him.

Above you both, the sky cracked open again. A new surge of rain poured down, heavy and relentless. But neither of you moved.

If you have been impacted by this story and need support if you’re living in England and Wales please see this website here. Other helplines are available.

Other links that might help:

NSVRC

RAINN

Crisis Text Line

you're not a victim for sharing your story. you are a survivor setting the world on fire with your truth. and you never know who needs your light, your warmth, and raging courage. -Alex Elle

Tags: @lulalovez @photogirl894 @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tentakelspektakel @stellarbit

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nunanuggets · 2 months ago

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the way i audibly gasped when i got a push notification for this because WHAT

dressed to impress 😌

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nunanuggets · 2 months ago

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nunanuggets · 3 months ago

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Respectfully I could fix them ALL if I had the chance and love them the way they need to be loved. My only type is silver-haired broken assholes and dark-haired charismatic beauties

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nunanuggets · 4 months ago

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Sharp Edges - Crosshair x Reader [NSFW]

Collaborative work with @lightwise... What started off as self-indulgent Crosshair smut has evolved into a fully-developed fic, with plot, character development, twists and turns, angst, yearning, and plenty of delicious *spice*. ;)

Blind Date Gone Wrong

Blind Date Gone Right

The Roof

The Nightmare

Spice and Advice

The Tattoo

Work Party, Part 1

Work Party, Part 2

Carnival Games, Part 1

Carnival Games, Part 2

Showers and Plants

The Rescue

Shots Fired, Part 1

Shots Fired, Part 2

Introductions

Clarifications

Shattered

Kintsugi

Conspiracy

Coat Dinner

Kashyyyk

Spreading Wings

Cat Breakfast

Kaller

Taking Flight

Nesting (Epilogue)

Do ya love it?? Reblog it! :D

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nunanuggets · 4 months ago

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"I will always love you" // "The Jedi's words are a gift to you."

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nunanuggets · 4 months ago

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Liar Liar (Part 9/?)

Part Nine - Boiling Point // >> Part Eight

��pairings: Commander Fox X Female!Reader

🫧word count: 5.4k

🫧Chapter Summary: As things start to get creepy at work, you brace yourself for a world of heartache when you finally come face to face with Fox.

🫧Warnings: Angst, angst and angst. Minor burn injury. Lots of crying (mainly myself)

The next morning, nausea settled deep in your stomach, an unpleasant mix of last night’s drinks, too many sweets, and the lingering weight of everything that had happened. You’d left Pia’s pretty late, more than a little tipsy, and now it felt like your body was punishing you for it.

You lay in bed, staring at the chrono on the wall, watching the minutes tick by. You could call in sick. You could just stay here, curl up under the blankets, and ignore the galaxy for a day. But then what? Tomorrow would come, and you’d still have to face this mess.

With a deep breath, you forced yourself up and shuffled into the refresher. The shower was quick, brisk, and did little to clear the fog in your head. Steam clung to the mirror, and when you wiped it away, your own tired reflection stared back at you; eyes still puffy from crying, lips pressed into a tight line.

“You can do this,” you whispered to yourself.

And that’s when you made up your mind to stay in bed.

Well, that’s what you kept saying that you should have done as you walked down the long and seemingly endless hallways of the facility.

You walked with your head down, keeping your pace quick and not stopping to acknowledge anyone. If they were looking at you, you didn’t want to know.

Then, before you even realised, your feet stopped in front of the office door.

Voices carried from inside. You knew them all, of course. But you didn’t move.

What if he was in there?

What if Thire had told people? What if they were all waiting for you, ready to mock your stupidity? The thought alone made your stomach churn harder. You suddenly felt overheated, suffocated by the walls around you.

A deep, rhythmic thumping pounds in your ears. At first you thought it was just your heart, hammering too fast, but then it grew louder. It didn’t match the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat. No, this was something else. It was coming from somewhere around you.

You blinked, a chill creeping down your spine but the noise stopped just as suddenly as it had started.

You find yourself looking up, eyes scanning the ceiling that carried the ventilaition system everywhere. You felt cold, uncomfortable. Like you were being watched. Perhaps it was your paranoia, perhaps it was-

“Hey, you alright?” You nearly jumped out of your skin. Whipping around, you saw Thire standing there, watching you closely.

“Uh—yeah, I was just…” Your voice faltered. The words wouldn’t come. It felt impossible to even look at him.

Thire studied you for a moment before resting a firm hand on your shoulder. “C’mere for a second.”

You didn’t protest, letting him steer you away from the flow of clones and officers passing through the corridor. He led you toward a supply closet, opening the door and motioning for you to step inside before closing it behind him.

For a moment, you both just stood there. The dim lighting made the small space feel even tighter.

Thire pulled off his bucket, tucking it under his arm before meeting your gaze. His brows furrowed slightly. “How are you feeling about… y’know?”

You exhaled sharply, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “Like absolute bantha crap.”

Thire sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I bet. But I promise that I haven’t said a word to anyone.”

You nodded, letting out a slow breath. “Thanks.”

“Didn’t know a damn thing about it either,” he admitted. “None of us did.”

That made you look up. “Really?”

He shook his head. “I swear. If I had any idea what Fox was doing, I would’ve called him out on it. We all would have.” His jaw tightened slightly. “That’s… not how we do things.”

Something in your chest eased, just a little. You wanted to believe him, needed to. Because if the others had known, if they’d just let it happen, that would have made it so much worse.

“I appreciate that,” you say quietly.

Thire nodded again, then frowned slightly. “You don’t have to be here today, you know. If you need time, I can cover for you.”

Your first instinct was to brush it off, to say you were fine. But the truth was, you weren’t. And right now, the thought of sitting at your station, pretending like everything was normal, felt unbearable.

“…I might take you up on that,” you admitted.

Thire nodded in understanding but hesitated for a moment before adding, “If you don’t want to stay home however, it might comfort you to know that Fox probably won’t be around the office today. I’m pretty sure he’s running a perimeter sweep in the lower levels with Thorn.”

You mulled over the options. If you stayed at work, you could at least put on a brave face—and knowing Fox wouldn’t be around eased some of the tightness in your chest. On the other hand, if you went home, you’d probably just curl up in bed, cry, and eat something deep-fried and regrettable.

“Okay,” you said, mustering some conviction. “I’ll stay for a bit. Just see how it goes.”

Thire’s face lit up with a smile, and he clapped you on the arm before leading the way out of the supply closet. You stuck close behind him as the door to the office slid open. Your eyes instinctively flicked to the back of the room, where Fox’s desk sat, empty, just as Thire had said. You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.

Stone, spinning lazily in his chair, perked up at the sight of you both. “There you are! I thought I was gonna be all on my lonesome today.” He propped his feet up on the console with exaggerated relief.

“If you were, would you actually do any work?” you teased, walking past him and swiping his boots off the console with a quick flick of your hand.

He smirked, completely unashamed. “Probably not.”

Thire rolled his eyes, moving to his station as he muttered, “At least he’s honest.”

You sat down at your usual spot, shifting in your chair, trying to settle into the rhythm of things. But before you could fully drown yourself in work, Stone let out a dramatic groan.

“Kriff’s sake, Thire, did you seriously input the wrong data again ?”

Thire’s head snapped up. “What?”

“This!” Stone gestured aggressively at his screen. “This entire patrol schedule is wrong! The rotations are out of sync. Look, the timestamps are off.”

Thire scoffed, already pulling up his own display. “That’s not possible. I double-checked before submitting it.”

“Yeah? Then explain why we have got troopers patrolling two different levels at the same time when they’re supposed to be covering opposite ends of the facility?” Stone spun his chair toward Thire, arms crossed.

Thire frowned, squinting at his own screen. “That… doesn’t make any sense. I logged everything exactly as it was assigned.”

“Well, someone kriffed it up, and it wasn’t me.”

“It sure as the Maker wasn’t me!” Thire shot back, indignant.

“Oh? So it just magically changed itself, did it?”

“I’m saying maybe you messed with it and didn’t realise—”

“I never mess up reports,” Stone cut in dramatically, placing a hand over his chest like he was some kind of martyr. “Thorn tells me so.”

“That’s the biggest exaggeration I have heard.” Thire deadpanned.

You tried to suppress a laugh as they continued their pointless, but it was no use.

And it was exactly what you needed.

For the first time that day, the weight in your chest lifted. “Okay, okay,” you interrupted, grinning as you shook your head at them both. “Which one of you actually wants to check the system logs instead of arguing like a bunch of shinies?”

Stone and Thire both turned to look at you, then at each other.

“…You do it,” they said at the same time.

You groaned, but there was a small smile on your lips as you pulled up the data. Maybe today wouldn’t be so unbearable after all.

⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅

The system was a disaster.

Patrols were scattered haphazardly, leaving critical areas completely unguarded, and nothing seemed to match up with the official assignments. Even Thire who could be forgetful truth be told, was never this careless. He definitely wouldn’t have made an error like this. None of the would have.

You had spent about an hour sorting through the mess, rerouting troopers, and sending Thire and Stone off on a mission to explain the changes to officers stationed across the facility.

The work was frustrating but effective in keeping your mind occupied. It kept your hands busy, your thoughts focused. For a while, you weren’t dwelling on him .

You were in the middle of cross-referencing the schedules when the office door hissed open. You barely registered it, too absorbed in your task until something warm and wet dragged across your cheek.

“ What the—?! ”

Before you could react, a heavy weight crashed into your lap, nearly knocking you out of your chair. A deep, rumbling growl—more like a pleased huff—filled your ears, followed by another enthusiastic swipe of a tongue across your face.

“Grizzer!” you cooed, with a laugh reaching up to give the beast a cuddle. He wriggled happily, tail thumping against the floor as he nuzzled into you.

“You spoil him,” Hound drawled, stepping up beside you with an amused chuckle. He reached down, wrapping a hand around Grizzer’s thick collar and gently pulling him off before the slobber completely drenched your uniform.

You smirked, wiping your cheek with your sleeve. “I amthe only one who sneaks him treats.”

Hound rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and now every time we pass the supply closet, he thinks he’s getting a snack.” He gave Grizzer a pat before motioning for him to lie down.

As Hound straightened up, his gaze flickered toward your screen. “Have you noticed something’s been weird with the system?” he asked, arms crossing over his chest. “I noticed that some of the patrol patterns aren’t matching up with assigned sectors, and there are gaps where there shouldn’t be.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “Yeah, we’ve been dealing with that mess all morning.” You tapped at your screen, pulling up a few of the more obvious errors. “Thire swears he submitted everything correctly, and honestly, I believe him. This isn’t just a mistake—it’s like someone has actually tampered with it.”

Hound’s brow furrowed, gaze darkening slightly. “You think it was intentional?”

You hesitated. You hadn’t wanted to go that far, but… “I don’t know. Maybe. It just doesn’t make sense.”

He was quiet for a moment, studying the data. Then, shifting his weight, he cleared his throat.

“So… uh.” His tone changed, noticeably more awkward. “How’s it going with that ‘Whisky’ guy?”

Your heart clenched.

For a split second, you didn’t move, staring blankly at the flickering lights of your console as reality came crashing back down. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your voice even.

“Oh that? Yeah, uh, it’s not going to work out,” you said finally, still avoiding his gaze.

Hound frowned, head tilting slightly. “Why?”

You didn’t want to say. You didn’t want to talk about it so you tried to play it off although there was a bitter truth behind your answer; “He… wasn’t who I thought he was,” you said simply, hoping that would be enough. “I’d rather just leave it at that.”

But Hound’s response wasn’t what you expected. He exhaled through his nose, gaze dropping for just a second—like he was bracing for something. And when he looked back up at you, there was something guilty in his expression.

A terrible, creeping feeling clawed its way into your chest.

Slowly, you turned to face him fully, pulse starting to race. Your mind drifts to him and Fox in the hangar. Angry, intense. When you questioned Hound about it he said it was about a patrol but now you think it’s something else entirely. And then, you remember the rumour about yourself and the Commander and how Hound was the one who first thought it…

Oh no.

Your mouth runs dry. “Hound,” you say, daringly quiet, “do you know something?”

Hound hesitated. Just for a second. But that was enough. The look on his face said everything.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He knew.

Hound had known .

You shot up from your chair so fast it scraped against the floor. Your hands curled into fists at your sides as a choked sound of frustration escaped you, your voice shaking with restrained anger. “You knew?”

Hound held his hands up in defense, already backpedaling. “I—listen—”

“You knew that ‘Whisky’ was Fox, and you didn’t tell me?”

“ I tried! ” he blurted. “I tried pressuring him into telling you the truth, but you know what he’s like—he wouldn’t listen to me!”

Your teeth clenched, fury twisting in your stomach. “So what, you just let me walk into it blind? Let me sit there, talking about him, falling for him while you just—”

“I didn’t want you to hear it from me!” Hound cut in, frustrated. “It wasn’t my place. But, I told him if he didn’t tell you soon that I would tell you.”

You turned away sharply, dragging a hand through your hair as you tried to breathe through the burning heat behind your eyes. Your chest felt tight, your thoughts a cyclone of anger, hurt, and betrayal.

Hound sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I know you’re upset. I get it. I should’ve done something else, but I thought if I pushed him hard enough, he’d tell you.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. Your voice, when you finally spoke, was raw. “I can’t believe you.”

Hound didn’t argue. He didn’t try to make excuses or smooth it over. He just stood there, jaw clenched, shoulders squared like he was standing at attention, ready to take whatever you threw his way.

“So… he did tell you then? In the end?”

You dragged your sleeve across your cheek to swipe away a stray tear, breathing out bitterly. “No. Thire and Pia did. Total accident.”

Hound’s brows shot up. “Thire knows?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. “Not at first. He caught us out together, dropped Fox’s name by mistake, and then Pia put the final nail in the coffin.”

You stared at the console, unable to meet Hound’s eyes. “It all just unraveled from there. A stupid accident.”

Hound’s heavy steps closed the distance as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry. I really thought Fox would step up and tell you.”

You let out a sharp, humourless laugh, your voice tight. “Yeah, well, you’d think the Commander of the Guard would have the guts to say the truth.”

Before the weight of the conversation could sink any deeper, the office door hissed open and in stomped Thire and Stone mid-argument.

You and Hound instantly stepped apart, both snapping back into something resembling professionalism. You smothered your emotions under a mask, hoping neither of them noticed how tense you were. If Thire had clocked anything, he didn’t show it.

Stone sighed dramatically, flopping into a chair like he’d been through battle. “I need a drink. Or a caf. Or five.” You watch in disbelief as he turned his big, pleading eyes toward you like you were his only hope.

You raised an unimpressed brow, arms still crossed tightly over your chest. “Are you seriously giving me that look?”

Stone gave you his most pitiful expression. “I’ve been on my feet for hours.”

Your jaw dropped. “Me ? I’ve just been sat here for hoursuntangling the entire system while you’ve been off playing hide-and-seek with Thire!” You jabbed a finger toward your cluttered screen. “I saved your shebs.”

Stone clutched his chest like you had wounded him. “Ouch. ” He turned to Thire as if seeking backup, but Thire just smirked and shook his head.

You pointed to the dusty old caf machine in the corner. “There. It’s unloved, but it still works.”

Stone scrunched his nose like you’d offered him poison. “That machine tastes like regret.”

“Exactly,” you deadpanned. “Go make your own ‘regret’.”

He pouted harder, and you finally sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Fine. Fine! I’ll go,” you muttered, grabbing your datapad and standing. “I could use a walk anyway.”

“You’re the best,” Stone grinned.

“Uh-huh,” you replied dryly, heading for the door.

As you stepped out into the hallway, the quiet clatter of the office door sealing behind you, you let yourself breathe for the first time in what felt like hours. The office drama was one thing, but the storm in your chest about Fox and now Hound… that wasn’t going to be so easy to walk off.

Still, the fresh air of the hallway and the promise of a decent cup of caf were better than sitting in that office for another second.

The corridors were quiet as you made your way toward the caf vendor tucked away in one of the facility’s less-trafficked wings. Your boots echoed faintly against the floor, the faint hum of overhead lights your only friend.

As you’re about to turn into a junction, something caught your eye.

A vent, about two meters up the wall, slammed shut.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your breath catching as you whipped your head toward it. The corridor was still, not a sound, but you were sure you saw it move.

Slowly, you stepped a little closer, peering up at it, but nothing stirred. No air, no voices, just the faint rattle of an old air unit kicking in somewhere deeper in the ducts.

You rubbed your eyes, feeling the lingering heaviness from last night. “Great,” you muttered under your breath, “still drunk.”

Shaking your head, you pushed the paranoia down and kept moving. You’d probably just imagined it. Stress, fatigue, and the emotional wreckage were jsut playing tricks on you.

At the caf vendor, your attention went back to your little mission, punching in each order like you were disarming a bomb. One strong and black for Thire, caf with a triple shot and a splash of cream for Stone, plain and standard for Hound, and your usual sweeter blend.

As you made your way back, four very hot cafs carefully balanced on a tray, you passed the same hallway where the vent had - or as you imagined - slammed shut earlier. Instinctively, you slowed down, eyes flickering up to the wall.

The vent sat still. Silent.

You hesitated, listening carefully. Not even the hum of a servomotor. No scurrying sounds. Nothing.

“Just your imagination,” you told yourself, forcing your feet to keep moving.

Still, even as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the chill.

You pushed through the heavy silence of the hallway, cafs balanced carefully as you made your way back toward the office. But as the door hissed open, you froze in the threshold.

Your stomach sank like a anchor.

Fox stood there, voice sharp and echoing off the walls as he barked at Thire and Stone. His helmet tilted toward them, rage practically dripping from him. “I step away for one day, and the whole system goes to hell! How hard is it to follow protocol?”

But the words didn’t fully land in your mind. Your eyes were locked on him, dread curling in your stomach as the room seemed to close in around you. The first time seeing him since everything fell apart, and the sight of him stole the air right from your lungs. And not in a good way.

Thire caught your eye first, his expression crumbling into a look of guilt and apology. Clearly, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Clearly, Thire had been wrong about Fox being absent today.

You barely registered Stone throwing up his hands defensively or Hound standing stiff in the corner.

Fox didn’t notice you at first—until the end of his tirade, when his helmet turned and he spotted you standing there, frozen. He jolted slightly, visor locking on you in stunned silence.

Your heart slammed against your ribs as your hand trembled, the tray rattling slightly. Before you could get a grip, the whole thing slipped sideways. The cups tumbled and hot caf splashing onto one of the consoles and, worse, onto your hand.

A sharp, broken whimper escaped you as the boiling liquid burned your skin.

Hound moved fast, rushing toward you. His voice was somewhere distant, muffled like you were underwater.

But you couldn’t process it.

You were already backing out the door, breath caught in your throat, and then you were gone—running down the hallway.

The nearest refresher was barely around the corner. You stumbled inside and slammed the door behind you, collapsing against the sink. Sobs raked through your chest as you fumbled to get the tap on, hurriedly shoving your hand under the freezing stream of water.

The burn throbbed beneath the chill, but it was nothing compared to the ache inside you.

You stared at your burned hand, your skin already red and irritated under the running water. But then your gaze dropped to your wrist—the bracelet. The one Fox had given you only yesterday, still fastened snugly like a cruel reminder.

Your chest tightened, rage boiling beneath your ribs. Without thinking, you yanked it off and you slammed it to the floor. Frustration choked you as you gasped, tears spilling faster now.

Then it came—the thumping.

Heavy and low at first, but it crept around you, up in the walls above and behind, like something alive was moving in the ducts. The sound made your breath hitch, heart pounding against your ribs.

“Stop it, stop it…” you whispered through gritted teeth, pressing your palms to your temples, convinced you were spiraling. “It’s just in your head. It’s just your head.”

But the thumping kept going, getting louder, vibrating through the durasteel panels. Then—suddenly—it cut out, vanishing like it had never been there at all.

Your blood felt like ice as you stared at the ceiling, waiting for it to return.

A sharp knock at the refresher door broke the silence, making you flinch. The noise from the walls stayed gone, leaving only the sound of your ragged breathing.

You swallowed hard, blinking down at your trembling hands. Your mouth was bone-dry, your mind spinning. It had to be Hound, you had see him coming for you back in the office.

Before you could muster the words to answer, the door hissed open behind you.

“I don’t want to see anyone, Hound,” you mumbled, voice broken.

“How about myself?”

Your eyes snapped up to the mirror above the basin—and there he was. Fox. Standing just inside the door.

Your stomach twisted violently, blood roaring in your ears. “Get out,” your voice was low but shaking.

“We need to talk,” Fox said, calm but firm, stepping further inside.

You spun to face him fully, eyes burning. “Now’s not the best time, so just leave me alone!” Your words echoed in the small room, your breath coming in hard and fast.

Fox didn’t move. Instead, he stepped closer, standing right beside you as though the tension between you didn’t weigh down the air. His gloved hand reached out and quietly adjusted the tap, turning it from cold to lukewarm.

“It’s better this way for burns,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “You should head to the medbay.”

You clenched your jaw, staring daggers into the mirror. “Thanks for the advice,” you snapped, your voice sharper now. “Now go.”

Still, he didn’t budge. His reflection loomed beside yours, visor blank but heavy with everything he wasn’t saying. “I’m not leaving,” he said quietly but with that quiet, stubborn authority you’d heard so many times before—except now, it made your skin crawl.

You step back, just out of arm's reach. “Why? So you can lie to me some more?”

Fox’s shoulders squared as though your words physically hit him. “I never wanted to lie to you,” he replied, voice edged with guilt. “You think this has been easy for me?”

You laughed bitterly. “Oh, poor you.” You shook your head in disbelief. “You had a thousand chances to tell me the truth.”

“I know.” He sighs behind his helmet, “I should have told you sooner.”

“You think? ” you barked. “You let me make a fool of myself. I trusted you! I opened up to you and told you everything about me. I was honest and kind, thinking you were—” you bit down on the lump in your throat, voice trembling, “—thinking you were someone else.”

Fox stood frozen, stunned into silence, mouth parted like he had words to offer but couldn’t find any.

You stared at the sink, focusing on the dripping tap as you tried to even out your breathing. Slowly, you straightened your shoulders, forcing yourself to face him again, eyes burning with determination.

“Take it off.”

His posture stiffened, head snapping up. “What?”

“Your helmet.” You nodded toward it, voice sharp but calm. “Take it off.”

Fox hesitated. You could see it in the slight twitch of his fingers. He wasn’t used to taking orders from anyone who wasn’t a General or the Senate, but the way you were looking at him—hurt, angry, betrayed… it cut through his pride.

He finally moved, his gloved hands lifting the helmet, hands barely steady as he removed it and tucked it under his arm. He didn’t look at you, eyes cast to the floor as if the weight of your pain was too much to face.

And as you stared at him, you realised you didn’t know why you asked. Maybe you were still desperately clinging to the hope that Thire and Pia had somehow been wrong, that this would reveal someone else, someone who just resembled Fox.

But there he was. A face you spent swooning over, eyes you had wiped away tears of laughter with, lips you almost…And now it looked so much heavier, pulled down by guilt.

“You can’t even look at me.”

Fox’s head lifted immediately, eyes meeting yours, his grip tightening on the helmet at his side. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did.” Your voice cracked.

He flinched at that, eyes softening as if he were searching for words. “I know,” he breathed. “I know, I… I don’t know why I let it get this far. I kept telling myself I’d tell you the truth, but I just… got caught up.”

“I told you my own truths,” you said, voice rising. “I trusted you. I let you in. And you decided I didn’t deserve the same.”

“That’s not what I wanted—”

“You didn’t say a lot.” You cut him off sharply. Your throat was tight with tears threatening to fall. “Was it all just some test? To find out how I really felt about you so you had to come up with some stupid, fake alias to what? To fire me? Because if you never liked me all you had to do was just fire me from the get go.”

“I do like you,” he exasperates, “if i didn’t like you I wouldn’t have taken you to that meadow, I wouldn’t have-”

“Lied?”

He stills and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I didn’t want to lie.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “But you did.” you repeat. “Was… was anything you said to me true? About your future, about how you…” your voice faltered, suddenly quieter, “...how you felt about me…”

Your eyes burned as you trailed off, remembering the first night he’d told you that you were beautiful.

But Fox said nothing. Just stared at you with that same, helpless expression.

His silence stretched just a moment too long.

“Just go,” you breathed, voice thick. “Please.”

“No, wait-”

“I’m done talking, Commander.”

He blinks, and takes a small step closer. “Please call me Fox.”

“Why?” You cry, “I wasn’t able to before, what’s changed?”

Stars, he hated seeing you cry in front of him. More to the point that he was the reason for your tears. “Everything… and I don’t want to leave you like this. You’re hurt.”

“It’s just a burn.” You mutter, turning your gaze away.

“I wasn’t referring to that.”

You sigh, angrily wiping away the tears you had let slip. “Sorry for crying.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.” He states.

“You do.” You swiftly retort. “And I’m waiting.”

He shifts in his spot, the brutalness of your words almost scary if not impressive. “I am sorry.”

You scoff. “You're apologising because I asked you to. Not because you wanted to.”

“Wha-?”

“You can leave now.” Your voice was firm, unwavering, even as your fingers trembled slightly against your injured hand. You turned away from him, nursing the burn as though it was the only wound that mattered. “Also, I’m going to put in for a transfer.”

Fox stepped forward again, close enough that his breath stirred against the nape of your neck. “Don’t do that.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, switching off the water. “Do you even realise the position you’ve put me in, Commander?” His title dripped from your tongue like poison as you lifted your gaze to the mirror, meeting his reflection instead of facing him directly. “I can’t even stand to be in the same room as you. I can’t work for you.”

Fox already looked like a man who had been gutted and left to bleed out, but at your words, he flinched, swallowing thickly. “You won’t even know I’m there. I’m too busy dealing with Rik Walder—he’s still loose, and if I hadn’t been so distracted, maybe he never would have—”

Your slow, deliberate turn toward him cut his words dead in his throat.

His mouth snapped shut, the realisation hitting him. Now he had finally said too much rather than too little.

Fox cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably, guilt rolling off of him in waves. “Not that… that was your fault, of course.”

“Out. ” Your voice was cold, final.

He exhaled, defeated, lifting his helmet and sliding it back into place. You watched as his shame disappeared behind the familiar T-shaped visor, the last traces of vulnerability sealed away. He turned for the door, but something on the floor caught his eye.

Fox bent down, retrieving the small, discarded object, and when he rose, he turned to you once more. “I gave you this.”

You barely spared a glance at the bracelet dangling from his fingers, but the sight of it still sent a sharp pang through your chest. For the briefest moment, guilt gnawed at the edges of your anger. But then you remembered.

Who he said he was.

Who he said he wasn’t.

Your lips pressed into a thin line before you met his gaze through his visor. “I’m sure you’ve given plenty of these to other women you’ve tricked.”

Fox inhaled sharply. He took a step closer, voice low, almost pleading as he said your name. “There was never anyone else.” His fingers curled around the bracelet, gripping it like a lifeline. “It was always you.”

Your breath hitched, throat tightening. But, you shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “Somehow… that doesn’t sound as nice as you think it does.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy, suffocating.

Fox glanced down at the bracelet in his palm, then back at you. When he spoke again, his voice was strained. “Please… keep it.”

You hesitated. Just for a moment. But then, you shook your head. “I can’t.”

His shoulders sagged, the last bit of fight leaving him. He nodded once, accepting the loss. "Get your hand checked, please."

Then without another word, Fox turned and left, his footsteps heavy as the refresher door hissed shut behind him.

The moment he was gone, your breath hitched violently, a choked sob tearing its way free. Your good hand clamped over your mouth, shoulders trembling as tears burned their way down your cheeks.

Meanwhile, Fox strode back toward the office, back straight, shoulders squared, as though he could will himself to be unaffected. The bracelet, now a cruel reminder of everything lost, was silently tucked into one of the pouches on his belt.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, hidden behind the cold, unfeeling mask of his helmet.

"I was still me."

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nunanuggets · 4 months ago

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Tech...

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nunanuggets · 5 months ago

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I painted very round birbs

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nunanuggets · 5 months ago

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♡ Morning Sex with Hunter and Crosshair (NSFW) ♡

Pairings: Hunter x Fem!Reader & Crosshair Fem!Reader

WC: Around ~700 for each.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+. Smut. Soft morning sex with Hunter and Crosshair (separately). PiV. Oral (male receiving). Soft/fluffy. Established relationship. Bulleted list drabbles.

A/N: Sometimes you wake up and just need to write your thots down. Enjoy some soft morning pleasures with Hunter and Crosshair. Perhaps on Pabu where everyone is safe and stress-free? 💕

Masterlist Taglist

Hunter

You wake with large hands gently caressing your body, warm lips on your shoulder.

Your eyes flutter open and Hunter is gazing at you, his fingers rubbing small circles on your hip, just above your panty line.

“Good morning, mesh’la.” He rumbled, his voice husky from sleep, and perhaps other thoughts that were formulating in his mind as he gazed upon your body.

His look was intense, your body flushing and reacting to his touch as he pressed a kiss to the side of your neck.

Hunter breathed in deeply, your scent electrifying him.

One hand slid up under your nightshirt to where your breasts lay, warm and supple under the graze of his fingertips.

You knew exactly what he wanted, he didn’t have to declare it.

You wanted it too.

You whispered his name, your eyes fighting to stay open, not from drowsiness, but from the sensation of his lips on your neck, now sucking gently at your skin, and the bliss from his calloused fingers slowly rolling your pebbled nipple.

Your panties were dampening, his hand now giving your other breast equal attention as his lips moved to yours, a slow languid kiss that perfectly matched the laziness of the morning.

You let out a breathy moan as you felt him press his hardened length against your thigh.

You turned on your side, letting him pull you back against his chest, pressing your ass against his hips as you spooned.

Hunter let out a low groan, bucking his hips into your plush ass, rubbing his cock against your clothed pussy.

Hunter brought a hand over your hip to your center, rubbing slow circles on your clothed clit, feeling the thin material dampen with every pass of his finger.

“So wet for me…” He breathed in your ear, bucking his hips into you again. “So good for me…”

“Hunter, please…” You didn’t need to say much more, he knew what you needed. He always did.

Hunter slipped his hand under your panties, his fingers slipping between your soaked folds, teasing your clit.

Hunter was basking in the scent of your arousal and the soft whimpers escaping your lips, reveling in the subconscious twitches of your body as his finger slipped inside your velvety entrance.

Hunter knew he couldn’t last much longer, needing to feel your soft walls clenching around his cock more and more with each passing second.

He slowly pumped his finger in and out, adding a second as you shuddered against his body.

With a growl, Hunter removed his fingers, shoving down your panties as he lined his cock up with your entrance.

You wiggled your ass, pressing yourself back up against him, slightly shifting your position on your side so he could guide himself in.

You both released a moan as he slid in without resistance.

You twisted your neck back to kiss him as he slowly fucked you, neither of you in a rush to get to your ends.

Hunter slid his hand up and down the side of your body, squeezing in reverence and grunting praises in your ear as he held you.

Feeling his strong body pressed up against yours, his hips moving in tandem with yours was enough for you.

Your body quivered as his thrusts became quicker, his breathing more shallow.

You knew he was close, even at your lazy pace.

Hunter brought a hand to your clit, rubbing quick circles, causing you to arch and mewl at the sudden, intense ecstasy.

“That’s right…” he panted quietly, “come for me, mesh’la.”

You came with a long moan of his name, clenching around his cock as his finger worked your clit, pleasure slowly rolling wave after wave through your body.

Hunter stilled and let out a shaky moan of your name, his cock pulsing and twitching as he filled you with his warmth.

Hunter buried his face into your hair, bringing one arm over you to lace his hand in yours.

You stayed spooning on your side, even as he softened inside of you.

Neither of you wanted to move, basking in the afterglow.

Hunter grunted as he finally slipped out of you, maneuvering you so you were facing him, pulling you into his chest.

“I love you.” He mumbled, his eyelids heavy, the warmth and softness of your body lulling him back into slumber.

“I love you too…” You whispered before falling back asleep in his arms.

Crosshair

You woke first, which was unusual.

Crosshair was generally an early riser, even after all this time.

Delicate sunlight peeked through the curtains, casting a glow on Crosshair’s slumbering form.

The sheets were at his waist, revealing his bare chest that rose and fell slowly.

He looked peaceful, and content, his entire being relaxed.

You smiled, enjoying this rare moment of vulnerability, not wanting to disturb him.

“See something you like?” He drawled, his eyes not opening.

Of course he’s awake.

You smiled, tracing a finger down his pectoral.

“I see a lot that I like.”

Crosshair hummed in response.

You pressed your lips to his collarbone, picking up on the subtle way his breath hitched as you did so.

Crosshair didn’t move, his eyes were still closed.

You began kissing down his body, slowly and with purpose.

Crosshair spent most of last night worshiping your body, always a giver.

It took both of you a long time to get to this point, being so openly vulnerable and letting yourselves be taken care of.

This morning, you wanted, no needed, to take care of him.

You loved how his abdominal muscles twitched under your lips, knowing exactly where his sensitive spots were, though he would never admit having such things.

You kissed down to the waistband of his sleep pants, now straddling his legs.

You gazed up at him, his eyes now open and watching you intently.

A bulge was forming under his pants, proof that he was enjoying your early morning ministrations.

You hooked a finger under the waistline, a tiny nod from him permitting you to keep going.

You pulled down his sleep pants, revealing his half-hard cock.

You kissed the side of his length, loving how soft and warm the skin felt as your tongue flicked out, gently licking the side and up to the head.

Crosshair grunted, his body twitching at the sensation.

You carefully took the head of his cock in your mouth, squeezing his base gently with your hand.

Crosshair gripped the sheets as you slowly bobbed up and down, in no rush to bring him to his end so quickly.

You loved feeling him become fully hard in your mouth, tasting his salty excitement on your tongue as you swirled it around his tip.

Wetness pooled in your core, your pussy throbbing at the quiet groans he was trying to suppress.

With a final long suck and gentle squeeze, you release his cock from your mouth.

Crosshair knew what you wanted, kicking off his sleep pants entirely as you flung your panties behind you.

You fully straddled him, rubbing your wet folds on his soaking cock.

Crosshair gripped your hips, grinding out your name.

“Need you,” you gasped, pressing his tip to your entrance.

Crosshair didn’t say it out loud, but the look in his eyes was telling you the same thing.

He needed you more than you’d ever know.

Crosshair cursed as you sunk on him, taking him fully.

You took a second to get used to the stretch, before slowly rocking your hips down on his.

Crosshair watched as your breasts and body jiggled with every move, your hands pressed to his chest for leverage.

You leaned down, Crosshair meeting you halfway to take your lips on his.

The kiss was fervent, deep, and passionate as your tongues danced, Crosshair matching your thrusts up against you.

You rode him like this for a while, riding him nice and slow, reeling at the sensation of lifting your hips and sliding back down, feeling every part of him filling you to the brim.

You captured one another’s moans, your hips moving beginning to move faster as you ground your clit down on his pelvis.

You moved your hands from his chest to grasp his hands near his head, his fingers weaved with yours.

Crosshair changed the angle of his hips, and based on the way you cried out his name against his mouth, he knew you were on the edge.

He was getting close too, not able to hold on much longer.

“Crosshair I—“

“Me too.”

A few more rolls of your hips and you fell over the precipice, your body shaking and Crosshair’s arms enveloped you, holding you as you quivered and rode out your blinding pleasure.

Pleasure only he could give you, and no one else.

The sensation and sounds of you climaxing rushed him to his end, squeezing you tighter as he came, your name mixed in with choked groans as he pumped you full of his hot release.

You collapsed on top of him, burying your face into his neck.

You sat like that for a moment, catching your breath.

“Good morning.” He mumbled, a smirk in his voice.

You lifted your head, smiling down at him.

“Oh, is it? Tell me, why is it such a good morning?” You teased.

Crosshair chuckled as you rolled off him, tucking yourself into his side.

“Because I have you,” Crosshair mumbled with such sudden sincerity, that you felt your heart do leaps in your chest.

His hand found yours, his lips ghosting your forehead as you lay together.

“I love you, too, Crosshair.”

Taglist: @crosshairlovebot @sev-on-kamino @kimiheartblade @wizardofrozz@ @clonemedickix @sunshinesdaydream @kashasenpai @freesia-writes @multi-fan-dom-madness @aconstructofamind @dreamie411 @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @starqueensthings @idontgetanysleep @secretthegriffin @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @secondaryrealm @littlemissmanga @maybethatfanfictionwriter @pb-jellybeans @wanderer-six @king-chaos-world @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @523rdrebel @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @sleepingsun501 @coraex @cw80831 @dangraccoon @mythical-illustrator @eternal-transcience @the-cantina @nahoney22 @moonlightwarriorqueen @stinkyluna @skellymom @din-miller @reader6898

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nunanuggets · 5 months ago

Text

I Want More, More

Crosshair x Reader Oneshot

WOW, I broke 20 followers! Thank you, thank you for reading my little fics, it means the world! Have a Crosshair battling with his feelings oneshot!

Word Count: 4605

Summary: Crosshair is made aware that he has not been treating you like he should. He has a crisis about it before talking to you like an adult, kind of.

Warnings: Here there be smut, minors begone, Crosshair struggling with his feelings is its own warning, Crosshair is a dick until he's not, he's a moron your honor, slightly desperate Crosshair, rough sex into talking into gentle sex into rough sex again, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), p in v sex, language, some derogatory pet names, talking during sex, reader is afab, there's porn here I promise, you just have to get through Crosshair's angst

This wasn’t fucking working.

Crosshair was near madness, and he was sure you were reaching a point where you needed a break. You’d never let him fuck your mouth for this long before. But there you were, topless, tears streaming down your face, knees probably scuffed or even bleeding from the durasteel floor, nevermind that you still had your pants on. And yet you pushed through, voicing not a word of complaint as you gagged on his persistent cock.

And he wasn’t anywhere close to finishing.

You should be complaining, he decided. What had it been? Thirty minutes? Fifty? Crosshair couldn’t keep track of anything except his own frustration, and that was making him a terrible lay. And if there’s one thing he would be loath to be terrible at, it was sex.

His cock throbbed, his balls ached, and you kept moaning. He growled.

Sooner or later, you’re going to hurt her. She’s going to get tired of this, and she’s going to leave. Hunter’s words from earlier in the week creeped back into his mind, and any hope of salvaging this situation dissipated into thin air.

Crosshair abruptly pulled you off his length and backed away, tugging his pants up as he went. Still you knelt, breathing heavily, awaiting what he’d do next. It was the arrangement you’d both worked out months ago. You allowed yourself to be used as he saw fit, and he made sure you left satisfied and ready for dreamless sleep. No feelings, no complications. It had worked well for a long time. But he looked at you then, your face a mess, your curled legs trembling, and for the first time, he couldn’t stand the sight.

She deserves someone who cares deeply about her, Echo’s voice, well, echoed in his head, as unbidden as Hunter’s had been. His nosy brothers had held an intervention of sorts a few days ago while you were out getting supplies. It had started with Tech’s “We want to know what you are doing with our medic,” gone through Wrecker’s “You know she likes you, right? Like, a lot,” and ended with a long speech from Hunter about how “One day Crosshair, you’re going to wake up and realize that she’s moved on. For some reason, she really cares for you. And you’re treating her like a meaningless one night stand, except you keep doing it over, and over and-”

It was stupid. You both liked what you were doing. You were both consenting adults with the power to walk away at any time. You were both happy and fulfilled with that. It was enough.

Except for the past few days, it hadn’t been.

Crosshair began to really notice certain things since the talk with his brothers. Like how you always met him with a cheery good morning, and how you didn’t expect an answer in return. How you’d sit next to him while he cleaned his rifle, content to do all the talking if he just listened. How you always ran over after a close call on missions, frantic about his safety and never expecting him to inquire about your wellbeing, even if you were covered in soot and limping away from an explosion.

He realized you were giving more, much more to your…friendship, than he was. And that didn’t sit well with him. Your relationship was supposed to be transactional, and here you were, giving him attention and assistance and contact without expecting one damn solitary thing in return. Always giving, never receiving, and he…

He was a fucking prick.

Horrible, awful scenarios started coming to mind after that. For two days, he thought about what would happen if you got transferred, or completed your service and left, or, stars-forbid, got shot. A concept he’d never considered before. You were always there, always constant as Tech’s pointing finger and Echo’s whirring attachments.

The idea of you leaving him - and he was completely arrogant for never seriously entertaining the thought - was frightening. And Crosshair didn’t do frightened.

The worst part? While he was drowning in inner turmoil due to his asshole brothers and your own damn sweetness, you were waltzing around, perfectly fine. You had never given any outward indication that you wanted something real from him, something more than a smokescreen of orgasms and sharp banter. Now that he knew how much you cared, now that he’d heard that you liked him no matter how hard you tried to hide it, he couldn’t let it go.

You’d been contenting yourself with his hands on your body and his lackluster personality for months, when, according to his brothers, you’d really wanted something deeper. Did you think he would reject you, or that he wasn’t capable of anything more to begin with? Both possibilities stung, a lot deeper than he’d ever supposed they would. Especially as he realized that neither of them were unreasonable of you to assume. Suddenly, he was furious.

That’s how he ended up with his cock down your throat in the back of the Marauder, while everyone else was out on the town. Not in his bed, never in his bed. That was one of the rules he’d made, to stop things from getting too intimate. Instead he’d had you kneel, and you’d done it with a wry smile and no questions. He’d planned to fuck these thoughts out of his head, but as it turns out, his brain was thinking the fuck out of his dick, so to speak.

So instead, he leaned against the wall, gazing at you. You still kneeled, still waited patiently while he’d stared for who knows how long.

You deserved better.

The thought was pounding against his skull, incessant and refusing to leave. And Crosshair knew there were only two ways to resolve it. He could walk away, wish you well, and hope that you found someone who could give you a true relationship, no matter what it might cost him.

Or…he could try to be worthy of you.

The first option entailed less risk, and was definitely more his style. He couldn’t be bad at a relationship if he never tried to give you one. But the thought of someone else seeing you like this, or worse, someone else seeing you in ways he hadn’t yet…on a beach, walking down a colorful city street, riding a speeder bike, in the snow…

He stood abruptly and crossed over to your languishing form. He had you in his arms in less than a second, and had you laying on his bunk in less than five more.

“Cross, wha-?” you protested. You knew the rules, knew his boundaries, and tried to sit up and leave.

He grasped your shoulders and gently pushed you back, “Please.” Was all he said, whispered and hoarse. He worried at his lip without realizing it. Your eyes widened, and you let him lean you back on his pillows. He fidgeted with them, trying to make them fluffier than the GAR issued sacks of foam they really were, and you quirked a brow.

“You fucking with me, Cross?” you asked, and he could tell you were putting real effort into keeping the trepidation out of your voice. “Because this is a real weird joke.”

Okay, he deserved that one. But his words were stuck somewhere between his brain and his mouth. How was he supposed to know how to tell a woman he liked her anyway? If the Kaminoans included a class on charm somewhere in their training programs, he definitely didn’t get an invite.

Maybe you would be better off with someone who didn’t spend their days getting up close and personal with other people through a fucking scope.

But all this staring was starting to freak you out. You were sitting awkwardly, legs open, tits out, under his genetically superior gaze. Crosshair didn’t know what kind of face he’d been making, but it clearly wasn’t one you were used to. You crossed your arms over your chest and turned your head to the side, away from him.

“Are we done?” You ground out through a set jaw, a slightly trembling lip. “Is this…ahem…is this over? Because you could just tell me, you don’t have to try and make it easier. I can just go back to my bunk and…and…”

He caught the sheen in your eyes, the catch in your throat. Fuck. Fuck.

“I-I want you…” stars, he can’t even talk. Damn you. Damn him. He cleared his throat. “I. want. you. to stay… there.”

Well, it sounded like it was being tortured out of him, but at least it got your attention. You turned back to look at his face, “You want me to stay here.” You said evenly, jerking your head towards his shabby pillows. “In your bed. Where I’m never, ever supposed to be.”

He swallowed, mouth dry as hell, and nodded. You were so much better at this, so much stronger than he was. He couldn’t do anything but spill his guts in what was probably the least romantic way possible.

So he did, “I want to try…something else.”

Your lips parted just a fraction, and something seemed to click behind your eyes. But you were tough, tougher than he ever gave you credit for, and you never gave him any ground. Oh you were gentle about it, cool satin to his rough burlap. He suspected it was the healer in you. But you always demanded communication from him, demanded that he explain his behavior, even if it took him a while.

“Something else,” the hitch in your voice had disappeared. “You’re going to have to explain that one to me, babe. You know I’ll try something new, and we have a safe word, but this violates your rules, and I don’t know how to act now. I don’t know what’s okay.”

Babe. It slipped out of your mouth every so often, usually in a teasing lilt over comms during a battle. He didn’t know if he loved it or hated it, but it always brought a sudden heat to his face. He felt the tips of his ears burning.

“I…” c’mon, bastard. You can get this out, you have to get this out. She’s waiting. “I want… toforgettherules.”

“I’m sorry? One more time?”

Brat. In any other circumstance, he’d have you over his knee for something like that. But he took a deep breath, like the ones he’d take before making an impossible shot. And maybe that’s what this was, “I want to forget the rules.”

Your eyes alighted with something like hope, “Why?”

Yes Crosshair, you stupid prick, tell the lady why. He needed to get his head examined. He was talking to himself more than usual. And now he’d started to sound like Hunter.

“Because,” he ground out, teeth clenched. “You deserve…better…than what I’ve been giving you. But I…I don’t want anyone else to deserve you.”

You sat with that for just a moment. And then you brought a hand up to your mouth and giggled. It was such a happy sound, he was almost completely unoffended.

“You like me,” you murmured, eyes full of mirth and pure, honest delight.

He let out a shaky breath. It was almost a chuckle, “I like you. You’re a little shit, and you give me a heart attack half the time. But I like you.”

“And… I’m allowed to like you back?” This question was tentative, small. Not how he wanted to see you. You should be bright, confident, unafraid to show your brilliance. A fierceness crept into his heart.

“You get to like whatever you damn well please,” he growled, then softened slightly. “But…it would be nice if you liked me.”

You hummed, and dropped the arms covering your gorgeous breasts to cup his face in both hands. Your fingers moved in his cropped strands of hair, but he resisted the urge to close his eyes at the peace it brought him.

“I like you, more than I ever thought you’d want me to,” you almost-whispered. Then you grinned that same grin you got when Wrecker offered to let you press a detonator. “But if you want in on this, babe, if you want some kind of commitment, I’ve got some rules of my own.”

Strangely, the thought didn’t concern him nearly as badly as it had a day ago. He didn’t know shit about real relationships. He wanted you, and if you gave him some kind of guide to go off of, well, at least there was less of a chance of him fucking it up.

Crosshair nodded, and your smile grew wider, joy sparkling in your eyes.

“First of all,” you began. “You have to say good morning and good night to me. You also have to hold my hand every so often, and let me kiss your cheek. I promise not to embarrass you…too much.”

He huffed a little, but conceded, “Agreed. Anything else?”

“Oh this is an ongoing list. There will be amendments,” you chirped happily. “I require actual conversation daily, and I get to sleep next to you after we fuck.”

“What do you take me for? Of course you get to-”

“No getting jealous of my guy friends, including your brothers. Like when I give them hugs or candies or-.”

“The regs absolutely cannot be trusted-”

“Ha! I knew you’d be a jealous boyfriend. Oh yeah! And I get to introduce you as my boyfriend from now on.”

Crosshair’s mild disgust must have shown on his face, because you laughed outright, “What about partner? Lover? Fuckbuddy?”

He rolled his eyes, “I’ll make ‘boyfriend’ work. Can I kiss you now or does the princess have more proclamations?”

That shut you up. Despite all the other parts of him you’d had in your mouth, one of his rules had been no kissing on the lips. Your eyes glazed over, and he smirked and leaned forward.

Your lips were so soft, plush and sorely neglected. A vague sense of regret and longing overtook him. How the hell had he managed to avoid kissing you until now? It didn’t really matter. He decided, as you let out a little hum of surprise, that it was about to become his new ritual. Every morning, every night, every time he could drag you into a private little alcove, he’d do it, just to get a chance to press his lips to yours.

He pushed forward, his tongue licking at the line of your lips, and you whined. His cock pulsed, and he began steadily rocking it against your clothed thigh. You opened your mouth eagerly and he dove in. Oh this was divine.

“Never thought,” he mumbled into your mouth. “Never thought it’d be like this.”

“Like…what?” you gasped.

“This…this fucking… brilliant. Stars, your mouth…”

You groaned, and he moved to sweep his deft tongue along your jaw, up to your ear. He bit at your earlobe, and your hips began doing some involuntary rocking of their own. Crosshair growled in your ear, satisfied when you shivered.

He stopped though, when he felt your stealthy hand cup his balls through his pants, “No,” he rasped, taking your wrist in hand and bringing the misbehaving appendage up to nip at your squirming fingers. “I told you, doll. I want… to try… something else.”

“Letting me call the shots would be something else,” you whined, still wiggling in his grasp.

He shook his head, “Not tonight,” he said, sounding out of breath. “Tonight, you just lay there. Look pretty. Look fucking gorgeous because that’s what you are, and keep making little noises for me.”

You whimpered at that, and he smirked. But it wasn’t his usual cocky, infuriating twist of the lips. This was an adorable half smile, part disbelieving, part alive with anticipation.

Your pants were hastily removed, and while your shoes caused a bit of an obstacle, Crosshair simply wrenched them off and tossed them over his shoulder. One landed with a thump on the durasteel floor - a place he swore you would never be kneeling unprotected again. He was pretty sure the other ended up in Tech’s bunk.

Crosshair traced his hands down your legs and slowly, ever so slowly pulled your knees further apart. You were pressed back against the pillows, open and waiting for him, and his heart rose to a furious din in his ears. He was almost positive you could hear it.

He was seized with another fit of insecurity. How was he supposed to know how to cater to you like this? He knew how to grasp your throat just hard enough that your eyes would roll back into your head. He knew how you liked to be tied down and spanked. This wasn’t even the first time he had held your legs apart and let you squirm under his attention. But tenderness… communicating one’s feelings with one’s body… he didn’t even know how to begin.

His eyes flicked to your face, flushed with shyness and lust. Your kind, welcoming eyes, more open in every breath than he was in his entire lifetime. You bit your lip.

You have to try to be worthy of her, he thought to himself. And he turned his attention to your pussy.

Still clothed in your thin, basic panties, the solid color was stained dark with your wetness. Crosshair cursed, and slowly descended between your legs.

First, he kissed your knees, not bleeding but definitely scraped, and the gentle touch of his lips had you sighing. You’d never made that sound before, that exhale of pure contentment. He wanted more of it.

You flinched and squirmed as he ran his tongue down your inner thigh, but he held you fast. You weren’t getting away from him. Not now, not when he was finally ready to really try.

Crosshair knew where you wanted him. You weren’t exactly subtle with the canting of your hips and the nervous fluttering of your fingers over the sheets. Your breaths were coming in short bursts of want. Stars, how were you this sensitive already? He’d seen you in a state of pre-orgasmic distress plenty of times, had made you beg for him past the point where you could speak in coherent sentences, but never had he seen such simple, sweet touches electrify you in this way.

Instead of lowering his mouth to your pussy, though, Crosshair moved to lick and nip at your hip bone. You squealed and moaned, and he decided he’d never heard such an addicting sound.

He brought his tongue across your belly, snapping the waistband of your panties with his teeth before teasing your other hip. Your whimpering was a constant symphony in his dark bunk. He pulled back and chanced a peek at your face. Your eyes were shining with yearning. You had one hand in your hair. He reached up, tugged your abused lip from between your teeth, worried that you’d draw blood, and glanced back down.

The wet spot on your panties had grown, and finally, with a lighter touch than he’d ever directed towards you, Crosshair ran a knuckle up and down your clothed center. You keened, and threw your head back on his feeble pillows, which had flattened almost completely under you.

I need to get new ones, he thought absently as he tugged your panties to the side, exposing your dripping core. She deserves to be fucked on real pillows.

He lowered his head, and you were both gone.

Crosshair had tasted you before, often as a tease while you were tied up and helpless. But not often, and not thoroughly. He usually enjoyed watching your face while taking you apart with his fingers, snarling demeaning pet names into your ear. But this…this was transcendent. You tasted like home, like he could live his entire life and die between your legs. He drank from you slowly, meticulously, lapping at your entrance and circling your clit before closing his lips around it and lightly sucking. Your legs were trembling within minutes. Every few seconds, garbled, meaningless sounds escaped from your throat and spurred him on. He gently, reverently pushed a finger into your hot center, caressing the spot you both loved. You seized up…, and let go.

He rocked you lovingly through your orgasm, fingering you slightly and keeping his mouth clamped around your clit. Your pussy spasmed, your hips jerked, and your mouth opened in a silent scream.

But he didn’t stop.

Crosshair began again, stroking your throbbing clit with his tongue, refusing to allow the fire in your abdomen to subside. Now that he’d really tasted you, now that he’d felt you fall apart on his lips, his only goal was to make it happen again.

“C-cross!” you yelled, hand flying down to his hair. You tugged hard, and he groaned.

“More,” he mumbled into your cunt. His fingers pressed at that tender spot inside you, and your head flew back. You shrieked and writhed on his bed, dripping onto the sheets.

You were moaning with every breath, tensing your legs and frantically thrusting your hips towards his waiting mouth. Your toes curled repeatedly in the corners of his vision. Your pussy was red and swollen, your slick arousal running down his hand and wrist.

Crosshair curled his fingers inside of you and allowed his teeth to gently catch against your begging clit, and your second orgasm hit like a lightning strike. You seized up, screaming your release to the ceiling of his bunk. He gently lapped at your clit as you came down, your yells turning to sobs. Tears spilled down your face and onto your chest. You reached for him, and he encircled your shaking body with his arms.

“Shhhhh,” he hushed into your hair. “You’re alright…you’re alright…I…I’ve got you, mesh’la.”

You pulled back, tears tracking your cheeks as you stared into his eyes, “Y-you’ve never called me that before.”

Crosshair knew you understood the word. Echo called you mesh’la on occasion, Wrecker too. “I felt left out,” he said. “I should get to remind you of how beautiful you are more than anyone else.”

You sniffed, and threw your arms around him, “You’re beautiful too,” he heard you mumble, and his heart swelled. “But…”

“But what, doll?”

Your voice took on a fierce, desperate tone, “If you don’t get inside me right now, we’re going to have our first fight.”

Crosshair was stunned, but only for a moment. This was why he lo…liked you in the first place.

He took on the domineering tone he usually had with you in these situations, “Demanding girls don’t get what they want.”

But you just grinned, and lifted your chin, “Girlfriend privilege.”

He threw his head back and laughed. What had he gotten himself into?

He couldn’t wait to find out.

“Just this once, mesh’la.”

You practically went limp in his arms as his straining, red cock breached your entrance. He stilled for just a moment, relishing in the feeling of being inside you. When you looked up at him, eyes shining with something he dare not name, not yet, he felt complete.

Crosshair grabbed hold of your hair and yanked, and you squealed from the pull of his hand and the push of his cock. This much he was sure of: he knew how you liked to be fucked, and he didn’t have it in him to be gentle any longer. And though he wouldn’t last as long as he’d like, no one could accuse him of not being a giving lover.

“Just like that, good girl,” he growled. You whined and writhed, impaled on his cock and unable to even think. “You just lay back, and come for me one more time.”

“Cross…I-I can’t.”

“You can,” he assured you, and his thumb went down to ever so gently move on your clit. “You’ve done it for me before, and you’re going to do it for me again. Scream, bite me if you have to, but you are going to give me one more.”

You wailed, hips thrusting up, frantically trying to match his rhythm. Crosshair released your hair to grab your throat. He leaned in, a hair's breadth away from your ear, and whispered, “That’s it, that’s my good girl.”

You tensed, and he grinned, “You like that? You like knowing you’re mine? That this mouth, these tits, this pussy all belong to me?” He started moving faster, keeping that pressure on your throbbing clit. He bit at your ear, “But remember, mesh’la, just because you’re my girl doesn’t mean I won’t fuck you like the slut we both know you are.”

That did it. Your cunt clenched around him, and you let out an ear-piercing scream. Your release came in strong, crashing waves, wiping your mind of anything else and soaking both of you. Crosshair couldn’t hold out any longer. He buried himself to the hilt and came deep inside you, and you shuddered with the aftershocks, so full and sated Crosshair swore you’d fallen asleep.

He was wrong. You lifted a trembling hand to his face and smiled gently at him, “Thank you, Cross.”

He scoffed, “Nothing to be thankful for. Not like we haven’t done this a hundred times.”

But you shook your head, “We’ve never done this before.” You gestured at the mess you’d made in his bed, at your tangled limbs and the invisible closeness that still existed between you, even after the amazing sex. “Thank you for trying.”

Crosshair felt his strength leave him. He gathered you up, and buried his face in your chest, taking deep, calming breaths, “Don’t let me coast on it.” He murmured. “Don’t cut me any slack. I’m bad at this.”

He heard your giggle from above, “A little unpolished, maybe, but I’ve never seen you fail to excel at something you were determined to accomplish.” You stroked his hair. “We’ll be fine, babe.”

“We need to talk about that nickname.”

“I can think of others,” you teased. “Honey, sweetie, my little tooka-”

He made a gagging noise against your breasts, and you were outright laughing, “Babycakes, darling, love-”

Crosshair knew he’d tensed up at that last one, had let a little gasp escape in his contentment. He blamed the recent orgasm. But you’d heard it, and you stopped laughing.

“Oh…” he heard your voice take on a strange tone, and finally looked up at your face. You looked…shy. Shy and happy. You nodded, “Love, then. I can make that work.”

He felt his ears burning, and he turned his face back into your chest. A sudden possessiveness overtook him, and he gathered you closer, “You can’t…” he mumbled. “You can’t call anyone else that.”

You were quiet for a moment, probably remembering all of the interchangeable nicknames you liked to use with his brothers. Then he felt your hands grab his face - still hiding in your breasts like a coward - and turn it toward your own. You smiled down at him.

“And that, love, is what we call boyfriend privilege.”

Crosshair gazed at you in amazement, then felt a rare smile break out over his face. He hugged you close, took his time kissing your lips again. He knew, in a moment, he would tell you to stay where you are as he got up and did something he’d never done for you before - clean you up himself. It’s something he would insist on doing from here on out.

Because, he decided, that’s what your boyfriend would do. And, as he was realizing rather quickly, he did not want anyone else to earn that title.

It was his. And he was yours.

762 notes · View notes

nunanuggets · 5 months ago

Text

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.

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