#Crosshair just fits too well with my goodgirl/badboy cliché obsession i am so sorry

[moodymisty]

heyyooo! love your work! big fan! wondering if i might be able to request Crosshair with a breeding kink pretty please? this man lives in my head rent free and the brain rot is fkn real

< You are here | Part 2 >

Author's note: Ohhh, a challenge. I like. >:3 I will admit I didn't like Crosshair much at first, but he's been chipping away at me for ages and now I have the brain rot too so sameeeeeee

Relationships: Crosshair/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, What I would consider subtle breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy but not actual pregnancy, Unprotected sex, Creampies, Crosshair being a pouty little shit, Pre-Echo(sry bby), one mention of smoking though it can be taken as a metaphor not literally, Little bit of angst,

Hunter balls his hands into fists so tight his fingers shake, before threading them through his hand and pulling at the root. Boots clanging against the metal floor of the ship he walks into the cockpit, seeing Tech and Wrecker both already looking up at him.

"He is being impossible." Hunter flops in the co-pilot seat, groaning almost harsh enough to sound like a growl. Wrecker throws out a nonchalant hand, shrugging and shaking his head.

"He's been all grumpy for weeks now, not like we did anything to him..." Wrecker crosses his arms and glances in the direction of the back of the Marauder, where Crosshair is currently hidden.

Swiveling his pilot's seat so he faces Hunter, Tech continues threading a screw into his currently ongoing repair job while he talks.

"I can think of perhaps one or two theories that have the most merit as to why Crosshair is behaving this way." While normally Hunter is used to Crosshair's attitude largely defying any sort of figuring out, he still cracks an eye open to watch Tech explain himself.

"Either he's become irritated at the extended length of all of our current missions," That's a no-brainer, and the reason why all of them are on edge. Tech glances in the same place Wrecker had looked, before continuing.

"Or, he is upset because he's been away from her for such a significant amount of time."

That catches Hunter's attention, leaning up away from the back of the seat.

They've all known for a while that Crosshair had met someone, and had simply been playing it off so he could say so himself. He leaves for hours at a time and refuses to say where, along with Hunter being able to smell the irrefutable scent of a woman on him. But as expected he's kept it all a secret, acting as if him disappearing isn't unusual.

Part of Hunter was maybe a little bit insulted that he's not divulging something that significant, especially given that it doesn't seem to be just a one night stand.

But since his attitude and patience had marginally improved the Batch had elected to just take the win; Though it seems the inevitable downside was now this. They hadn't expected to get rerouted three different times so far, extending their current deployment by double what had been estimated.

He gets missing someone, but he just wishes Crosshair wouldn't be such an ass about it. He keeps biting at anyone who so much as glances at him, entire body tight and angry.

Hunter can’t help but sigh in relief knowing that they’re on track back to Coruscant, and they can get off the Marauder and stretch out away from each other for a bit. Even on the best of days, it’s not a good mix to be in such close quarters for so long.

"Lets just get to Coruscant ASAP; I'm going to go insane being stuck up in here with him for much longer."

The storage crate Crosshair is sitting on wiggles slightly, but held mostly in place by it's straps to the ground. Tech had secured this load this time after they routed to a republic base for resupplying, since they'd run out of their original stock of necessities.

But even as far back as he can possibly get it's not far enough away from his brothers, as he can still hearing them talking from all the way in the cockpit. His knuckles crack as he uses one hand to grip the fingers on his opposite, hunched over as his elbows dig into his thighs.

"Or he is upset because he's been away from her for such a significant amount of time."

Damn right he's fucking upset.

He finally finds himself someone that he likes, that he wants to be around, and he has to be stuck up in the Marauder for literal months. The last time they'd gotten rerouted he'd swore up a storm, knowing it would be at least another few standard weeks till they were back on Coruscant. Wrecker had gotten the brunt of it, and he feels a little sour stomached knowing that he shouldn’t have thrown that stuff at him. Wrecker didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just his desire to have some semblance of a life biting him in the ass. Clones don’t get to enjoy things, they get to shoot or get shot.

But he’s so fucking desperate that he swears he can see you right in front of him, with that stupid smile and wearing the used bodyglove he'd given you and let you cut up into something pretty. You’d put thumb holes in the sleeves and cut the bottom off, turning into a cute little shirt you could wear whenever. You’d even left the republic symbol on the arm alone, so it’s still obvious that it’s military.

‘It reminds me of you,’ He remembers you saying, and it felt like you’d shot him in the gut.

But instead of being with you he’s here; Stuck in a stuffy ship the same air recirculating over and over.

He wants to fuck you. Bad.

So damn bad that even you right now, the mere thought of you leaning forward to grab something off a table enough so that your shirt raises just a tiny bit up your back, has him biting his cheek almost enough to bleed.

No matter how many times he beats his head in trying to forget you exist for even just a moment, or waits until he’s alone enough to lock the refresher door and try and yank himself until he feels the need die down just enough that he can think about anything else, it doesn't work.

None of it does; His mind just keeps circling back to you. The way you smile at him, the way you talk to him, the way his hands look against your skin.

He should hate you for doing this to him. He should hate himself for letting this be done to him.

You're a good girl experimenting with a bit of the bad; To feel someone who isn't afraid to get rough. To taste the smoke on his lips and reach for him the moment he tries to pull away. He’s supposed to make you cry, make you want him.

You should be the one acting sick with love and yearning; Not him.

He's head over heels like someone in love for the first because he is; Other than one or two one night stands you're the first to make him feel this way. He's been having dreams even, mind coming up with scenarios each one more ludicrous than the last. But gods had they made him hard; Enough so that when he jolted up from his bunk he'd almost slammed his head into the ceiling, heart racing in his chest. He had to change the bottom half of his blacks afterward as well, as silently as possible.

Everything about this just makes him furious.

The moment they arrive in Coruscant space he’s standing up and waiting, his foot tapping the ground as he grips the wall for support. He’s not going to bother sitting down, it would be a waste of time. Tech will jostle them around as they land the same amount either way.

Hunter can probably hear him back here, though Crosshair doesn’t care either way. Whatever the rest of them think doesn’t matter to him at the moment, even less so than usual.

With a bunched fist he hits the panel to drop the gangplank the moment the Marauder's engines are off, not even letting them get cold before he disappears.

It's the dead of night when your eyes suddenly crack open, having to adjust to the such low amount of light in the room.

You don't know quite why you're suddenly awake, and after rubbing your eyes you lean up a bit, looking around the room. When there isn't anything out of the ordinary, you almost move to put your head against the pillow again to go back to sleep, until you hear it.

It's the soft sound of metal sliding on metal, and so you wrench your body from bed, grabbing the blaster from your nightstand and racing out into the living room to see if the door is open.

The main one isn't, though the one that leads to your patio is, with a figure standing in it just inside on your floor.

For a moment your heart completely stops, until you recognize the shape of the helmet they're wearing.

"Crosshair!?"

Your hands lower, seeing his familiar lithe silhouette in front of the patio. "Did you, break in?" He pulls the sliding glass door shut as you brush a hand along your hair and set the blaster on your counter.

"Yeah, and?"

He says while pulling off his helmet, before throwing it in the direction of your couch. It bounces twice before rolling to a stop. "It's the fifth story!" He seems to completely ignore your comment, and instead walks closer to you, an unreadable expression on his face. It’s so dark in here, the only like is from the patio windows and the one little light you leave on in the kitchen.

You're in your nightclothes of course, bare feet against the floor as you'd raced right from your bedroom after hearing him pick the lock. You hope no one saw him on the way up, but it’s unlikely Crosshair would’ve allowed that to happen.

Walking closer you can hear his boots hit your floor, and he comes into your personal space you let him; His hands laying on the tops of your hips and pulling you close. The edge of the countertop hits the small of your back as he traps you against it, seeing his eyes brush over your face.

He’s not saying anything, so you fill the silence yourself.

"I missed you." He makes a soft noise.

"Really?" His tone of voice is amused, and skeptical. The plates of his armor are rough against your palms, as they brush over his chestplate. You can feel each little scrape and dent, every moment where he might’ve gotten hurt had it not been there to protect him.

"Am I not allowed to miss you?" He removes one hand from your hip to take the toothpick from his mouth and flicks it in the direction of your trash, it bonking off the wall and falling in.

After he does so, he leans down enough that his lips are just barely hovering over your own, and you can just barely see the outline of his features in the dark. They feel so soft, brushing against you as he speaks.

"You're too sweet on me, sugar."

Maybe so, but you can't help it.

"But I don't think you missed just me, right?" One of his hands leaves your hips to cradle the back of your neck, tilting your head upwards. He's not wrong, you know you’ve missed the things he does to you just as much as himself. They keep you awake at night, more often than not. You don’t answer him, but your lips gently part as you look at him. His eyes are hooded, looking at you and only you.

"So what; You want me to love on you, or fuck you."

Crosshair knows what he wants, and he knows by the way you've grown pliant under his grasp that you want it too.

He moves closer to you until you have no option to sit up on the table you'd had your back to, him stepping in the space between your legs. His lips are rough against yours as he tugs up the fabric of your nightdress, so much so that one might wonder if he'd ripped it. It doesn't matter.

His gloved hand is slipping down the front of your underwear so fast that you don't even have time to question it, instantly pressing against your clit. He chuckles at the way your hips press towards him, already pleading for more. Always greedy. You’re so senstive and begging and he’s barely even touched you. It’s been too long.

"Nothing else worked, hmm?"

His fingers slide along your cunt, them just barely shining from the light pouring through your windows. He only pulls his hand away to bite the tip of his glove and pull it off, so you he can fuck you with his bare fingers. While he does, he's one handedly undoing his armor, letting it fall and kicking it away.

It feels good to take it off, and it feels even better for you to feel the softer slopes of his body, instead of the harsh edges of his armor. You slide off your underwear and throw them away, just in time for him to press his hand against you again.

His fingers curl inside of your cunt, making noises that almost embarrass you as his jaw presses against your cheek.

"Don't tell me you've been this wet the whole time i've been gone?"

He keeps trying his usual 'nonchalant and disconnected' schtick, with the snarky quips and knowing looks.

But each time his lips press against yours it's with so much desperation, feeling the way he grinds against you through his bodyglove as your legs wrap around his hips. He leans back to pull off his chestplate, and before it stops rocking on the floor he’s already back against your body.

He knows exactly how to touch you, fingers curling inside of you perfect while his thumb presses against your clit. You're writhing under his touch, desperately close after so long being unable to feel fully satisfied. The memory of his touch stopped being enough after awhile, and you’d suffered without it.

“Sometimes,” You sigh, feeling how tight your gut is. “I missed you.” You did, in multiple ways.

"I wanted you here; Especially w-" You suddenly stop speaking, too nervous to say it out loud to him. Maybe this isn’t the time to say what was on the tip of your tongue.

But Crosshair is too keen, and slows before looking down at you.

"Hmm?" He notices the way you suddenly look away from him, and only when he almost completely stops touching you do you barely mutter the words.

"I, thought I was pregnant. Right after you left."

You can still feel his fingers curled inside of you, stretching you. It hadn’t made him run, like you’d thought it might.

Crosshair doesn't know how to feel over the fact that those words fail to startle him, or that they send a jolt right down to his groin.

"It was just me imagining things in the end but," His hand moves and the way his thumb brushes over your clit makes you stop talking, gasping as your thighs tense.

"The good girl wanted a clone to knock her up?" Your face squishes. You hate when he calls you that. It sounds demeaning; Both to you and himself.

"Just- Dammit Cross,"

You say, cutting off anything else he might say. You hate when he makes you fluster under him like this, instead settling to just kiss him instead. Your hands fumble on his bodyglove before he pulls them away, freeing his cock himself. His hands grab your hips harshly and pulls you to the edge of the countertop, enough so that he can line himself up with your entrance and slowly press inside. He feels your nails through the fabric of his blacks, gasping as he slowly buries himself to the hilt.

You know Cross can be gentle, almost surprisingly so, but clearly what you'd said to him affected him to some degree; So much so that his hands grip your hips and leave dents, teeth catching your bottom lip.

He's rough, fucking you like he has one goal in mind.

Your arms are wrapped around his neck almost like a hug, keeping him close while he drives up into you. His hands and grabbing at your hips, keeping you as close to the edge of the counter as he can, without you falling off.

"C-Cross..." Fuck, he missed this. He missed the feel of you hot and wet and tight around him, and being able to fill you up like this until you're begging for him. More of him. He missed the feeling off your warmth on his skin; He's always ran colder, and secretly enjoys when your arms are around him and he can siphon your warmth.

Your legs tighten around his hips, keeping him as close as possible as his hips thrust up towards you. His cock barely pulls out halfway each time, staying so deep inside of you he keeps grinding against your most senstive spots.

"Let, Kriff- Let me cum in you.”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard him ask for something like that before; bordering on the edge of pleading. He says it through gritted teeth, hating that he let something like that slip. You grant him a mercy by whispering to him ‘yes, yes,’ against his shoulder.

The sounds of skin on skin fill the room as he thrusts his cock into you as deep as he can, brushing against every sensitive nerve within reach. You feel so hot and soft around him, your nails digging into him through his blacks as you clasp onto him. You would’ve let him even if he hadn’t have asked, but you can’t help the jolt that goes straight to your pussy at the way he wants to so badly.

He's so close you can feel him, the way he's uneven and swearing, and you grip him so tight he'd have to tear your arms off his body to pull out of you.

You suddenly feel him cum inside of you, as he hisses through his teeth in pleasure. His cock twitches inside of you, hips grinding against you as if trying to get impossibly deeper. He lingers until he’s finished, and when he finally does pull his cock from you, it's almost instantly replaced with his fingers. Pressing against your clit and circling, trying to help you chase the high you're so infuriatingly close to. He’s not just going to leave you hanging.

He can feel his cum against his fingers, mixing with your wetness as he drives his fingers deeper inside of you. Your thighs quake around him and he feels your hands grasping for anything to hold onto to keep you steady, mewling so sweetly for him.

"Come on doll," He mutters softly against your skin, teeth scraping against the soft skin just below your ear.

"Almost, almost- I,"

It's only seconds later than you finally do cum, body straightening up as your arms wrap around him, thighs trying to close tight. But they can't with him in the way, so they only wrap around him as he feels your pussy tense and flutter around nothing. He leaves his fingers against you for a bit, much more slow and gentle as he listens to your panting in his ear.

When he does finally pull away from you he glances at the way his cum slowly leaks from you, before glancing up and seeing your hooded, tired eyes as you lean back on your hands.

He'll never get tired of how this scene looks.

"Admiring your handiwork?" You dare to quip, feeling the way he gently smacks the side of your thigh to show his displeasure about it. It only makes you grin. Even if your heart is racing, you’re not tired quite yet. You can’t afford to be, you don’t know how much his time you’re going to have.

When you move to slide off the counter he lifts a hand a bit just in case, though you get down with no trouble. Your knees might be a little wobbily, but not unusable. The fabric of your nightclothes slides down, covering your messy thighs just enough.

"I wouldn't mind more, if you have any left."

The look Crosshair gives you is absolutely vicious, and just as quickly as the words leave you’re mouth he’s coming towards you. He's following, and quickly gaining, before he claps and arm on your shoulder and pushes you with in that direction with intent.

"Don't make promises that little body of yours can't keep up with."