galactic-magick - Tumblr blog

galactic-magick · 11 hours

Text

Appetite

Pairings: established Wrecker x f!Reader

Content: smut; sex pollen; semi-public making out & getting caught, actual sex happens behind closed doors; p in v, no protection, oral (f receiving), fingering, pillow talk

Notes: this was mostly written like a full year ago during season 2 + I was inspired by these fics by @moodymisty & @boozeandbaddecisions

If there's one sound you love in the universe above all else, it's the sound of Wrecker's laugh, the one that comes from the depths of his belly and makes him throw his head back and his shoulders shake. The sound of the Marauder's engines soaring overhead is a very close second, though. By the time you guesstimate that the ship's docked and the crew is unloading, you're already out the door and rushing for the downtown hub as fast as you can go.

Your comm starts chirping about halfway there.

"Yeah?"

"Guess who's back?" Wrecker's deep, rumbling voice runs right through you and you can't help the shiver that starts between your shoulders. Maker, you missed him.

But you're grinning into your comm when you reply. "Is it my favorite person in the great big galaxy?"

"Ha! Ya got that right!"

"Tell Omega I said hi, then."

You can almost picture his expression - mouth agape, shocked, maybe just a tiny bit offended, but tickled all the same as you can tell when he starts chuckling. You're almost at Cid's by now and your heart is working triple time. You keep switching between speed walking, jogging, and borderline skipping, you're so excited to see him, but the result has you struggling to breathe with any sense of normalcy and it's obvious when you speak.

"Why're ya so outta breath?" he asks and you're not sure if you're making up the sudden gravelly weight to his voice or not. Surely he's always sounded that rich and deep? "Excited ta see me?"

He still gives you flutterbys, even after all these months of dating. He still makes your tummy feel all fuzzy and your heart out of rhythm and your brain so happy that you want to shout it from the rooftops.

"Maybe just a little," you huff. "I'm almost there. Where are you?"

The comm crackles and goes silent. You turn the corner and start down the alleyway to Cid's when the door hisses open and Wrecker steps outside. He has to duck under the lip of the doorjam to avoid hitting his head and it's silly, but it makes you feel all bubbly inside. It's somewhere between endearing and attractive that he's just that big. His shoulder armor makes him look even wider than he really is. The way it catches the light, the way he stands there, big and broad and handsome and yours.

His smile goes a little crooked and his good eye, you swear it looks darker than usual when he watches you. "Right here, babe."

Yeah, you got it bad.

You practically launch yourself into his waiting, open arms, throwing your own around his neck and nuzzling into the side of his neck as much as you can with his armor in the way. Wrecker sweeps you off your feet like it's nothing, but instead of twirling the pair of you around like he always does, he rests one hand across the expanse of your back and uses the other to guide your thigh up around his hip. It's the kind of intimacy he usually saves for behind closed doors, but you'd be a fool to question it. All that matters right now is him.

"I missed you," you murmur against his skin. "So much."

Electricity shoots up your spine as you find your other leg being slowly guided to wrap around his waist. His hands are roaming, pressing, kneading, searching for something that makes the flutter-bys in your stomach go haywire all over again.

"Wreck-"

A big, wet kiss lands right on your lips, but it's warm, sloppy, urgent, a far cry from the usual chaste kisses he gifts you in public. Things start adding up in the back of your mind as a hand settles under your rear to properly support you and the other curves around the nape of your neck. His tongue laves out across yours, licks along the rim of your mouth, all while he grumbles and grunts and sighs so hot and heavy into you that it leaves you feeling dizzy.

"Missed you more," he says with his forehead pressed to yours.

You nod dumbly. "I... I see that."

"Been waitin' ta touch ya all day." Wrecker's hands are careful and disciplined. He knows exactly how to use them for delicate matters, both on and off the battlefield. So when he presses his fingers into your hips and drops you down so your crotch rubs against his, digs you into his codpiece, you know it's on purpose. "Couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout ya."

Fuck, he wants you that bad? The alley sort of spins around you.

Your breath comes stuttering out of you when your hips are guided against his again. "Wreck." His mouth is leaving cool, wet trails up and down your neck. "Fuck, babe, we should get a room."

He shakes his head. "Can't wait."

Teeth graze over your pulse point and the hand on your ass squeezes, and suddenly you feel your back pressed against something hard, then your head. Then Wrecker's hand shoots out to brace himself against that hard something as his hips rock into you and you realize that he's pinned you against the alley wall.

"You're so pretty," he whispers. "You gonna let me touch ya?"

You're on the verge of snapping. You're a hairsbreadth away from throwing caution to the wind and saying 'yes', begging him to fuck you against the wall of Cid's bar until you can't even remember how to speak, because the fact that he's so desperate for you has your brain short-circuiting.

Your eyes flutter open and closed a couple times when a particularly strong wave of arousal washes over you. "Right here?" You can barely get the words out. "People might see-"

He growls, thrusts hard enough to painfully dig your hips against the wall, but your startled yelp gets swallowed by the hazy look in his eye and the smoky "Let 'em" that burns in his throat.

Some desperate variation of "please for the Maker's sake, just fuck me already" is on the tip of your tongue when the bar door opens. Wrecker doesn't even look away, too busy staring at you all slack jawed to care, but you do. And your stomach drops in the worst possible way because the entire batch is standing there. Tech is readjusting his goggles as he assesses the situation. He seems both surprised and unbothered. Echo's head has fallen into his hand where he's rubbing at his temples. Hunter, though, looks horrified, absolutely frozen in terror.

You smack Wrecker's chest, push him back as he moves to grind on you again, but he's not listening. And that's not like him at all.

"Wrecker, stop!"

That does the trick. He blinks and frowns and finally pulls away a bit. "What?"

You can't stop staring at Hunter and he can't stop staring at you. He looks like he's about ready to drop. And then, somehow, it gets worse.

Omega looks up at her brother, brow all furrowed and her finger tapping at her mouth. "Um, what's Wrecker and Auntie-"

"Nothing." You've never heard Hunter squeak before. He's also never looked at you or Wrecker like he wants to seriously maim you, so it's all kind of new territory. "They were... hugging."

Your legs drop from around Wrecker's waist and he moves to stand slightly behind you as you both turn to face the group. He's looking everywhere but at them, scratching at his face and his neck and shifting from foot to the other, and you really wish that the ground would just open up and swallow you whole because this is truly the worst thing that's ever happened to you.

Omega wrinkles her nose. "I've never seen a hug like that before."

Tech raises a finger just before he opens his mouth and you've never wanted to hit someone more than you do right now. "That is because-"

"Because nothing," Echo snaps, acting as if he didn't just smack his brother in the gut to keep him from finishing his sentence. "They were just heading back to your aunt's flat. Weren't they?"

When you nod affirmatively, you almost hurt yourself with how much force is behind it. "Y-Yeah. Yeah, c'mon, Wreck." The big guy barely moves when you grab at his arm and try to lead him away. "We'll see you later. Probably. Just. Um, yeah. My place. Let's go."

The next few minutes are a bit of a blur as you try to urge Wrecker to follow you out of the alley and onto the main street. You can feel the batch's eyes on you as you go, you can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips, and you can feel Wrecker become more and more withdrawn with each passing second. Even after Cid's place is far behind you, he remains silent with his head bowed and his face crumpled.

Something's off. He always listens to you when you're intimate, he's always so aware of your comfort and pleasure, always asking before doing, so the fact that you could barely snap him out of it at the bar is strange. On its own, you might think that he's just in a funk or maybe really in his head, but then you think about how he touched you before you got caught. He would have taken you in that alley in a heartbeat and apart from his brothers, he probably wouldn't have even cared who saw. And you don't fully know why, but there's a feeling caught behind your sternum that tells you he's not himself right now. Somehow...

"Wreck?" He's not looking at you when you finally find the courage to toss a glance his way. The line of his jaw has gone more rigid than normal and his shoulders and arms are more tense than you've ever seen them. "Hun? What is it?"

He doesn't answer. Your stomach starts to sink.

"Wrecker?"

He grunts this time, but nothing else.

Your hand shoots out and pulls on his arm hard enough to make his entire torso jolt. "Talk to me," you start, but you barely get the sentence out before he's stalking forward. He's basically ignoring you now. "Wrecker. Wrecker!" You actually have to jog to catch up with him. "What the hell? What are you doing?"

His response is pushed out through gritted teeth. "Goin' back ta your place." It's only now that you see his hands have balled into trembling fists.

Something is very, very not right, you're sure of it now.

"Baby, please, talk to me. What's wrong? Is it because of the boys? I promise they're not actually angry with us, I think we just startled them. And... Omega will be okay. I don't think she actually saw an-"

The air goes cold when Wrecker suddenly turns and steps into you, crowding into you so you have to crane your head back as far as it'll go to see him properly. "Don't talk 'bout my vode right now." The vein in his jaw is ticking. "I don't... don't wanna think 'bout them right now."

"Why?"

There's a moment of calm where the wind sighs between the nearby buildings and the sun shines soft, warm light on the crown of your head, and then the world is tilting upside down and your head is spinning and you can't quite figure out how you got yourself flung over Wrecker's shoulder like a sack of summer tubers.

His name comes giggling out of you, half startled, half flustered. Then his hand drifts up the back of your thigh and rubs a very conspicuous pattern into the swell of your ass.

"Gonna finish what I started in that alley," he growls.

There's something about the fact that you seem to weigh nothing to him, how easily he manhandled you over his shoulder that has your stomach twisting into knots. Whatever's gotten into him has apparently rewired his brain so all he's thinking about is sex. It shouldn't be as hot as it is. It should be a little concerning. You should be questioning him more than you are, trying to figure out if he's okay, but... then you think about how he cornered you at the bar and dragged his codpiece against you and your head is reeling all over again. Fuck, you want him so bad. You want him to finish what he started. And every jostle of his shoulder armor into your lower stomach is only spurring you on.

By the time you reach your flat, your body's gone hot. It's not enough that you feel feverish, but you definitely want out of your clothes as soon as possible. For more reasons than one.

The main door chimes open, then you're getting hauled up the stairs, elevator be damned. Your keypad beeps a couple times when Wreck enters in the wrong code, but he figures it out a moment later. The world ducks down as he passes under the frame.

You start to open your mouth. 'My room,' you want to say. 'Want you so bad. Take your amor off. Touch me.' You never quite get the chance.

Instead of heading for your room, he pivots toward the dinner table and starts swiping things off. Your data pad thunks on the floor, papers and pens are everywhere, something fragile makes a cracking sound, and then you're flopping down hard onto the wood.

"Wrecker!" you yelp. The base of your skull is starting to throb a bit. And as you gaze up at him, limbs akimbo and body too hot, he starts ripping off his codpiece. "What's gotten into you?"

His hands go to your thighs and spread you open as far as you'll go. " 's all I can think about," he grunts as he starts tearing at your bottoms. "Wanna feel ya, bury myself in your pretty little cunt."

Oh, fucking Maker, if he keeps talking like that, you're gonna make a mess. Your eyes are already rolling back as it is.

"Don't know why I want ya so bad. 's like I'll die if I can't have ya."

He fists two halves of your bottoms and pulls, and your clothes rip right down the middle. His name comes shrieking out of you again as he does the same to your underthings. You're trying to scold him for ruining some of your nicest things when his thumb runs over your clit, shooting sparks and white hot pleasure through every nerve in your body, and then it slips inside you and you swear you ascend to another reality for the briefest of moments.

There's a glint to his eye now that you've never seen before, like he's lost whatever patient, careful part of him that usually keeps him in check. Right now he looks like he's going to devour you. His face is all hard lines and furrowed brows and pure hunger.

Your clothes are still half hanging off your knees when he dips down tongue first and takes a taste of you. You don't scream, but Maker help you, if he keeps doing what he's doing, you might actually have to.

Wrecker's always been clever with his hands. And his tongue. He's always known how to make a mess of you, how to use his desire for everything you might possibly give him and turn it into an act of devotion between your legs, but this? This is different. This is beyond desperate, beyond devotion. This is pure and honest lust of the kind you've never seen him act on. Is it bad it just makes you wetter for him?

He moves suddenly and his hand shifts so he's hitting you from a different angle, and the entire universe blinks out of existence for a single moment stretched out for an eternity. Your throat pricks painfully and your eyes squeeze shut as you realize you're the one screaming, the one coming all over the table, all over his face.

You're still trembling, still haven't even recovered or finished when he retreats and starts tugging the waistband of his blacks down. He doesn't stop to whisper sweet nothings, he doesn't pause to offer you a taste of yourself. Instead, he spreads your thighs again, hands splayed out across the backs of your knees, and quickly slicks himself with your arousal before finally pushing into you with that same desperate, hungry expression. In a daze, you reach down to spread your lips a bit for him and suddenly he's fully sheathed in your heat, his head knocking so deep and hard against that fucking spot that you almost come a second time.

Maybe you do, you're not entirely sure. All you can tell is that your body is shaking and he feels so, so good, you never want him to stop, you never want to be apart from him, you only need his cock, his hands, his mouth, any part of you he's willing to give and you'll take it all.

He's looming over you now, teeth bared and rutting into you as if his life depends on it. The edges of his armor dig into your thighs and somehow that makes it all even more erotic, knowing that he couldn't wait to be inside you, knowing that his armor is going to smell like you, that this big fucking hunk of a man has chosen you, wants you above anyone else.

"Say my name," he begs as your thighs shake around him. "Gotta... gotta hear you."

You can't breathe, can't think. Everything is hot and wet and rough. The world could be crumbling around you and all you would know is the pleasure of his cock stretching you open and the vulgar squelching of your cunt as he hits home again and again.

Your voice is wrecked. You can barely get his name out between your whimpers and moans and half-swallowed shrieks.

Wrecker puts a hand on your collarbone, his fingers stretching from the hollow of your throat to the back of your shoulder. His eyes are barely open. "Again."

You're fucking close.

"Wrecker."

His grimace turns into a smile into a shudder and the hand at your collarbone shifts, grips the curve of your shoulder and pushes you down onto him. "My... my girl," he pants. "All mine... That's it, that's... fuck."

Electricity goes sparking up your spine as he starts bucking his hips faster, harder. His words fade away until they're nonsensical, punctuated with stuttered swears and guttural moans of your name, of "please" and "yeah" and "almost".

And he tears another rush of pleasure from you, makes you keen and cry and beg for more until words lose their meaning and the only thing you can feel, the only thing you can think about, is him, inside you, on top of you, panting and rutting and taking everything he desires, over and over again.

The sun has long since set and the moon risen high above Ord Mantell when you finally get the answer to your unspoken question. (You were, after all, a little too busy being fucked within an inch of your life to ask it.) Wreck's comm chirps and then Tech's voice flares to life in the quiet of your bedroom.

"I believe you may have been doused with the pollen of a particularly volatile plant on our last mission. Have you experienced any-"

"Aw, Tech, who cares? I'm fine."

Your elbow nudges against his ribs. "Let him talk," you chide. "I want to hear."

The rolling of his eyes isn't visible, but you can practically hear it. He relents, though. For you. One of his arms falls snugly around your shoulders so he can pull you closer. "Alright, fine. G'head."

A kiss is pressed to your temple.

"Thank you. As I was saying, based on your earlier behavior at Cid's, I believe you may be experiencing other side effects. Is your libido heightened?"

Wrecker complains so loudly that you fear he'll wake the whole city. But he's not the only one. You can just make out the sound of either Hunter's frantic, "Really? In front of the kid?", which only serves to send you into a fit of giggles. Poor Omega.

Sex pollen. That's the diagnosis Tech finally settles on, and it makes sense, really. It does. But it's also kriffing hilarious.

"You should get high off sex pollen more often," you tell your lover as he leans down to kiss you again.

He grunts in a noncommittal sort of way. "I dunno." He shakes his head. "I could've hurt ya."

And that, more than anything, makes your heart completely melt. Through the darkened expanse of your room, your hand finds his cheek and pulls to keep him close. "Is that what you're worried about?"

"Yeah," he replies, and it's a soft and tender thing.

"You could never. I know you. I trust you. And..." You swallow a little nervously, suddenly shy in the face of your honesty. "I liked it. Feeling like, like you had to have me or you'd just kinda lose it? It was hot."

It's clear the admission takes him by surprise, but you're at a serious disadvantage - without any light to study him by, you can't read his expression and see how he really feels.

"I mean, I was mostly kidding about the pollen thing," you admit when the room stays silent for a beat too long. "I always think you're hot, hun. I love sex with you. I didn't mean that I don't, I just. You kept making me come and kept touching me, and it was so..." All of that is true, but it feels like the wrong thing to say. Suddenly, finding your voice feels like the hardest thing in the world. "You didn't hurt me, Wreck. You made me feel like the most important, most desirable woman alive. You made me feel things I didn't even know I could feel. I don't even know how many times I came, but it was good. I... I hope you don't regret it."

You almost wonder if he does, if he wishes he'd never cornered you in that alley. But then... A hand reaches for yours, his thumb rubs circles into the meat of your palm, and you feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek.

"You're sure?"

"I promise."

The pillow rustles under the weight of his head. "I... I did like it. Seein' ya all fucked out."

It's embarrassing how immediately your body reacts to him. He's hardly touching you and you've already been fucked senseless, but still your stomach is flaring to life with arousal at this one simple admission.

"Yeah?"

You ask it as innocently as possible, but Wrecker's smart. He knows you. Probably too well, at this point.

"Heh. Yeah, I did." The pillow rustles again, then the sheets, and then he's kissing you, lazy and clumsy and sweet. "Wouldn't mind seein' ya like that again."

Arms brace around his neck and broad, strong hands find the dips in your waist, and another dozen kisses are shared. Then another dozen. And another.

The pollen seems to have worked its way out of his system, but that doesn't mean his appetite is fully sated. That doesn't happen until the wee hours of the morning, long after he's pried every ounce of your pleasure from you, left you lingering on his tongue like a delicacy only he can afford.

taglist: @moodymisty @wolffegirlsunite @the-rain-on-kamino @arandomnerdsblog578

#I’ve never read a sex pollen fic before but omg this is good???#and so fluffy at the end???#I love it #poor omega though that girl is scarred 😭😭#the bad batch

125 notes · View notes