#Plastoid

[elgaberino-mcoc]

In which there is some discussion about “Daredevil and his rogues,” by Dave Bardin, and this one random white guy with combed hair. I guessed it was maybe Richard Fisk unmasked, but I was wrong.

I am more accustomed to Saxon’s later, bald-with-weird-side-goatees look, but Bardin perfectly captured Saxon’s look from the story when he was first hired to send a robot (the Plastoid) to assassinate Daredevil.

#Samuel Saxon #Starr Saxon #Machinesmith #Plastoid #robot #Daredevil rogue #mcoc class tech #inventor #mad scientist #villain #Dave Bardin #artist

[trooperst-3v3]

Went to a board meeting to suggest recruiting Wookiees. You know, for the longevity.

The admissions department loved the idea of reaching out to other species. The PR department thought more diversity would be great for our image.

Unfortunately, the accounting department said we can't do that until the budget says we can afford enough plastoid to make armor for a species that tall. If we take them in now, they're just going to look like idiots and be prone to blaster fire below the knees.

#ST-3v3 #star wars #sequel trilogy #stormtrooper #wookiee #first order pr department #accounting #plastoid #armor

[allflooby]

Where's the Human Torch when you need him?

#plastoid #man-slayer #captain marvel #kree #marvel comics #mar vell

[spectral-musette]

belatedly, for the obitine week prompt “armor”:

I’m not sure if there’s canon (or legends content) about this, but I’m pretty sure somewhere in Mandalorian culture there should be rituals involved in taking off your lover/spouse/partner’s armor...

(ficlet under the cut, ~800 words)

           Satine stretched for her bedside table, searching in the darkness for her comm unit to check the time.

           The viewport, just visible through the sheer curtains shrouding the bed, showed the otherworldly glow of hyperspace, where there was neither morning nor night. She squinted at the screen and quickly dimmed it as soon as it lit.

           Sundari time was early morning yet, about an hour before she was usually up to check messages and make tea. Coruscant time was the small hours, which explained why Obi-Wan was still deeply asleep next to her.

           She indulged in a long look at him. He’d pushed aside the coverlet at some point. One hand rested against his bare chest, the other was stretched towards her. She wanted to brush soft kisses against his eyelids, his freckled nose, the swell of his lower lip.

           Instead, she pushed herself up, swinging her feet to the floor and kicking through the jumble of clothing until she found her chemise.

           It was an enticing garment, silken, slightly sheer, and elegantly draping. She felt her cheeks heat at little, both in slight embarrassment at her own calculated purpose in choosing it, and at the memory of the enthusiastic response it had elicited. In addition to its other attractions, it was quite comfortable, soft and just the right weight for the comfortable warmth of her bedchamber on the Coronet.

           She knelt on the floor, still sorting through the discarded garments. At the bottom of the heap, her fingers met a cold, hard surface, and she couldn’t help making a disdainful face as she extracted and studied the armor piece.

           She pushed aside her feelings of self consciousness and the little knot of strange, primal dread that always accompanied her performance of her version of this ritual, and she splayed her palm flat against Obi-Wan’s breastplate.

             Sacred plate that shields the heart of my beloved, remain whole and strong until the next time I unfasten you to show him my love.

             She bent and kissed it, then turned it a little toward the dimmed wall sconce to check for any stray traces of her lip rouge (though she expected it was long since smudged off her mouth) on the bright white surface.

           “Satine.”

           Obi-Wan’s voice startled her, and she fumbled the breastplate, dropping it onto her lap.

           He had rolled over onto his side, his expression quizzical and his hair adorably tousled, falling over his forehead in thick, heavy waves.

           Caught in the act, she heaved a sigh and reluctantly confessed. “It’s an old Mandalorian custom, blessing the armor of a loved one.”

           He smiled a little, affectionate and gentle, and sat up, holding out a hand to her.

           She set aside the armor and went to him, climbing back onto the bed and stretching out next to him, only the cool, delicate silk of the chemise between them.

           “Thank you,” he said gravely.

           “You don’t have to pretend to believe in it,” she chided. “I’m not sure I believe in it.”

           “But you do it,” he pointed out, smoothing her hair tenderly off her forehead.

           “Well, it’s worked so far,” she said, smiling a little as she traced a fingertip lightly through his chest hair. “At this point, it doesn’t feel right to risk it.”

           “Do you give this blessing every time we’re together?”

           “Every time you have the nerve to wear that awful armor when you come to me,” she retorted, quirking a smile at him.

           He ran a hand over his beard thoughtfully. “Is that how it’s meant to be done? In secret, while your loved one sleeps?”

           She shook her head. “Nothing about what I have been doing is really what should be done.”

           The armor should be beskar.

           The lover should be a Mandalorian warrior, and most certainly not a Jedi.

           And the blessing should be bestowed when the armor is removed, each piece set aside with reverence, not the impatient way she peels him out of his, like a hungry seabird with a shellfish. Though that last part, she would expect, tended to be often modified, knowing Mandalorians.

           “Now that I know, can we do it properly?” He sounded eager to please her.

           She shook her head, smiling at him fondly. “If you like, I would love you to be part of it,” she said. “But it can’t ever be quite proper, I’m afraid.”

           He took her hand, kissing her fingertips and giving her a melancholy smile, acknowledging the difference in creed that had always been an impediment to their attempts to be part of each other’s lives.

           “My ancestors will never forgive me. Not when you wear that plastoid rubbish you choose to call armor.”

           He laughed, pulling her into a long kiss.

#Obi Wan Kenobi #Satine Kryze #Obi Wan/Satine #obitine #obitine week 2022 #Star Wars art #my art #pencil sketches #I wrote a thing #okay I thought that clone/jedi commander armor was made of plastisteel but turns out it's called plastoid #possibly I've gotten this wrong in the past lol #sometimes I just let my heart guide me on the Star Wars lingo because I've been cosuming EU content for so long it's generally in my bones #but apparently my heart is wrong sometimes

[the-bees-patella]

thinking about din’s fighting style and how heavily it relies on the beskar to deflect/block/absorb and how if that’s how the clones were taught, with their plastic armor…they didn’t have a hope in the world. they weren’t taught to fight, they were taught to die well.

#i mean we knew this philosophically #but i’ve been Percolating ✨ #also i’ve been up for 43 hours (by accident!!) rip #‘plastoid’ whatEVER GEORG #tcw #mando

[mybrainnevershutsup]

ok listen i know i'm a bit late to the party when it comes to the spiderperson AUS everyone was making after across the spiderverse came out, and i have no artistic talent of my own to make this happen, but

there needs to be one of Numa from Star Wars

#star wars #spiderman au #numa #the clone wars #pleasepleasepleaseyoudontunderstand #she would incorporate boils armor into her spiderman costume #it would be spandex and plastoid in white and 212th orange #with a tiny little tooka drawing on her curiass #it would be perfect #:'( #my post

[djrenard]

Breachers:

See: Sliders, Countdown Presents: The Search for Ray Palmer, DC’s Legends of Tomorrow, various Vibe centered episodes on CW’s The Flash, and Marvel’s Exiles

The Team adrift in the Multiverse:

Jason Todd aka Red Hood

Dr. Maya Chamara aka Doctor Multiverse

Donna Troy aka Troia

John Diggle aka Spartan

Cisco Ramone aka Vibe

Ralph Dibny aka the Elongated Man

Premise:

The Plastoids are infiltrating the multiverse. Their shape-changing empire has slid into various institutions in order to slowly shape various Earths for their undefined purposes. After several mishaps, Doctor Multiverse and her team must thwart the Plastoids on every Earth. Will the heroes across the Multiverse stand with the Breachers or will the Plastoids’ machination cast the Breachers as the villains? Along the way, we’ll lose heroes and pick up new ones; we’ll see alternate versions of characters, and they’ll join the cast as the originals go back to their own Earths. An ever revolving door of cast members.

#red hood #donna troy #doctor multiverse #john diggle #vibe #elongated man #breachers #spartan #troia #jason todd #ralph dibny #cisco ramon #sliders #djrenardteam #plastoids #arrowverse #cw #legends of tomorrow

[imaginedisish]

The Only Exception (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!!! Ahhh here is the Din Djarin x reader fic I said I’d post. This has been sitting in my WIPs since late November/early December. This is what I was working on before I got sick. I’m so happy it’s done. I’m pretty pleased with how it turned out, although I may have written something similar to this already. It’s very much inspired by “The Only Exception,” by Paramore. I’m hoping I didn’t use this song as a title yet....Oh well. ENJOY!

Summary: Din has been wildly overprotective of you lately, but maybe it’s because there’s something lying deep below the surface that’s been threatening to bubble over...

Warnings: SMUT!!!!! 18+ Please!!! Oral (f!receiving), fingering, PIV sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cursing, canon typical violence, Jedi!reader, Razor Crest still exists (and it’s def bigger in my head than it is in the show), praise kink, friends to lovers, angsty but fluffy and smutty dw, I only proofread like 2 times so it may be bad (it’s 3:16am...so...we die like men!), AFAB reader, uhhh I think that’s it...

Word Count: 3,078

“I swear to the Maker, if you don’t get back on the Crest now, I’m gonna-,”

Din is cut off by the sound of your lightsaber clashing through the plastoid armor of the stormtrooper to your left. You swing your saber around, showing off more than you need to. You throw it down the alleyway, feeling through the force as it cuts through another stormtrooper before finding its way back to your hand.

“You’re gonna what?” You say, tilting your head to the side. You point your saber to the stormtroopers scattered around the alleyway. “I just saved you.” You close your saber and cross your arms cockily.

Din shakes his head, his gaze refusing to meet yours. “And where’s the kid? You just left him on the Crest?” You roll your eyes, turning your back towards him as you remove your cloak from your shoulders. There, in perfect condition, is Grogu, secure in a little carrier on your back.

“You really think I’d be that dumb?” Your words have a callous edge to them. Din had been far moodier than usual over the past few days, and with that came a strange overprotectiveness that you hadn’t seen before. It was starting to feel as if he thought you were going to mess up, that you couldn’t take care of yourself. “You think I’d put the kid’s life at stake?”

“That’s not what I meant.” The anger in his voice has all but melted away. You’re shocked by how defeated he sounds now.

You inhale deeply, taking a moment to calm yourself down. “So what did you mean, Din?”

“We don’t have time for this now.” He’s curt and almost a bit cold, his modulated voice echoing off the walls of the alleyway. “We need to get back to the ship.”

You hate the way he’s brushing you off, ignoring you, pushing you to the side. You didn’t need this; you didn’t need to put up with his shit. Not anymore. “What is going on with you?” The words come out louder, more aggressive than you meant them to.

Din takes a single stride towards you, his broad figure practically shoving you against the wall in the process. “We are not doing this here.” The feeling of him being so close to you clouds your mind. You can’t form a coherent thought, never mind a sentence. You want to say something, to stand up for yourself, but you can’t. “Now cut the shit so we can get back to the ship.” There’s that anger again, that finality in his voice.

In the distance you can hear stormtroopers chatting, whispering your name, mumbling on about Grogu, warning each other about the Mandalorian. Din was right. There was no time to hash this out here. You nod, finally caving in. Din takes a step away from you, immediately grasping your wrist in his hand before making a break for the Crest, just on the other end of the alleyway.

Somehow you make it without being seen. Din lets go of your hand, motioning for you to get on the ship. You make a b-line for the back and carefully remove Grogu from his carrier, placing him in his crib. You stand frozen in place in front of it, watching his eyes flutter open and closed as he slowly drifts off to sleep.

You don’t want to move. You rather watch the child you had come to care so deeply for sleep peacefully than deal with a massively enraged Din. The oncoming fight would most definitely wake Grogu, so maybe it was best for you to hide in the little corner that you had come to call Grogu’s bedroom, completely unnoticed. But obviously, that’s not an option. You begrudgingly step towards the end of the hull and decide to keep your hands busy by organizing the tiny stock of food that lined a makeshift shelf along the far wall.

You can hear Din’s heavy steps on the other side of the ship, presumably heading up towards the cockpit. After a few seconds and many annoyed grunts from Din, the ship is lifted into the air and away from danger.

You try your best to bring yourself to get angry at him, to yell some explicative across the hull of the ship and spit a curse in his helmet-covered face. You wanted the consequences, for him to storm over and scream back. But you couldn’t – because things weren’t normally like this. Din had always been kind, caring, protective even.

He'd leave the cockpit to grab a blanket from his cot when you fell asleep in the co-pilot’s chair. He’d come back and gently, yet silently, tuck you in with it. It was the only blanket he had. Sometimes you’d wake up in his bed, having been carried into it at some point during the night. He’d be awake, taking care of the child, flying the Crest, making sure nothing and no green baby woke you up.

You’d be lying if you said his doting behavior didn’t draw you to him, that it didn’t make you crave him. Every soft touch on your shoulder, every time you pretended to be asleep just to feel his arms wrap around you as he brought you to his cot. You’d let your stares linger a little too long from time to time, pushing past your reflection in his armor, searching for some sort of sign that maybe he feels the same.

You wanted him to come up behind you, rest his hands on your hips, squeezing softly at the exposed inch of skin where your top and your pants just can’t seem to meet, and whisper in your ear in that husky, modulated voice that he’s sorry, that he’ll make up to you by-

“Never, ever, do anything like that again.” You practically jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice. You quickly turn around, not realizing how close Din had gotten to you. His chest is practically flush against yours, the proximity causing you to stumble back against the shelf, threatening to bring it down with you.

Din immediately snakes an arm around your waist, keeping you from falling against the cold metal floors below. Your arms instinctively reach up around his neck to stabilize yourself. You’re glued to him now, and you don’t particularly want to let go. You swallow harshly, intimidated by the way the beskar clad man seems to tower over you, by the way you can smell him, by the way his forehead practically touches yours.

You take a deep breath, furrowing your brows and doing your best to collect your thoughts despite the fog that the moment seemed to create in your brain. “Do what? Save your ass?” You spit, instantly regretting the harshness of your words, even if he deserves them.

“You weren’t supposed to leave the ship.” He’s stern, his voice somehow punishing. “You were supposed to stay here with the kid.”

You shake your head, feeling far too much like a child caught playing in the front seat of their parent’s speeder. “You needed my help! You would’ve died out there without me! And I can handle myself,” You yell, trying to ignore how you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours. “If this is about risking the kid’s life, I promise you I wasn’t. I would never put him-,”

He cuts you off, “I know you wouldn’t, that’s not what this is about.”

What? You think to yourself, confused beyond belief. If this wasn’t about the child, then what could this possibly be about? “So then what’s the problem?” You ask, more aware of the way that Din is holding you against him now than you were before.

You can hear Din inhale deeply through the modulator. “You.” A shudder rolls down your spine. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.” There’s still an edge in his voice, but he’s calmer now, almost pained, as if considering your death in some dark corner of his mind.

“Sorry that my death would be such an inconvenience for you,” You say sardonically. “It’ll be hard trying to replace me with some other force-wielding wizard that’ll be willing to babysit for you, since clearly that’s all I am.” You wanted the words to sting him, to hurt him, and maybe they did, but it felt like a punch in the gut to simply think them. You wanted to grab the words from where they still hung in the air and shove them back into your mouth, to swallow them so that they could burn in the acid of your stomach.

Din tilts his head down, crushed, defeated. Your heart winces. Fuck. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” His stare finds yours again, and you quickly look down at his shoulder, too embarrassed to have him look you in your eyes.

You shake your head. “But Din, that’s the problem,” You say, somehow finding the courage to meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you mean. How am I supposed to know what you mean if you won’t kriffing tell-,”

“Fucking hell, I don’t want to lose you!”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

Din looks around the hull, as if the words he was searching for were hiding, wrapped somewhere around its silver walls. “I can’t lose you. And before you ask, no, it’s not because you train the kid or whatever the hell you think it is.” You can feel the pain in his voice, guilt quickly filling your gut. “It’s just…” He trails off, silence hanging heavy in the air.

“Well…what is it?” You mumble, struggling to force down the lump in your throat. You wish you could see his face, to get a sense of his expression, an inkling as to what he was really feeling.

“You,” He says, as if those three letters held some secret, omniscient being or meaning. To him, they did. It was you. You were the thing that kept him up at night, the thing that made him want to show every facet of his being for the first time in his life.  “You’re reckless and careless and sometimes you drive me absolutely insane.”

You scoff. “Wow, what a glowing review of my services!”

Din shakes his head. “You don’t fucking get it. You’re so much more than that, because even though you drive me crazy,” He pauses; the modulator picks up his breath as it catches in his throat, “I know I’d never be able to spend an entire lifetime without you in it.”

You’re speechless. An entire lifetime? “Din I-,”

“Close your eyes.”

“What? You just said all that and you want me to close my-,”

“Just close your eyes. You trust me, don’t you?”

Of course I trust you, smart-ass, You think to yourself. So, you do what he says, shutting your eyes firmly. Then there’s a hiss, and then something clunks loudly against the floor. And then…

It’s warm, and soft, and smooth, and all those other perfect words someone would use to describe the perfect kiss. He has a mustache under all that metal, and now you know, because it tickles ever so gently just above your upper lip. His hands squeeze your hips just a bit tighter, pulling you further into his chest.

His lips press deeper into yours, hungrier. You keep your eyes closed tightly, your hands sliding up and into his hair, combing gently. He moans into your mouth at the touch as he guides you away from the shelf and towards his cot.

“D-Din,” You stutter in between gasps.

“What is it, mesh’la?” He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.

You can feel the heat pooling at the bottom of your stomach, but there’s something stopping you, something telling you that there’s no possible way this could ever be real, that it wasn’t a set-up, that it wasn’t a dream. “Do you really want this?”

“More than anything.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and you silently wish to yourself that you could see it. “Do you?”

You nod, repeating his words, “More than anything.”

His lips find yours again, his knee nudging in between your thighs as he pushes you down onto his cot. He’s on top of you now, his hands on either side of your body. “Wanted you for so long…” He whispers in your ear. “Wanted you this whole time.” Fuck, he was going to kill you.

Din presses sloppy kisses into the crook of your neck, leading up to your jaw. His hands stretch under the hemline of your shirt, his fingertips gliding across your stomach and towards the edge of your bra. You shudder as he reaches underneath, slowly inching towards your chest.

Something was changing within him, and that something was you. You made him want to throw his Creed away, to ignore all he had been taught his entire life. How could you ever possibly be something he shouldn’t have? He needed you.

More than anything. And you needed him.

“Please,” You beg. “I need you Din, please.”

And just like that, something within him finally switched.

“Open your eyes, cyare,” He’s so quiet you almost miss it. His fingers dip underneath your bra, rolling a nipple between his thumb and forefinger teasingly before doing the same to the other. “’Want you to look at me when I make you come.”

Panic rises to your chest. “W-what, are you sure? What about the Creed, what about-,”

“It doesn’t matter, not if it means I can’t have you.”

You wait a moment, giving him time to change his mind, but he doesn’t. You let your eyes flutter open, his curly hair and brown eyes flooding your vision. And Maker, there’s that smile, the smile you’d only heard through laughs and sarcastic, snide quips. You swear your heart skips a beat, maybe even two. He was perfect. Of course he was fucking perfect.

“You’re beautiful,” You whisper, your hands finding their way to his cheeks, his neck, your fingertips carefully running over his lips. His forehead rests down on yours, his eyes closing softly, reveling in the intimacy.

Din lifts himself off you and makes his way down your body, settling in between your legs. His fingers hook the waistline of your pants, tugging them down and throwing them somewhere in the hull. He feels your core through your soaked panties.

“So fucking wet for me, pretty girl,” He coos, practically ripping your panties as he pulls them down your legs. “Need to taste you.”

“F-fuck, Din,” You breathe sharply as his tongue laps at your clit, your hips lifting off the mattress. Din presses an arm across your hips, keeping you down against the cot, his free hand spreading your slick, teasing your entrance.

“’Tastes so good,” He rasps, his voice vibrating deliciously against your core. “Doing so good for me sweet girl.”

His mouth sucks harshly at your clit, taking the small bundle of nerves into his mouth, lapping at you like he was starving. You wanted more, needed more.

“N-need you, Din,” You whine, your hips fighting against the arm that held you down. He pushes you down further into the mattress, his mouth pressing even deeper onto your core.

“Not done with you yet,” He grunts, pushing two fingers into your entrance, pumping in and out, fast and hard. You could feel yourself growing closer with each thrust.

You moan his name like it’s a prayer, and in this moment it is. “Din, please, I, just…” But you can’t finish your sentence. It’s all too much, his fingers, his tongue, his voice, him. He was everywhere and everything all at once. And yet you needed more.

“Use your words, sweet girl,” He says patiently, nonchalantly.

“I want…” Your words fail again. “I…need you to f-fuck me, please.”

But he doesn’t stop, he keeps going. “I said I wasn’t done with you yet.” You could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, teetering just on the edge.

“I’m so close,” You pant in between ragged breaths.

And then, abruptly, he pulls away, leaving you cold and empty. Before you can even think to sit up or reach out for him, he was back, his hips resting against yours, his pants and armor now somewhere scattered to the side. You could feel his cock throbbing against your inner thighs. He lines himself up with your entrance, teasing you.

“Din,” You whimper. “Plea-,”

He buries himself inside you, cutting you off, stretching you out. “So fucking tight,” He praises, pulling all the way out before thrusting back into you, filling you up again. “So soft, so perfect.” His fingers find your clit, circling the nerves roughly.

His forehead rests on your own as his left-hand searches for your right one. His fingers intertwine with yours just above your head, keeping you from drowning, cementing you there with him. It all feels so good, each pump, each circle at your clit. You can feel your walls clenching around him.

“Taking me so well,” He soothes, rocking into you. “Such a good girl.” It was all too much, his words, his cock.

“I-I’m gonna-,” You choke, white heat flooding your vision. You know Din isn’t far behind, his hips stuttering against yours.

“Come for me, sweet girl, that’s it,” Din moans, sending you over the edge. You feel yourself shattering underneath him, falling apart into a million pieces, only to be put back together again. His name slips off your tongue as he comes inside you.

His hips roll slowly against yours, gently rocking into you a few more times before pulling out.  

He shifts a bit so that you can comfortably lay on his chest. After all that, there’s only one thing you can think about.

“You wouldn’t be able to live without me?”

You look up at Din. His smirk stretches into a smile. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I wouldn’t, no.” He says it so matter-of-factly, so simply, as if it was common knowledge. “I need you. I always have.”

“I need you too.” He was the only person you had ever needed, the only exception. You didn’t need to tell him. He knew. Always has, always will.

You are the only exception

You are the only exception

And I'm on my way to believing

Oh, and I'm on my way to believing

#din djarin x reader smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you smut #din djarin smut #din djarin fluff #din djarin x fem!reader #the mandalorian #mando x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin imagine #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader smut #Pedro Pascal x reader #Pedro pascal x reader smut #Pedro Pascal smut #din djarin x reader fluff #din djarin x reader angst #mando smut #mando x y/n #din djarin x jedi!reader #mando x jedi!reader #mando x fem!reader #the mandalorian x reader smut #mando imagine #din djarin x y/n

[mayawakening]

I love that it shows in-canon that Kallus gets to co-pilot the Ghost with Hera a couple times. He even argues about whether he or Rex should pilot as though he was excited to do so.

But the first few times he was in the ship post-Atollon must have been....an experience.

He's so used to seeing the Ghost from the other side, through the viewport of a star destroyer and through the front of the tiny ship as it swooshes by.

He's studied the layout and engineering manual of this one ship that has caused him so many headaches so often that he should be able to rebuild it from memory.

But there were always things that didnt make sense like, why does it make that sound, why does it seem to jolt slightly when it turns to starboard, and what is that thing he keeps seeing in the cockpit viewport?

And then, oh and then..

He finally gets to inspect the ship from the inside, without threat of being knocked out by a suspiciously quiet lasat. (Hi Zeb)

And wishes he hadn't.

He realizes, to his growing horror, that the ship jolts because half the parts are second, third, even fourth hand, made for models of ships that no longer exist and welded in at odd angles.

The odd THING he always saw through the transparisteel was a chunk of a plastoid armor piece wedged into the stolen acceleration control in order to keep it from falling right out of the console.

And the sound, he sees upon opening an access panel, is one of the engines held in place by a well-packed layer of MILK CARTONS.

-----

Hera: You okay Kal? You've been really quiet.

Kallus: *sheet white and holding co-pilot steering in a death grip*

#Rebellion runs on thoughts and prayers #alexsandr kallus #star wars rebels #star wars #kallus #star wars kallus #rebel kallus #kallus my beloved #The Ghost #sw rebels #swr

[elgaberino-mcoc]

the Plastoid (a Machinesmith robot) vs Daredevil

#Plastoid #Machinesmith robot #Machinesmith #robot #mcoc class tech #Daredevil rogue #villain

[trooperst-3v3]

AR-T13 saw me making Captain Phasma's easel a while back and asked me where I keep getting wood when the First Order mostly uses plastoid and metal.

Buddy. Friend. Pal.

The First Order has a very tight budget, and sometimes the Finance department doesn't want to approve one's metal orders, so one must improvise. For example, if one needs to replace damaged wall panels on the Finalizer, one might make some sort of trade deal with a nearby heavily-wooded planet (NOT the forest moon of Endor. Those People-Eating Death Bears HATE it when you cut down their houses), replace the panel with a sheet of plywood, and spray paint that shit silver.

And sometimes, after all that, one has enough wood leftover for side projects.

#ST-3V3 #star wars #sequel trilogy #stormtrooper #Captain Phasma #Ar-T13 the Armorer #life day #ewoks #wood #first order #plastoid #metal #finance department #finalizer #endor

[kaminocasey]

In the Tide

Summary: A soft moment is shared between two commanders on a beach.

Pairing: Jedi!Reader x Wolffe

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Partial nudity? Soft!Wolffe, reader gets self conscious about body, Jedi!Reader

WC: 1.5K

A/N: I didn't write this with a part 2 particularly in mind, but lemme know if I should write one! Obviously this isn't for everyone, and that's alright. <3 :) (pics from pinterest)

TAGLIST FORM │Wolffe Playlist

For the first time in weeks, you get to feel the sun kiss your skin once again. It’s been so long since you’d gotten to bask in any sort of sunlight. And now, since you have a few days of rest, you’ve gone trekking through the woods until you’re met with an endless blue on blue. A cloudless blue sky and an ocean so turquoise, you could cry. What a gorgeous sight. 

Closing your eyes and reaching out into the force around you, you make sure that you’re safe and there are no threats, but nothing makes itself known. As you drop your pack, you pull out a blanket and set it down on the warm sand, kicking off your boots first, smiling at the feel of it trickling between your toes. Then, you take off your robes, and your under clothes until you’re in just your undergarments. As you start walking toward the ocean, you feel a familiar presence and you stop, turning toward him.  

“Commander?” Wolffe stands in front of you, eyeing your nearly naked form. 

You cross your arms, slightly self conscious. “Oh, Commander Wolffe. You found me.” 

He notices the change in your body language and looks away. 

“Is everything okay? Am I needed back at base?” You ask, prepared to throw your robes back on. 

“No, ma’am. I just… wanted to make sure you were safe.” He stands awkwardly with his arms at his side, but his hands fidget slightly, like he’s not sure what to do. 

“Oh. That’s nice of you. There’s nothing threatening on this beach.” You smile, teasingly. “Except perhaps yourself.”

You don’t miss the slight huff of a laugh that he’d never let anyone other than his brothers and Master Plo Koon hear. It’s a nice sound and you like his smirk. 

“Did Plo send you?” You start to wiggle your toes in the sand again. 

“No, he didn’t. I came on my own.” He looks at you again and you can’t help but grin.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you might care about me, Wolf- Commander.” You tease, sitting down on the blanket and pat the spot next to you.

He looks back toward the treeline, perhaps to make sure no one else was coming, and then starts to unclick his plastoid armor. Slightly entranced, you can’t seem to look away. And when you look up at his face, you find his eyes never leaving your face. A heat that’s hotter than the sun creeps through your veins at the realization. 

Your mouth goes dry the moment he strips down to just his briefs, causing you to quickly look away toward the horizon as he sits next to you on the blanket. You’d never seen a clone without clothes before, but you know you’re never gonna forget how toned Wolffe is. How his tanned skin practically gleams in the bright sun. 

There’s always been a sort of trust between you and Wolffe. He didn’t find you incompetent like a lot of the Jedi. He’d never say as much, but he didn’t trust many of them. Perhaps just you, Master Plo Koon, and Master Kenobi. But you always felt there was possibly something more than trust between the two of you. It could just be in your head, though. 

“I wish I could see this every day.” You murmur, crossing your legs. 

“I hate the ocean.” Wolffe tells you, honestly.

“Why’s that?” You ask, looking at him.

His eyes, one brown, one cybernetic, are focused on yours. 

“Reminds me of Kamino.” He shrugs.

You suppose that’s understandable. You’d only heard rumors of the extensiveness that the higher rank clones had to go through. 

“So, swimming with me is off the table?” You ask, smiling. 

His face is serious as ever as he looks out at the calm waves. “Not safe.” 

“Can you see that with that eye of yours?” You tease. 

He smirks, amused. “Sure.” 

You let out a disappointed huff and fall back on the blanket, letting the warm sun wash over you. When you open your eyes, landing on Wolffe, you notice him staring at your bare stomach. Immediately self conscious, you cross your arms over your stomach but his hands stop you. 

“Don’t.” He murmurs, softly. 

“What?” Your mouth goes dry again.

“Don’t cover up…” He whispers, placing your wrist to your side. “You don’t need to do that. Not with me.”

“O-okay.” You can’t look away from him now. 

You sense desire roll over him and if you weren’t already laying down, you’re pretty sure the full force of his desire would be enough to knock you over. Does he know that you can sense these things? Surely with Plo Koon as his general, he does. 

“Wolffe?” You whisper, softly. 

He’s looking at your lips now and the absolute fire that was coursing through your veins only moments ago makes its way much, much lower. With parted lips, you reach up for Wolffe, ghosting your fingers down his muscular bicep. He stops your hand with his own and holds it there. 

You’re not sure how long you stare at each other like that. Can he sense the desire radiating from you? Does he know you well enough by now? You hope so.

A beeping comes from both your comms, indicating you’re needed back at base. With a breathless, yet annoyed, huff, Wolffe lets go of your hand and pressing the button on both of your comms to let them know you both got the message. 

He stands up and hands you your clothing, turning around to give you a moment of privacy while he also dresses and clicks his armor into place. The intimate moment between you is long gone as you realize you have to go back to reality. 

As you pack the blanket back up, grabbing your pack, you look back out at the ocean for another moment and when you turn around, you find Wolffe staring at you again. 

“Wha-” You start but he cuts you off by running his hand around your lower back to pull you against himself. 

You look up into his eyes and realize he’s waiting for you to tell him to stop, but you want this just as bad, if not more. 

“Please…” You whisper, glancing at his lips.

That’s all the confirmation he needed as he gently brushes his lips over yours. It’s not exactly what you were expecting. You were expecting quick roughness. Like his fighting style. This is… leisurely soft. Like he has all the time in the world to do this. You wish you did. Finding yourself kissing him back, you drop your pack back into the sand and wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him. To this moment. 

“I’ve… wanted to do that for some time now… Commander.” He smiles ever so slightly. 

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking about it as well.” You smile up at him, cupping his cheek, softly. 

He rests his head against yours for just a moment and then lets go of you. “We should head back.” 

You nod in agreement and pick your pack up as he picks his helmet up out of the sand, dusting it off and tucking it under his arm as you start your trekk back through the woods. 

Then, Wolffe surprises you again. He offers his free arm and you can’t help the little flip in your stomach as you hide your smile and take it, wrapping your hands around the cool plastoid. How is it so cool after being in the sunlight? 

You want to ask him so many things. But you know he’s a man of few words, and you definitely don’t want to annoy him. 

“Can I ask you something?” He surprises you again and asks. 

“Oh. Of course.” You nod. 

“Did you know?” He asks, looking down at you.

“Know what?” You give him a confused look.

“About my feelings for you?” He stops to stand in front of you. 

“I um… had my suspicions… in a way.” You smile up at him, taking his hand. 

He nods. “I’m not used to this…” 

“I know. It’s okay. I wouldn’t change a thing about you, Wolffe.” You start walking back toward the base, seeing it just through the treeline. 

He falls in step next to you again. “Maybe… we could continue our moment later tonight?” 

“I’d like that very much.” You can’t seem to stop smiling.

When you return to base, you’re needed immediately in the briefing tent and yet… your mind can’t help but linger on that moment with Wolffe on the beach and what tonight could hold for the two of you. 

TAGS: @twistedstitcher27 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz  @burningfieldof-clover @rebelsriley

#commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #x jedi reader #tcw wolffe x reader

[rexsterss]

Were none of you gonna warn me on the fact that Fox and Thorn’s paint jobs are just opposites of each other. When one’s drenched with red, the other leaves it white. When blank plastoid is exposed, the other will cover it with red. They're half of each other's souls, Scoob.

#HE IS HALF OF MY SOUL AS THE POETS SAY #i could recognise him by touch alone by smell #i would know him blind by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth #i am on the fucking floor #commander thorn #commander fox #foxthorn #thornfox #coruscant guard #corrie guard #cloneshipping #clone ship #the clone wars #star wars #star wars the clone wars #swtcw #marsdraws #marsrb

[mandos-mind-trick]

Eyes On Me

Summary: You wouldn't care if they heard. You wouldn't care if they saw. They already know you're in Tech's bunk.

Pairing: Tech x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, p in v sex, fingering, slightly rough sex, clothed male unclothed female, glove kink, exhibitionism, slight pain kink, armor kink, this is absolute filth I am so sorry.

A/N: *Sweats* Uh, did I intend on making most of these about the Batch...not really. I just can't help it. I have no excuse for this one. Please forgive me.

MASTERLIST

The barracks are quiet, aside from the pounding of the rain against the window and the occasional rumble of snoring from Wrecker’s bunk. They’re all tired after a hard series of missions, back on Kamino for a short stay before they ship out again. 

You only feel slightly guilty about what you’re doing, only that it might disturb them in their much needed rest. You stare up into those brown eyes above you, his gaze sharp and focused. One arm is looped behind you, hand covering your mouth to keep you quiet. His gloved fingers pinch into your cheeks as he muffles your moans, trying not to wake the others.

You wouldn’t care if they heard. 

You wouldn’t care if they saw. 

The kinds of things that made your pussy clench would make even Crosshair blush. 

You, their sweet little medic, laying in Tech’s bunk with his gloved fingers knuckle deep in your pussy. His movements are slow and deliberate, fingers curled into that spot inside you. His armor presses into your side, digging into the dips and curves but you don’t care. 

Tech had been the obvious choice for you, his quiet but commanding demeanor was alluring, and you work with him often. He’s eager to learn, and you posed your desires as a learning opportunity. A chance to gain knowledge in an area he had little experience in. 

They were all rather looked over when it came to that area, mostly because they didn’t get chances for shore leave often. You were the first woman they had close contact with, which led to some interesting situations in the beginning. None of them had ever approached you with an offer, and you could guess they wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t approached Tech. 

You know the others listen sometimes. 

You love it. 

Tech doesn’t seem to care either, his fingers stilling as he removes his hand from your mouth to tug your breastband up. He covers your mouth again, thrusting his fingers into you faster. You whine against his hand, suddenly aware of how silent the barracks have gotten. Even the rain seemed to stop, making the wet squelch of your pussy all the more noticeable. The lube he’d coated his glove in only made it louder. 

Your eyes roll back as he drags the rough fabric covering his palm across your clit, your legs clamping closed as you cum around his fingers. He eases you through your orgasm, your breaths coming in pants from behind his hand. He stills his fingers inside you, holding them there. You continue to flutter around him, squeezing his fingers. 

He finally draws them from your aching pussy, the black fabric sticky and coated in your cum. He shifts over you, moving his hand from your mouth. He presses two fingers against your lips and you take them in your mouth. He tastes like metal and plastoid, tangy and bitter on your tongue. You whimper around his fingers as he removes his codpiece with one easy movement, shoving it in the corner of the bunk. 

You part your legs further as he opens his blacks, pulling out his cock. He’s hard already, his hand jerking the thick length. Your mouth waters around his fingers, drool slipping out of the corners of your mouth and running down your cheeks. He watches it for a moment before lining himself up. 

You moan around his fingers as he presses into you, your pussy already raw and aching from his fingers. The stretch is almost too much, your whimpers loud in the quiet barracks. His fingers press against your tongue, cutting off all noise for a moment. You swallow around his fingers, breaths coming in gasps as he fills you. 

The barracks are very quiet. They’re awake. They have to be. There’s no way they could sleep through this, even with Wrecker’s snoring. The thought makes you clench around Tech, his eyes snapping up to your face. He gives you a look, your body relaxing around him, allowing him to press in further. 

You’re entirely exposed, the blanket pushed off to the side. Your breastband is up around your armpits, leaving your tits exposed to the cold air in the barracks, and to whomever just happened to look over. 

Tech knows this too. 

He angles his body just enough if they wanted to see, they could. His hips press flush with yours, his belt pressing into your stomach. His tools bite the inside of your thighs as they press against his sides. He starts to move, dragging his length along your walls. You moan around his fingers, hand sliding to grip the wrist of the hand that’s pressing into the mattress beside you. 

His gaze is angled down, recording the way his length slides in and out of your wet pussy. For research, he’d claim. It’s definitely for him to watch later, when it’s harder for you two to get alone time. 

“Let her go.” 

The voice makes you jump, not expecting it. It’s rough and low, breathy and slightly muffled from the wall between the two bunks. Hunter. He can’t see what you’re doing, but no doubt he’s been able to hear the entire time. 

Tech slips his hand from your face, drawing his fingers from your mouth. He snaps his hips into yours, a high pitched whine leaving your lips. It’s downright sinful sounding, putting those girls in those holofilms popular among the clones to shame. You continue to moan loudly as Tech snaps his hips into yours, the sound of your pussy rivaling the sounds coming out of your mouth. 

You’re going to cum again and soon. 

You hear quiet groans, the sounds of bodies shuffling in bunks. You go to turn your head but Tech grips your jaw, keeping your head still. 

“Eyes on me.” He says slowly, his voice low from pleasure. 

You want to see. You want to see them, hands in their blacks, watching you get fucked by their squadmate. You keep your eyes glued to Tech’s behind his goggles, arms falling open to give them the best view of your bouncing tits.

Your moans get louder, and for a moment you’re worried anyone walking by might be able to hear. It would be one hell of a reprimanding if you were caught in this position, and you’d likely get reassigned. The guys wouldn’t get much more than a stern talking to. They were too valuable to the Republic to risk decommissioning. 

Perhaps that’s what made them so bold. 

“Kriff, kriff, kriff!” You curse, crying out Tech’s name as you cum, writhing beneath him. He stills his hips, letting you ride out your orgasm around him. You can hear echoing groans from the others, desperate to turn and look but you know Tech won’t let you. He’ll force your gaze on him and only him. You also know he’s not done. 

He’s far from finished with you. 

Taglist:

@kaminocasey, @rosechi, @mxkyrie, @bobaprint, @star-trekker-0013, @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka, @rain-on-kamino

#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #tech x reader #tbb tech x reader #bad batch tech x reader #x reader #the dark side fic

[dystopicjumpsuit]

No Sleep Till Coruscant

A/N: Written for the lovely @kimiheartblade. You know what you did 💙💙💙

Pairing: Captain Rex x Fem!Reader (reader has insomnia and hair that is long enough to pin up)

Rating: M (minors DNI)

Wordcount: 3k (Look, this was supposed to be 500 words. I had to stop somewhere. If people enjoy it, I’ll write another chapter.)

Warnings and tags: fluff; a little awkwardness/secondhand embarrassment; bumps up against consent issues due to power dynamics (Rex is the ranking officer, but the reader makes the first move and definitely wants this); SMUT with feelings; hair touching; talk of masturbation; heavy petting; suggestive dialogue; Rex touches the reader’s neck and throat, but there is no choking

Summary: You can’t sleep. You ask Rex to help you relax.

Suggested listening:

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“Can’t sleep?” The deep, familiar voice rumbled close to your ear, and you knew without looking who it belonged to. He may have shared a voice with millions of other clones, but his was the only one that made your skin prickle with awareness.

You tore your eyes away from the Venator viewport as your captain stepped up next to you. You hadn’t even heard his approach, and his ability to move in total stealth while wearing half his body weight in armor and kama never failed to amaze you. His dark eyes traced your features a little too observantly, and you shook your head without speaking, turning back to the viewport and hoping he hadn’t been able to read your expression too closely.

“Something on your mind?” he asked.

“No more than usual,” you replied with a shrug. “I’ve never been very good at sleeping.”

“I guess we all have our faults,” he smiled. “I was wondering what yours was.”

“I suppose there are worse fatal flaws than insomnia.”

His lips quirked in a tiny smile, and he turned toward the viewport to gaze with you at the hypnotic blue swirl of hyperspace. After a few moments, he spoke again, quietly.

“Probably easier to fall asleep if you’re actually in your bunk instead of standing on the bridge hours after your shift ends.”

“Probably,” you acknowledged.

“Do I have to make it an order?”

You smiled. “I wish it were that easy. You could just comm me before bed every night and order me to go to sleep, and I’d have no choice but to comply. Insomnia cured by the power of the legendary Captain Rex.”

He turned his head minutely, and even without seeing it, you could feel his scrutiny. “Worth a try. Come on. I’ll walk you to your quarters.”

It wasn’t a request, so you fell into step next to him as the two of you proceeded down the silent halls of the Venator. You didn’t speak at first, content to walk with him in companionable silence. The majority of the ship was on sleep cycle, and the few troopers you passed merely nodded and continued about their business.

“What’s your excuse—”

“Got plans for shore—”

You and Rex spoke at the same moment, then stopped abruptly with quiet laughs.

“After you, Captain,” you said.

“Just wondering if you had plans when we get back to Coruscant for shore leave,” he said.

“Probably going to lie awake and wish I could sleep for most of it,” you admitted. “You?”

“I don’t think you quite grasp the ‘rest’ half of R & R,” he observed.

“Right, because you’re one to talk, Captain ‘Duty Never Sleeps,’” you teased.

“I never said that,” Rex objected.

“But you’re probably saving it to drop on the next batch of shinies they bring us, aren’t you?” 

His chuckle was so quiet you barely heard it. “What were you going to ask?”

“I was just curious what your excuse was for being awake in the middle of the sleep cycle,” you said.

“Duty never sleeps,” he said solemnly.

“I walked right into that, didn't I?” you laughed, allowing yourself the tiny indulgence of nudging him with your shoulder. Not that it did you any good; you couldn't even feel him beneath the cold plastoid armor, and all you got for your effort was a sore shoulder. 

Far too quickly, you reached your quarters, pausing outside the door. You didn't want to go inside, if you were honest with yourself. There was nothing in that room except an empty bed and four empty, gray walls that stared back at you through every endless, agonizing hour that you lay awake. Rex, too, seemed unsure of what to do now that you'd reached your destination. He fidgeted subtly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked on impulse. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and you hastened to add, “For safety, you know. If you order me to go to sleep, and it actually works, it would probably be best if I'm close to the bunk. That way I don't fall and hit my head or something…”

You trailed off, realizing you were rambling.

“Good point,” he said, his eyes flicking almost imperceptibly down to your lips. “Wouldn't want to have a medical emergency.”

“Kix would never forgive us for the extra paperwork,” you agreed, keying in your door code and motioning him into the room.

As the door slid shut behind you, Rex asked, “Speaking of Kix, have you talked to him about your trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah. He gave me some pills that made me wake up in the morning with no memory of walking to the mess hall and making a grilled cheese sandwich while the cooking droid yelled at me for entering a restricted zone. I never bothered to try them again.”

“Can’t say I blame you,” Rex said dryly. “How was the sandwich?”

“Apparently I threw it in the trash without tasting it. Damned waste of cheese, if you ask me.”

“If it was GAR cheese, you did the galaxy a service,” he said.

“When can I expect my commendation?” you asked.

“Best I can do is a heartfelt thank you.”

Your eyes crinkled with amusement, and Rex smiled, looking rather adorably pleased with himself at having made you laugh. You scrambled for a clever reply, but nothing came to mind, and the silence stretched out until it became awkward. 

At last, you managed, “I'd offer you a seat, but the only option is the bunk.”

Rex looked away. “I should probably go, anyway. Will you be able to sleep?”

Suddenly possessed by unprecedented audacity, you murmured, “If I say no, will you sing me a lullaby?”

Rex drew in a quiet breath and stepped closer to you. “How often is it like this for you? How often do you lie awake, tossing and turning?”

“Every night,” you confessed.

“And what do you usually do when you can't sleep?” Something shifted in his tone, his words coming out low and husky.

Your tongue darted out to moisten your dry lips, and this time, there was no mistaking the way his eyes dropped to your mouth.

“I—I'm not sure I should say,” you rasped.

He dragged his gaze away from your lips at last, looking up into your eyes. “You can trust me.”

“I know.”

“Then… Will you tell me?” he asked.

“Sometimes, I take matters into my own hands.”

His eyes locked with yours, his gaze sharp and intense. “You…”

You nodded. “Sometimes it works.”

“When was the last time it worked?” His words were quiet and rough, his eyes dark as he looked deeply into your eyes.

“Last night,” you admitted breathlessly. “Probably why there's no way I'll be able to sleep tonight.”

“What did you do?” he whispered.

Drawing a deep, steadying breath, you began, “If I describe it to you, will you—”

His eyes widened as you paused, tongue-tied. “Do you want me to… Touch you? The way you tell me?”

You nodded, your entire body feeling like it was aflame. Hearing him put it so bluntly, you understood the magnitude of your suggestion. This was such a mistake. What was I thinking?! Asking a superior officer to—to—Asking Rex—Rex! Of all people—to touch me like that! I must finally be losing my mind.

Before you could backpedal, though, he slowly pulled off his gloves and dropped them on your nightstand. Your breath shuddered to a halt as you realized you'd never seen his hands without gloves before. In fact, this was the most exposed you'd ever seen the captain: helmet and gloves removed, yet still covered in armor. You felt like a swooning maiden in some overwrought period holodrama, having a fit of the vapours at the tiniest sliver of skin.

“How did you start?” he asked, stepping forward into your space. 

Force, has he always been this big? You felt acutely conscious of the bulk of his armor, his pauldrons so broad that it seemed like all you could see was white and blue plastoid. When you met his eyes, though, you saw something else: a searing heat that burned away all your doubts—a hunger that made your blood race in your veins.

“I started with my hair,” you replied, your voice noticeably hoarse.

He moved slowly and very deliberately, raising his hand to the back of your head. You could feel the warmth radiating from his skin as he carefully and meticulously removed every single pin holding your hair in its tidy, regulation bun. You felt your hair loosen as he pulled them out one at a time, making sure not to drop any, and when he finished, he set them in a neat pile next to his gloves on your nightstand. 

He threaded his fingers into your hair, combing out the remnants of your bun, until your hair tumbled freely down around your face. He touched the locks gently, not tugging on them in the slightest: simply feeling the texture and brushing them softly out of your eyes.

“What did you do next?” he asked in a low voice.

“I touched my face. My cheeks,” you whispered, “and my lips.”

He tucked your hair back carefully before his fingers grazed your skin. The first brush of skin on skin was electric, and you stifled a gasp. His thumb traced the line of your cheekbone as his fingertips curved under your jaw. His touch was light and gentle, his hand blissfully warm in contrast with the cool, recycled air of the starship, and you swayed slightly closer to him, leaning your face into the sensation.

He trailed his thumb down the line of your cheek until he reached the corner of your mouth. Your breath sped up slightly as you felt the calloused pad of his thumb brush over your lips, followed by two of his fingertips.

“Your lips are so soft,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on your mouth.

You brushed your tongue lightly across his fingertips, tempting him to slide them deeper between your lips. He hesitated for a moment, then slipped them into your mouth as you swirled your tongue over them. He rested his forehead against yours, his warm breath fanning softly over your skin. He raised his other hand to caress your cheek, his gaze fixed on you with an expression of pure fascination.

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers and traced them over your lips once again. For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you, but instead, he took a ragged, shuddering breath and spoke again.

“Keep going. Describe it to me. What next?”

“Next—” the word was inaudible, and you paused to search for your voice. “Next, I touched my throat. Softly. And very slowly.”

The warmth of his fingers as they traversed the short distance from your jaw to the collar of your uniform sent shivers racing across your skin.

“May I?” he asked as he reached the opening of your collar.

You nodded your permission, and he unzipped your jacket with his other hand, the pressure of his knuckles barely palpable on your torso as they descended the line of the zipper. Instead of immediately tugging off the garment, though, he simply continued to stroke and caress your neck, drawing his fingers down from the corner of your jaw to the notch above your sternum.

“After that, I… I traced my collarbones,” you whispered.

His fingers slid beneath your uniform to run along the ridge of your clavicle as his thumb rested against the base of your throat.

“What did that feel like?” he asked quietly.

You shuddered. “Good. It felt… good. But not as good as when you do it.”

At last he slid the jacket off your shoulders, leaving you in only your camisole. His eyes flickered down to your chest, and he swallowed audibly as he realized you weren’t wearing a bra. “What did you do after that?”

“I brushed my fingertips down the center of my chest,” you murmured. “Between my breasts, but I didn’t touch them yet.”

His lips curved into a small smile as his fingers followed the line of your sternum until they reached the silky fabric of your camisole.

“Is this regulation?” he asked in a lightly teasing tone.

“No,” you admitted. “Are you going to write me up?”

“I’m sure the general would be very interested in how exactly I knew that your underwear was out of reg,” he said with a quiet huff of laughter. “Do you want to keep going?”

“Yes,” you replied, somehow managing to keep your voice from betraying the fact that you thought you might actually die if he stopped touching you now.

Is it possible to die of frustrated lust? GAR lieutenant investigates. More at eleven.

Rex dipped his fingers lower, beneath the satin camisole, as his thumb traced over the plush swell of your breast. 

“Is this how you touched yourself?” His voice was low and gravelly, with no trace of laughter lingering in it.

“Yes,” you gasped. “Just like that.”

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure he must be able to feel it as he trailed his hands over your soft, delicate skin. His eyes were fixed on your body, pupils dilated wide with arousal.

“And what did you do next?”

“I think you can guess,” you replied, heat rising in your face.

He leaned close and whispered in your ear, his warm breath sending a wave of tingles down your spine. “Indulge me.”

You inhaled sharply. “Next… Next I touched my breasts—I cupped them in my hands and played with them.”

Rex froze. His hand stilled, resting against your sternum. Even his breath paused momentarily. He whispered your name, his lips barely brushing the silky skin of your neck.

“Rex,” you murmured in a low, husky tone. “Touch me.”

He dropped his head lower, his lips almost making contact with your shoulder, but he hovered a breath away from you. Both of his hands settled on your ribcage and slid up beneath your breasts, tracing your contours, before finally cupping your breasts through your camisole, squeezing you gently, capturing your nipples between his fingers and teasing them until they were stiff and aching with pleasure.

“Like this?” he asked, his harsh whisper hot against your skin.

You arched up, desperate to feel his mouth on your body, but he held that tiny distance between the two of you. “God, yes, just like that.”

He slid his hand down your abdomen until he reached your hip. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of your camisole to tease the soft skin of your belly, and then curled beneath your waistband as he dragged his knuckles over your hip.

“What were you thinking about when you touched yourself here?” 

You dropped your head to his shoulder, burying your face against his neck, not wanting him to see the truth in your eyes.

“Tell me,” he said. His voice was soft, but every instinct you possessed screamed to obey his command.

“You.” 

The word was quiet—barely a breath—but you might as well have screamed it. Rex’s reaction was immediate and overwhelming. The hand that still held your breast released you, and his arm clamped around your body. His fingers tightened on your waistband and pulled you hard against him as he finally, finally kissed you. Lips, tongue, teeth descended on your shoulder, worked up your neck and across your jaw, leaving a trail of heated sensation in his wake.

When he reached your lips, he devoured you with all the passion he’d been holding back with such meticulous self-control. His kiss was everything you’d imagined for months. It swept over you like a wave, scattering your thoughts and making your head spin as his tongue slipped between your parted lips. He released your waistband and glided his hand beneath your camisole, up your bare abdomen, to palm your naked breast as he kissed and kissed and kissed you, until there was only one coherent thought in your mind: Is this really happening?

You clung to him, fingers gripping plastoid. You’d wanted Rex for so long, and now that you had him, it almost didn’t feel real. The thought galvanized you. You broke away just long enough to yank the camisole off over your head, dropping it to lie in a crumpled heap on the floor as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him back into your kiss. His armor bit uncomfortably into your exposed skin, but you didn’t care; you were practically climbing him, frantic for contact.

“Wait,” he rasped. 

“Seriously?!”

He laughed at your impatience. “Seriously. I haven’t waited all this time to rush it now.”

Your breath caught at the implication: he’d wanted this just as much as you had. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Why didn’t you?” he asked pointedly.

“You’re my captain—” you began.

“And you’re my lieutenant,” he replied.

Ah. Solid point.

“You’ve—you’ve been waiting for me to make the first move?” you asked. “This whole time?”

“Since the minute you came aboard.”

“Damn,” you said, struck. “Are you sure I should be working in intelligence? I completely missed the signs.”

“In fairness, stealth is one one of—”

You cut him off abruptly with a kiss. You slid your hands over the back of his head, stroking the soft, velvety, close-cropped blond hair. His groan of pleasure rumbled against your lips, sending a jolt of arousal through your entire body.

“Captain?” you whispered.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he murmured, nuzzling your face gently.

“Permission to remove your armor, sir?”

“Kriff, don’t call me that,” he begged. “But also yes. Please.”

You went to work quickly, helping him unbuckle and strip off the heavy plastoid.

“Not a fan of being called ‘sir’ in the bedroom?” you asked curiously.

“Just don’t need to be reminded that we’re breaking about forty-two regulations right now.”

You shot him a look brimming with mischief. “We’re going to break a lot more before we get to Coruscant.”

#captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #the clone wars fic #star wars #sw tcw fanfic #clone wars #dystopicjumpsuit writes #Spotify

[graylinesspam]

She's never been so close to the front before. Ahsoka is 14 years old. she's been a padawan for a month and on her first day she hid in a box while enemy troops marched over her.

On her first day, she blew up their shields, disabled their communications, and subsequently ended an entire month-long siege that freed a planet of innocent civilians.

Today is not her first day. it's day twenty-eight actually. Twenty-eight days since she became a padawan learner and she has never been this close to death before.

Explosive shells rain down from the sky, striking the ground and throwing dust and debris in her eyes. she doesn't actually know where she is except that its somewhere she probably should't be.

maybe the worst part Is that she is alone. she's seen glimpses of white armor in the chaos, some running beside her or ahead of her. but they were all too far away to speak to. She never did get a comm. they didn't have any that would fit on her wrist. Anakin said he'd ordered a few in her size. they'd come in with the next resupply. but for now, she didn't have any way of contacting anyone.

The explosions seem to be getting closer to her location but with the ringing in her montrals it's hard to tell. She knows that her feet have grown more unsteady but there's no way to tell if that's due to the ground quaking beneath her or the fatigue growing in her limbs.

another shell lands and nearly throws her to the ground. the immediate bloom of heat across her body answers the question of where they are dropping. Before Ahsoka can reorient herself there's an arm wrapping itself around her middle and hauling her backward away from the blast.

"We have to take cover," the trooper yells. it's the first familiar and measurable sound she's heard in hours. and it makes the explosions sound louder by comparison.

He drags her back through the dust somehow navigating to some kind of rock formation. She can't see much of it through all the dust in the air but she can make out where some of the structure has been blasted off, blackened shards left facing her.

"Where are we going?" she shouts back.

"Here," he responds. "Can't push any further. the only way back is through no man's land. can't risk it."

He wedges them into the rock as far from the blackened crater's face as they can push before the path ends at a sheer rock that they're stuck with their backs pressed against.

"So we just stay here? for how long?"

"As long as it takes."

Ahsoka squirms. He'd pressed her down into the far corner and sat between her and the battlefield. His body pressed against her shoulder to hip. His form obscured hers completely.

"Do we have to stay like this? can't I stretch?"

His hand comes up to cover her mouth. The shake of his helmet was distinct against the side of her head. "There's droid patrols. we have to stay low and quiet."

When Ahsoka quieted her breathing and listened she could hear the slightest clanging of droids between the explosions.

A sensation of entrapment washed over her, with the plastoid digging into her side and the rock on the other. with the sounds of explosions in two directions and the clanking of droids between them. And with her own efforts to choke down her breaths as quietly as possible. she could feel the panic spreading through her blood.

It was not her first day, but it was the first time she was in this position. And she didn't know the first thing about how to handle it.

Despite her best efforts, her breath came faster through the cracks in his fingers. His hand grew tighter pinching her skin as the clanking grew closer. She could see them in flashes as the shells exploded and flashed hot light through the filthy air, soiled with dirt and death. the shadows of the enemy were cast onto the stone parallel to them.

His body pressed harder into her crushing her against the rock trying to compress the two of them into the smallest space possible.

She couldn't count her heartbeats through the pounding in her ears. nor her breaths through his hand. Every calming exercise the jedi had taught her was useless in the face of this.

But as their shadows had grown shorter and clearer they again grew tall and blurry as the danger passed. in minutes the hand he'd used to gag her fell back away, the exposure leaving her pallid skin burning.

"Sorry." was all he said as he finally leaned away, the barest space between them now. his helmet fell back against the wall with a sound almost as quiet as his relieved breath.

She gasped in grimy breaths until she could feel her heart slow into a healthier rhythm.

She isn't sure exactly when night falls. only that it swallows the already dark battlefield in an all-consuming blackness. And still the blinking explosions try in vein to burn it away.

The time passes slowly. or maybe not at all. it's agonizing.

All the joints in her body ache from being folded in the same position for so long. And her lungs burn from the smoke and grime. Still, they wait for the battle to wane.

Again the droids come and go their shadows less prominent as the shells slow their rain. but it only makes the sound of their enemy louder and longer. They sit in tense silence as they listen to them.

Sometimes when the clanking gets loud her hand tightens over his arm guard tension turning her fingers to claws. His hand pats her own arm back in a gesture of reassurance.

She begins to nod off despite everything. Not even the stress in her veins was able to keep her system running forever. still, her sleep is light and she's jolted from it at every suspicious noise.

Ahsoka can't tell if he's sleeping at all under that helmet. But her self-appointed guard doesn't move from his spot as her shield. Not for what must have been hours.

As the fight finally wanes, she finally fades into a real sleep. Unsure how much of the night remains. It's blaster shots that startle her awake. She's sure she's not the only one because his body jolts hard into hers. His hand is already over her mouth before she can draw a breath to scream.

There's a droid standing within sight. it scans across the rocks, blaster raised and ready. The metallic thudding of the rest of its party just out of sight.

The two of them scramble up quickly. The trooper raised his rifle and fired back at the droid. the shot echoed loudly off the stone and the droid's body fell with a clamor to the ground.

"Run," he shouted facing back towards the sound of the other droids as Ahsoka booked it from their hiding place.

She could hear the pound of his boots behind her and the sound of the pursuing droids. Shots rang out from two kinds of blasters as they scrambled toward the no man's land. though the explosions had petered off to nearly nothing the air was still thick and the visibility low. Ahsoka counted that a mark in their favor since they'd be crossing a flat wide expanse in the enemies line of sight with zero back up.

The barest rays of the early morning light were her only guide. She knew it rose from the opposite side of their camp. it she simply ran into it, she'd get to safety eventually.

That was easier said than done with the ground pocked with craters and their displaced stone loose under her boots.

Somehow the sound of droids was only growing louder despite the low visibility. Her breaths grew loud and desperate and she could barely hear the trooper's steps behind her anymore. "Keep going!" he shouted.

The sound of blaster fire picked up and Ahsoka threw everything she had into her sprint. Every inch of energy and all the power she had in the force pushed her forward. She struggled to stay upright as rocks rolled under her feet.

She was startled as she broke through the dust cloud and could see the camp coming into sight. Other troopers were already gathered at the edge, craning their helmets to get a look at what was making all that noise. Rifles aimed in her direction.

But as they caught sight of her two broke away from the line and rushed forward with their rifles lowered. They jogged to her and grabbed her by either arm, dragging her into camp and behind the line of soldiers still aiming their blasters into the dust cloud.

Ahsoka dug her heels in when they tried to drag her away. She craned her neck to catch a glimpse between the line of soldiers.

The next figure that broke through the cloud was not the trooper, it was a droid. And it was executed on sight by what had become a firing squad. Another droid went down, then another, again and again.

Ahsoka didn't count them all. She just knew there were too many. too many droids.

Eventually, she was dragged away.

Anakin was relieved to have her back.

when the dust settled down to the ground again Ahsoka walked through the battlefield. But she couldn't tell one set of armor from another.

Ahsoka has been a padawan for one month, and this mission is the first time she has to fill out the casualties section of her mission report. But she realizes very quickly that she has no information to put down.

She doesn't know his rank or his designation number. She doesn't even know his name. There's a whole page of questions asking for identifiers of the clone who lost his life defending hers. And she has to leave it blank.

There is no database that can identify him based on the way he drug her from danger. Or the way he shielded her with his own body. Or kept her calm in the face of imminent danger.

There isn't anyone who can tell her who he was. All that's left of him is a painful memory.

#star wars #ahsoka tano #clone wars #sw tcw #tcw #501st #clone oc #clone trooper #whump #or angst #i barely know the difference