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wild-karrde · 1 year

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Part 2: The Pillar

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A/N: ALRIGHTY THEN. Did I intend to write a part 2 for this little ficlet from my 400 follower celebration? No. Did I do it anyway and use it as an excuse to introduce my OC Crater? Yes. Will there be a Part 3? Also yes. I REGRET NOTHING. The biggest of thank you's to @teletraan-meets-jarvis, @sleepingsun501, and @rexxdjarin for helping me make sure my boy gets the best intro and that all of the thoughts/thots about him in my head translated well onto paper! If you'd like a little more info about Crater, you can find his character sheet here.

Pairings: OC Crater x f!Reader, mentioned Gregor x f!Reader

Rating: E (18+ MINORS SKEEDADDLE)

Warnings: language, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, fingering, rough sex, anal play, oral sex, PiV sex, marking, anal sex, sex toy use, cum eating, mention of foursome

Word Count: 13.5k words (I'm sorry... it got away from me so fast)

“KARKING HELLS, CHUCK! Do you have mynock shit between your ears instead of brains?”

You’re angry. Angrier than you’ve been in a while. And Chuckles isn’t backing down either.

“I don’t know who the kriff you think you’re talking to, Bolts, but you’d better take a walk before we both say something we’ll regret,” he grits out, teeth clenched and a fire in his eyes.

But you’re not about to be told what’s what. Not when he’s on your turf.

“It’s my fucking garage. You don’t like what I’ve got to say? You take a walk.” You jab your finger into his plastoid chestplate threateningly. His nostrils flare as he glares at you, and you can see him teetering on the edge of control.

You’ve gathered a bit of an audience as you and the mohawked clone pilot go nose to nose, some of which are snickering and “ooooh”-ing.

“Your garage?” Chuckles snarls.

“Yeah, in case you missed it, I run shit around here. And I’m telling you I can’t get your fucking fighter fixed until next week.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“You should have thought about that before smoking your stabilizers flying like a fucking hotshot.”

“You sure you wanna tell me how to fly my ship, Bolts?”

“Since you don’t seem to have an idea how to, sure.”

The vein in his neck is bulging now, and the scar at the corner of his mouth is pulled tight. You’ve known Chuckles long enough to tell that you’ve pushed all the right buttons to get a rise out of him.

Good. Asshole.

“I thought Gregor fucked the grump out of her,” Strike mutters from his seat on a crate, which garners more snickers. You whirl on him, brandishing a wrench and waving it menacingly at the pilot.

“You want me to fix your face next, shithead? Got the only thing I need for that right here.”

Strike scowls, pushing himself to a standing position. “You’re out of line, Bolts.”

“I’m out of line? Fuck you.”

“That’s enough.”

The jeers and laughter grow silent and the crowd parts as the commanding officer of the 28th Combat Wing strides forward, carrying his helmet under one arm. Crater’s voice is gruff as he steps in between Chuckles and you, glancing back and forth between the two of you.

“She’s right, and you know it Chuckles. You’ve been told before not to fly in that config. You know it burns out the stabs faster. Now, I’m sure you’ll get your fighter as quickly as Bolts can get to it. Isn’t that right, Bolts?”

You glare at him, but his eyes demand a response. “When I get the parts.”

Crater watches you for another moment before nodding. He seems to understand that’s as much of a concession as he’s going to get out of you right now.

And then he whirls on Strike. “And you will learn to hold your fucking tongue. We don’t do that shit here. You want to air other people’s business out in front of everyone? You go run for the fucking senate. Until then, you keep the scuttlebutt you hear to yourself.”

“Didn’t hear anything. Just not hard to put two and two together,” Strike mutters under his breath.

Crater strides forward until he’s looming over Strike. They’re the same height, but somehow, the captain towers over the other pilot. His tone is low and dangerous, his voice dropping to a gravelly octave that makes you shiver. “I know you haven’t been off of Kamino long, but around here, you don’t speak to a commanding officer that way. Especially when you don’t have a single scratch on that shiny fucking armor.”

Strike swallows slightly but says nothing else.

Crater glares down at him for one more second, pinning him with his gaze before he turns and addresses the rest of the onlookers. “Now all of you get to the fucking barracks and get cleaned up. You stink to the seven hells.”

The squad departs, some of them still shooting dirty looks over their shoulders at you, especially Chuckles.

He’ll get over it.

You turn on your heel, heading towards your private office in the corner of the garage. The door’s been off track for a while, so you slam it open unceremoniously and stride inside. Just as you go to slide it shut with a grunt, a gloved hand slips around the edge, keeping it open. You glance up and meet Crater’s eyes.

“Can we talk?”

You shrug, stepping away from the door and plopping down on the creaky chair by your desk. The joints protest as you lean back in it, threatening to finally give out and dump you on your ass. Crater shuts the door behind him before setting his helmet on your desk and leaning a shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms as he studies you. He looks tired, and you’re not sure if it’s the campaign he just got back from or his men or you. A small pang of guilt shoots through you as he meets your eyes, raising his scarred eyebrow at you.

“You wanna tell me what the hell that was all about?”

You sniff, shrugging as you pick some lint off your jumpsuit. “Nothin’. Just a scuffle.”

“Seems like you’re getting into more and more of those.”

You and Crater have always gotten along just fine, finding a mutual respect and trust almost immediately. He always seems to have everything figured out, and you’ve never seen him fly off the handle like some of his brothers. In fact, the incident in the garage just now is the most upset you’ve seen him, and even that was hardly more than a growl and a few threats. You admire his leadership. He always seems to find the right thing to say to each of the various personalities on his squad, but sometimes you dislike when he deploys the same understanding on you. It unnerves you to a degree.

Now, you roll your eyes at his observation, astute as it is. “Your boys don’t listen, Crate. Neither do any of the other flyboys that come through here. Everyone’s shit is broken because they can’t be bothered to fly with an ounce of sensibility, and then they’re all pissed when it takes time to get repairs done.” You wave your hand at the stacks of datapads and flimsi that are stacked on your desk. “I’ve got backorders on backorders, out-of-date maintenance logs, you name it. But I’m one person. And there’s not exactly a line to come work down here.”

“You’re stressed,” he notes.

“No shit.”

“Overwhelmed.”

“Tired of giving orders and making requests that are ignored.”

“Tired of being in charge?”

“Sometimes. Yeah,” you admit. “But someone has to be.”

He nods. “When’s Gregor planetside again?”

You glare at him, but he gives you a knowing look. You sigh. “Who the kriff knows? That’s not a regular thing, by the way. Just a way to blow off steam. But it’s been months since I saw him last. Seems he’s being kept busy.” You worry about the commando sometimes, but you’re not about to admit it. Judging by the look Crater gives you, you don’t need to.

“And you were more tolerable when it was happening,” he teases.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, I’m on my own in that department for the foreseeable future.”

You don’t know why you feel comfortable talking with him about Gregor. Probably because it felt less like an accusation and more of just a concerned observation, not like he was looking to get more gossip at your expense.

Because you trust him. Maybe too much.

Crater is quiet for a moment, watching you carefully, clearly weighing something.

“What?”

He smirks.

“Well, if you’d ever like to blow off some steam, let me know. But you can’t keep taking it out on my men.”

You snort out a laugh. “Crate, I don’t think you can help with that.”

“Oh, I think I could.”

“How so?” Your curiosity is piqued, particularly with the way his grin is playful but his eyes have darkened considerably. You’re in denial internally about what he might be implying, but that only lasts for another second as Crater huffs a quiet laugh before closing the distance between you. He puts one gloved hand on your desk, leaning over you as his other hand comes to rest just above your shoulder, gripping the back of your chair. Your stomach flutters as he stares down at you, tilted back in your chair so far you feel as though you’d tip over if he let go. The chair creaks, but you hardly note it over the sound of blood rushing in your ears. You can feel his breath on your cheek and your cunt throbs at the realization he’s standing between your knees, your toes barely touching the floor with the way he has you tipped backward. You feel as though you can’t breathe. He’s studying you again, clearly making a final judgment call before he speaks.

“I think you’d like someone else to take charge for once. So you can let go.”

His voice is so low, it feels as though it rumbles every organ in you and sends shivers down your spine. He’s so close, you can smell him, see the tattoos on his neck that just barely poke out above the collar of his black undersuit, and the greys that are beginning to dot his dark chestnut beard and hair. You’ve always thought Crater was attractive. You’d have to be blind not to, but you’d never anticipated having him lean over you like this, so close that you can feel the heat radiating off of him while he suggests things like that.

At least, you think that’s what he’s suggesting.

You can’t help but tremble slightly at the thought as his eyes bore holes into yours. Your thighs clench together subconsciously, and his eyes dart downwards, watching you squirm. He laughs in a low rasp that promises trouble, straightening and picking his helmet up off the desk. You haven’t moved, but he’s already at your door, pushing it open again.

“Remember what I said, Bolts. All of it.”

And with that, he’s gone.

—

Weeks pass. Nothing gets better. If anything, things get worse. A major supply hyperspace lane gets shut down by Separatist forces, meaning parts are even harder to come by, causing even more delays. At least the clone pilots seem more understanding, the 28th Wing in particular. You aren’t sure if Crater privately met with his men, but they have been suddenly more lenient with you. The natborns, however, make up for it by being infinitely more terrible.

“THIS IS COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE,” one particularly surly human admiral rants, spittle flying unchecked as you don’t even bother looking up from your datapad. “You are to have those fighters ready to go within a rotation. That is an order.”

“Well, unfortunately for you, Admiral, I don’t take orders from the GAR,” you mutter. “And unless you’ve got a stash of converters, stabilizers, hyperdrive capacitors, and power couplings in your back pocket, no, your fighters will not be ready to go in a rotation.”

“I’ll have your job for this.”

You’re exhausted, but can’t help but give him a smug smirk, nudging him even closer to an explosion. He’s easy prey in that respect, hardly sporting, but it’s been a miserable week, and you’re ready to have some fun. He’s not the first officer to try to intimidate you with unemployment, and you know he’s unlikely to be the last. But you also know it’s an empty threat. No one else could handle this work. If that person existed, the GAR would already have hired them since you’ve pissed off everyone else.

“I have work to do, Admiral. So if you’re done bloviating, get out of my office and try to have a lovely evening.”

The man is practically purple with rage, veins bulging from his throat above his tight Republic collar. He clearly isn’t used to having people check him, and his response is even more telling.

“I’d heard you were challenging, but really, you’re just a frigid little bitch.”

That does it.

You stand, kicking your seat away from you. It rolls into the back wall with a loud crash. “You wanna try that again, Admiral?” you ask, charging towards him with anger heating your cheeks. He’s taller than you, but that’s never stopped you, and you certainly aren’t going to let some washed-up asshole that reeks of stale caf and cheap cologne talk to you like that in your own office. His fists clench, and you almost hope he swings first so you have an excuse to pummel him right there.

“Problem in here?”

You both whirl to look at the doorway. There stands Crater, helmet on and cocked to the side as he studies the both of you. His posture is completely relaxed, as if he didn’t just walk in on the start of a physical altercation.

It takes all of the wind out of your sails.

The admiral turns and smirks down at you, clearly convinced he’s won by your reaction. “I was just leaving.” He pushes past Crater, exiting the office. Crater’s visor never leaves you, but you can’t look at him.

You’re fuming. Angry that nothing’s going right. Angry that your garage can’t run efficiently and the reasons are completely out of your control. Angry that you didn’t sock that admiral in the jaw. Angry that he got the best of you and he knows it.

Crater says your name, but you don’t look up, trying to slow your breathing. He sighs and turns to leave.

You make a decision.

“Captain.”

He turns back.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you plunge into uncharted territory.

“I’ll take you up on that offer you made a few weeks back.”

He doesn’t move for a moment before, clearly making sure you won’t change your mind. Some of your fire returns at his hesitation, and you jut your chin out defiantly.

“Chickening out on me?” you challenge.

In an instant, he’s closed the distance between you and has backed you up against the wall. Your breath fogs his visor as he stares down at you, resting his hand against your throat.

“You certain you want to be a brat right out of the gate?”

You swallow hard, feeling the gloved palm of his hand press against your neck.

“Might want to pace yourself. Otherwise you’ll be in for a long night,” he warns.

“What makes you think that isn’t what I was hoping for?”

He chuckles darkly, and the helmet’s modulator seems to make it even more intimidating.

“What are your hard no’s?”

“You’ll be hard-pressed to find them,” you reply. Your mouth is dry, but other places are already soaking. You’re almost glad he has you braced against the wall because your knees suddenly feel gelatinous beneath you.

He tilts his head. “Think on it a bit more. Have an answer when I come back from my briefing. Then we’ll begin.” He releases your throat and steps back. “Be ready.”

He once again leaves you alone in your office, shivering in his absence.

How the fuck do I get ready for this?

You brush your hair out of your face, catching a glance at your reflection in the small mirror you have stuck to one wall. You’re covered in grease and sweat, and your hair is sticking out at odd angles.

A shower then.

You’re glad the day’s over as you slide your office door closed. It would be hard to concentrate on anything else right now. You push through the door that connects to the small apartment and refresher that have become your home away from home. It had been one of your few stipulations when you took the job, knowing you’d rarely make it back down to your lower-level Coruscant apartment. It had originally been a large storage closet, but with some work, you’d converted it into a decent-sized bedroom, stacking a few changes of clothes in an empty crate in one corner. The bed was at least comfortable, tucked up against one wall with a small bedside table next to it. You quickly shove the dirty clothes strewn on the floor in a corner before shucking off your jumpsuit and hurriedly showering. You don’t have any sort of lingerie or anything remotely alluring here, and you’re considering what to wear while wrapped in a towel when you hear a soft knock at your door.

You turn and find Crater’s silhouette looming there, blocking out the dim light of your office.

“That was a quick briefing.”

He shrugs as if he’s used to coming upon you in only a towel.

“You shut the office door?” you ask.

“Yes. And you should really get that fixed.” His helmet is off, and his dark eyes are roving over you and your towel-covered body.

“Add it to my list,” you mutter, trying to maintain some sort of confidence under his stare. “I’m sure that admiral will be so pleased to hear it takes priority over his fighters.”

He snorts in amusement as he steps into the room, shutting the apartment door behind him. He sets the helmet on the ground before he starts peeling off the top half of his armor, one piece of plastoid at a time, and neatly stacking it in the corner.

“Did you think more on what your hard no’s are?” he asks.

You’d come up with a few and rattle them off.

“Those are fairly extreme. Don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” he rasps. The top half of his armor is completely off now, and he rolls up the sleeves of his black shirt as he approaches you, circling you slowly. “But I’m glad you put serious thought into it and came up with something.”

“You got anything I need to avoid doing?” you ask, trying not to nervously rock on your heels. You’d rarely had issues with people seeing you naked, but for some reason, Crater’s gaze has you feeling timid, even with the towel still hiding your body.

“I don’t think you’ll get there, but I’ll let you know if you get close,” he replies as he comes to a stop in front of you. His sleeves are rolled all the way to his elbows, and you can see the tendrils of the other end of his tattoos poking out on his forearms. You’d never realized how far his tattoos stretched, only ever having seen the fine lines that poked out of the collar of his shirt. Now, you find you want to know how much of his skin is inked and how far the pattern stretches.

“My eyes are up here, gorgeous.”

You flush, but raise your eyes to meet his steady gaze. He’s watching you carefully and fuck, you want to squirm with him looking at you like that.

“So you respond to praise then. You prefer that?”

You shrug. “Could go both ways.”

“Where would you like me to cum?”

You can’t help but smirk at that question, but his expression is stern. “Wherever you like,” you reply. “I’ve got an implant.”

He hums, gently brushing some of your damp hair out of your face, a tender gesture that contrasts sharply with his next question. “May I mark you?”

“Nowhere the jumpsuit can’t cover.”

“How rough would you like me to be?”

You think for a moment. “Breathplay is good. Impact too. Bruising is fine. Nothing that would draw blood.”

He smirks. “Good girl.”

Your thighs rub together, and he notices, huffing a quiet laugh.

“Toys I can use?”

You point to the bedside table. “In that drawer.”

“You know the color system?”

You nod.

“Give me your definitions.”

“Green is good. Yellow is slow down. Red is stop.”

“And if you can’t verbally communicate?”

“Three taps.” You reach out and demonstrate on his chest, letting your fingertips rest there.

He catches your hand. “I want to be very clear here. You are under no obligation to do anything with me. And if you say red, we stop. No debate, no questions. This is for your benefit, so I’ll push, but when I hit a limit, you have to let me know. Deal?”

You can’t help but smile there. “Deal.”

“Any other last requests?”

“Ruin me.” The words fall out of your mouth before you realize you’ve said them, but you don’t regret them. You need this, and he can see it. Crater’s eyes darken even more, and he grins wickedly as he pulls your wrist to his lips. You feel his beard scratch your skin, and you shiver at the thought of where else you may feel that sensation before the night is over.

“With pleasure.” He cups your jaw, running a thumb over your lower lip. “You will refer to me as Captain or sir. Understood?”

A thrill shoots through you, and you push your luck, shrugging. “Sure.”

His nostrils flare and his grip on your jaw tightens. “You are such a fucking brat,” he whispers. “I'll fix that.” He grips the towel, giving it a firm yank and tossing it in the corner. He steps back and studies you. You shiver again, although you can’t be sure if it’s from the chill on your damp skin or his piercing gaze. He circles you again, inspecting every inch of your body. You feel yourself tremble slightly as he leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “On your knees.”

You think about pushing him further, but decide against it, at least for the moment, slowly sinking to your knees and gazing up at him expectantly.

“Open your mouth.”

You narrow your eyes at him. He squats down in front of you, balancing on the balls of his feet, watching you. You start to giggle from nerves, but his hand rockets out, catching your jaw again and squeezing until your lips part from the pressure.

He slips the tip of his glove into your mouth.

“Bite,” he grits out.

He loosens his hold just enough for you to do as you’re told this time, gently taking the tip of the fabric between your teeth. His fingers slip out of the glove, and he takes it from you. He repeats the exercise with his other glove, tucking them both in his back pocket. Warm tan fingers press on your lower lip, and you open your mouth, allowing him in. Two fingers slide in, pressing on your tongue. Saliva pools in your mouth, but Crater keeps your jaw pried open until you feel some drool slide down your chin.

“Messy girl,” he rasps. “Suck.”

You close your lips around his fingers, sucking gently on the pads. You can taste his sweat, slightly salty against your tongue.

“Oh, come on, gorgeous. With a mouth like that, I expected more. You’re going to have to do better than that if you want me to let you suck my cock later.”

You feel your cunt throb and you inhale sharply as warmth floods between your legs. You’re certain you’re dripping onto the floor by now, and it’s only been a few minutes.

“You like that thought, don’t you?” Crater asks, shoving his fingers into the back of your throat. You gag, and he starts to withdraw, but you catch his wrist, pressing his fingers deeper while you run your tongue over his knuckles.

Crater’s brow furrows and his lips part slightly as he watches you gag again on his fingers, but you keep going, obediently sliding them in and out of your mouth. You hum around him, and you can see he’s fighting to maintain control. You grin.

“Something to say, pretty girl?” he asks, shoving another finger into your mouth. “Go on.”

“Having fun, Captain?” is what you try to ask, but it comes out garbled around his digits.

“Try again, gorgeous. I can’t understand you.”

You glare up at him and he smirks before withdrawing his fingers.

“I was always told it’s rude to talk with my mouth full, sir,” you snark.

“You’ve had no problem being rude up until this point,” he murmurs, letting his damp hand trail across your collarbone before grazing your breast.

You clench around nothing. It's been months since anyone touched you.

He notices your response, raising his eyebrow as he pinches one nipple between his fingers and tugs it gently. You whimper quietly.

“Needy,” he observes.

“Been a while.” He pinches your nipple harder. “Sir,” you gasp.

“Hmm.” He releases you, pushing himself to a standing position. You shift, trying to gain some source of friction, but he slips a knuckle under your chin, tilting your head upwards. “None of that. You take what I give, and nothing more. Understood?”

You bat your eyelashes at him. “Yes, sir.”

Crater stares down at you with an unamused expression for another half a beat before releasing you. He crosses your room to your nightstand and pulls open the drawer, rummaging inside. You can see his eyes raking over the contents, carefully cataloging everything before he holds up your plug, glancing over at you.

“You stretch yourself on this?”

“Yes, sir,” you say quietly.

“Anyone ever taken you there?”

“No.” It’s something you’ve always wanted to try, but you’ve never had a partner you felt bold enough to ask. And those that have asked have always seemed too eager. So you’ve resorted to toys, stuffing your ass full with the plug as you fucked your cunt with another toy. But no matter how many times you came, teeth clenched around the fabric of your pillowcase, your curiosity about the real thing still wasn’t sated. You always knew it would have to be with someone you trust completely, someone you know won’t push you or your boundaries just to lay claim to you.

Someone like Crater.

He stays silent, clearly expecting more from you.

You try to stutter out a more thorough response. “B-but I like to feel full when I…”

“When you what, pretty girl?”

“When I fuck myself.”

The corner of his lip curls. “Filthier than I thought. Good.” He takes out a bottle of lube, your dildo with the remote, and the plug and sits on the bed with them next to him. He leans forward on his knees, crooking a finger towards you.

“Come here, gorgeous.”

You grin, falling forward on your hands and crawling towards him, allowing your ass to sway back and forth. His face remains neutral as you slide between his knees, running your hands over the plastoid that still covers his thighs. You’ve always been good at finding the right buttons to push with people, but Crater has largely remained a mystery to you in all the time that you’ve known him. Now, you watch carefully as you scrape your fingers closer to his inner thigh, watching for any telltale twitch. You want to see if you can make him crack.

He’s immovable.

“You seem to think this is some sort of competition,” he says quietly, as though he can read your thoughts. “You won’t break me, sweetheart.”

You pout your lips. “You’re no fun.”

He slips one hand into your hair and grips tightly, pulling your head back as he leans over you again. You can feel the roots of your hair tug sharply, and it sends another thrill through you. Crater leans forward to whisper directly into your ear. His beard scrapes your cheek, and his breath is hot against the shell of your ear. “You’re still being a brat.”

“I thought pilots enjoyed a challenge,” you manage to gasp.

“I do.” He releases your hair, and you sit back. He shifts back on the bed and pats his knees. You start to straddle one, but he places a hand on your hip, stilling you. “No, love. Over them.”

Your legs quiver at the realization of what he’s asking, and your mouth falls open slightly.

“Tick-tock, pretty girl. The longer you stand there and waste my time, the longer this’ll be.”

You drape yourself over his thighs slowly, shuddering at the chill of the plastoid and how the edges of it bite into your skin. You rest your elbows and knees on the mattress on either side of him, balancing as he pushes down on the small of your back to arch it to his liking. Your ass is in the air, and it feels so exposed. Crater rubs small circles in your spine before allowing his hand to drift downward, lightly passing over the curve of your ass. You feel your skin explode in an array of goosebumps as a jolt shoots through you. You unleash a shuddering breath.

“You are needy. So eager to be touched,” he teases as he traces down the curve of your ass, curling his fingers on the inside of your thigh. He’s so close to where you want him, but he steers clear of your dripping cunt. For now.

“I think fifteen is a good start considering how you’ve behaved the last few weeks,” he rasps. “And if you’re good, I’ll let you have my cock.”

“Fifteen, huh? Can you count that high, Captain?” you ask, earning yourself a sharp pinch to your nipple with his other hand. You inhale sharply, biting back a curse.

“Twenty then. And you’ll be the one counting. I’m sure you can do that, can’t you, smart girl?”

You open your mouth to retort, but the first smack lands hard, biting into the skin of your asscheek. Heat floods through you and your mouth falls open.

You’re already craving another.

“Count for me, or we start over.”

“One,” you pant.

He continues, landing some blows over the same area, and you can feel the heat and redness bloom there. Other times, he moves onto an untouched patch of skin, and the shock of sudden pain makes you squirm, desperate for some sort of friction against your neglected clit. It feels as though electricity is licking up your spine with every strike, the pain giving way to a euphoria you’ve never before experienced as his warm palm soothes your stinging skin in between each blow.

But you keep count.

“See, I knew you could be a good girl for me. You’re doing so well,” he whispers as he rubs the place you’re certain he just left a handprint. “Halfway there.” One hand curls around your thigh again, and you feel fingers finally brush against your folds, slipping along them with ease. “I see you’re enjoying yourself,” Crater observes. “You’re soaked.” He lifts his fingers to his lips, sucking your taste off of them before he lets his hand slip back between your legs, sinking two of his thick digits into you. You fist the blankets as the next blow lands at the same time Crater curls his fingers inside of you.

“Ah fuck! Eleven!”

Crater pulls out slightly out before pressing back into the knuckle, driving into you. He finds the spongy place inside of you and bears down on it as he spanks you again in the same place. Your eyes roll back into your head.

“T-twelve.”

“Good girl.”

SMACK.

“Thirteen,” you whine. The plastoid is so cold against your heated, sweaty skin as you writhe in his lap, trying to press back against his hand. He adds a third finger.

“Who would have known all it took for you to be nicer was a few spanks and some fingers in your pussy?” Crater chuckles. “Such a desperate girl.”

“Please,” you whisper.

“Please what?”

“More.”

“So polite all of a sudden.” He presses against your asshole with his thumb, and you arch your back, pushing against him. “Oh, you want me to take you there, don’t you? Want me to claim your ass tonight?”

You do. You want him to, and he knows it. You mouth a silent “yes” as you glance back at him, and his eyebrow raises at your muted admission.

Crater hums as he pushes harder against the tight ring of muscle and you gasp. Your knuckles are white with how hard you’re gripping the sheets.

“Color?”

“Green. Fuck. Green.”

SMACK.

“FOURTEEN.”

Your breath is coming in short pants as he rubs at the raised, tender flesh of your ass. You hear the click of a cap, and suddenly his thumb is pressed back against your asshole again, slicker than before. He pushes forward, breaching the tight ring of muscle as he curls his fingers in your cunt again.

“Oh, Maker, yes. Right there, Crate-”

SMACK.

“It’s Captain or sir,” he reminds you in that same gravelly tone he used on Strike, sending a shiver through you. “Now what do we say when someone gives you what you want?”

“Fifteen! Thank you, sir,” you gasp, tears starting to pool in the corners of your eyes.

“Good girl.”

You clench around his fingers at the praise, and he huffs another laugh, pressing his thumb deeper into your ass. He lands the next few blows in rapid succession.

SMACK.

“SIXTEEN. THANK YOU, CAPTAIN.”

SMACK.

“FUCK. SEVENTEEN. THANK YOU, SIR.”

You can feel the coil tightening in your stomach as he lands two more, nearing the end. After nineteen, you’re babbling in his lap, desperately pressing back against his hand, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers.

“You think you deserve to cum?” he asks.

“Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease,” you whimper.

“Not yet, pretty girl.”

SMACK.

“Twenty,” you sob.

He removes his fingers from you, and you immediately feel painfully empty. His other palm rests on your back, rubbing soothing circles as you feel your pulse in your fluttering, empty cunt.

“You did so well,” he praises. You quiver under his touch. “Are you still green?”

“Still g-green,” you stutter.

“Louder.”

“Green,” you declare more firmly.

“Good. Lie down.”

He helps you stand on shaky legs, carefully moving you to lie on your back on the bed. You feel the softness of the blanket rub against the inflamed skin of your ass and thighs, and you shudder at the thought of the marks that’ll be there tomorrow, a reminder of your night with the captain.

But he’s far from done with you.

“Wait here,” he commands. “Don’t touch yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” you sigh with a hint of a whine.

He retreats to the refresher, washing his hand before he comes back, his head tilted as he watches you, laid out for him on your bed. He quickly removes the rest of his armor and boots, grinning smugly as your eyes follow every new part of him that’s exposed to you. You want him, and he knows it. Reaching for his waist, he tugs his shirt up and over his head, tossing it next to his armor.

He’s fucking stunning. You knew he would be, but somehow still weren’t prepared. The tattoos you’d seen evidence of curl from his elbows over his shoulders, weaving in geometric patterns across his collarbone and shoulder blades before reaching up his neck, where they end. Each line seems to flawlessly frame a muscle or tendon, perfectly accentuating it. His body is littered with small scars, with one larger one visible on his hip, dipping below the waistline of his pants. Without his codpiece, you can see the pronounced outline of his cock, straining against the black fabric. Your mouth waters, and you lick your lips, meeting his eyes.

“Not yet,” he teases.

You’re huffy now, having recovered slightly from your denied orgasm, and he glowers at you as you pout.

“Hands under the headboard,” he orders. You glare at him for another moment, and he raises his eyebrow again in warning. You concede, slipping your fingers under the wooden edge and gripping it tightly. “Good. Keep them there,” he orders as he slowly approaches the bed. “Or else I’ll get some binders.”

“Probably the most use they’ll have gotten,” you snicker.

“You really want to make this difficult?”

“Got a reputation to keep up.”

He snorts before climbing onto the bed and straddling you, lowering his body onto yours slowly. You can feel the warmth of his chest against your skin, and your body is screaming at you to wrap your legs around him, but you really aren’t that interested in the binders that he threatened you with.

You’re more interested in getting his cock inside of you as quickly as possible.

Crater is infuriatingly patient and precise in his motions, but then again, you suppose that’s why he commands an entire combat wing. He slips his hand into your hair again, gripping but not pulling. He tilts your head slightly, exposing your neck to him. “If I remember correctly, your jumpsuit collar goes to about here,” he whispers, nosing at the perceived boundary on the skin of your throat. His beard is tickling you, and you’re shaking with anticipation. “That seem right to you?”

“Yes, s-sir,” you stutter.

“Already a mess and I’ve hardly started,” he rasps, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll have you begging soon enough.” He kisses your neck, and you let out a sharp exhale. You’ve tried to play it neutral, but somehow, he’s zoned in on the exact spot you like to be kissed, the spot that drives you wild. And he notices the way you respond, bearing down on it with his teeth and tongue. You start to grind against him, desperate for any sort of friction, desperate to feel his cock. You manage to catch the head of it on your clit through his pants, rubbing for a millisecond before his unoccupied hand locks firmly on your hip, holding you still.

“You’ll take what I give, pretty girl,” he snarls in your ear. “And the longer you’re greedy, the longer you’ll wait to have me fill that pretty pussy.”

You whine but relent, letting him resume his attack on your neck and collar bone. He works slowly and methodically, marking you as he works his way to your breasts, where he seemingly spends an eternity lavishing them with attention. He sucks bruises, he bites gently, and he takes your nipples in his mouth, paying special attention to what makes you writhe and gasp.

And then he moves lower, slipping between your legs and kissing just below your navel as he spreads your legs wide with his hands on the back of your thighs. His breath is so warm against your dripping cunt, and you spasm in his grip as he blows on you purposefully.

“Asshole,” you grumble.

He bites the inside of your thigh hard, and you yelp. Looking down, you can already see the bruise blossoming where his teeth caught your skin.

“Only nice girls get to cum. Now, remember, keep your hands where they are.”

He nuzzles against the flesh of your unmarked thigh, placing warm kisses and gentle bites. His beard scrapes the tender skin just before his teeth graze you, threatening to mark you where only you’ll see. You close your eyes, tipping your head back as you try to fight the way your legs are trembling, but that earns you a sharp slap to the inside of your thigh.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl.”

You catch your lip between your teeth as you obey, your eyes finding his brown ones, which seem to be practically glowing. He keeps his gaze locked with yours as he nuzzles your clit, blowing on it gently. You whine, and your legs try to close, but he firmly holds them open.

“I’m going to break you,” he whispers. “By the time I’m done, all you’ll know is my name and the word ‘please’.”

You tremble again just as he dives in, driving his tongue and eating you ravenously as you gasp and thrash in his grasp.

Crater is a master at pulling you apart slowly, and he takes his time, working you to the edge with his tongue and mouth and then chuckling as he pulls away, leaving you trembling and crying out in frustration. He’s a quick study and eventually adds his fingers, thrusting into your cunt as he suckles at your clit in the way that he now knows will have you clenching and gasping. The third time he deprives you, you unleash a frustrated growl, and he laughs quietly at your frustration.

“Please, Captain,” you whine. “Please.”

“Not yet.”

He goes at you again, alternating with his tongue and his fingers, and it feels as though it only takes seconds for your body to begin to tighten, begging for the release that he’s robbed you of.

“Knew you’d taste good,” he mumbles into your skin as he presses his fingers back inside of you. “So sweet and warm.”

“P-p-please. Please.”

He nips at your thigh and you cry out, tears leaping into your eyes as droplets of perspiration dot your forehead. Crater bears down on the spot inside of you, watching you as you babble.

“Please, I'll do anything you want. Please, sir, please. I need it.”

“Tell me what you need, gorgeous.”

“I need to cum. Please. Do anything you want to me. Please just let me cum. PLEASE!”

“Not yet.”

You sob.

He keeps working you, disintegrating your resolve with every pass of his tongue and his fingers. The scratch of his beard is delicious, contrasting sharply with the warmth of his mouth and the soft press of his tongue against you as he laps at your heat.

“Captain, please. Gods above, I’ll let you have anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yes. I’ll suck your cum out of your cock. You can have my ass. I’ll give you anything.”

He chuckles. “At the bargaining phase, are we?”

The tears are streaming from your eyes, and you unleash a choked sob.

“Ask me again.”

You’re gasping now, teetering on the edge.

“Please, Captain. Please let me cum.”

“Good girl.” He kisses your clit, and you moan, your knuckles aching from how hard you’re holding the headboard.

“Cum for me.”

You do, screaming his name as your body spasms with wave after wave of your orgasm. He holds you in place, working you through it until your body finally sags into the bed, slick with sweat and wrung out. Your mind is hazy as you feel him crawl up next to you, pressing his fingers against your lips. You let your mouth fall open, welcoming them in as you clean your release from the pads of his fingers. When he’s satisfied, he leans over you and kisses you, and you can feel how wet his beard is from your release. He reaches up as he kisses you, pulling your hands from the headboard. You immediately bury them in his dark curls, running your fingers over the back of his head, relishing this new touch he’s permitted.

The way Crater kisses you feels as though he’s stealing the air from your lungs. His tongue gently finds its way inside your mouth, running along your lower lip as his hands wander your body, gently rubbing and caressing. After what feels like an eternity and not long enough, he relents, resting his forehead against yours.

“Are you ready to continue, my gorgeous girl?”

“Yes, sir.” You’d been determined to make this harder for him, but he’s broken you, and you’re more than ready to bend to whatever his will may be. You trust him implicitly, just like you always have, but somehow, it feels deeper now. You know as rough as he may be with you here, he’ll never hurt you in a way you don’t ask for. His eyes are staring directly into yours as he strokes your cheek tenderly.

“So good for me,” he whispers. He kisses your cheek, moving along your jaw until he reaches your ear. He gently takes your earlobe between his teeth as he grips your thigh, coaxing you to wrap your legs around him. You do it immediately, quivering again at the thought of finally being filled by his cock.

Crater is kicking his pants off as he whispers into your ear. “Now that you’re being good, I’m going to fuck you until you’re boneless. You’re going to cum exactly as many times as I want you to, and no less. But you have to ask me first, and ask nicely. Do you understand?”

You nod.

“Use your words, love.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Color?”

You can feel the head of his cock resting against the puffy, soaked lips of your pussy. Crater is stroking himself against your slit, coating himself with your release. You look down and see he’s as big as Gregor, but with a little more girth, and Maker above you’ve never wanted anything more.

“Green.”

He grunts as he notches his head at your entrance. “Good girl.”

Crater enters you slowly, watching your face as he breaches you. Your release makes it easier to take him, but not easy. You feel your walls stretch to accommodate him as he slowly thrusts shallowly into you, pressing a little deeper each time. Every time his head catches your entrance, you whimper, and he responds with a thrust. You can feel how tightly you’re stretched around him, every ridge apparent as he takes what you’re more than willing to surrender.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers.

You reach up to touch his face, and he catches your hand, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist before he leans forward and captures your lips again. He groans into your mouth as he bottoms out, pressing his hips against yours, and the feeling of him inside of you is bliss you’ve never experienced. He stays still, but his entire body is tensed, a taut spring waiting to be unleashed. He strokes your cheek.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I won’t be gentle.”

You raise your head, grazing his lips with yours. “I don’t want you to be.”

He chuckles darkly. “Good.”

His hips draw back before slamming against yours, and you see stars as the head of his cock finds the perfect place inside you. He starts off at a steady but hard pace, knocking the wind from you with every thrust of his hips. His hands wander your body, squeezing your breasts, playing with your clit, finding every place that makes you unfurl more underneath him.

At one point, he sits up, placing his hands at the back of your knees and pushing them towards your chest. The angle of his next thrust has you screaming to religious entities you don’t even believe in as he reaches impossibly deeper inside of you. His thrusts are deliberate and perfectly timed, his fingers bruising, and it’s not long before you’re pleading with him again.

“Maker, I’m gonna cum again. Please let me cum, Captain. Please.”

“Yeah? Already? You’re not making this very difficult.” He sheathes himself to the hilt and holds there. It feels as though he’s rearranging your insides, and you’re shocked you can’t see an outline of his cock through your stomach.

“Gods. Please, Crate. I’m so full.” Tears are leaking from the corners of your eyes as he drags himself out again, leaving just the head inside of you. His thumb presses against your clit with a feather-light touch, and you jolt at the contact, whining desperately.

“Not yet, you’re not,” he rasps. You feel his fingers prod at your asshole, and you fist the sheets, arching your back as your mouth falls open. You hear the click of the lube bottle opening again.

“Color?”

“G-green.”

His cock slips from you, and you want to scream, but he holds your legs where they are, and you feel the blunt head of the plug nudge your other entrance.

“Relax for me, pretty girl.”

You do, inhaling and exhaling deeply as you quiver with anticipation. The plug slips inside you, and it’s bliss you’ve never experienced. Crater watches you for a moment before he slides his cock back inside of your pussy, folding you back in half again.

You’ve never felt this full before, never this pleasured, and you’re not sure you’ll ever feel this way again.

But you need it.

“Fuck. Don’t stop.”

A hand settles on your throat, firmer than the last time he grasped you like that.

“Eyes open for me, love.”

You didn’t even realize you’d closed them, but your eyes flutter open and find Crater’s in the dim lighting. They’re piercing. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and his gaze follows it.

“Do as you’re told, yeah?” he groans.

“Yes, sir,” you gasp.

The grip on your throat tightens slightly, pressing on the sides. “Squeeze for me.”

You focus on contracting your muscles even though your mind feels like a blur. Crater grunts as your cunt tightens around him. “Good girl. Good fucking girl.” His cock slams into you, and you relax, letting him fill you.

“Again.”

Crater releases your legs, fucking you with his hand around your neck. You’ve never tried spice, but you imagine this has to be what it’s like. You’re floating, you’re moaning, you’re sweating, all while wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, more intense with every thrust of Crater’s hips as the head of his cock continues to stroke that perfect place inside you. The grip on your throat tightens when he wants you to flex your muscles, and after a few cycles of it, you tighten around him without having to be asked. Crater’s fucking you in earnest now, the hand still around your throat, and your head is swimming. He releases you for a second, watching you.

“Color?”

“Green,” you whisper.

“Louder for me.”

“Green,” you say more firmly.

He’s still watching, and you see a flicker of something, concern maybe.

“I said I’m green, Crater.”

He takes your hand, placing it on his side. “Tap if you need.”

“I will. Now please fuck me.”

The grip tightens again, and you’re back to floating, and before you know it, you’re begging him again.

“Cum on my cock, pretty girl.”

You do. You cum hard, clawing at his back as he bites your shoulder. Your vision whites out as you writhe underneath him, clenching around his cock until the orgasm subsides, leaving you panting.

“Good. That’s two.”

“How many you shooting for?” you gasp.

“As many as it takes. Now on your knees for me, love.”

You roll over onto your knees, bracing yourself against your elbows. You feel exposed like this, back arched and presenting yourself to the captain. You feel him staring at your dripping heat, and you shiver under his gaze. His fingers trace along your lips as he positions himself behind you, nudging your knees apart as he presses his cock back into you. Your back arches almost by instinct, and he groans as he bottoms out, leaning over you. You feel his abdomen press against the plug in your ass, and you try to push backwards to drive it in deeper, but a sharp smack to your ass makes you freeze.

“What did I tell you about being greedy?” he rasps. “You take what I give you.”

You squeeze around him in the only act of defiance you can muster, and he chuckles darkly before he leans forward, pinning your arms behind your back with one hand while fisting your hair with the other. The roots of your hair creak again under his grip, but the pain is beautiful as he slams into your cunt again with a wet slap that makes your face burn.

“You talk a big game, but I know what you really crave,” he grunts as he fucks you. “You want to be told how filthy you are. You want to be used like this, to surrender to someone else. You want someone else to take charge. Your dripping little cunt tells me everything I need to know.” He’s got his weight tipped forward onto the small of your back, arching it even further as he snaps his hips into you again, accelerating the pace with each thrust until he’s pounding you into your mattress. Your head is pulled back and forth by the grip he has on your hair, and you allow yourself to go limp as Crater drives into you again and again. You’re more than happy to let him use you, especially as he strokes your insides deliciously, stretching you around his cock as your ass relaxes around the plug. It’s bliss.

After a few minutes, he adjusts again, tipping further forward, and suddenly, he finds the deepest part of you again, and he knows it when you moan loudly under him. He slows, dragging himself out of you before thrusting roughly back in, and you try to bury your face in the sheets to hide the obscene whines that are falling from your lips. But a rough tug of your hair turns your face outward, and you gasp and moan, some of your saliva leaking onto the sheets as Crater fucks you.

“None of that, love. I want to hear every noise you make.”

He pulls you apart, piece by piece, yanking another orgasm from you in a matter of minutes before he flips you back onto your back, pulling your ankles up to rest on his shoulders and gripping your hips as he pistons into you roughly. You lose track of how many times you’ve orgasmed, and each time, Crater only allows you a moment to catch your breath before he’s moving you again, gripping your body roughly and taking what he wants from you. You’re boneless and malleable, and he’s seemingly insatiable.

He’s fucking you on your back again, with one leg extended between his with the other on his shoulder as he drives into your soaked cunt. Sweat is trickling down his neck, trailing along the lines of his tattoos. His dark curls are glistening with moisture, and one drop falls from his nose, landing on your abdomen as he snaps his hips into you relentlessly.

“I’m almost there, love,” he gasps. “Gonna fill this pretty pussy up.”

You’re panting with exertion, trying to hold your orgasm at bay as he grips your hip, driving himself into you impossibly deeper. You worry that his orgasm will mean the end of this night, and he seems to notice your concern.

“Ask for what you want, pretty girl.”

You’re suddenly shy, even with his cock buried inside you, even wearing the marks of his teeth and his hands on your flesh.

He slows, whispering your name. “Tell me what you want.”

“I… I want you to fuck my ass. I want you to have me there, Crater.”

His eyes search yours for a second before he resumes his relentless pace. “I’m going to cum in this pussy. Then you’re going to clean my cock off with that smart mouth of yours. And once I’m nice and hard again, I’ll claim you there. That what you want?”

Heat rises in your cheeks. “Y-yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir. Please sir.”

“Good girl.”

He leans forward, adjusting to the angle that he knows will rip another orgasm from you, and sure enough, you’re pleading with him again in a matter of seconds. This time, he’s merciful.

“Cum with me. Right now. Do it.”

You’ve never been so responsive to a lover, never felt as though your body was perfectly calibrated to follow their commands, but Crater’s words send you hurtling over the edge, and you feel him twitch as he empties himself inside of you. It takes several thrusts, and you’re certain you’re full of his cum, dripping with it.

His final thrusts make obscene sounds, and you feel the warm stickiness dribble out of you. Crater pushes himself up on his hands and knees, reaching for the dildo and gently nestling it inside of you, replacing his cock. It’s cold and not enough compared to him, but your disappointment only lasts a moment as he crawls to the head of your bed, sitting against your headboard with his legs spread. He reaches for the remote on your nightstand and beckons you forward.

“Come clean me off, love. Get me ready to take you again.”

You feel as though you’re drunk as you roll yourself onto your hands and knees, clumsily crawling towards him on wobbly limbs. He watches you with a slight smirk as you drop to your elbows between his knees, nuzzling at his abdomen and kissing the scar on his hip. He gently brushes your hair out of your face, gathering it in one hand.

“You want this, love?”

“So much,” you whisper.

His cock is still half-hard, glistening with your combined releases, and you gently wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue around the tip. The taste is salty and tangy and warm, and you can’t believe how quickly you crave it, slipping him further into your mouth. He grunts in surprise as you suddenly feel a second wind overtake you, making you eager to run your tongue along every inch of him. You clean him until your saliva replaces the slick cum on his shaft, tracing veins and flicking the head of his cock with your tongue. You hear a dull thunk as his head falls back against your headboard, and he gathers your hair in one hand, applying pressure to the back of your head.

You want him to use you. You want him to bruise the back of your throat. You want him to make your voice rasp in the morning as a reminder of this night.

His cock hits the back of your throat, but you hold yourself there, fighting your gag reflex and the tears that are blurring your vision. You can see his abdomen heaving as he experimentally thrusts into your mouth, testing your limits. You swallow around him.

Crater moans.

“Good fucking girl. Maker, I knew that mouth would be incredible. Gonna have to be careful or else I’ll cum down your throat, love.”

You hum and the grip on your hair tightens as you feel his cock swell and pulse against your tongue.

“Oh, you want that do you? You want me to fuck your mouth?”

The sounds as your saliva squelches around him are obscene, but he begins pistoning up into your mouth, moving your head to meet his thrusts. You rest one hand on his thigh in case you need it, and you feel his muscles tense with every snap of his hips.

“So fucking good. I should come by more often just to do this. Shut your office door and fuck your throat when you get mouthy with me. You love this, don’t you? Love being put in your place. Love being used to slick my cock, you sloppy little thing. Relax your throat for me. Oh, fuck, yes. Just like that.”

You’ve never heard him this vocal, and as you manage to glance up, you see how his lips are slightly parted. His brows are furrowed, and you can tell you might finally have him knocked slightly off balance. A new wave of arousal shoots through you at the thought of making Crater crumble. With renewed fervor, you bury your nose in the curls at the base of his cock, inhaling his scent just before your airway is cut off, and you gag. But you hold yourself there, and his hand rests heavily on the back of your head.

Suddenly, you groan as he clicks the remote for the dildo in your cunt. It vibrates to life, pressing against your stretched walls, making your legs quiver.

“Good girls get rewarded,” he rasps.

You become ravenous, eager to taste his cum, desperate to have this man fill your throat. You want nothing more than to pleasure him, to submit to him, and you let him take what he wants from you. Crater drops the remote, burying both hands in your hair as he lazily thrusts in and out of your mouth, giving you instructions occasionally, which you follow without question. The dull buzz between your legs combined with the pressure in your ass and the throb of Crater’s cock on your tongue brings you to the edge again, but this time, you can’t beg with your mouth full.

He notices.

“Do it. Cum for me. You’ve been so good.”

He clicks the remote again, and you scream around his cock. He presses your head all the way down, groaning as your shrieks vibrate around him. Just as you’re spent, he pulls you off of him, turning the vibration off. He’s almost painfully hard, you can see that. His cock is fully erect and twitching, glistening with your saliva in the dull lighting of the room. You rest your cheek on his thigh, and he strokes your hair.

“Tell me what you want, pretty girl.”

“Wanted… wanted to taste… you,” you pant.

He strokes your hair. “Another time. I promise.”

You whine. “Please fuck me.”

That was apparently the answer he was hoping for, not wanting to expend himself too early if that’s what you really wanted. He’s read you again, but you can’t be bothered by it as he asks you “Where?”

You know he’s making sure this is what you want, so you meet his eyes with as firm a gaze as you can muster. “Please fuck my ass, sir. I need it.”

“How could I refuse such a polite request?”

Crater eases out from underneath you, crawling around behind you and guiding you onto your stomach. He folds a pillow in half and helps you raise your hips to stuff it under them, raising them to his liking before he straddles you, enclosing your legs with his. He pushes the vibrator in your cunt a little deeper, you having squeezed it out slightly during your last orgasm, and then he clicks the low vibration back on. Your muscles tighten around it, and you grip the sheets, arching your back and moaning as he presses it further in and clicks the button again. The vibrations ramp up, and you writhe beneath him. He taps the end of the plug in your ass, and you turn to look over your shoulder at him.

“You gonna let me have your ass, sweetheart?”

It’s one last check. And you’re so grateful for it. But you’re also so impatient.

“Yes. Please fuck my ass, Captain.”

His eyes leave yours to watch as he plays with the plug a little, tapping and moving it in and out of you before he removes it completely. You feel achingly empty and wiggle your ass, hoping it will entice him to fill you faster. You’ve never been taken there before, but right now, you want nothing more.

“I’m going to go slow. Use your colors.”

“Please, Crater.”

The lube bottle clicks open, and a few seconds later you hear the sound of him slicking his cock. Coolness hits your asshole, and you gasp as fingers slip inside of you, working you even more open.

And then you feel it.

Crater uses one hand to spread your asscheeks as he notches the head of his cock at your entrance and slowly begins to ease in. So slowly. Tears leap into your eyes as your muscles stretch to accommodate him. It’s slightly painful, but the pleasure outweighs it as he gently thrusts just the head in and out of you. It feels as though your cunt is stretching too, and the vibrations inside of you suddenly become more intense.

You need him deeper.

“More,” you plead.

Crater sinks a little further into you, moving his hand to the small of your back instead to brace himself. And that’s when it hits you: he’s inside of you completely, not having to hold himself there, in a place no one else has ever been.

The realization drives you wild.

And then he taps the vibrator again. You gasp loudly, fisting the sheets.

“More. Please!”

He sinks deeper, but it’s too much too fast this time. You gasp out a color.

“YELLOW.”

He backs off quickly, but your hand rockets around to keep him inside you.

“Just a little slower. I’m sorry. I thought I was ready,” you choke out.

“Don’t be sorry. Not at all. I’m glad you told me.” His voice is tight. You know he’s holding back. And that’s why you want to keep going. Because you trust him like you’ve trusted no one else.

“Don’t stop. Just go slower. But please don’t stop.”

“You’re sure?” he asks again.

“Yes. Please. I’m green.” You thrust back slightly, just to your breaking point, and he takes your lead. You feel your body relax around him, and this time, you’re positive when you ask him for more. He’s slow and patient, working his way inside you. The stretch is delicious, and Maker, you’ve never been this full. Nothing you do with your fingers or toys after this will be enough. Not with the way his hand is rubbing comforting circles in the small of your back as he destroys you one centimeter at a time.

“More.”

He sinks deeper, and now you’re babbling as he slowly drags himself back out of you before sinking back in. You reach between your legs to press the vibrator against your clit.

“Fuck, Crate. You’re so big. It’s so big and perfect. Fuck. I fucking love the way you feel in my ass.”

“You gonna let me cum in this tight ass, pretty girl?” he grits out. He doesn’t correct you on his title, but you’re pretty sure he’s almost as far gone as you are.

“Gods, yes. I want you to claim me there. Paint my walls where no one else has. I want to feel you leak back out of me.”

His hands grip your hips so hard you’re certain there’ll be a perfect set of fingerprints there. He’s doing everything in his power to go slow, and you can’t wait to turn him loose.

“More, Crate.”

You feel his hips come to rest against your ass as he bottoms out. He’s panting against your shoulder blades, attempting to keep his composure. The realization of how deep he is inside of you has your cunt fluttering around the vibrator, and you almost orgasm from the thought alone. He stretches his legs out, lowering his weight on top of you. One set of his fingers interlaces with yours, and the other hand comes around to cup your throat. He doesn’t squeeze this time, just cradles your jaw, holding your head up as he nuzzles against you.

“You’re so good for me,” he whispers against your skin. “So fucking good.”

You look over your shoulder at him as much as you can, watching a line of sweat trickle down his temple.

“Fuck me, Captain.”

He does. He’s slow at first, but the drag of his cock all the way back out and all the way back into your ass makes you mewl, and before long, you’re pressing back into him. He ramps the vibrator up to its highest setting, and your eyes roll back into your head.

“Harder. Please.”

He obliges, snapping his hips deeper and putting more of his weight into each thrust. Your toes dig into the sheets as your whole body begins to tighten.

“I’m so full. It’s so good. So good. Fuck.” You can’t stop babbling as he pounds into you.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he gasps. “You take my cock so fucking well. Like you were made for it.” He groans loudly as he bottoms out again. “You love this, don’t you? Being stuffed in both holes?”

“Yes,” you sob. “It’s so good.”

“I bet you’d love to have Gregor’s cock in here too. Maybe he takes your sweet little cunt while I pound your ass.” You moan, clenching at the thought. Crater doesn’t stop. “But that still leaves your mouth. Maybe I get Chuckles in here to fuck that smart little mouth while Gregor and I take you. Would you like that, pretty girl? To be ruined by three men at once?”

You whine and spasm around him, and he feels it. “Fuck, you’re such a dirty girl. Who would have known the smart-mouthed mechanic would let me do this to her? Let me ruin her in the backroom of her office. I want you to always remember this when you’re out in that office working. How I took you back here and made you scream my name. How you begged for my cock. Maybe I’ll take you over that desk before I go in the morning so you think about that for the rest of the day while my spend leaks out of you.”

“Crater, I’m gonna cum.”

“Not until I say you are,” he grits out. “Not until I’m ready to.”

You inhale sharply, trying to keep your body from toppling over the edge.

“Don’t you cum yet,” he snarls.

“I’m trying,” you whine. “But I’m so close, Captain. So close.”

“Keep talking.”

Your mouth runs on autopilot, desperate to find the words that will yank him to the edge alongside you so that you can both tumble off together.

“Your cock is so fucking good, Crater. Gods, nothing will ever be enough after this. You fill me up so perfectly. I need it, Crate. I need to feel your hot cum in my ass. I want to feel it leak out of me. Fuck. Please give it to me, Crater. Please cum in my ass.”

His thrusts grow more erratic, and you know you’re about to get what you want.

“G-gonna fill you up,” he growls. “Gonna be the first to claim you here.”

“My ass is yours, Crater.”

“Yeah it fucking is.” The grip on your throat tightens, pulling your head back again, and that last little pinprick of pain has you teetering on the brink. It’s like the first day when he had you tipped in the chair of your office, your toes barely touching the floor. All it will take is the slightest push to send you toppling over the edge.

Just a little further. So close.

“Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease,” you sob.

“You’re so cute when you beg,” he rasps directly into your ear. And with a loud groan, his hips stutter as he cums in your ass, gasping.

“Now,” he moans.

And your orgasm rips through you. He drops your head, and you scream into the sheets as wave after wave washes over you in the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. Tears stream from your eyes and your body spasms again and again. You feel like you’re floating somewhere between consciousness and some other plane of existence as you come out of it, barely aware of what day it is or what your name even is anymore.

When the waves of your orgasm finally stop battering your wrung-out body, you collapse limply against the sheets of your bed. They stick to you, but it feels as if you’ve sunk halfway through the mattress somehow. Your mouth feels dry from screaming. Your tongue darts out to moisten your lips, and you’re aware Crater is laying on top of you, panting against your neck, but trying to hold the majority of his weight off of you.

“Get it out,” you mumble.

He’s already slipped from your ass, but he quickly turns off the vibrator and eases it out of your cunt. You feel yourself start to shake uncontrollably. You’re not sure if it’s due to the orgasm, the sudden chill on your sweat-soaked body, or something else. Regardless, Crater lies next to you and pulls you close to him, being careful to keep his sullied hand clear of you. His nose grazes yours as he gently cradles your head.

“Breathe with me, Bolts.”

You do, and the shivering begins to subside after a few cycles. You finally open your eyes and find Crater’s steady gaze watching you, a comfort as always.

“I’m going to go get something to clean you off with. I’m going to be right back. Alright?” You nod, your mind still hazy, and he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before moving off towards your ‘fresher. The sink hisses softly, and a moment later, you feel your legs gently being parted and a warm, damp cloth moving over your body, thighs, and between your legs as Crater carefully cleans you. Once he’s done, a dry towel runs over the same areas, soft and gentle, before he rolls you onto your back, removing the pillow from beneath your hips. You hear the mini-fridge in your outer office open and close, and a straw is placed at your lips. You drink greedily as he strokes your hair, draining the water packet in a few seconds.

“Good girl.” The words are softer now, carrying no heat. “Do you need more?”

You shake your head and open your eyes just in time to see him toss the spent water packet into the rubbish bin. He slides into the bed next to you, pulling the blanket over the two of you before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. You snuggle into the crook of his shoulder in a daze, inhaling his smell and draping one of your legs over his thigh. His fingers stroke your cheek, and he presses gentle kisses to your forehead and cheeks. Strong, gentle hands trail over your skin, caressing tenderly in a way that so sharply contrasts with how he touched you just moments before. He searches for sore muscles or tension left untouched but finds none; you’re completely relaxed in his grasp. His fingers graze over the bruises and bite marks he left, pressing gently and watching for your reaction, ensuring you’re not in too much pain. It’s sweet, but not something you’re used to. You know this hardly counts as being pampered by most people’s standards, but you’re not used to the doting tenderness. Even if you do find yourself melting into him more with every passing second, allowing your eyes to drift shut again as you release a satisfied sigh.

“I’m alright, Crate,” you mumble after a few moments, growing shy under his attention.

“I need to be sure,” he says quietly. “That was intense for you.”

You smile. “It was, but it was so good.” Your eyes flutter open, and your heart melts at the way he’s looking down at you. You were worried about how this moment might go, concerned about how your friendship might shift after allowing this to happen.

But you should have known better. Crater is a pillar but also a soft place to land, someone you’d confide in without hesitation. His men fall in line because he’s someone to fly into battle with, someone you know will keep you safe. He’s proud but humble. You know he won’t tell a soul about this night. He doesn’t need to. He knows what he did for you, how you begged for him, and that’s enough. And if you’re honest, you think he got as much out of it as you did, enjoying watching your walls come down and you relaxing with him, enjoying the process of helping you.

“Just didn’t realize this was an all-inclusive sort of encounter,” you joke. “You’re starting to make me feel like royalty with all the attention.”

His expression grows serious as he looks down at you, pushing some of your hair out of your face. “You shouldn’t be accepting any other kind of encounters, Bolts. Do I need to chat with Gregor when he gets back?”

“Nah. He’s fine for what he is. And he does take care of me. It’s just… different.”

He grunts noncommittally, pulling you closer. You feel his thumb graze your spine.

“You jealous?” you ask, tongue poking out between your teeth teasingly.

“Not at all. We’re different people giving you different things.”

“That makes it sound like you don’t intend for this to be a one-time thing, Crate.”

“That is entirely up to you.” His thumb caresses your lower lip, and you kiss it.

You pretend to consider it for a moment, as if this night won’t have you craving his touch seconds after he’s gone. “Well, I can’t be getting cranky with your men again, now can I?” you murmur, snuggling deeper into the crook of his shoulder.

The corner of his mouth twitches into a smirk. “Definitely can’t have that. And I’m more than happy to do my part.”

“More than happy?”

“Yeah, Bolts. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t think I’d enjoy myself too.”

“You do this with a lot of people?”

“Nope. Only ones I trust. And that trust me.”

You twist one end of your hair nervously, the mention of trust bringing a question charging to the forefront of your mind. He can tell, taking your fingers and carefully intertwining them in his own.

“What is it? You having second thoughts?”

“No, not at all. This was great. It’s just… have you heard if Gregor’s talking about him and I? I didn’t think he would, but what Strike said a few weeks back stuck with me. I don’t want to be the Battalion Babe of the week.”

He nods, pulling your knuckles to his lips. “I can assure you that I haven’t heard anything and I don’t think Gregor’s like that. I think Strike was angry and lashing out. I know several of the men did see you leave 79s with Gregor, so the conclusion wasn’t too far-fetched. But Gregor’s not feeding the rumor mill.”

You sigh. “Dammit.”

“For what it’s worth, you haven’t been a topic of conversation within my earshot. I had a chat with Chuckles too and asked him to make sure it wasn’t happening when I’m not around. He said he would, and I trust him. As much of a pain as he is at times, he’s a good man. I trust him.”

You nod appreciatively, melting slightly at the thought of Chuckles doing that for you, but the mention of the mohawked pilot brings another question to the front of your mind. “Were you serious about you and Gregor and Chuckles?”

He shrugs. “It was something I said in the moment, but not a thing I’d approach them about without your express consent. No one needs to know about this if you don’t want them to. And I would only bring in people you and I trust explicitly. Gregor and Chuckles are two of those people. But again, it was said in the moment and doesn’t have to be a serious thing ever.”

Your mind is whirling at the thought of having three of them at once. You can’t lie, it does pique your interest. You smirk up at him. “I’ll let you know.”

He huffs a laugh. His eyes are gentle as he leans down, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Thank you for trusting me to do all that for you.”

You snuggle further into him, absently tracing his tattoos with your fingertips. “Thank you for doing it for me in the first place. I’d have never asked.”

A quiet laugh rumbles through his chest. “I know. You’re too stubborn. That’s why I offered.”

“Glad you did.”

“Me too.”

His steady heartbeat lulls you to sleep only a few minutes later.

—

When you wake in the morning, Crater’s still there, but he’s in the process of getting dressed. He’s snapping his vambraces in place as you stir, sitting up and stretching. You ache deliciously in all of the right places, but seeing him standing there reawakens your hunger. He smiles at you as you sit up in bed.

“Morning. Figured I should get out of here before the droids start powering on. They’re not known for gossip, but better safe than sorry.”

“I suppose you’re right.” You can’t keep the disappointment out of your voice, and even if you had, you’re confident he still would have picked up on your cues. He pauses.

“What’s wrong?”

You wonder if you’re overstepping, but after the night you just had, you figure it doesn’t hurt to ask. You get out of your bed, opening the door to your office. Despite you being completely naked, covered in his marks, Crater’s eyes are firmly locked on yours. You lean against the doorframe, glancing over at your desk.

“You mentioned a parting gift last night that involved my desk. That offer still on the table?”

He huffs a laugh, his hands falling to your waist and gently guiding you out into the office. The cool edge of the desk presses against the front of your thighs as he leans down to speak directly into your ear.

“Elbows on the desk for me, pretty girl. And try to be a little quieter this time.”

You shudder as he nudges your feet apart, placing his codpiece on the desk next to you.

“Yes sir.”

Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @staycalmandhugaclone @redheadgirl @fordo-kixed-rex @wizardofrozz @ariadnes-red-thread @extrahotpixels @justanothersadperson93 @leftealeaf @dnxgma @meekaielmyerhs99 @kaminocasey @echos-girlfriend @lucyysthings @obihiddlenox @merkitty49 @littlemissmanga @clonecyaree @baba-fett @rain-on-kamino @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @samspenandsword

#karrde writes #OC Crater #clone oc #clone pilot oc #Captain Crater #nsft #lemon #lemony lemon #clone OC x reader #clone OC x you #Crater x Reader #Crater x You #captain crater #OC Chuckles #captain gregor #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #28th combat wing

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 5 months

Note

hi Steph!!! the prompt list is so cute 🥰

may I please request

“"Don't you dare jump in that puddle and get me wet!"”

with Brett? 👀

Puddles and Paddles

Brett (OC) x Fem!Reader

Summary: On your way to a party for Tungst's promotion to ARC trooper you take some time to play in a puddle, but when Brett gets wet, he decides to teach you a lesson when you get to your destination.

Pairing: Brett (OC) x Fem!Reader

Characters: Brett (OC)

Tags & Warnings: 18+, NSFW, established relationship, domestic fluff, mild sexual content but no smut, implied/referenced sexual activities, light BDSM, dom!brett, brat taming, spanking kink, traffic light system, consensual, Brett is his own warning

Word Count: 3k

Author's Note: I’m still not taking requests, but I decided to use this timely opportunity to cross off another bingo square. Congrats Sev! You’re my first follower to receive a one-shot fic from a request (and happy belated birthday)! I hope you like where I took this... This is the most smut-adjacent thing I’ve ever written, but that is how Brett demands to be written. As always, please enjoy 💚

@clonexreaderbingo Square: Party

You rollover beneath the warm duvet and groan at the ache in your lower body. Brett is sound asleep next to you and still lying in the same position he fell asleep in, on his back with an arm resting behind his head. You cast a glance at the chronometer and you’re surprised the sunlight isn’t peeking through the blinds yet, but as you listen, you can hear the reason why. It’s raining.

You love it when it rains. It’s peaceful and soothing to you, but Brett hates it. Unfortunately, for the both of you, you don’t have the luxury of staying inside to enjoy the rainy day as the Maker intended, from the comfort of your warm and dry apartment. Yesterday, Tungst was promoted to ARC trooper and today his brothers are having a party to celebrate, so you don’t have a choice.

Knowing that Brett is going to be a pain in the butt for the rest of the day, you decide to get in your dose of his soft side now before he wakes up and realizes it’s raining. He didn’t want to go to the party to begin with, and it took you forever to convince him. But now that it’s raining? He’s going to be even grumpier than usual and harder to force out the door, but that’s just who he is.

You snuggle up next to him and lay your arm across his stomach. As you lie against his warm body, you feel his right arm wrap around you. He hums and rolls onto his side, pulling your bare back flush against his bare chest, while pressing lazy kisses against your neck. You grin as he begins to caress your naked body, but frown when his hands traverse down past your stomach.

“Brett,” you whine and push his hands away. “Don’t.”

“Still sore?” Brett asks smugly, then replaces his hands to smooth over your hips.

“Could be worse,” you answer, then wiggle your hips to shake him off.

“I could make it worse,” he whispers, then nips at your shoulder.

You gasp, but keep yourself under control, refusing to play into his advances.

“What’s the matter?” Brett asks as he continues to kiss down your shoulder. “Don’t want to play this morning?”

You rollover to face him and kiss his lips. “We’ve got somewhere to be.”

Brett groans and flops onto his back. “Killjoy.”

“Don’t be like that,” you give him a playful tap on the chest. “It’s a special day for your vod.”

Brett pulls the duvet over his face and attempts to go back to sleep.

You sigh and yank the duvet back down, revealing his annoyed expression. “Didn’t you hear–”

In a single movement Brett grabs you, flips you over, and plants your face into the pillows with your butt sticking up in the air on full display. He gives both cheeks a soft, playful smack, then slides himself behind you and leans over your body, pressing his chest firmly against your back while pinning your head down with one hand and squeezing one of your breasts with the other.

“Come on, mesh’la,” Brett goads into your ear while grinding his hips against your backside. “Just one more round, then we can get ready.”

You sigh and decide another round won’t hurt if it means Brett will play nice for the rest of the day. Besides, you can’t help but be turned on by the way he’s man-handling you right now. You're still sore from your activities the night before, but you know that all you have to do is say the word ‘red’ and he’ll stop on a dime. You love that about him; he’s rough, but respectful.

“Just one,” you warn with a muffled voice. “But we’re leaving right after we’re done.”

“I better make it count then,” Brett smirks, then bites your earlobe. “I’m gonna screw you so hard, it’ll be the only thing you can think about at that stupid party.”

You moan with excitement. “Don’t hold back.”

Brett keeps his word and limits your fun to one round, but he also delivers on the soreness. You probably should have bowed out sooner rather than later, but you were having way too much fun to stop before you both finished. Luckily, a hot shower and pain killers help take the edge off so you don’t have to waddle to the party and embarrass yourself, much to Brett’s displeasure.

You know Brett would just love to watch you walk around awkwardly, letting the whole planet know what he did to you. You're his, and he loves showing you off. But you’re more than just an object to him. You’re his cyare, and you don’t want your relationship to be any other way. You trust him, with all of your heart, and he trusts you. That’s how you make everything work.

After you’re both cleaned up, caffeinated, and fed, Brett gets dressed in his formal uniform and you in your black gown. Then you put up your hair and add some jewelry to complete the look. Finally, you spritz yourself with your favorite perfume and throw the matching heels into your purse. You don’t want to walk in the rain in your heels, so you’ll bring them with you to the party.

Brett finishes adjusting his uniform and walks up behind you as you stare at yourself in the mirror, admiring how beautiful you look as the dress accentuates all of your curves. He places his hands on your shoulders and massages them in small circles, a subtle ask. You smile and lean your head to the side, exposing your neck so Brett can press his lips to the supple skin.

“I love that scent,” he says while ghosting his lips over your neck.

“You should,” you say. “You picked it out for me.”

“All the more reason,” he starts kissing your neck as his hands caress down your arms.

You sigh. “Brett.”

“I know,” he groans. “But I’m taking this thing off when we get home.”

You chuckle. “No arguments here.”

Finally ready, you grab your purse, put your rain boots and jacket on, and grab your umbrella. Brett raises an eyebrow, but when you open the apartment door, his demeanor sours. He didn’t know it was raining, or maybe he wasn’t paying attention. You pat his shoulder to offer your condolences and open your umbrella. He grumbles, but takes the umbrella from you to hold it.

Brett is quiet on the way to the barracks. You can tell that he’s already not having a good time, and probably wishes he was back in bed with you naked beneath him. In fact, that’s most likely the only thing he’s thinking about right now. You need to find a way to snap him back to the moment. Perhaps a good tease will rile him up, or maybe if you defy him, he’ll perk up.

Your brain devises a plan quickly when you see a sizable puddle ahead of you. You already know Brett hates the rain, but he also hates being wet. You wonder how he’ll react if you play in that puddle. He’ll have to come along and get close to it, since he’s holding the umbrella. At least that’s what you think he’ll do. As you approach the puddle, you put your plan into action.

“What are you doing?” Brett asks as he follows you with the umbrella.

“It’s a puddle!” you say eagerly while pointing to it.

“Not a chance,” Brett says, then reaches out to grab your arm. “Let’s go.”

You narrowly escape his grasp, then stick your tongue out at him. “Come get me.”

Brett narrows his eyes and huffs, then walks towards you. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh, come on,” you say playfully. “Where’s your sense of fun?”

“I must have left it in my other pants,” Brett answers with an eye roll. “Get over here.”

You step closer to the puddle.

“Mesh’la,” Brett warns, his voice lowering to mark his seriousness.

You take another step towards the puddle.

“I’m warning you!” he exclaims. “Don’t you dare jump in that puddle and get me wet!”

You smile, then jump in the puddle, making a big splash that gets the both of you wet. You start giggling at his unamused expression.

Brett grabs your arm and pulls you out of the puddle. “You’ll pay for that.”

“Oh?” you remark, a spark of excitement running through your body as he pulls you along. “What did you have in mind?”

Brett releases your arm and grabs a handful of your butt. “Bad girls need a spanking.”

“Am I a bad girl?” you bat your eyelashes at him, feigning innocence.

Brett smirks. “The worst.”

You look around. “Where do you want me?”

“Not here,” Brett answers, then leans down to whisper in your ear. “Barracks refresher. Over my knee.”

“Yes, sir,” you answer.

You both continue along towards the barracks in silence, with Brett holding the umbrella in one hand and your arm firmly in the other. You’re excited to get to the party. Brett rarely engages in risky intimate behavior outside of your home, so the thrill of him spanking you in the barrack’s refresher is enticing, and you’re happy that he has something fun to look forward to at the party.

You arrive at the barracks and are eagerly greeted by a few members of Brett’s squad. They love having you around during social functions, and joke that your fun personality is the only thing that lights up Brett’s dark cloud of perpetual disgruntlement. You know, of course, that Brett really does love his brothers and cares for them deeply, he just has a hard time showing it.

Once the pleasantries are over, you hang your raincoat on a hook in the entryway to dry, then pull your rain boots off and replace them with the heels in your purse. You straighten your dress, look out towards the party, and immediately spot a delicious looking hors d’oeuvre tray. Feeling hungry and ready to mingle, you make a beeline towards it, but a firm hand holds you back.

You turn around and Brett is glaring at you. “What?” you ask in confusion.

“You got me wet,” he answers. “Time to pay up.”

Oh yeah. You think to yourself as you remember your earlier escapades with the puddle.

Your stomach growls, and you look back over at the food, and then to Brett. “Can I eat one thing first?” you plead. “Please?”

Brett considers your request for a moment, a blank expression on his face. “No. I don’t need you throwing up on me too.”

Before you can open your mouth to protest, Brett is pulling you through the crowd of natborns in dress clothes and clones in uniforms. Instead of fighting him, you try to keep up so it doesn’t look suspicious and garner attention from the attendees. He walks you past the food tray and you reach out to try to grab something, but he notices and pulls you back just far enough away.

You curse under your breath at how close you were.

Resigning to your fate of food after punishment, you let Brett lead you to the barrack’s refresher, and as you think more about how scandalous the whole situation is, you begin to get your excitement back and soon forget about the food. Now you’re hungry for Brett and his big, strong hands to leave your backside so swollen you’ll have to stand for the duration of the party.

When you reach the refresher, Brett looks around the hallway to make sure no one is coming, then shoves you through the door first, with him quickly following behind. He walks you over to the sink and gives you strict orders to stay put while he ensures each stall is empty. Once he concludes his search and knows the refresher is empty of all occupancy, he locks the door.

You can’t help but smile at his thoroughness. Brett loves his privacy, and the possibility that someone might see or hear him pleasuring you in the barrack’s refresher, will turn him off faster than a kill switch on a speeder bike. You appreciate his thoughtfulness to protect you from prying eyes and gawking low-lifes, but if you’re being honest, you find the prospect thrilling.

You watch as Brett sits himself down on a small bench at the far side of the refresher, then silently beckons you to him with his finger. You obey and strut over to him, making sure to exaggerate your hips with every step. Brett’s expression remains unchanging and you inwardly sigh. It was worth a shot to try and lighten him up, but he seems to be all business right now.

As you approach him, he opens his legs and you take your place standing between his knees, waiting for him to tell you what to do next. You look down at his face, still emotionless, almost as if he’s bored and has nothing better to do with his time, but you know that it’s just his ‘resting Brett face’ and that there is much more going on in his brain than what his face is willing to share.

Brett smooths his hands over your soft, round glutes and starts rubbing, kneading, and squeezing to prepare them. He alternates between soft and harsh contact, carefully gauging your reactions. You place your hands on his shoulders as the feeling of his ministrations make your legs weak and your feet unsteady. You’re not sure how long you’ll be able to stay standing.

Brett notices the wobble in your legs and pulls you towards him so he can kiss your stomach. “Check in with me,” he says in between kisses.

“Green,” you answer.

“Good girl,” he praises, then softly taps your butt to give you a taste of what is to come.

“Brett,” you whine at his teasing.

“Bend over,” he orders.

Your stomach flips with exhilaration at his demanding tone and you do as you're told, assuming a bent position over his right thigh, then adjusting yourself so you’re more comfortable. Brett carefully pulls your dress up and over your back to reveal your lace panties. He smirks and pulls the stretchy band upward with a single finger, then releases it so it snaps back against your skin.

“Please,” you whimper and squirm against his thigh in protest. “You said I was a good girl.”

“Pull your panties down,” he orders.

You obey and reach around to slip your panties off, uncovering your bare skin as the lace fabric falls down around your ankles. You feel exposed and vulnerable in this position, but you don’t feel nervous. You never feel nervous when Brett is in charge. His top priority is your comfort, safety, and pleasure. All three of those measures need to be met in order for him to enjoy himself.

Pleased with your quick and obedient response, Brett smooths his hand over the soft flesh before giving you what you want, a swift smack. You jerk your head up and gasp at the momentary sting and the following pleasure. With your reaction guiding him, Brett follows up with a few more well-placed smacks, making sure to rub away the sting before giving you more.

You moan in pleasure at the feeling of his strong hand against your skin as it forces you to teeter between the edge of pain and pleasure. The dichotomy of his roughness and gentleness drives you crazy and leaves you wanting him even more. No one will ever truly understand him the way you do; how his tough exterior can give way to soft affections saved only for you.

Brett continues the spanking session until your skin is hot under his touch and the palm of his hand begins to tingle. You’re a moaning mess bent over his knee, fingers clawing and digging into the side of his leg to stay grounded. A small puddle of drool sits stagnant below you on the floor, and you're beginning to feel faint from your head being angled downward for so long.

Brett reaches down and cups your chin to gently pull your head up towards him, then kisses the back of your neck. “Check in with me.”

“Yellow,” you breathe.

Brett places a few more butterfly kisses against the back of your neck, then slowly flips you over and picks you up to situate you so that your throbbing butt is resting between his open legs, your back is leaning against his arm, and your knees are bent and resting over his other thigh. He supports your back as you sit up and you lean your head against his shoulder to recover.

“I could’ve gone longer,” you pant.

“I got what I wanted,” he says, then kisses the top of your head. “Besides, this isn’t the place to push your limits.”

You smile at his thoughtfulness. “Was I a good girl?”

Brett smirks. “The best.”

You release a content sigh and nuzzle your head against his shoulder. Usually, Brett doesn’t go overboard with the aftercare, which you don’t mind. You’ve been with him long enough to know that subtlety is what he prefers. A little kiss here or a small caress there is how he likes to end sessions, but today is different. He’s holding you just a little tighter, a little longer, and you like it.

You stay like this for a little while, in the quiet, and enjoy each other’s presence and physical contact. There’s no bed for you to collapse into, but Brett has you. His strong arms are the next best thing to hold you together until your body decides to come back to reality, and it doesn’t take very long. Soon enough, you start moving and trying to get yourself back onto your feet.

“Pull your panties up, mesh’la,” Brett says as he helps you up. “We’ve got a party to attend.”

You do as he says and make yourself look presentable again, then smile. “Lead the way.”

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deejadabbles · 5 months

Note

Ollo!

I COMETH WITH A SMUTTY ASK PROMPT!

❛ i'm waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you. ❜

With!!!

Whisper!

or any oc of your choice if they're easier 👀

😘💜💜💜

OMG I am so excited that you asked for him!!! I can't tell you how happy this makes me my friend, thank you!! 😭I hope this satisfies you and that it makes you like Whisper even more because I loved exploring him with this prompt. I changed the wording of the prompt ever so slightly to fit his cadence better but it's still highlighted

You can find out more about Whisper here and here if you're interested <3

Clone OC Whisper x reader Rating: Mature, toeing the line of Explicit Word Count: 987 (me? Writing something under 1k?? I can't believe it myself) Warnings: Sexual themes, biting/marking, slight restraint (hands being pinned down), reader is technically GN but no lube is mentioned so plz keep that in mind. Masterlist /// Tag List Sign Up /// AO3

He hadn’t said a word since he came home to you, simply wrapped you in his arms and lost himself in your kiss.

That wasn’t unusual for Whisper, especially after a rough campaign. Silently falling into your embrace was his favorite welcome home. A shuddering breath left him when you traced his lip with your tongue and suddenly you were falling back on your bed.

He was on you instantly, lips finding your neck and hands gripping your thighs. With a gasp of your own, your fingers found their way to his long curls, desperate to pull him closer as he explored your neck. His name was on your breath as you breathed out a moan and that’s when you felt the pleasant flash of his teeth sinking into your skin.

It took you by surprise, which showed as you cried out in pleasure and tightened your grip in his hair. His tongue came out to soothe the bite instantly, tracing it delicately, a silent apology.

That also wasn’t unusual for your dear trooper, for him to pull back the moment his hands and mouth aired on the rough side. He always touched you as if you were the most precious thing he would ever hold, as if you would crumble under the sheer weight of his need for you.

“I don’t think you know what you do to me,” came his quiet, smoky timbre.

Maker, his voice always did things to you. Always so purposeful, almost airy despite its deep tone, like a cloud in a dark stormy sky. In answer, you pulled him closer and pressed your lips to his ear.

“Show me,” was your whimpered reply, “want you to show me what I do to you, Whisper.”

Beside your head, you felt his fist dig into the pillow and he pressed his face deeper into your neck, his other hand sliding to your hip. He drew in another breath this time through clenched teeth, as if they were biting down on the last thread of his resolve.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, my love,” he hissed through his teeth and it was the roughest you had ever heard him speak.

“Yes, I do.” To drive your point home, you nipped your own teeth at his earlobe, which instantly had his hips snapping against yours. Damn the clothes he hadn’t pulled off yet! “I’m not made of glass, Whisp,” your nails raked lightly against his scalp, “you don’t have to hold back when you take me.”

That’s when he growled, a deep, primal sound you never knew you wanted to hear from him. He finally pulled away from your neck and his eyes were dark as he looked down at you. Most of his hair had tumbled from its tie and the tips, which were currently dyed your favorite color, brushed against your face in a way that felt so intimate in that moment. You had to hold back a shaky breath as you looked back at him, the heat pooling in your center was practically unbearable now.

Whisper’s eyes slowly started to trail down your body, eyeing your bare chest with a hunger that was familiar in theory, but had a shadow to it this time. Eyes now half lidded, he dropped that skilled mouth to the spot just above your heart. He kissed gently at first, but it was all just a prelude to the way they traced your skin as he moved to the hard bud of your nipple.

Those hooded eyes were locked on your face again, watching you as his tongue darted across the sensitive spot. Then you were choking on a gasp as his teeth came out to play. Your body lifted up to meet him on instinct and his hand released its death grip on the pillow, darting down to pin your chest back to the bed.

He held you there as he left his marks, a pattern over your heart, lips and teeth working in a head spinning tandem that had you crying his name again. Oh, he liked that. His teeth pressed harder and his free hand dug possessively into your thigh without a word.

Whatever fire he had been quelling before, it was consuming him now. With one final lick to comfort the abused skin, he pulled back, hands darting to your underwear and practically tearing them off as he pulled them down your legs.

“Look at me,” he breathed out harshly.

You blinked at the quiet command, having barely realized that you were watching his hands, not his face. When you obeyed, locking eyes with his again, Whisper released the clasp of his belt with one hand and pushed his pants down with the other. His hard cock pressed against you as he leaned over you fully, large arms pinning beside your head to cage you. To envelop you in nothing but him.

“Say it,” was his next command, his hips pressing teasingly into yours.

It was all you could do to swallow and choke out a “What?”

“I’m waiting,” his hands found yours, fingers gripping you tight as he lifted them above your head and pressed them against the bed, “for permission.” He leaned down to press his lips to your ear. “Give me permission to have my way with you.”

“Yes!” you moaned, wrapped your legs around him, “Please, Whisper, do whatever you want with me!”

Another low growl was the only answer you got before he drove into you hard and fast. He took what you offered without hesitation, relishing every sound you made and left you begging for more.

tag list: @sev-on-kamino @anxiouspineapple99 @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @commander-sunshine @dystopicjumpsuit @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @arcsimper5 @littlemissmanga @wings-and-beskar @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @moonlightwarriorqueen @briefartnaturewolf @kimiheartblade @littlemissbshine @funeralreunion @chubbyhedgehog @ladytano420 @trixie2023 @mssbridgerton @wizardofrozz @vithepotato @mythical-illustrator @loving-the-cambridges

#really wanted to post this for OC sunday so hopefully its still up to standard #oc: whisper #clone oc x reader #oc x reader #whisper x reader #deeja writes

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multi-fan-dom-madness · 5 months

Note

Sooooo I may be a little in love with Drifter 🥺 because of that could we possibly get "your body was made for mine" or "i'll take good care of you, i promise." Whichever you think fits him more (or honestly any other of the prompts I'll take any of em!)

DEEJA!!! I'm just as excited by this ask as the day you submitted it, and I'm still just alandjsjamal over the fact that you asked for my boy Drifter!! I hope this feeds the brainrot <3

Favors and Promises

Summary: After returning from a long campaign, Drifter has only one thing on his mind.

Warnings: 18+ minors get away; f!reader x OC Captain Drifter, oral (f receiving), some slight angst, quiet yet intense feelings, I'm feral for this man & he's from my own brain

Word Count: 717

A/N: Three smut drabbles in one night! no idea where this all is coming from but I won't complain. if you'd like to learn more about Drifter, you can read here, here, and here!

Drifter stands at the edge of your bed, still in his full kit of armor. Only his helmet is removed, tucked under his forearm, propped on his hip. The scuffed forest green paint makes your heart squeeze for a moment, your perceptive eyes picking out all the new scratches and missing flakes of paint that catalog all the near misses he had on this latest deployment. At the very least, his face seems free of any new scars; his eyebrow piercing glints dully just the same. But the ache in your chest only soothes when he tilts his head, his dark gaze catching yours. His eyebrows lift in a silent question.

“Missed you,” is all you say. It’s all you can say—there are not enough words to express how grateful you are that he’s returned to you.

The ghost of a smile graces his features. He’s tired, that much you can tell; but there’s something else lingering in his glimmering amber eyes, something deeper, hungrier, that makes your blood thrill.

“Drifter?” you say, voice hushed, barely audible over the rushing of the incessant Coruscanti skylane traffic.

“Sarad,” he hums. “Can I ask a favor of you?”

Pushing yourself away from the snuggly cocoon of pillows and blankets, you sit up a little straighter. The low rumble of his voice washes over your skin with a shiver. You’re certain the goosebumps that erupt over your bare arms has nothing to do with the arousal pooling in your belly, and everything to do with the chill of the conditioned air.

“Of course, love.” You offer a smile.

He appraises you for a moment in silence. The longer he remains still, the shallower your breathing becomes. His gaze trails down your form, lingering on your bare shoulder where your shirt has slipped down and on your parted thighs where you sit cross-legged. You watch the subtle way he shifts his stance that can only mean one thing—and sure enough, his codpiece doesn’t quite lay flush as it should.

“Let me make you cum on my tongue,” he finally says. “Please.”

Your lips part in a gasp of “oh,” and then you nod frantically, shoving the sheets out of the way. Drifter doesn’t even bother to remove any of his armor, just sets his helmet on the ground with a soft thud before crawling over the bed to you. His lips find yours in a heated kiss, his beard scratching your face in a familiar, soothing burn. You moan into his mouth.

“Missed you,” you repeat, words muffled against his lips, “so much.”

“Me too,” he says. He nudges your face to the side with his nose, then presses hot, open-mouthed kisses down your cheek to your neck. When he laves over the one spot he knows drives you crazy, you arch into him, your hands finally flying to find purchase. One hand buries into his soft curls; the other hastily shoves your sleep shorts down over the swell of your ass.

Drifter nibbles at the juncture of your neck and shoulder as one of his gloved hands trails between your thighs and draws a feather-light trail up your folds. Whimpering, you drag his face back to yours to devour him, teeth clacking together and tongues sliding over one another.

He pushes you firmly onto your back, then pulls away. His eyes are wild with lust; without breaking eye contact, he shuffles down the bed and slings your legs over his pauldrons. The cold plastoid armor makes you hiss, but the discomfort is very quickly forgotten as soon as his hot mouth seals over your pussy and moans.

Fingers tangling in his hair, you catch your bottom lip between your teeth as his tongue darts out to draw light circles around your clit. You dig your heels into his armor, pushing him down into the bed and closer to you.

“D-Drift,” you mumble.

He licks a stripe up your cunt with the flat of his tongue. Already his face bears signs of your arousal, the dark hairs along his upper lip and chin shiny with slick. You whine when he pulls away.

“Shh, shh, mesh’la,” he croons. “I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

He’s never broken a promise to you before, and he certainly doesn’t intend to start tonight.

Ragu: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @bobaprint @lem-hhn @thorsterstrudle @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @cw80831 @dreamie411 @jedi-hawkins @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl @originalcollectionartistry

#clone oc x reader #oc x reader #captain drifter x reader #drifter x reader #rhiwrites #rhiplies #oc: Clone Captain Drifter #my ocs #my blorbos #star wars oc

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fandom-friday · 3 months

Note

@dickarchivist has the MOST BEAUTIFUL clone OCs and I am in love with them! And everyone else should be too! So I am dropping this Specter x Reader fic! It has me so soft!

Vermilion

As a clone OC aficionado, HI HELLO YES I LOVE THIS. And this fic is so cute! I love seeing Specter work through how he feels internally, and I love all of the little quirks about his personality and interest that shine through so you get to know him better. I always find first-person hard to write, so my hat is all the way off to Archie! Thanks so much for the rec!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

#FANDOM FRIDAY #creator appreciation #fic rec #fanfiction #fan fic #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #clone oc #OC Specter #clone oc x reader #clone oc x you #specter x reader #specter x you

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vodika-vibes · 6 months

Note

I’m back with another request for one of your boys from Shadow Squad! This is from the 50 Date Ideas list. Can I request number 18 “Have a home movie night with popcorn and homemade nachos” with Xyn? Xyn deserves some love, too.

-💋 anon

Date Night with Xyn

Summary: You've been dating Xyn for a year, and he's planned all of the dates, at your insistence. But you've finally come up with an idea for a date of your own.

Pairing: Intelligence Officer Xyn (Clone OC) x Reader

Word Count: 666

Warnings: None

Tagging: @kiss-anon @trixie2023

A/N: This is short, and I didn't quite get into a proper date, but, like, I've been married for 7 years and I can count how many dates I've been on on one hand, so-

Divider by Saradika

You nervously flutter from one side of the apartment to the other, making sure that everything is perfect. Of course, it doesn’t have to be perfect, Xyn isn’t the type to notice imperfections unless they’re an active threat to himself, or you, but you notice them and that’s the problem.

You smooth your hand over the soft blanket that Xyn prefers, and then you hurry into the kitchen to check on the nachos and to make sure the popcorn has already been made.

And then you hurry back into the living room to make sure that the movies you prepped for the evening are actually there and you haven’t misplaced them.

This isn’t your first date with Xyn. In fact, you and Xyn have been dating for over a year at this point, and he always makes sure to take you on at least one date a week, even on the weeks that he’s so exhausted that the date is him napping on your couch while you watch reality tv next to him.

You’re not sure why you’re so anxious this time.

Well…no, that’s not true. This is the first time you’re taking the initiative and planning a date for the pair of you.

Xyn never seems to have any problem with it. He always comes up with date plans that are both enjoyable and intimate, seemingly without trying. And here you are, running around like a maniac, trying to make this date half as good as anything he could come up with.

You turn and hurry into the kitchen to check on the nachos, just one more time, and jump when you see Xyn standing in the doorway. “Xyn!” You yelp. “When did you get here?”

His eyebrows creep up his forehead, “A couple of minutes ago. I called your name, but you didn’t hear me, I guess.”

You blush, “I…oh. I’m sorry, I was distracted.”

“I can tell,” His gaze flickers around the room, taking in the setup of the living room and the noticeable scent of popcorn in the air, “What’s all this, cyare? Are you expecting company?”

“Just you,” You reply quickly, “I…uh…wanted to surprise you.” You hurry over to him, and take his hand in both of yours, pulling it up so you’re able to rub your cheek against his roughened palm, “You just…you do so much for me, and I wanted to do the same for you.”

He smiles at you, and you want to swoon for a moment. For all that Xyn looks the most like all of his brothers outside of Shadow, you swear up and down that he’s the most handsome.

“You make it sound like it’s a hardship, cyare.” His voice is soft and gentle, “I like spoiling you.”

“I know, and I love that about you.” You beam at him, “But I want to spoil you too. So-” You lightly tug him over to the couch, “Have a seat. I found some new documentaries that I think you’ll be interested in-”

“You hate documentaries,” Xyn points out as he sits back on the couch and stretches his legs towards the ottoman.

“Well…yes.” You admit, “but you can’t stand the movies that I like, and I want to spend time with you, more than I want to watch movies.”

He smiles, “Okay, what else do you have.”

“Um…I popped popcorn, before you got here. I know you don’t like the sound.” You say cheerfully, “And I made nachos, they’re in the oven right now.”

Xyn’s smile is softer, somehow. “You’re amazing.”

You blush and duck your head, “No I…I’m just me, really.”

He holds his hands out to you, and you take them, squeaking in delight as he tugs you onto the couch with him, “And you are amazing.”

You blush a little more, but shoot him a lovestruck grin, “You do so much more when you plan our dates…but I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

“I get to spend time with you. What’s not to enjoy?”

#star wars #tcw #clone oc x reader #xyn x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction

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dickarchivist · 5 months

Text

Movie Night

Clone oc Banshee × GN!Reader

Word Count 551

Prompt: Cuddling and eventually falling asleep + kiss on the cheek

Rating: PG, but minors DNI still 🔞

Contents and Warnings: MAXIMUM FLUFF, but also reader has depression. This is a cheer up fic

Summary: Banshee comes to the rescue when your depression gets the better of you.

Author's Notes: This is actually really super inspired by @wizardofrozz . I'm very thankful for that.

This is for @clonethirstingisreal !! I super duper messed up and posted their ask too soon. Thank you so much for this prompt. It's very sweet, and I hope you like it ♡♡♡

As always, all Sign will be in italics without quotation marks to show the difference between spoken word and sign.

The rain kept you in that day. At least, that's what you'd told Banshee in your message, canceling your date for a fifth time. It'd been a long time since you'd seen each other, his last deployment had gone on for three months and his time away had given your depression an opening. The thought of Banshee seeing you like this made you sick to your stomach, would he even recognize you? Would he still love you?

But whether you liked it or not, you were getting your answer. There was a hard, strong knocking at the front door, frantic in its energy. You'd never heard Banshee's voice so loud before. The few time he'd spoken in your presence, it was hushed, soft, full of love and Intimacy. But what was in his voice as he yelled your name through the thick door to your flat was fear.

When you finally open the door, the look of terror on Banshee's face makes your heart ache, and when he surges forward to embrace you, you can't help but cry and cling to him. You missed him so much, why'd you keep putting off seeing him?

I'm sorry for just showing up, but I was worried about you, The hurt in his eyes makes your guilt double, but as he signs, it gets worse, Do you want me to leave? Or... or do you want me to stop seeing you?

"No!" You hold his hands, gently rubbing his knuckles with your thumbs, "No, Ban, it's not... please don't go, I... everything just hurts!"

He holds you. In his lap, you feel safe, loved, as he rubs your back and rests his head on yours. You try to explain, try to reason out the depression you struggle with, and you know he's listening by the soft hums of affirmation he's able to give you. After a while, you're not sure how long exactly, Banshee gets up and carries you to your bedroom. There, he stands you up beside your bed, then moves the blankets and pillows around.

Banshee leaves you there a moment, but returns with a holopad and a smile so soft it breaks your heart in the best ways.

Let's have our date.

"Banshee, I- I can't go out right now, I-" he holds his hand up to stop you, and then kicks off his boots. You chuckle as he gets into the bed and holds an arm out to beacon you toward him, "You're joking..."

I never joke about dates with you, Pretty Girl.

As you climb into bed with him, your back pressed against his chest, Banshee throws the blanket over the two of you. He kisses your shoulder and cheek, nuzzles into the crook of your neck, and then presses play on the holopad. A movie starts to play, but you're not paying it much mind. You're focused on the feeling of Banshee around you, his arms holding you close, his heartbeat against your back. Your breathing is syncing up, and his warmth makes all the bad things seem far away.

"'M gettin' sleepy..." you turn your head, and see that Banshee's already out, his face peaceful. As you turn around to embrace him, you place a lingering kiss on his cheek, "Thanks Ban..." Before curling up against your beloved.

Tags under the cut

@anxiouspineapple99 @wolffegirlsunite @wizardofrozz @eclec-tech @dystopicjumpsuit @clonethirstingisreal @wings-and-beskar @sunshinesdaydream @multi-fan-dom-madness @starrylothcat @n0vqni

#from the archivist #grave squad clones #clone oc banshee #clone oc banshee x reader #clone oc banshee x you #clone x reader #clone oc x you #clone oc x reader

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dearcytheris · 2 years

Text

untitled ↠ little lovelies

⤷ part of the {upcoming untitled clip x reader} ‘verse

summary: finally away from the confines of kamino’s medbay, you and commander clip escape to the rainy balcony of the city for a moment to yourselves.

wordcount: 0.7k

warnings: none!

notes: commander clip is my clone oc! doc is a medic stationed on kamino. non-specific reader-insert, gender-neutral

navigation | m.list

MAKER, YOU HADN’T FELT this freedom in a long time; too long, in fact. Running through the stark-white corridors of the facility, Clip’s hand tightly woven around yours, pulling you along with him towards the doors.

You love it.

There’s beads of water splattering across your face, their velocity enough to sting your skin as the wind whips the rain under the roof that covers the platform. The noise is deafening, with the storm raging in the sky and heavy droplets splashing against the aggressive waves below.

You don’t know how long you spend standing there with your eyes closed, just feeling.

When you open them, peeking over at Clip to your right, his eyes are shut too, his head leaned back as he feels, just as you were.

Basking in this all-too-fleeting moment of freedom.

You gently tug on his hand—still clasped within your own—and pull him farther out, the rain heavier and hitting you harder the closer you get to the edge.

Clip glances out at the water one more time before he drags you in closer, your chest flush with his, not an inch of space left between you.

His lips quirk up in a small smile—you notice that happening more and more—before he leans in, resting his forehead against yours.

He whispers something so softly you can’t quite make it out amongst the white noise of the rain pounding against the waves, but it almost sounds like your name.

Your name.

Not doc.

It’s… strangely sweet, from the cold-hearted commander.

You blink at him, opening your mouth to speak; to ask if he really did say your name, but he places a finger over your lips, shaking his head with a grin that slowly spreads across his cheeks.

Clip moves his hand to wrap both arms around your waist, lifting you enough so you’re settled against his chest as he leans back, your knees squeezing the sides of his hips. Your arms reach to encircle around his neck, one hand resting on the back of his head as your fingers tighten in his curls.

He just looks up at you, his hands splayed across your back, with his deep brown eyes drenched in hesitancy as he glances down at your lips before meeting your gaze again.

You roll your eyes before leaning down, your hands cupping his cheeks as your lips crash against his in a blazing kiss.

It’s a long time coming.

You feel his lips curl into a smile beneath yours, his cheeks creasing under your hands. Clip slowly turns, his hands gripping at the fabric of your shirt tightly, as though you’ll disappear if he lets go.

You can’t blame him. You don’t want to let him go either.

Clip’s turns have become quicker and suddenly you’re spinning. It’s so cliche and cheesy, you feel like you’re in a holofilm, but this is so, so much better, so much more rewarding. Because you have him.

Finally. You have him; really and truly, if even just for this brief moment on the deck, quickly getting soaked by the rain. He is yours, and you are his.

The rain is coming heavier now; both your clothes are drenched, but you couldn’t care less.

Clip is slow as he pulls away, his dark eyes glossed and shiny. He sets you down gently, your feet hitting the platform floor with a soft thud.

You don’t move.

Neither does he.

You both know what comes next, and you hope—foolishly so—that if you stay here, with him in the rain, wrapped around each other so tightly it’s almost painful, that the inevitable won’t come. That he’ll stay here, with you, in this prison, on this planet, so distant from where he needs to be.

An alarm sounds off from inside the facility, notifying the staff that medical assistance is required for the incoming ship.

You spare a glance at Clip. He's already looking at you, a moment of melancholy on his face before he steels his expression with a quirk of his lips. “Better get back there, Doc,” he says, cavalier and causal.

It doesn't fool you.

He knows.

Back to work.

#clone trooper x reader #clone oc #clone oc x reader #commander clip x reader #commander clip #little lovelies

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wizardofrozz · 8 months

Text

Dancing with Wolves

Commander Wolffe x Fem!reader x OC Sawbones

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: NSFW, +18, this is just straight filth, no clonecest, spitroast, oral (m receiving), slight anal, threesome, creampie, dirty talk. Let me know if I missed any warnings!

A/N: I'm not even sorry about this lmao. You can also find more about Sawbones here ( xx xx xx xx) if you're interested 🖤

Intense didn’t feel like a strong enough word to describe the situation you had found yourself in. You were on all fours in the middle of your bed, completely bare but definitely not alone. If you glanced over your shoulder, you knew you’d find Sawbones’ eyes practically devouring you and if you looked up, you’d meet the mismatched gaze of the commander kneeling in front of you.

“Ready?” Wolffe murmured, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip.

“You have no idea,” you huffed lightheartedly. Saw’s snort was almost drowned out when Wolffe laughed and you shifted back toward the medic behind you. If you wiggled your hips a bit in the process, well that was your business.

You caught Wolffe’s faint nod, the only warning you got before an arm slid under your hips, yanking you backward until Saw’s cock was pressed between your cheeks. A soft gasp involuntarily left your lips, earning a husky chuckle from over your shoulder.

“Maybe I should’ve taken your ass instead,” Saw mused, his lips brushing your ear. The combination of his suggestion paired with the low rumble of his voice that you hadn’t heard much of made you shiver. “Maybe next time.”

You nodded almost frantically, rocking back against him, desperate for...something. The way his hips jerked slightly told you he wasn’t holding it together quite as well as he was trying to make it seem. Saw immediately straightened after his lapse, one large hand gripping your hips as he lined himself up. You opened your mouth to beg, to plead with him to just fuck you already, when he started to press forward, leaving your mouth hanging open.

For someone so harsh and frankly impatient, he was surprisingly slow as he sank into you; if it was for your benefit or his, you weren’t sure. Saw groaned through clenched teeth when his hips met your ass and it felt like you might combust. Even him just sitting perfectly still inside you had you seeing stars, a soft whimper falling from your lips. It took all your strength to keep your upper body off the bed, and after a few seconds, you finally looked up at the man looming over you.

Wolffe’s eyes were lidded, his hand lazily stroking his flushed cock and the sight alone made your mouth water. His eyes flickered over your head briefly before he shuffled closer, a smug little grin pulling at the corner of his lips when you immediately opened your mouth. You kept your eyes on his face, breathing through your nose when Wolffe slowly slid into your mouth. There was a wet sound from behind you that didn’t quite make sense seeing that Saw hadn't moved.

Your surprised moan was muffled by Wolffe’s cock when a wet finger pressed down on your asshole. The sensation left you reeling as Saw carefully slid his finger in down to the first knuckle. Both men groaned when you whined, inevitably clenching around Saw. He barely gave you a second to comprehend the situation before he was moving again and he didn’t stop until you had taken his entire finger, the rest of his hand coming to rest on your ass.

“Fuck,” Saw grunted, his cock throbbing inside you. “I - I need to move.”

“Hey,” Wolffe said through labored breaths as he lightly tapped your cheek. “Hit my leg if it’s too much, okay?” It took a few seconds for your melted brain to make sense of his command but you eventually tapped his leg to show you understood. “Good girl.”

You had thought this would be a great idea when you met up with the boys at 79s, and while it definitely was, you were absolutely not prepared. Saw moved first, fucking you at a steady pace that was nothing to call home about...until Wolffe started to move too. Once Wolffe found a rhythm, his hands moving to hold the sides of your head as he fucked your mouth, Saw changed his approach.

You let out a muffled cry when Saw’s thrusts turned harsh but what really had your head spinning was that he timed it so he and Wolffe were out of sync, making it so you were never empty. Every hard snap of his hips hit that spot inside you with mind-shattering precision and paired with Wolffe’s velvety skin on your tongue, you felt too close to the edge already.

You cried out again when Saw started to move the finger in your ass in time with his thrusts. It felt like sensory overload and you forced your eyes open, although the sight before you didn’t help much. Wolffe had his head thrown back, mouth hanging open as his broad chest heaved, a thin sheen of sweat making his skin glisten. It made you wish you could see Saw too.

“Stars, you feel so good,” Wolffe panted, prompting another moan to get muffled by his cock.

“Mm, you like to hear how good you are, dontcha sweetheart,” Saw noted with a smug lilt to his voice. You were acting on autopilot at this point, your body simply reacting to stimulation. Which is why you suddenly came with a garbled cry, clenching hard enough to make Saw’s thrusts falter. “Fuck, you really like that.”

“I guess we should keep reminding her then, huh?” Wolffe laughed a little breathlessly, tilting his head down to look at your teary eyes. He lightly brushed a thumb against your temple, his hips slowly slightly as Saw fucked you through waves of pleasure. “I’m gonna fill this pretty mouth of yours while Saw fills your pretty pussy and you’re gonna take it like the good girl you are, aren’t you?"

Realistically, there was no way for you to answer while he actively fucked your mouth but the jerky, desperate nod you managed seemed to be enough of an answer. Wolffe smirked before his hips started to move a tiny fit faster, chasing his release, prompting Saw to do the same. One of Wolffe’s hands moved from your head, slipping down to lightly cup your throat, another groan falling from his lips as he felt himself moving.

Your head was fuzzy, the constant subtle waves of pleasure still lingering from your first orgasm making you feel airy. Everything sharpened suddenly when Saw reached down with his free hand to draw messy circles around your clit, and seemingly out of nowhere, you were teetering on the edge again, the familiar feeling building as both Saw and Wolffe started to lose their rhythm. With one final hard thrust Saw came deep inside you with a moan just as your nose brushed against the patch of hair at the base of Wolffe’s cock as he came down your throat with a muffled groan.

However, Saw didn’t stop circling your clit as he rode out his orgasm, hips twitching against your ass. It was so sudden you were sure that your vision whited out for a moment, your broken scream trapped in your throat as you soaked Saw and the sheets. You were dazed, only vaguely aware of Saw carefully removing his finger from your ass as his soft cock slid out of your pussy and your blurry eyes flickered up Wolffe when he pulled away. The cloth against your face made your lashes flutter but you couldn’t find the willpower to care that you probably looked like an absolute mess.

You whimpered when Wolffe gently grabbed you under the arms, lifting and maneuvering you until you were leaning back against something warm and solid. You could only watch as Wolffe climbed off the bed, staggering a bit as he made his way to the fresher connected to your bedroom. Warm, slightly tacky arms wrapped around your waist and the pieces clicked into place; you leaned into Saw, a dopey grin on your face when a laugh rumbled against your back.

“You did great, sweetheart,” Saw murmured as he kissed your hair, and if it were any other situation you might’ve been floored at how affectionate he was being. But in that moment you appreciated it, melting into his arms. You managed a small smile when Wolffe returned wearing a pair of boxers and holding a washcloth you recognized as one of the ones from your linen closet.

“You were so good, pretty girl,” Wolffe praised as he cleaned you up. He leaned in to press a quick kiss to your lips before continuing to run the warm cloth over your skin. As you drifted off, you found yourself hoping this wasn’t the only time you found yourself in this situation.

You were really hoping to get the chance to cum around Wolffe’s cock and have more than just Saw’s finger in your ass.

Taglist: @a-single-tulip @wings-and-beskar @anxiouspineapple99 @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @msmeredithrose @starrylothcat @wolffegirlsunite @clonemedickix @dukeoftheblackstar

#commander wolffe x reader #clone oc x reader #commander wolffe x reader x clone oc #commander wolffe #OC: CT-2697 Sawbones #star wars #the clone wars

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wild-karrde · 1 year

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Part 3: The Jester

Series Master List | Previous Part | Next Part

A/N: Soooo uhhh... here's Part 3, featuring my favorite boy Chuckles. If you're new, Chuckles has his own fic, One Step at a Time, but I figured it was time he gets some *ahem* love. If you know what I mean. THANK YOU to @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading this for me and screaming with me about the boys. There is absolutely going to be a Part 4, and it will be longer.

Pairings: OC Crater x f!Reader, OC Chuckles x f!Reader, mentioned Gregor x f!Reader

Fic Rating: E (18+ MINORS SKEEDADDLE)

Warnings: language, fingering, PiV sex, anal play, mention of cum eating, marking, sex toy use, mention of foursome (in case you were wondering what Part 4 might entail)

Word Count: 6.5k words

Weeks pass with you and Crater continuing to meet in secret. He already reads you so easily, knowing what you need and when you need it with a shared glance or a subtle touch. There are nights he practically peels you apart until you’re laid bare for him, shuddering in the aftermath of however many orgasms he deemed necessary, but there are also nights where you don’t have sex at all, just enjoying one another’s company like you always have.

Tonight seems as though it’ll be the latter. It’s been a hard week with too many fighters going out and too few returning. Crater’s even lost a few brothers, and yet, somehow, he decided you were the one that needed consoling, showing up late in the evening with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Now, you sit perched on your desk with him in your rickety chair, the two of you a respectable distance apart as you sip the amber liquid in your glasses. Some of his men are still milling around in the hangar outside of your office, and you wonder if it’s to avoid going back to barracks that will be emptier than they were a week ago. You spy Strike, Chuckles, Guin, and even the medics Sticks and Stones speaking quietly to each other. Chuckles catches your eye for a moment before turning and speaking to one of the droids working on his fighter. His words don’t carry to you, but you can see how tired he looks. Grief is a part of the job, but it takes a toll regardless.

Crater’s quiet, his eyes more distant than usual. You suspect he’s doing the same thing as his brothers, biding his time until he’ll be too tired to count the empty bunks and think of their previous occupants. He’s lost fewer men than most, but you know each one weighs heavily on him.

“Rough week,” you murmur, staring into your glass. Not a strong start to a conversation, but you hope it’ll open the door for your friend if he needs it.

“Heard special ops might be back on Coruscant soon,” he notes, purposefully ignoring your statement as he swirls his whiskey. You take the hint, adjusting accordingly.

“Oh?”

“Gregor commed last night. Asking to meet up at 79s when he gets back. Couldn’t give an exact timeframe other than ‘soon’. Sounds like things haven’t gone great for him either the last little bit.”

You hum under your breath. In the chaos of the last week, you’ve hardly thought of the commando. A small pang of guilt settles into your stomach. You still wouldn’t say you like him, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t worry about him. You’re glad to hear he’s safe.

Crater’s studying you, and you meet his gaze.

“What?”

“He asked how you were.”

Your entire body suddenly feels warmer, and you take a sip of your drink to try and hide it, even though you know that won’t work with Crater.

“You gonna see him?” he asks.

You shrug. “Dunno.”

“I won’t be jealous.”

You smirk into your glass. “Wasn’t particularly worried about that.”

Crater taps his fingers on the arm of the chair. “You given any thought to what I mentioned a while back? With him and Chuckles?”

A jolt of electricity licks up your spine as the memory takes hold of you. You laying on your bed with Crater’s cock buried deep in your ass while he fucks you into your mattress, sweat slicking your skin as he whispers filth in your ear.

“I bet you’d love to have Gregor’s cock in here too. Maybe he takes your sweet little cunt while I pound your ass. But that still leaves your mouth. Maybe I get Chuckles in here to fuck that smart little mouth while Gregor and I take you. Would you like that, pretty girl? To be ruined by three men at once?”

Yeah, you’ve given that plenty of thought.

You shift as your cunt clenches around nothing, and Crater huffs before taking another drink.

“You want me to talk to him and Chuck?”

You catch your lip between your teeth. “If you did, I’d want the rules to be the same as they are with us. And we’d need to be careful.”

“Of course.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and lowering his voice. “I’d already planned on making the ground rules clear if you wanted me to approach them. They’ll know the limits and boundaries. The big thing I need to know from you is what you are looking to get out of it. How you’d want it to go.”

You allow your gaze to drift back out to where Chuckles is standing with his brothers.

There’s always been something between you and Chuck, although neither of you have ever made a move to explore it more. You’ve often found yourself snuggling into his side at 79s, even sitting on his lap a few nights, his hand settling protectively on your lower back as the two of you cackle uproariously at whatever antics are taking place around you. But you’d never thought there was anything more to chase after. Especially not after some of the fights you’ve had. And he’s never approached you, not like Gregor or Crater have, so you’ve always assumed there isn’t much interest on his part. But still, you know you trust him. And if you’re honest, before Crater came along, when you were alone in your bunk at night with your fingers buried in your cunt, it was a different member of the 28th who you cried out to as you came undone.

Crater’s staring at you, waiting for your response, and the corner of his mouth twitches, as if he can read your mind. You stutter out a response, hoping to distract him and derail your thoughts of Chuckles.

“I’d want… I’d want it to be something to blow off steam. I’m not really looking to be romanced or anything.”

“You never are.”

You huff indignantly and toss a wadded up piece of flimsi at him. He catches it, eyes boring into you. You haven’t said exactly what you desire, and he knows it. His voice is a low rasp, and you feel your face heat even though you are certain no one outside of the office can hear him.

“Ask for what you want, pretty girl.”

“I-I want it to be rough. I want the three of you to use me. I’d want to feel it the next day. I want to get out of my head, and help you all do that as well.”

Crater watches you for another moment before leaning back in the chair. “I think we can manage that. I’ll talk to them both when Gregor is planetside. If that’s what you want.”

It’s his last check for your confirmation, ensuring you’re really all in on this.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “It is.”

He nods. “Good. Now, what do you need tonight?”

You’re taken aback. You didn’t think he’d be up for anything right now, and you certainly weren’t about to ask, but his posture has shifted to something less rigid. His legs are splayed a little wider, and he seems more relaxed, and now you find yourself wondering if this isn’t just for your benefit. He’s relaxed with you, and maybe you can finally help him for once, taking him out of his head in the same way he does to you. You don’t want him thinking about empty bunks or burning fighters.

You hop off the desk, standing over him until you have one of his thighs straddled between your knees.

“I need you to take what you want from me, Crater. And then I need you to sleep here with me.”

He knows what you’re doing, and you think he’s going to push back on the second half of your request for a moment. Instead, he tosses back the rest of his whiskey without breaking eye contact, letting one hand drift to your thigh, gripping you firmly and rubbing circles with his thumb against the fabric of your jumpsuit.

“Alright. Close the door then.”

You step away from him and head towards the entrance to your office. You can see the hangar has mostly emptied now, with the final few stragglers heading for the exit. Chuckles is among them, the last one out. As you go to shut your door, he turns back and meets your eyes. You can see his gaze flick to Crater, still in your office, before it moves back to meet your face. There’s something in those familiar brown irises that you can’t identify, and you briefly consider calling out to him. But before you can make up your mind, he puts on his helmet and leaves.

Something in your stomach twinges, but you ignore it.

You shut the door.

—

A few rotations later, you’re in your office when there’s a soft knock at the door.

“Come in.”

Crater enters, helmet still on.

“You busy?”

“No more than usual,” you reply without looking up from the datapad you’re punching away on.

He doesn’t remove his helmet. “Color?” His voice is lower in the modulator, almost as if he’s whispering.

You inhale sharply, finally looking up at him. His head is tilted to the side, evaluating you. He’s never come to you in the middle of the day before. And you suddenly realize why he’s probably here.

“Green,” you breathe.

He closes and locks the door, and without another word, he goes to your makeshift bedroom, returning a moment later with your plug.

“Strip and bend over the desk.”

You can’t shuck off the top of your jumpsuit fast enough, dragging your panties with it to your knees and bending over. You rest your elbows on the wooden surface as you have many times before with him, unleashing a shuddering exhale as he comes to stand behind you.

“Gregor’s back,” he rasps as he pulls your top desk drawer open, retrieving the bottle of lube you’ve hidden there for your more impromptu encounters in your office. You hear it click open, and you shudder with anticipation. “Chatted with him and Chuckles this morning. If you’re still alright with it, we’ll be by this evening after Gregor and I get out of our briefings.”

“Lucky for you, my schedule is clear,” you tease. You and Crater both know you hardly ever have plans.

He dips his helmet in a nod. His gloved hand comes to rest on your back, arching it slightly until your ass is presented to him. You feel some lube dribble onto your asshole, and you shudder at the chill as he presses the plug against you, working it in and out of you slowly until it’s fully nestled inside of you.

“If I had time, I’d break you in myself right now, but that’ll have to wait until tonight. Leave that in,” he growls. “And wear something nice.”

“Yes, sir,” you pant. You don’t know how you’re going to get through the next few hours like this.

“And don’t you dare go back there and touch yourself,” he warns.

You whine.

“I’ll see you tonight, pretty girl.” And with that, he slips out of your office, leaving you stripped bare and bent over your desk, trying to catch your breath. You slam the button under your desk that locks the door again, bracing yourself on your palms as you try to get your legs to stop quivering at the feeling of the plug pressed inside you.

Fuck.

You stumble into your back room on wobbly legs, wanting desperately to climb into your bed and stuff your pussy full with your vibrator. But Crater always knows somehow when you disobey him. Last time, he tied you up with some silk rope and toyed with you until you cried and begged for release. The rope was still tucked in your bedside drawer, a silent threat.

Not what I’m looking for tonight. More hoping for instant gratification. So I’ll behave. This time.

You quickly dig through your crate of clothes, finally finding the parcel you’d purchased a while back. Ever since you and Crater started sleeping together, you’ve tried to find a few more pieces of lingerie to add to your sparse wardrobe. Nothing expensive since you’re on a budget and Crater has a penchant for tearing delicate fabrics, but this one you’ve been saving for a special occasion. It’s a dark grey bra and panty set that matches the grey accents on the 28th Combat Wing’s armor perfectly. The lace tickles your skin as you pull it on, and you glance at yourself in the mirror briefly, admiring the way your breasts are pushed together. A tiny fake gemstone sits embedded on a charm that dangles between your breasts. It’s a deep magenta, the main color of the 28th. It really had been too ideal to pass up.

Perfect.

You pull your jumpsuit back on, trying not to think too hard about how full you feel as you recompose yourself and step back out into the garage.

The hours drag on. For better or worse, no one really bothers you, and you are able to mostly remain in your office, leaving you squirming in private as you try to get through your paperwork while not thinking about how tonight's going to go. When you finally hear the main lighting systems begin to power off, signaling the end of the day, you can’t help but sigh in relief. Stretching your arms above your head, you stand, heading out in the garage to make sure everything got put away properly at the end of the day and that all of the droids made it back to their docks.

It’s almost deafeningly silent in the darkness, and you keep to the path illuminated by the emergency lighting, taking your usual route through the hangar. Everything looks to be in order until a loud clanging sound makes you jump.

You halt and hear another loud clatter followed by a few muttered curses and some indignant beeping, making you pause in the darkness. Under one of the emergency light beams, you spot movement. A mohawked head pokes up out of a cockpit of a Headhunter, and you watch as a tool is tossed out of the fighter, hitting the floor with a loud clang right next to a borderline belligerent droid. You sigh, heading over to see what the fuss is about.

Chuckles is hunched over in his Z-95, muttering to himself as you quietly ascend the stepladder he’s pulled up next to the fighter. His armor is stacked on the ground next to the ladder, and as you reach the top step, you see he’s changed into a black tank top rather than his regulation undershirt with the Republic cog emblazoned across the chest. He’s leaning forward, giving you a view of some of the lines of the tattoo on his shoulder blade, flexing in the dim lighting as he grumbles unintelligibly. His arms and shoulders have several long, deep scars on them, more than Crater or any other pilot you’ve seen. Even his knuckles and fingers have a few light patches where the skin has had to heal. You wonder what caused them, and wonder if it’s tied to the large scar on his face. He’s burrowed under the flight controls, unaware of your presence, and you watch him for a few moments before leaning forward.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask at a volume that’s slightly louder than necessary.

Chuck jumps, smacking his head on the underside of the console with a loud curse. You giggle as he sits back in the seat, rubbing the back of his head and glaring at you.

“What the kriff, Bolts?”

“I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing in here?”

“My karking eject handle isn’t working.”

“You know you shouldn’t pull that in the garage, right?”

He glares at you again. “I’m well aware. But I can’t even get it primed. Something’s jammed.”

You raise an eyebrow down at the droid, R0-G3, that’s parked just below, who beeps to inform you he was in the process of repairing it when Chuckles showed up.

“Why can’t you let Rog do it? That’s his job.”

Rog beeps angrily in agreement, and Chuckles glowers at him. “He said he wasn’t going to finish it until tomorrow, and I won’t have time to check it tomorrow before we head out the next day.”

The droid beeps again, flashing his charge indicator, which is warning him it’s starting to get low. It seems he’s expended a good chunk of energy arguing with the pilot. You chew the inside of your cheek, something telling you there’s more to the story here.

“Why do you need to check it? Don’t trust the quality of work around here?”

Chuckles freezes, unable to meet your eyes. “Of course I do. It’s not that, it’s just…” He sits back heavily in the seat, his eyes fluttering closed as he releases a long sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. You jerk your head at R0-G3, and he takes his leave, rolling off towards the far door that leads to the chargers. You lean on the edge of the cockpit, resting your chin on your forearms.

“Alright. You wanna talk about it?”

“Not especially,” he mumbles from beneath his fingers.

You pick at some of the paint that’s peeling along one metal seam, changing tacks. “Crater talked to you about tonight, right?”

One of his eyes appears between his fingers, locking with yours. “Yeah. He said you’re onboard with it. That you asked.” For a moment, his gaze is as piercing as his brother’s, and you fight the urge to squirm as he analyzes you.

“I did.”

He hums, letting his hands drop to his lap and studying you. “I need to get this fixed tonight. Don’t really want to get into specifics. Just needs to be done. Even if I miss…all that.”

You nod, noting the way his fingers brush the scar on his cheek that you’d always thought of as sort of his trademark. The damaged skin seems to pull his mouth into a perpetual smirk, but to you it has always been obvious that the event that caused it was anything but joyous.

“If that’s the case, then we’d really better get this fixed,” you conclude, and before he can protest, you scale the rest of the ladder and climb into the cockpit with him, settling into his lap. He inhales sharply, and you wiggle your hips a little bit more than necessary as you duck under the console, pressing your ass against where his codpiece would normally be. It doesn’t take long before you feel something else that’s hard as plastoid pressing against you.

“BOLTS! Maker almighty, what the kriff are you doing?”

“Helping you fix your ship. That’s my job.”

You pull a penlight from your breast pocket and click it on, turning upside down to examine the eject mechanism under the seat. Everything looks normal.

“Try to arm it for me.”

Chuck sighs above you, but leans over you, one hand resting on your hip as the other flicks the eject switch on his console. You see the indicator light blink green, and you cautiously reach your hand out to the handle.

“There should be a little give if it’s actually disengaged,” Chuckles says. “If there’s no give, then it’s not actually armed.”

You gingerly tap the handle, and he’s right, the thing doesn’t budge a millimeter.

“Hm.” You trace the connection along the floorboards, following it under the flight console to where you originally found Chuck. “Can you hand me the driver that’s in my right back pocket?” you ask.

He huffs.

“It’s right there, Chuckles. And if Crater actually talked to you, that’s going to be one of the more tame things you’re doing tonight.”

You feel his cock jump where it’s pressed against your ass, and you playfully grind backwards a bit. The grip on your hips tightens, and Chuck huffs again before you feel a tug on your back pocket and the tool is thrust under the panel at you.

“See, teamwork makes the dream work,” you snicker. You can practically feel his eyes roll at you, but he doesn’t say anything else.

It only takes you a few moments to pry the panel loose and find the wiring. You can’t keep from wiggling and pressing back into Chuckles, and about the fifth time you do, you swear you feel him grind against you, but you ignore it, focused on your task.

You finally find the source of the issue, a broken connection in the wiring, and you tap his thigh, reaching behind you again. “Soldering iron. Other back pocket.” He hands it to you without protest this time, and within a few moments, you’ve got the connection fixed and look back between your and Chuck’s boots at the indicator light for the eject. It’s still on, but this time, when you tap the handle, there’s give. You sit up, your hair flying in every direction, grinning triumphantly. “Think I got it, but double-check that’s what you’re looking for.”

Chuckles leans over you, but without you climbing out of the cockpit, there’s not much room. He winds up practically doubled over you, his breath hot against the back of your neck as his fingers find the handle. You watch him give a slight tug, just enough to move it slightly.

“That’s it,” he says directly into your ear. “Perfect.” There’s a pause before he leans a little more forward and kisses your cheek. “Thanks, Bolts.”

Your face flushes with heat as he sits back, which feels ridiculous. This man is going to claim every part of you later if things go to plan, but here you are, giddy over a kiss on the cheek. “No problem,” you murmur, keeping your voice steady despite your fluttering stomach. “Now make sure it’s off so we don’t both get thrown out of here.”

You hear him huff a laugh as he leans forward and disarms the eject while you clamber back under the console to replace the panel. Once that’s done, you sit back against him, propping one foot up and allowing your head to drift back against his shoulder.

As much as you two bicker like drunken Jawas sometimes, Chuckles has always been your friend, another person you trust, even if you want to push him in front of a speeder at times. He takes your tools from you, carefully setting them on the top of the ladder before wrapping one arm around your waist, hesitantly letting the other hand rest on your thigh.

A silence settles between you two as you sit pressed together. You allow your hand to drift over his, resting there, and he presses his cheek against your forehead. You can feel the day-old scruff against your skin. His chest rises and falls, pressing against you, and with every passing breath, the anticipation seems to grow, making the air around you feel charged with electricity. This isn’t the first time you’ve sat like this with him, but normally, it’s done out of necessity, squishing together in a booth as more brothers arrive at 79s. Chuck’s hand has often found a place on your thigh, resting comfortably there. It thrilled you in the past, even though you’d always figured it would go no further.

You both know tonight is different.

Finally, he breaks the silence.

“So why me?” he asks. “Gregor and you needed to fuck it out. Crater’s… well he’s Crater. But why involve me?”

You reach up, letting your hand rest against his unmarred cheek. He doesn’t pull away, but watches you carefully. “Because I trust you, Chuckles. You’re right, Gregor started as a way to blow off steam. And so did Crater. But I wanted to… explore something, and Crater and I both agreed you and Gregor are the ones to explore with. I know whatever happens tonight will stay between us and won’t wind up scratched into a ‘fresher stall at 79s.” You swallow hard. “And… I care about you, more than I think you realize.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You sigh. “Do you trust me?”

His brows knit together. “Of course.”

“With your life?”

“Where’s this going, Bolts?”

You interlace your fingers with his. “Did you know, I check every fighter that leaves this place myself? That is what’s going to happen tomorrow night before your squad leaves the following morning. I will be up all night if I have to, double-checking every millimeter of your fighter to make sure it’s up to snuff and will bring you back here.” You pause again, meeting his eyes. “Bring you back here to me.”

Something shifts in his gaze, and his expression softens. He squeezes your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles. “The eject didn’t work right when I got this,” he says quietly, tapping his scarred cheek. “I was in an uncontrolled spin, losing altitude, and no matter how hard I pulled, the damn thing wouldn’t work. When it finally did work, it launched me into the canopy, and that’s when I got cut. Broke more bones than I can count. Punctured a lung. And then I hit the water. Thought I was going to drown because I was too hurt to swim, and water was just leaking into my mouth through my cheek. It… it was the most scared I’ve ever been. I don’t want that to ever happen again. If I go out, I want it to be quick. I-I don’t want to have time to think about it. So, I always check.”

Your chest aches as you turn in his lap to straddle him, bringing your hands up to cradle his face, finally running your thumb along the raised skin on his cheek where the canopy’s transparisteel sliced him open. His eyes bore into you for a moment before he closes them, relaxing into your touch. Your heart twists at the thought of him, broken and bloodied in the seas of Kamino with his face flayed open, certain he’s going to die.

You kiss him.

It’s gentle and tender. There will be time for hunger and urgency later, but right now, you want to reassure him. You want him to know how much he means to you, that you care for him, and above all, you want him to know that he can trust you.

And something sparks within you as he kisses you back.

He’s careful and slow, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him. Warmth floods through you as he hesitantly traces his tongue along your lower lip, and you allow him entry, burying one hand in his short mohawk and cupping his jaw with the other. He probes your mouth gently, and you feel him melt into you, his grip loosening on you but still keeping you pressed against him. You’ve kissed Crater, hells, you’ve even kind of kissed Gregor, but nothing felt like this. Chuckles is consuming you, and you know you could easily get lost in him just like this. You want to, but after a few moments, you rest your forehead against his, stroking his cheek gently. “I will never let that happen to you again, Chuckles. Ever. You are too important to me.”

He meets your gaze for a few moments, and something unspoken flickers in his eyes before his face breaks out into a grin. “You know, if I’d known all this, I might have tried to get you out of that jumpsuit sooner.”

You understand what he’s doing; he’s not good with sentimentality. He’s always dealt with humor. He’s allowed his jester’s mask to drop more than he ever has before, and you will treasure the trust he put in you in that instant, but if he’d allowed the moment to linger, it wouldn’t be Chuckles.

But you also can’t deny that you already want to kiss him again.

Instead, you roll your eyes, turning around to face forward once more and resting your back against his chest. His hands slide down to your hips, and you feel him readjust. He’s still hard as durasteel, maybe more so now. You give a playful grind, and he gasps behind you.

“You’re playing dirty, Bolts,” he growls in your ear.

“I thought you liked it dirty. Weren’t you the one just talking about getting me out of my clothes?”

His fingers slide to your stomach, tracing the zipper of your jumpsuit upwards until he snags the tab up by your throat. “Indeed I was.” He playfully nips at your earlobe, pulling you closer with his other arm. “You got any cameras in here?”

“I’m flattered you think I have that kind of budget.”

He tugs the zipper down. “Good.”

You lean into him, allowing your head to fall back against his shoulder as he fully unzips your jumpsuit. He rests his chin on your shoulder, watching hungrily as each new centimeter of your skin is exposed to him. When the zipper is all the way down, he slips his hands inside of the rough fabric, tracing his fingers from your collarbone to your breasts before he gently cups the lacey grey garment you’ve chosen for this evening.

“This feels rather impractical and fancy,” he hums in your ear. He pinches the charm in the middle, huffing a laugh. “Pretty though. Especially on you. Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

You shrug out of the top half of your suit, trying to hide the way your lips quirk at his praise and the heat in your face. He trails kisses along your bare shoulders as he helps you push the rough material downwards. “Very impractical,” you agree. “But not expensive. Meant to be ripped off of me.”

He laughs again, a low growl that rumbles through you, and his hands are on your skin again, rough and warm as you sit nearly bare in his lap. He slips one hand inside your bra, grazing your nipple and causing you to writhe in his grip. He squeezes your breast and you moan. “Lift your hips,” he grunts in your ear, and a thrill shoots through you. You comply, and he manages to push your suit down past your knees, helping you as you kick it the rest of the way off along with your boots. You go to pull your panties down too, but he stills your hand. “Leave them on.”

You sit back, and Chuckles immediately groans. His fingers reverently trace over your abdomen before they find their way between your legs, parting your thighs, and he inhales sharply when he feels the warm dampness there.

“Matching panties? And you’re soaked. Bolts, you’re filthy.”

His fingers are thick and warm against the seam of your undergarments before he slips his fingers under the lace, running his digits through your slick and bringing it to his lips. He moans as he tastes you.

“Fuck, you taste good.”

“You wanna taste more?” you ask, quivering as his fingers glide back between your legs.

“Not yet. Right now, I want to fuck you in this cockpit. I wanna think about how your pretty pussy feels wrapped around my cock when I’m flying.”

“Sounds distracting,” you reply in a tone far breathier than you care for.

“I hear I think better with my dick anyway,” he counters as he toys with your clit.

“Crater said to wait for them,” you gasp, desperately clinging to the last of your resolve.

“Since when do you take orders from the captain?” he teases, grazing his teeth along the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. “I thought it was your garage, your rules.”

“Since he started leaving handprints on my ass for disobeying him.”

He hums as he slips a finger inside you. “Seems like you want it right now though. I’d slide right in no problem with as wet as you are.” He nuzzles against your ear as he adds another digit and starts driving his fingers into you, rutting against your ass. You moan as he slips his fingers in and out of you, digging your nails into his arm. “Do you want my cock right now?” he rasps in your ear.

You hope Crater will appreciate how compromised you were later as you grind against Chuckles’s palm.

It’s really his fault for not getting here sooner.

“I want it. I want you to fuck me,” you moan.

“Lift your hips again for me then.”

You obey as Chuckles rolls down his pants enough to pull his cock out, pulling your panties to the side and notching himself at your entrance. You feel his knuckles graze you as he pumps himself. His other hand grips your waist.

“Sit.”

You sink down slowly on him, and you hear his head thunk against the headrest of the seat as you clench, gradually adjusting around him until you’re fully seated in his lap.

“Can feel the plug in your ass,” he grits out. “Crater said you might let us all take you at once, but I didn’t think he meant there. Maker, I can’t wait to feel you.”

You give him another squeeze, trying to pretend you have an ounce of composure as his fingers find their way back between your legs, playing with your clit.

You’re glad the garage is empty as you and Chuckles give into your carnal desires in the seat of his cockpit. You start off grinding slowly against him, allowing your walls to adjust around his thick member before you begin carefully bouncing up and down on him, ensuring to keep the head of him inside you before you drop back down on his thighs. It doesn’t take long for the wet slaps of your cunt slamming against him and your moans to start echoing throughout the empty garage.

He’s a talker. Of course he is.

“Maker, Bolts. I never thought you’d let me fuck this sweet little cunt. I’ve fisted my cock so many times, thinking about what it’d feel like to have you wrapped around me like this, but you’re so much warmer and wetter than I ever could have imagined. You’re like a fucking vice. I’m gonna fill you tonight. Take you in every way I can. Fuck, how are you so soft?” He presses against the small of your back, tipping you further forward as he thrusts up into you. His fingers trace the bruises on your hips and ass. “Crater leave these?”

“Mhm,” you moan, catching your lip between your teeth as he presses gently against the marks.

“You gonna let me leave some of my own tonight, sweetheart? Gonna let me brand you when I claim you?”

“Fuck, yes, Chuckles.”

He groans, gripping your hips harder. You brace yourself against the edges of the cockpit, ignoring the burning in your thighs and calves as they protest the awkward position. It’s nothing compared to the feeling of Chuckles inside of you, and right now, that’s all that matters to you as you chase your pleasure. You’ve been wound up all day, and Chuckles is finally giving you what you’d longed for, rubbing your thighs together at your desk for hours.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps guide you up and down. Sweat dribbles between your breasts as you ride him frantically, chasing your high. He adjusts, and suddenly he’s hitting the perfect spot inside of you. Your head tips back and your brows pinch together as you frantically roll your hips, trying to ensure the head of his cock strokes the same place again and again.

“‘M so close, Bolts. Gonna cum in this pussy right now and then gonna have you clean my cock off. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fuck, I can’t wait to fuck your ass. You’re gonna be screaming my name all night, sweetheart. You close?”

You whine as he slips his hand back between your legs, circling your clit. “Yeah. Yeah I’m close.”

“Gonna cum on my cock, Bolts?”

“Not if she doesn’t want to get edged until she’s crying for the rest of the night,” a voice calls out from the darkness.

You and Chuckles freeze in the cockpit as two figures step into the light: Crater, who’s glaring at you, and Gregor, wearing a cocky smirk. Both of them are stripped down to only their under suits and boots, and Gregor’s wearing a tank top of some burger joint you don’t recognize, but it shows off his arms nicely. Both of them have bedrolls slung over their shoulders. Chuckles’s thumb rubs against your hip, and you clench around him.

“I thought I told you to behave yourself,” Crater reminds you, his tone the low and dangerous baritone you’re more than familiar with.

“Technically, you told me not to touch myself in the backroom of my office. And I didn’t,” you reply sweetly.

“You’re right, she is a brat,” Gregor giggles.

“Better a brat than an asshole,” you pant, ignoring how relieved you are to hear his ridiculous laugh again.

Gregor is completely unphased by your words, snickering as he climbs the ladder, leaning on the edge and looking over your body. “Good to see you too, Bolts,” he jeers, gripping your chin and kissing you. You dig your teeth into his lower lip defiantly, and he grunts. Chuckles gives an indignant huff, thrusting up into you slightly to remind you he’s still there. You squeeze him as hard as you can and he groans as you release Gregor.

“I still fucking hate you, but I’m glad you’re safe,” you mutter.

Gregor just winks at you.

“Out of the fighter, you two,” Crater growls. You playfully roll your eyes, but oblige. Chuckles gasps when his cock slips from you, still hard and now glistening from being inside of you.

“Sorry,” you whisper teasingly. “More where that came from though. Promise.” You kiss him again before readjusting your lingerie and climbing down the ladder, coming to stand in front of Crater. His eyes are practically glowing.

“Think you’re cute, don’t you?” he says quietly.

You shrug. “Like I said, didn’t technically disobey.”

His fingers reach out, toying with the charm between your breasts. “Well, we’ll see how long that technicality deprives you of an orgasm tonight.”

You shiver but try to keep yourself composed. “Chuckles, can you hand me down my suit and boots?”

The pilot goes to toss them to you, but Crater snatches them out of the air. “Oh no you don’t. You wanted to get out of your clothes so much, you can walk back to your office like that.”

You open your mouth to retort, and Crater raises his eyebrow in warning. You’ve come to recognize that look and all that it entails if you keep pushing your luck, so instead, you tuck your tongue in your cheek haughtily.

“Alright then.”

A/N: Part 4 soon... and it's gonna be another one over 10k words.

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