#is this how you draw a tooka

[justablah56]

If you don't have to much going on, my I ask for a Normal Oak dying in a glue trap drawing?

yeah ofc anon !

I give you both a colored and non colored versions bcs I just think it's silly <3

#my art #anon i hope you know how much fun this was to draw #who was gonna tell me how fun it is to draw characters dying in a glue trap #also sorry this tooka while i kept laughing every time i looked st this #dndads #dndaddies #dungeons and daddies #normal oak #normally oak swallows garcia #normal swallows oak garcia

[wyvernsrus]

#my art #commander thire #commander fox #commander thorn #Im telling you he wanted to match his big brother #Fox wont admit it but he teared up he was honored #how do you draw salt and pepper hair? #no idea #so we winged it #They keep the Tooka #Thire does atleast #Their name is Tod #Fox teared up but Thorn cried #Stone finds out later and calls dibs on Thire being his favorite #I feel like there is a collective hive mind of Thorn being blonde and I'm here for it

[se-agapo-skywalker]

The Old Man and the Sea

Flashbacks are italicized

CW: age gap (dilf!Luke Skywalker), oral sex (f!receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), unprotected sex, usage of petname "master," mild degradation

"You are no Jedi... nor am I." Luke's back faces you, his solemn eyes cast upon the sea. "I cannot train you."

You reach out to touch his shoulder. "Master, please-"

He flinches away from you, almost recoiling in disgust and shock, all the while keeping his face away from yours. "I already told you. That title no longer means anything to me."

"Then what should I call you? Sir?"

He sighs and shakes his head. "No, I'm not that old..."

"Mr. Skywalker?"

"Too formal."

You pause to think, considering your words carefully. "...How about just Luke?"

Finally, he turns his head to look at you. His eyes reflect a strange vulnerability, sadness and fondness all mixed into one, emotions he tries to keep as hidden as possible. He isn't doing a very good job.

Luke nods, silently, once again casting his eyes down to avoid your gaze. "Just Luke."

Snuggled up into Luke's side, you twirl a lock of his hair around your finger and sigh. His head is leaned back against the pillow, eyes closed, breathing slowly and quietly. You smirk to yourself at the sight of him laying there so peacefully--he's spent to the point of appearing fast asleep.

For a man of his age, his stamina is quite impressive--pinning you beneath him, driving into you at a pace that has you moaning his name over and over--but once he's out, he's out. It's rather cute, to be honest... yet you can't help but wonder if he drifts into sleep so easily because he can't stand to be awake.

You've found that when he isn't doing menial chores, Luke spends most of the day either staring at the sea, walking along the cliffs, or doing who knows what inside of his hut. Perhaps he's meditating, or sleeping, whatever an old Jedi does to pass the time when he so clearly hates his life--you almost feel sorry for him. Almost, as every attempt you make to connect with him is met with disdain or rejection. Usually both.

Still, the Temple Island isn't big enough for you two to ignore each other entirely, no matter how hard he might try. Your paths intercept too frequently, much to his chagrin and your delight. There's something strangely magnetic about him--beneath his gloomy exterior lies the remnants of his grace and discipline, the dignified power of the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order.

It's something you're determined to bring out again.

Luke stirs a bit, shifting in the bed slightly. With confirmation that he's indeed still awake, your hand wanders to his face, delicately stroking his beard.

"One more round?" you ask, voice sweeter than honey. You already know the answer--most likely a no--but it doesn't hurt to try.

He groans softly. "I don't know if I have it in me, starlight." Blue eyes squint open to meet yours, a smile growing on your lips, and he scowls. "What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing, I just think you're cute," you laugh, and he furrows his brow.

"Sweetheart, calling me cute is like calling the sky red."

"But it is red, during the sunset!"

"You know what I mean."

Knowing there's no reasoning with you, Luke relents to your will as you lean over to kiss him. He must think you're impossible--you're certain he does--but that's what keeps on drawing him back to you. At least, that's what stops him from turning you away.

Knocking on the door of Luke's hut, you wince. What were you thinking, coming to him like this, drenched in rain during the middle of the night? He's sure to think you're crazy, if he doesn't already. You shiver as the water continues to pour down, making your hair and clothes stick to your body like a wet tooka as it positively soaks you to the bone--you don't even know why you're here, if you're being honest with yourself.

Finally, the door opens. There stands Luke, your reluctant teacher, the man who's been avoiding your friendship for all this time, looking upon you with annoyance and confusion.

"Why are you here?" is all he says, eyes flicking across your wet form. You scratch the back of your neck self-consciously.

"I... I needed you," is all you manage to say in response.

"For what reason?"

"I don't know." You look down at your feet guiltily. "Something in the Force is telling me to be here."

He scoffs, clearly not believing you, but shakes his head and beckons you over. "Well, come in before you get sick," he grumbles, and you follow him inside as the door shuts behind you.

His hut is simple, not far from what you'd expect the living space of an old Jedi hermit to look like. Old sacred texts are scattered about, and so are his robes; he's currently dressed in simple nightclothes, ones that you briefly find yourself staring at.

No, no, you shouldn't look at him like that--especially not when he's standing right in front of you. But you could've sworn earlier that he looked at you the same way when you stood outside his door, wet clothes clinging to your body... You didn't mean to, well, approach him like that. But here you are, standing in his room and shivering before him as water dripped from you onto the floor.

Seemingly reading your mind, Luke finally breaks the silence--"You know, you should probably change out of those clothes and warm up."

"And change into what?" you ask, cheeks starting to burn.

A quick flash of embarrassment crosses his face, but he quickly conceals it. "I, um... something. This," he says, tossing his cloak to you. "I'll turn around."

You keep your eyes on him as he turns around and awkwardly goes to sit on his bed... and you swear you see him take a pillow into his lap. Slowly, you start peeling off your wet clothes; it's quite the thrill, being this exposed near him, something you'd never anticipate you'd do. If you were in your right mind, you wouldn't--but you aren't, and here you are.

After stripping out of the last of your clothes, you wring your hair out a bit and drape Luke's cloak around your shivering, nude form. It's quite warm, made of thick bantha wool, and it smells like him, although you manage to fight the temptation to bury your face in it. He's right in front of you, anyway.

"I-I'm done," you manage to say.

"Please, tell me... why are you really here?" Luke responds, not even turning around to look at you. "You're welcome to stay until the storm dies down, but if you're here to torment me, don't."

You grab onto the ends of the cloak, keeping them secure to preserve your modesty as you move to sit next to him. Startled a bit by your boldness, he finally looks over at you, and there's something in his eyes you can't quite recognize.

You take a deep breath and exhale. "Look, I don't know why I'm here. I don't know why it's storming, and frankly, I don't know why I'm naked, but here we are. But I think we've both noticed how we can't exactly stay away from each other, no matter how hard we try--how hard you try. I'm not here to hurt you, Luke, I only came to Ahch-To to find you, to see that you're still alive. And now that I know you, I..."

In a move that nearly knocks you off his bed, Luke slowly reaches out with his flesh hand to brush a wet strand of hair out of your face. "I know."

By some strange string of fate, or perhaps by the will of the Force itself, you find your lips meeting his. His beard is rough, scratchy. You wouldn't have it any other way. His lips, apprehensive at first, move against yours rather sloppily, either out of desperation or out of inexperience--although you wouldn't fault him for either. It's not like you're particularly experienced, you never quite had the time, and you aren't opposed to the two of you learning together. The student becomes the master, the master becomes the student...

"Master," you breathe out, "please."

Luke's lips trail from your lips to your jaw, and then to your neck, pressing plenty of ticklish kisses in his wake. His hands move to gently grip the side of your face and back of your neck, careful not to mess with the cloak. Part of you wonders if he ever will, if he's willing to go that far, perhaps even in this sitting. A Jedi would show restraint; yet he is one no longer.

In what can only be interpreted as him sensing your thoughts, Luke stops his advances to look at you, lustful eyes now showing with worry. "Are... are you sure you want this?"

You grab his mechanical hand--you quite like the feeling of the flesh hand on your neck--and bring it to the fastener of the cloak, not undoing it, but letting him know it's an option. "More than anything."

Luke's change in demeanor from grumpy to surprisingly gentle is intoxicating, shocking you in the best way possible--you knew this side of him was still there, you just knew it, and you're so glad you finally have confirmation of it. Peering over, however, you try to get a glimpse of the other confirmation of his affection that you seek...

Just as Luke begins to fiddle with unfastening the cloak concealing your body from him, you slip your hand between the two of you, first to carefully grip his thigh as you lean in to kiss him again, moving your hand further and further until-

"Stop," he interjects, grabbing your hand.

"I-I'm sorry, Master, I-"

His gaze softens, guiltily. "No, it's not you. I'm not ready for that--not yet." Flesh hand reaches up to cradle your face. "I want this to be about you. I want to make up for how cruel I was."

You bring the hand to your lips, kissing the palm, silently accepting his proposal to apologize. The Luke you first met on that cliff all those months ago is near unrecognizable--never before would you have expected him to ever apologize to you, let alone be this communicative with you. Well, communicative by Luke standards. From what you’ve heard of his past reputation as a Jedi, all those stories and legends about his vast accomplishments, he had always been quiet, guarded, only now amplified by his guilt in exile. But he’s trying, that much is clear to you.

“Do you want me to continue?” Luke finally says, breaking the silence with a rare show of humor. Smiling and nodding into his palm, you give it one last kiss, relinquishing your control over it.

Hands return to the fastener, and you feel your heartbeat increase as you're finally hit with the realization that this is going to happen. You have no reservations about it, you've fantasized about sleeping with him for quite some time now, but you must admit the actuality is a bit frightening--and absolutely thrilling.

You want this. Luke does, too, if the totally unsubtle tent in his pants has anything to say about it. But something tells you he's just as nervous as you are--perhaps he's worried about being out of practice, or, if he had previously pursued the path of celibacy, he's worried about having no practice at all. Either way, you don't mind, truly. All you want is him.

Finally, in one swift motion, the fastener is undone. Letting out a shaky breath, Luke begins to pull the fabric of the cloak from your shoulders, ever so slowly, exposing inch by inch of your bare skin to him. As the fabric pools at your waist, you shiver at the feeling of the cool air hitting your slightly damp skin. He notices, instinctively reaching out his hand to touch you--the sudden contact and warmth makes you jump.

"Sorry," Luke whispers, unable to look anywhere besides your face.

"Don't be... please."

Now is his chance to ravish you with his eyes, finally gazing upon--and practically devouring--the beauty that has been hidden from him for far too long.

"Stars, you're... you're incredible."

You blush, both out of pride and bashfulness, as Luke's eyes continue to trace your figure. He stares at you for quite some time, not daring to touch you aside from the hand he has gently caressing the flesh of your waist. It isn't until you grab said hand and move it to the swell of your breast that he finally gets the nerve to actually feel you.

Fingers trace around the soft skin of your nipple, coaxing the little bud into a hardened peak as Luke pinches it ever so slightly. He squeezes your breast, firmly but not painfully, and before you can even register what is happening, his mouth is on you. Beard hair tickles your skin as he plants an open-mouthed kiss at the center of your chest. Kissing, licking, and sucking, he marks his journey through the valley of your breasts by leaving your skin raw and marked--claiming you as his own.

You let out a high-pitched gasp as Luke's lips attach to your nipple, alternating between sucking and flicking with his tongue before switching to do the same to the other. He does this multiple times, only stopping when he leaves them visibly puffy and swollen, with you shuddering and moaning softly at the loss of his touch. As he had worked on you, your hands had found their way into his hair, carding your fingers through and tugging at it softly--he nearly bit you in response, and given the effect on him, you swore he almost liked what you were doing more than you liked what he was doing. Almost.

Your hands move from Luke's hair to cradle his face. He looks up at you nervously, waiting for your reassurance or your approval, hoping he hasn't done anything to upset you.

In a moment of boldness, you say, "Oh, I like that... there's just another place I think I'd like it even more."

Icy blue eyes widening, he nods slowly, taking in a deep breath as he prepares to obey your command. Gently pushing you back, he lowers you onto his bed, laying your head on his pillow--and he pauses.

"Are you sure you want this?"

Your first instinct is to pout, but you don't. He's very likely entirely new to this, and nervous about the fact, so the least you can do is have some grace. Reaching out for his hand, gently ghosting your fingertips over his, you tell him, "I want this. I want you."

With nothing more than a silent nod, Luke finally lifts the remainder of the cloak off you and pulls your thighs apart. His breath hitches at the sight of you--so tight, so wet, glistening in anticipation for him. Him.

Reading his emotions--you're becoming a lot better at that under his tutelage--you smile at him coyly through your eyelashes. "It's for you, Master. All for you."

You flutter and clench at the way Luke breathes out, groaning slightly. After a moment of just staring at you, piercing blue eyes locked onto your beautiful, beautiful core, he ducks his head to get closer. Whatever nervousness he had before has almost completely melted away, starting with light kisses to the inside of your thighs as he pries you open even more. You squirm ever so slightly beneath his touch, one that starts out hesitant but grows more and more eager, the rough hair of his beard nearly rubbing the skin of your thighs raw.

Luke pulls away, just for a moment, his voice deep and gravely. "Let me take care of you."

You shudder at the feeling of his breath on you. But you aren't prepared for what follows--the feather-light poke of his wet tongue, slowly licking a preliminary stripe from hole to clit as he slicks you with a combination of your own wetness and his spit. You had wondered, dreamed when this day would come, and now that it's here, you find yourself melting so readily at his every move.

Noticing the effect he has on you, Luke tentatively wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to his face so he can taste you more deeply. The new angle has you situated to where you could very well begin grinding on his face, and you have no doubts that he'd let you. This is what he wants--to be needed, to please, to do something, anything right. To have you spread out so beautifully before him is a miracle of the Force itself. He'll do his best to prove he deserves it, as much as he thinks he doesn't.

Alternating between gently probing you with his tongue and languidly exploring the contours of your folds, Luke's lips finally make their way to your clit, where he gently begins sucking. For a man who most likely has no idea what he's doing--although he would never admit it--he sure seems like he does.

Your hand instinctively makes its way to his hair again, albeit this time with far more urgency. Arching your back into him, you pull unapologetically on his greying locks, eliciting a deep groan from him.

An idea enters your mind.

"You like this, Master?" you moan, maneuvering to look at him working between your legs. His eyes flick up to meet yours. "You like finally being useful to someone?"

Your words seem to ignite a fire within him. Without even giving you a moment to process what's happening, Luke's mouth leaves your clit--drawing out an absolutely pathetic mewl from you--and he pulls your legs around his waist, lifting your hips off the bed. Using the Force, he swiftly pins your hands above your head, leaving you fully exposed and at his mercy.

"You think I'm finally useful, huh?" Luke practically growls, "Who are you to judge?"

You can feel his hardened cock brush against your sensitive core from beneath his nightclothes, and, desperate for friction to satiate your hunger, you try to rock your hips against his. But he won't have it--holding your legs still, he keeps you in place with an iron grip.

"Before I show you how useful I can be, you must learn patience. Now be still."

Luke's stronger mechanical hand--still gloved, which only adds to the allure--keeps a hold on you as his flesh hand moves to free himself from the confines of his pants. After a brief moment of fumbling where you pretend not to notice, he manages to pull down his waistband, and out it springs.

And it's... a lot. A lot more than you expected. Where you were eager to take him before, desperately aching for him to be inside you, you can't help but feel a bit nervous. Still, you can't take your eyes off him--large, thick, nice and veiny with a pink tip...

"Is this alright?" Luke asks, his voice low and husky, already starting to slowly drag it across your folds. Your body jerks slightly when the tip bumps into your still-swollen clit, but he's too busy lubricating himself with your wetness to notice. "Well?"

"Y-yes... I need you, Master, please," you practically beg.

Smirking to himself, he finally grants your request. Aligning himself with your entrance, he ever so slowly presses in, eyes screwing shut in the process as a low grunt escapes his throat.

"Maker, you're tight..."

You throw your head back and whine at the stretch. Luke is so much--almost too much--filling you in a way you never thought was possible. It stings slightly at first, but it's such a delicious feeling, one you never want to go another day without.

After giving you a moment to adjust, Luke's eyes meet yours--gently questioning, but still clouded by his need for you--and you signal for him to start moving. Slowly drawing himself back out, he starts a steady pace of deep thrusts, although they're a bit shaky at first. Amidst your ecstasy, you forgot that this may very well be his first sexual encounter--something he's doing a very good job of hiding.

In truth, it doesn't bother you at all. Luke sure keeps you on your toes--the more the night progresses, the more you learn so many seemingly conflicting things about him... and the more you realize you never really knew him at all. Perhaps no one did. He can be stubborn, and gentle, and firm, and vulnerable, a million different things all wrapped into one. And, slowly and surely, you'll peel back those layers to reveal who he truly is.

In the meantime, what Luke does show you is just how pent up he is--he isn't even fully out of his clothes, and he's already fully erect and fucking you into his mattress. The noises are borderline obscene, both the creaking of his bed and the squelching of where your bodies meet, with him loudly sliding in and out of you. While he was rather slow at first, he's since picked up the pace, snapping his hips against yours with a bit more fervor. If you hadn't known any better, you'd say he's just about as virile and libidinous as a juvenile fathier.

You moan and write beneath Luke, your hands still pinned above your head by the Force. After all his talk about its sacred rules and how one must respect and fear it, you truly never expected him to utilize it in such a way--but, knowing your Master, you doubt he cares. He looks down at you with those heavy eyes, his gaze filled with emotions you can't quite describe or even begin to understand. He's quiet, oh so quiet--you can't exactly say the same about yourself--that if it weren't for his borderline frantic rutting, you might not have been sure of his enjoyment.

Catching on to your concern, Luke reaches down with his flesh hand to reassuringly stroke your skin, gently tracing from your thigh to your hip, across your stomach, and all the way to the swell of your breast. Your nipples are still puffy and sore from his relentless sucking and pinching, skin covered in the evidence of where his beard had scratched you. He feels a bit guilty, having marked you up so thoroughly like this, yet he also has a strange sense of pride at how you let him. If things go your way, you'll let him again and again and again--until your hunger is satisfied, which you're sure it never will be.

For as much as Luke is thoroughly attracted to you, however, he can feel his hunger start to reach its peak. Whether it be through the Force or your own pleasure, you can sense this, too, and it only serves to bring you into the early stages of orgasm as well.

"M-Master, I-," you whine, not even able to finish your thought as Luke brings his hand back up to rub your clit. He may be stubborn, and grumpy, but he is by no means selfish, especially not as a lover. Like with all things, he's determined to do this right. And he does--each thrust of his hips and tight circle rubbed by his thumb pushes you closer and closer, until finally you're pushed off that cliff and engulfed by the force of your orgasm. Twitching and spasming, legs shaking, you cry out as it overtakes your senses so spectacularly.

Luke watches you, completely in shock that he actually managed to do this--although you knew he would. Feeling you clench around him so deliciously is enough to motivate him to follow suit. Speeding up his pace one last time, positively hammering into you, he chases his own orgasm sloppily, desperately. Perhaps he hasn't had one in a long time, hasn't even had the desire to touch himself, so having you here to offer him some much needed relief truly is a godsend.

You're too blissed out and trembling in the aftershocks of your own orgasm to notice the way his hips stutter, finally stilling as he spills thick ropes of his seed inside you. In that moment, neither of you really care about the consequences--you don't think anything could happen, anyway--nor do you even really pause to contemplate them.

Luke stands before you, panting and slightly dazed, sweat making his hair stick to his forehead. Lowering your legs and pulling out--hot, white liquid spilling out of you as he does so--he adjusts his clothing and finally collapses beside you.

"That was, I..." you start, covering your face with your now-freed hands. "What are we now?"

Luke sighs. "We're something, I guess... something the Jedi of old wouldn't approve of." A glimpse at his old humor appears as he winks at you. "But they aren't here now, are they?"

You open your eyes to the sight of Luke asleep in your now shared bed. His hair is sprawled out on your pillow, long-lashed eyes still shut as he snores ever so lightly. The morning light bathes his sleeping face in a surprisingly lovely way, illuminating the soft, vulnerable side of an otherwise stoic and dignified Jedi master. His arm is still around you, mechanical hand resting at the small of your back--he still prefers to touch you intimately with his flesh hand, but by instinct, he'll use his cybernetic. You don't mind one bit, and he knows this. It brings him peace. Hence where he is now: entangled with you, beneath your covers, mind somewhere off in the realm of dreams.

"Oh, Skywalker..." you whisper, careful not to wake him. You can't tell whether you're talking to him, or really just talking to yourself. It isn't important. Taking a moment to pause, to think, you take a deep breath and say it--"...I love you."

Luke stirs, and you wince. Was it too soon? Is that not how he sees your relationship? He could wake up any minute and reject you and-

"Love you, too," he murmurs, not even opening his eyes, face still buried in his pillow.

Relief washes over you, but so does a strange new feeling... surprise? Excitement? Fear, even? No, no, it can't be anything bad... So you decide to accept it for what it is: something you can't explain, yet something that brings so much hope, so much meaning to your life. And, for the first time in a long time, you're happy--and he is, too.

#my fic #dilf luke friday #dilf!luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker smut #luke skywalker x fem!reader #luke skywalker x afab!reader #oops this kind of ran away from me. hence why it's so long lol #what is this trend involving me writing sequels smut when i initially hated the sequels... character development? #i can singlehandedly fix grumpy old man luke via *cough* alternative means #the ending is kinda ass but whatever lol

[sleepingsun501]

Good Morning, Princess

Pairing: Boba Fett x F!reader

Summary: Boba helps satisfy your needs after you wake up hot and bothered in the middle of the night.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (Minors DNI)

Warnings: Soft!dom Boba, established relationship, female masturbation, fingering, dirty talk, praise, PiV sex (wrap it up), aftercare.

Word Count: 2k

Ao3 link

A/N: MINORS GET OUT OF HERE!! Hello all!! It’s been a while since I’ve churned out a fic, but I got inspired and couldn’t keep it in. It’s my first time writing for Boba, so I hope you all enjoy!! If this isn’t your cup of tea, however, just scroll on.

Good Morning, Princess

In the early hours of the morning, well before the suns rose above the sands, you found yourself squirming beneath the heavy blankets on your luxurious bed and trying to ignore the persistent ache between your legs.

It had hit you unexpectedly, waking you in the dead silence of the night and only grew worse as the hours passed, making you restless and uncomfortable. You had done your best to ignore it, but your body was beginning to overheat with need—the cool desert air wafting in from the Dune Sea doing very little to soothe you.

Boba lay oblivious beside you—one arm tucked behind his head, softly snoring, and looking more peaceful than you had seen him in weeks. The steady rise and fall of his muscular chest in the low light did not help to quell the need stirring in your core, but you would not wake him for this. The stress on the mighty Daimyo’s shoulders had been heavy lately, and although he was still incredibly capable, the sleepless nights of his bounty hunting days were over. You could not imagine how badly he needed to make up for all that lost sleep.

Not wanting to disturb him but unable to bear the urges any longer, you shimmied your way further to the edge of the sprawling bed, pausing briefly when Boba shifted from the absence of your warmth.

Silently, you slipped a hand beneath the seam of your soaked panties and covered your mouth with your other hand to stifle your pleasured gasp, trying to imagine your fingers as Boba’s drawing tight, fast circles on your swollen clit to relieve the pressure building within you.

For several minutes, it seemed to help, but it did not last. You closed your eyes to keep your concentration and tried to pretend the powerful man beside you was the one bringing you to the edge of bliss, but it was no use. Your fingers were too small, too soft to be his.

Feeling frustration take the place of your brief contentment, you whimpered needily into your hand. In your desperation, you drew your legs up and plunged your fingers as deeply as you could into your drenched walls, but you could not reach that sweet spot you craved.

“Mesh’la,” Boba’s deep voice rumbled languidly from across the large bed.

Startled, you squeaked in surprise and yanked your hand from your dripping folds, scrambling to hide yourself beneath the blankets before Boba quickly snatched them from your grasp, leaving you exposed in your skimpy nightgown. The embarrassment of having been caught flooded through you in waves, only fueling your arousal as Boba’s knowing gaze locked onto your own.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you… I just… I-I was…” your words sputtered out of your mouth like the mewlings of a tooka kitten that had found its voice for the first time as you reached for the stolen blankets.

You yelped again as Boba reached over, pulled you to his side of the bed in one quick, fluid motion, and settled over you. He braced his hands on either side of you and was still peering down at you with that infuriatingly unreadable expression, and you felt the flush rising in your cheeks.

“Y-you were sleeping… I’m sorry,” you apologized automatically.

“You know you could have woken me, princess,” he whispered, his eyes softening and tracing the curve of your cheek with the roughened pad of his thumb. “I’m a little disappointed you didn’t.”

“But—” you started, but your excuse died on your tongue when you saw the desire burning in his deep brown eyes. A pang of guilt settled deep in your gut from the look, making your tightening core impossibly uncomfortable. “I just didn’t want to wake you. You looked so tired earlier and I could’ve taken care of myself,” you explained, breaking your eyes away from him in shame.

The thumb brushing your cheek grasped your chin and forced you to look back at him. “You don’t get to cum unless I say so,” he said quietly. His voice may have been soft, but the firm tone was irrefutable. “Unless I’ve suddenly started to talk in my sleep, I don’t recall saying so tonight.”

You shook your head in admission, biting your lip and shifting beneath him. His whole body was like a cage above you, and you wanted nothing more than to be ravaged by him—you wanted to feel his muscles flexing beneath the softness of his tummy crushing you to your shared bed, and the hardness of his cock stretching you open and driving deep within you until you forgot your name.

“Does my princess need to be taken care of?” Boba asked, taking the hand you had been pleasuring yourself with and suckling your fingers into his mouth. He cleaned your fingers thoroughly with his tongue, humming his approval when he tasted you, before hiking your nightgown up above your breasts and taking one into his mouth.

You gasped as your nipple pebbled beneath his tongue, and he spread your knees apart to grind his hips into yours. He was hard as a rock, feeling your intense heat through your soaking panties, and repeated his question impatiently against the shell of your ear. “I’m waiting for an answer, little one.”

“Yes. Fuck, yes, Boba. Just need you,” you sighed, pressing your hips up to meet his.

Returning to your breast, he gave your nipple a love bite, making you moan but doing nothing to assuage the ache now threatening to overwhelm your senses. “I think you should apologize first. Only good girls get to cum.”

You pouted at his teasing, but you also knew Boba would drag this out until the twin suns rose high in the sky if he wanted to as he began leaving delicate marks on your chest.

“I… I’m sorry,” you whimpered as he sucked a darker mark onto the tender skin of your opposite breast.

He chuckled darkly at your pathetic attempt. “Come now, my sweet girl, you can do better than that.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you,” you breathed, your hands coming up to grasp his broad shoulders. “I want you, Boba. I want you to make me cum. I need you inside me… need to cum on your cock. Please, I’ll be good and tell you when I need you from now on, I promise.”

Seemingly satisfied with your plea, Boba pushed your dampened panties aside and slid a thick finger into your warmth. You cried out in relief as your body responded to the intrusion, your cunt tightening around the digit and rocking your hips to grind your clit against his palm.

“That wasn’t so difficult, now was it, princess?” he teased, the smirk on his face leaching into his voice. He curled his finger inside you, finding that sensitive spot with ease before adding a second.

“Ohh, Maker… Boba, please more. I need… just need more!” you begged as the hot, electric sparks of your arousal fired through your limbs. You grasped his shoulders so tightly that your nails left little half moons dimpled into his bronzed, scarred skin.

“Don’t worry, little one. I’ll give you what you want, but fingers first. Always have to make sure you’re ready to take me,” he practically growled.

You pouted again, but any brattiness behind it melted away with a needy whimper as he eased his underwear down and slipped one of your hands around his length before settling beside you and throwing your leg over his hip. “That’s right, baby girl, you can take it. I know you can.”

You grasped his thick, leaking cock greedily and stroked him as best you could in time with his movements. Just the way he twitched and throbbed in your grasp with a deep groan was already enough to push you to the edge.

Combined with his fingers making the most lewd sounds as they pumped in and out of your soaked cunt, the feeling of his sturdy body shielding you, and the encouragement dripping from his beautiful lips, it was all too much to hold back. You crashed over the edge with a desperate cry into his chest, burying yourself against him for both affection and security as you rode out your first high.

“There it is,” he murmured soothingly into your hair, continuing to stroke you as you clenched around him. “That’s my good girl. That feels better, doesn’t it?”

You could barely hear him as your heart thundered in your ears. The tension and heat in your tightly wired core finally releasing around his long fingers but only bringing you a fraction of the relief you craved.

Before you had stopped spasming, Boba rested you onto your back again as you twitched through the aftershocks and buried himself in your walls with slow, steady strokes. He graciously waited until he felt the stretch of your walls accommodate him comfortably, but all you could do was cling to his dense shoulders again as he began pounding into you, losing himself in your wet heat.

“You feel so good, baby. So fucking tight… always so perfect for me,” he praised, his tone borderline reverential. He ran a hand up your body over the silk of your nightgown that had fallen back into place, marveling at the softness of it over your searing hot skin and silently worshiping you with his touch.

You let your eyes flutter shut as you gasped out his name, feeling your entire body quake beneath him as he drove you into the mattress. Somewhere in the depths of your lust-addled brain, you were glad he had taken you apart with his fingers first. He had gotten you out of your head, and now you could fully surrender to his control, never having felt safer in any other man’s arms.

The length of his thick cock slipping through your slick cunt was addictive and each stroke pushed you both higher into ecstasy, a sensation which you wished would never end. Even through the fervor of his thrusts, Boba cupped the back of your head ever so gently and brought your lips to his in the tenderest of kisses.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, his breath hot and sweet against your skin. “I love you, my perfect girl. Love you so much… gonna take care of you… never letting you go.”

“Boba…” you sighed, the devotion in his words melting your heart. You were about to echo the sentiment, but he stole your words from you with another breathless kiss as he reached between you and found your clit again.

You could feel yourself hurtling toward that blissful cliff again, bracing yourself for the plunge you knew he would take with you as he chased his release.

“Boba, I need—need to… please!” you cried, begging for permission.

“Together, baby. Cum with me.”

With a hiss and a shuddering, throaty groan, Boba tensed above you, pressing his forehead to yours. You could feel the heat deep within your walls as he painted your insides, and it triggered your second orgasm. Your cunt sucked him in deep as your legs trembled and locked in a vice grip around his waist, and Boba could not help but sigh your name sweetly at the sensation.

Though you both savored the peak as long as you could, you shivered at the loss of him as he eventually eased his softening cock from you. He quickly maneuvered you out of your sweaty nightgown and into the cradle of his arms as he reclined back and pulled the soft blankets up over your exposed form.

The faintest tinge of gold and pink was appearing beyond the horizon through the arches of the balcony, but Boba only had eyes for you. He toyed with the ends of your hair as he took you in, smiling down at you gently.

“I think we’re due for a bit of a lie-in today, don’t you think?” he asked.

You giggled and nodded in agreement, already settling into his chest and wanting to drift back to sleep in his strong arms. “Good morning, my love.”

He rested his head against the top of yours, breathing in your scent, and you felt him relax as well. “Good morning, princess.”

________

Join the taglist

Taglist: @wild-karrde @rexxdjarin @baba-fett @samspenandsword @ariadnes-red-thread @get-wr3ckered @liadamerondjarin @starstofillmydream @kaminocasey @twistedstitcher27 @meshlaxbunny @erellenora @corrieguards @the-cantina @briefartnaturewolf @zerohski @redheadgirl @wolffegirlsunite @commander-sunshine @cw80831

(Sorry for the double tags. Testing a theory)

#boba fett #daimyo boba #star wars #the book of boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x you #boba fett smut #nsft

[elwenyere]

Crafting Comments on Fics

So with Comment Fest approaching - and with the possibility of bot-generated comments undermining the value of reader-writer engagement - I thought it might be helpful to provide a short explanation of some different approaches I use in crafting comments, in order to identify a few places to get started for anyone who has wanted to leave more (or more detailed) comments but who feels unsure how to get going. 

This is far from an exhaustive list, and the categories are designed to allow for a mix-and-match construction with varying levels of development (from basic to more elaborate). At the heart of it, I think of commenting as a practice of paying attention to what I notice in a story and then crafting language to share those observations with the writer. So each of these categories starts from something we might notice when we read.

1. Affect: how the fic affected you/made you feel

This is a great place to start if commenting feels intimidating, because you’re drawing from your own emotional responses. A basic template might be something like “_____ made me ________.” You can pick a particular moment (the scene with the tooka infestation, the kiss in the Denny’s parking lot, the moment we realize character x was dead the whole time, etc.) or focus on the fic as a whole; and you can describe the effect in simple terms (made me cry, smile, laugh, feel soft, etc.) or extravagant ones (made me want to roll myself into the sea, made me feel like I had ascended to a new astral plane, shook me so deeply it registered a 10.3 on the Richter scale). The idea is to take one or more responses you had to the fic and let the writer know what they were/what about the story produced them. 

2. Memory: what from the fic has stuck with you

If a story has an especially strong effect on you, you might also let the author know what particular moments, lines, or images are going to linger in your mind after you finish reading. After identifying the detail(s) you want to flag (if you were going to bookmark this fic with a note to remind Future You which one it is, what image or scene or plot premise or line of dialogue would go in the “the one with the ___________” slot?), you can describe the way it’s sticking with you in general terms (I’m still thinking about it, chewing on it, rotating it like a Hot Pocket in a microwave), or you can point to some of the reasons why it’s sticking with you (it captures character x’s whole deal so well, it reminds me of y moment in the film/tv show/comic, it crystallizes a larger theme in the story so effectively). 

3. Appreciation: what in the fic seems beautiful, artful, striking

In this approach you’re giving a writer a sense of what stood out to you aesthetically about the story: the moments that made you feel like “put a frame around that fucker because I want to keep staring at it.” This category can feel tricky because there might be terminology specific to the form that we’re not familiar with, so it can feel hard to describe what exactly makes a moment strike us as well-crafted. But we might think about the appreciation approach as having a basic template: “_____ is so ________.” The first slot can be either general (the whole story, a larger scene, the way the author writes dialogue or description or a major character) or very specific (copying and pasting a particular line or passage, identifying a pattern of imagery, pointing out the way the author narrates a specific kind of experience). And the second slot can be just one adjective (beautiful, visceral, unsettling, powerful, stunning, lyrical) or a more elaborate evaluation (so effective at conveying emotions, so hard-hitting after the slow build-up, so vivid I feel like I’m actually there). 

4. Discovery: what the fic showed you/made you think about

Sometimes you read a fic that makes you think about the media/the ship/the characters in a new way, and that’s a really powerful thing to share with the writer. As with the other approaches, you can frame this in terms of the fic as a whole or pull out particular lines or plot points, and you can either describe the effect on your thinking in general terms (this changed my brain chemistry, this blew my mind, this is canon for me now) or in specific ones (I’d never thought about x moment in the film that way before, but now I’m going to think about it that way every time; the line where character x says y was like a lightbulb moment for me - it clarified so much about x’s motivations; I would never have thought about this show as being about z theme, but after reading this fic, I’m seeing z everywhere). 

------

So there you have it: a non-exhaustive list of things we notice about stories and some ways to talk about that. I hope it’s helpful. And of course, when in doubt or when pressed for energy, a string of emojis, a keyboard smash, or an all-caps “I LOVED THIS!!!” are also wonderful ways to share a little love with fic writers.

#ao3 #comment fest

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Wash Away the Pain #5 - Crosshair

After being rescued from the Empire's clutches, Crosshair is struggling to heal and adapt to life on Pabu.

Pairing: Crosshair x gn!reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: whump, guilt, angst, Cross is prickly (what else is new), reassurance, hopeful ending.

A/N: I was heavily inspired by these gorgeous drawings by @thattoothpick.

This is the last installment in a mini-series where each of our boys get their angsty shower time.

Each can be read as a standalone or as a continuation. Check out the whole series: Echo, Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker.

I'll die on the hill that Cross is still chipped and was lied to by the Empire that it was removed. And that it's effectiveness was all but worn out mid-way through S2.

Sign up to be tagged in my future fics.

The cold water hits him, and, for a moment, Crosshair forgets how to breathe. It feels like thousands of icy pinpricks piercing his skin. The pain, the cold, they remind him that he’s alive.

He escaped.

He was rescued. 

Like a lost child. Or an abandoned tooka. He’s not sure which is worse.

For two months, he’d been free. Two months ago, he’d opened his eyes, still strapped to one of those Maker-forsaken tables in that Imperial hellhole, expecting to see Hemlock or Karr hovering over him. Instead, he’d seen you. Wide eyes that had crinkled with delight, his name falling from your lips.

You shouldn’t have come for him.

The kid? Yes. But him…

He doesn’t turn at the sound of the fresher door opening. He doesn’t need to. Only one person would have the guts to bother him this early in the day.

The warm hand on his back makes him want to flinch, makes him want to pull away. He doesn’t deserve the softness, not after everything he’s done.

You step into the shower, not caring to discard your clothes or bothered by Crosshair’s nakedness – after so long with him and his brothers, nothing was sacred anymore. The cold water makes you hiss, but you push through it. “I can hear you overthinking again.” You murmur, fingers leaving a feather-light trail down the curve of his spine. He’s still too skinny; the few pounds he’d once had took him much longer to regain, no matter how many meals you presented to him.

“Then stop listening.” Crosshair’s reply slides out quickly but lacks the bite it once had, the snark and sneer that had sent countless others running. But never you, the plucky medic assigned to him and his brothers early in the war.

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “Where’s the fun in that?” You tease softly. A low grunt is all you get in return, but you don’t take it to heart. Your gaze flicks up from his back to the scars on his head – the messy web of scar tissue from Bracca and beside it, a thin, straight one, a recent addition from where you’d pried the inhibitor chip out of him.

You’d known none of it was his fault. Known he’d still been under their control.

Crosshair can feel the weight of your gaze on him, and he’s uncomfortable with the attention. “Picture will last longer.” He huffs, knowing he won’t get rid of you easily.

You haven’t said much over the last two months, letting his brothers try and rebuild their relationships with him. It had been rocky at first; a few times, you’d had to physically put yourself between him and Hunter so they wouldn’t start scrapping. You knew they loved one another dearly, but there were a lot of problems to unpack and work through. They were making progress, though, learning to admit they were wrong, compromise, and apologise

But you’d noticed Crosshair was still withdrawn. He’d never been chatty, but he’d never hidden away either - he’d spend days in his room in your shared house on Pabu.

Even sending in Tech – who’d by some miracle survived his fall on Eriadu and had been taken to Tantiss on Hemlock’s orders – hadn’t proved very fruitful.

Now, you suppose it’s your turn. “None of it was your fault.” You start, tone gentle but firm.

“Don’t placate me. I’m not a child.” Crosshair grumbles, rolling his eyes as he draws his arms around himself as if he could shield himself from the conversation.

“No, you’re not.” You sigh. “I get it. I really do. Maker above, Cross, I don’t know where to begin with everything you’ve been through over the last year. But bottling it up, locking us all out, withering away. It’s not healthy.” You feel Crosshair tense under your touch, his shoulders stiffening. The water continues to cascade down, a constant drone almost drowning out the tension in the small space.

“I don’t need your analysis, medic.” He mutters, his voice low and gruff.

You wince at the name. When you’d first joined them, he’d used it mockingly. It was only when you’d persevered and formed a quiet friendship that he’d stopped using it. Choosing not to focus on the little stab of pain from the barb, you press on. “You don’t have to go through this alone, Crosshair. We’re here for you. Your brothers... and me. You don’t have to carry the galaxy’s weight on your shoulders.”

He scoffs, a sharp edge to his voice. “Easy for you to say. You weren’t the one pulling the trigger on innocent people.”

The fresher has a bit of room, and you use it to your advantage. Shifting your stance until you’re standing at his side, body pressed to him, you reach out and snag his chin with one hand, turning his face to meet those hawkish eyes that have recently lost their lustre. “And you weren’t the one doing it willingly. There’s a difference, Cross. The inhibitor chip controlled you. You’re here now, free from its influence.”

He doesn’t protest, so you continue. “You’ve been through hell and come out on the other side. But healing isn’t just physical; it’s mental, too. You can’t keep shutting everyone out.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t retort immediately. The silence stretches, punctuated only by the steady rhythm of water droplets hitting the floor. “I don’t deserve it.” He finally admits, his voice barely audible over the shower.

The vulnerability in his words tugs at your heart, and you realise that breaking through the walls he’s built around himself will take time. You’ve seen him at his lowest, physically and mentally battered, and now the scars on his body are mirrored by the ones etched into his soul. “You’re not some burden we’re shouldering out of obligation, Cross.” You say, your tone unwavering. “You’re family. And family sticks together, no matter what.”

He grunts, the rough sound echoing in the confined space. “Family? I hunted you across the galaxy. No wonder you all left me.”

“That wasn’t you.” You assert, your voice steady. “You were manipulated, controlled. We know that now. Blaming yourself won’t change what happened, but we can work through it together.” You still regret leaving him behind on Kamino twice, not stunning and dragging him onto the Marauder.

He averts his gaze, fighting back the emotions threatening to surface. The vulnerability you’ve glimpsed in him is a crack in his armour - you just need him to remove the rest of it and let you all in.

“We’re not giving up on you.” You declare, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. His eyes close at the contact, subconsciously leaning into your palm, and your heart aches for how touch-starved he is. “And you shouldn’t give up on yourself either.”

“Accept that you deserve to heal.” You suggest. “You don’t have to carry this burden alone. Let your brothers in, let me in. We’re not here to judge you but to support you.”

The water begins to lose its icy bite as your body becomes numb. Crosshair doesn’t respond immediately, but the tension in his shoulders begins to ease, and you take that as a small victory.

“Maybe.” He concedes, a hint of vulnerability in his voice as he opens his eyes to meet your gaze again.

You smile, a mixture of relief and determination coursing through you. “Maybe is a good start, Cross.” You keep your hand on his cheek, offering silent reassurance. “It’s okay not to have all the answers right now. We’ll figure it out together.”

Crosshair takes a deep breath, a shuddering exhale escaping him as if releasing a burden he’s carried for far too long. “I don’t want your pity.” He mutters, his gaze dropping.

Your thumb brushes along the edge of his tattoo, your touch a grounding force. “You’re not getting pity. You’re getting understanding, support, and a second chance. You’ve been through enough; it’s time to let others in to help you navigate the aftermath.”

He doesn’t argue further, and you both simply stand there for a moment. The silence is no longer heavy with unspoken pain but holds the promise of a shared journey towards healing.

“Come on.” You say, finally breaking the quiet. “Let’s get out of this shower and get some breakfast. Tech is attempting a new recipe, and Wrecker claims he’ll out-eat everyone.”

Crosshair arches an eyebrow. “I’m unsure if that’s a threat or a promise.”

You chuckle, the sound echoing in the fresher. “Knowing Wrecker, probably both. But it’s a distraction, and distractions are good right now.”

He nods in agreement, and together, you step out of the shower, the air hitting your damp skin. As you reach for towels, you catch Crosshair stealing a thoughtful glance in your direction.

“What?” You ask with a slight tilt of your head.

Crosshair hesitates momentarily, feeling a little stupid but wanting to ensure you understand how much this means to him. “Thanks... for not giving up on me.”

You meet his gaze with sincerity. “Never have. Never will.” You state.

Your words touch something in him, a little more weight lifting off his shoulders. “And I’m sorry for…” He makes a vague gesture with his hand, but you know exactly what he’s getting at.

Amusement curls at your lips. Crosshair’s apologies were new, and while he wasn’t particularly good at them, you saw it as growth. “Apology accepted. Call me that again, though, and I’ll snap every toothpick on the island.” You reply, tossing him a clean set of clothes from his cubby with a small smile.

Relieved at your acceptance of his admittedly poor apology, Crosshair notes to keep working on them while gracing you with a small smile. “I don’t doubt that, doll.”

You roll your eyes at the familiar nickname, a sign that perhaps, despite the struggles, a sense of normalcy is slowly returning. As you both start to dress in clean, dry clothes, you can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope that this small breakthrough might be the turning point he needs. The scars may run deep, both physical and emotional, but the shared understanding and unwavering support from family might just be the key to helping him rebuild.

Tag list: @clonethirstingisreal @littlemissmanga @starrylothcat @cw80831 @dreamie411 @issa-me-bry-blog

#the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #bad batch x reader #bad batch x you #tbb x reader #tbb x you #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x you #crosshair bad batch #the bad batch crosshair #bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #crosshair #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #star wars clone wars #clone force 99 #ct 9904

[ghostofskywalker]

Hello! can I request something with Tech and a tooka?

here it is!! i hope you enjoy :)

words: 692

clone troopers masterlist

If you had asked yourself last week the question “how long would it take for Tech to notice that you had adopted another tooka if you didn’t tell him?” you probably would have said an hour, maybe even less. But here you were, two days later and counting, and he hadn’t apparently figured it out yet. 

To his credit, you did somehow manage to adopt a tooka that was the spitting image of the one you already had, except for one tiny splotch of white on one of his feet, so to anyone who wasn’t paying attention, they probably would have seemed like the same animal.

Also to Tech’s credit, the two tookas had apparently made an pact to never be in the same room of your home at the same time. They often cuddled together when it was just you in the house, but now that Tech was visiting they always seemed to be apart from one another. 

You were holding a cup of caf as you settled on the couch next to him, having already placed a mug for him on the end table next to where he working. The newest member of your tooka family (named Pilfer, for his ability to covertly sneak food from your plate without you even realizing it), hopped up on your lap and laid down across it, purring softly as he settled into his new comfortable sleeping spot. 

“I think your tooka has finally gotten used to me,” Tech said. At first when he started spending more time at your house between missions, Midnight (the older of the two) kept her distance whenever he would enter a room. You had seen her get more comfortable with Tech over the time that you’d been together, but you had a feeling that his data was now slightly skewed because he didn’t realize you had a new resident in your home. 

Instead of bursting his bubble right away you decided to play along for a little while. “That’s good,” you said. 

“Yes, she has been seeking me out more often for petting lately. She has attempted to sneak bites of my food sometimes though, which seems out of character for her.” 

That only confirmed your suspicions, that it was in fact your new tooka that had taken a shine to Tech, and eventually you were going to have to tell him, but you didn’t really want to do it right now. “That’s good. I’m glad Midnight is finally getting used to you.” 

At the sound of her name, your other tooka padded into the room, and she meowed quietly to draw your attention. Tech looked up from what he was doing on his datapad, his eyes widening as he tried to process the sight. 

He looked at Midnight, who blinked her large eyes up at him. Then he looked over at you, who had a sleeping Pilfer on your lap, and his mouth dropped open. “Have you always had two tookas?” 

You could have said yes, letting believe that he hadn’t noticed for the entire time he had known you, but you weren’t that mean. “No, but I’ve had Pilfer here for a few months now. He’s more friendly around people than Midnight is.”

Tech was silent for a few moments. “I suppose it makes sense why ‘Midnight’ only responded to her name about one third of time,” he said. “You are right, he is much more sociable, and he certainly seems to live up to his name.” 

The tooka in your lap shifted slightly but didn’t wake from his slumber, even as Tech reached over and pet him. “Next time you get a new tooka,” he said. “Might I suggest choosing one that doesn’t look exactly like the two you already have?” 

“Now why would I do that? Especially when I can trick people into thinking I only have one pet instead of multiple.” 

Tech just shook his head, but you could see the playful smile on his face. Maybe later, before he had to leave for his next mission, you could take him to the shelter and see about adding another member to your family.

#🍷 blurbs #tbb tech #tbb tech x reader #tbb tech x you #tech x reader #tbb tech x gender neutral reader #tech x you #star wars x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch x reader

[doodlebethel]

Hello! I love your Loth cat designs! And wanted to make my own since Disney hasn’t renewed its loth/Tooka cat products and are sold out (Plus I like your designs waaaay better). My biggest issue is figuring out how to made the head of your cute Loth cats 😅 I’m not on and unable to get onto Instagram could you post the story on how you designed it on here or give me some tips on how to make one? -thank you so much :)

Also, I’m designing the pattern of this one after a cheetah, I also love how you did the striped tail so I’m going to do that with black and white longer fur at the end. (I’ll need to trim it some though.) but any tips you could give would be much appreciated! 😄

Hi there! Thank you for reaching out, I will post roughly how I made the heads. However it's all the same techniques of making an art doll. There are great youtube tutorials out there which I watched to learn how to make my loth cats.

Long Post! Also heads up, they look really creepy until you put fur on them!

I used a styrofoam base for the head to keep it really light, loth cats have huge heads so it's important to keep the head light on the doll so it doesn't fall on it's face right away. Craft stores usually sell half spheres that I carved down to more of an oval shape to start.

I bought resin eyes on etsy and glued them on with hot glue. There are so many color options so have fun with them! I then used foam clay to add more shape to the face and make the eyes more natural looking. You can also probably use paper mache or another light air drying clay. But again keep the weight in mind.

I never worry about adding too many details as it will all be covered by faux fur, but having those shapes helps it look more realistic.

Next you enter what I call the creepy monkey phase. I usually paint the face a natural skin tone or the color of the fur so you can't see any gray.

I then attach the head to the body fur using glue. Next I cover the face in masking tape and draw the fur patterns I want onto it. This is a common fursuit head making technique. I recommend looking that up for more details on how to do that, but the photo below shows the steps I did.

*Note! Pay attention to the fur direction, on my tape pattern you can see the arrows showing which way the fur lays, use real animals as reference.

I then glued it on the face using fabric glue or hot glue. The more you cover at this point the less you have to flock later.

Once you have most of the face covered, you can cover any little gaps using a flocking technique. Basically laying down a layer of glue and then taking very short hairs of faux fur and pressing it into the glue. Again there are some great youtube tutorials on how to do it if you google "flocking art doll".

Below is my first loth cat showing how weird it looks. Trust the process! It will look silly and kinda bad right until the end.

Trim up any extra hairs that get in the way of the face, and next comes my favorite part, making them look like loth cats and not nightmare creatures!

I use sharpie fabric markers for the blacks and go around the eyes and mouth. This give them instant personality. You can also use some paints to add extra markings and color.

For the tail. I don't have any photos of the tail specifically, but here is the pieces of the pattern for the blue cat. The tail is basically just a rounded tube!

Good luck with your build! I would love to see the final project!

#loth cat doll #tutorial #sorta #tooka cat #art doll #ask

[literallyjustanerd]

Good Boy (Tup X F!Reader smut)

One of my New Year's resolutions is to be more shameless. So enjoy some utter filth, courtesy of someone who thinks there can always be more dominant-reader smut out there.

Description: You're unwinding at 79s after a long week, when you spot a certain clone watching you from across the floor. One who gives you other ideas about how to destress. Words: 3.3k Content: Praise kink, hair pulling, dom reader, oral sex, bathroom sex, minor 501st shenanigans Rating: 18+ (minors fuck off. please.)

Taglist: @freesia-writes @wolffegirlsunite @clonethirstingisreal @trixie2023

You’re four drinks in, and you’re starting to feel it. A pleasant little buzz tickles the back of your brain, just enough to shake off the last of the week’s tension. Propping one elbow back against the bar, you survey the dancefloor of 79s from over the rim of your spotchka soda. Before you is a rolling sea of bodies, pushed and pulled by the thundering bass like a relentless tide. You’re drawn in by the undertow, a hypnotic beat swaying your hips as you join the crowd and quickly find yourself lost in the rhythm. Taken far from the stress of a long, long work week. Stars, you’d needed this.

You come back to yourself after who-knows-how-long to the nagging feeling that someone’s eyes are on you. A quick scan of the crowd finds no obvious onlookers. Not that you’d be opposed to that: there’s a reason you pay the extra cab fare to the clone-dominated bar on the surface instead of settling for the cheap lower-level clubs. But just when you’re about to push the feeling aside, you spot him. Big, brown eyes, tucked into the corner of the room, trying hard to look like he’s not watching.

He’s in a private booth toward the back of the bar: the 501st’s usual post. Maybe you should feel a little sheepish about being at 79s enough to know that. But locking eyes with the trooper across the room, you can’t feel anything but intrigue. Only a split second passes before he looks away, skittish and, you could swear, shy. Nothing like the other clones you’d encountered here, all show and bravado: the other 501st members being among the biggest offenders. But this one? He has the same (handsome, rugged, chiselled) face as the other clones. But something about him feels different. Softer, gentler. He laughs at something one of his brothers says, and the way his smile creases those tooka eyes has your gut clenching. And that top knot? …Well. Maybe you needed to blow off some more steam than you’d realised. He’s making an effort to keep his attention away from you, but after a few long moments, his eyes betray him, and he meets your gaze once more. Here we go. You raise your glass in his direction, adding a wink for good measure. His eyes widen, and he nearly chokes on the drink he’s tipped up. You’re grinning, you realise, as you let yourself fade into the music again, working your hips a little more deliberately as you weave through the crowd to the back corner.

You don’t rush. It’s half the fun, playing the game, drawing it out, drinking in the anticipation. He’s trying, poor thing, to keep his cool, but by the time you reach the edge of the crowd and approach the booth, he’s visibly flustered. You’re close enough now to see the teardrop tattoo adorning his cheek. Is it an attempt to seem as tough as the other clones? Or an embracing of his more sensitive nature? You’re hoping, if you play your cards right, that you might just find out.

The other 501st troopers leave you no room to speak when they notice you, falling over each other to offer you a drink and a seat. You pay them no mind, taking a step toward the middle of the booth. “Hey. What’s your name?” Silence. The other clones watch, shocked and grinning. One of them, a Republic cog tattoo across his face, elbows his brother in the side to jog him into speaking. “Tup,” he says, and asks you your name in return. You smile as you tell him. “I haven’t seen you here before.” Another clone, goateed, speaks up, topping Tup’s glass up from a large bottle. “He’s fresh off Kamino. First time out,” he smirks. “We wanted to show him a good time. Maybe you wanna help?” You can’t help but find it cute how instantly his brothers become willing wingmen. And how bashful Tup looks when it's mentioned that it's his first time. The two either side of him barely contain their excitement when you extend your hand. “Maybe I do. Can I buy you a drink, Tup?”

His mouth opens, though it takes a long moment before he can summon the words. In the end, the “yes, please,” he stammers is drowned out by the cheers and taunts of his brothers. They all but shove him out of his seat and toward you, whooping and making crass jokes that turn poor Tup’s cheeks several shades darker. Lacing your fingers with his, you pull him in close and lead both of you back to the bar.

As timid as he seems, he’s just as eager, and twice as polite.. While you wait for the bartender to pour your drinks, he’s already asking you about yourself, where you’re from, how often you’re here, what you do for work. By the time you take your glasses and find a corner of the bar to stand at, you’re surprisingly invested in the conversation. He’s a natural gentleman, and a much better listener than most people you’ve picked up in bars before. When there's a moment's pause in the conversation, he tightens his grip on his drink and takes a slow breath.  “You… You look beautiful tonight,” he says, so earnestly that you almost melt. It makes you all the more determined to show him a good time, especially when you see how pleased he looks as you thank him for the compliment, how happy he seems with himself for managing to say it at all.

You turn the talk to him when you can find a gap in his thoughtful questions, and try to return the favour. Tup gushes about the rest of the 501st at the slightest chance he gets. It’s clear he looks up to them: he talks about them like they’re his older brothers. The stories he shares have him more at ease, though he still looks like a tooka in headlights when you reach out and run your fingers over his neatly-tied hair. You're suddenly fighting the impulse to pull it free, to tangle it all up in your fingers and play with it. Later. “Haven’t seen many other clones with hair like this,” you say. “It's gorgeous.” Tup's mouth pulls into a wide, beaming smile, colour flooding his cheeks. He tries to bury his sheepishness behind his drink. Cute. “Thanks,” he mumbles. “The boys say it suits me. It's nice to have something different from them.” You almost kiss him right then and there. But you resist. There's still more to show him. “Do you want to dance?” you ask. He swallows hard, then nods, and lets you lead him to the dancefloor.

Even if you hadn’t been told that this was Tup’s first outing, it would still be as clear as the blinding neon lights around you. He’s painfully still, stiff and off-beat. Laying a hand on the pauldron at his shoulder, you lean in to speak into his ear. “It’s okay,” you say, as gently as you can over the thundering music. “Just relax. Follow my lead.” His hand twitches in yours when you guide it to the arch of your waist. You find yourself glad you’d picked the black dress tonight: it’s thin, with cut-outs and panels of mesh that let you feel his fingers on your skin. Starting slow, you coax Tup into a gentle twist to the beat. Before long, he’s easing into it. Following your lead, just as directed. It’s a kind of high, this feeling of confidence, of control. Of being trusted. Tup’s simple swaying grows to a roll of his hips, each one betraying more heavy intent. When he seems comfortable enough, you reach out one hand to his side, and pull him in close.  “Are you having fun?” you ask, your lips inches from the shell of his ear. “Do you want to keep going?” He gives a shallow nod, and forces a low, breathy, “Yes.”

Reassured and wanting more, you tighten your grip on his hip as you dance. The distance between you has closed, the two of you drawn in magnetically. You wish you could press fully against him, but the hard planes of his armour keep you from feeling him like you want to. It’s maddening, only adding to the growing heat under your skin. Roaming fingers find a gap above his cuisse, teasing where his skin is covered only by a thin body sock. At the same time, Tup's hands on your waist creep lower. When you give the flesh a squeeze, relishing the feel of firm muscle under your grip, you could swear you hear a whine escape Tup’s throat. He does the same, bunching the hem of your dress in his fingers, deliciously firm. “You’re good at this,” he mumbles. You run a hand over his arm, squeezing the flesh below his pauldron. “So are you.”

When you pull back to look at him, the smile that settles on his face is brighter, sharper. There’s a spark of mischief in his eye, one that you can’t help but find endearing despite the ache between your legs. It’s driving you to impatience, your mind clouding over with all the things you want to do with -and to- this gorgeous, gentle, genuine man. You’re not sure how much longer you can last out here. You’re closer again, each grind of his body now presses one thick thigh directly to your core. Your pulse quickens. The music throbs around you, filling your head and pounding in the hollow of your chest. The air turns electric. Your hands at his back. Your breath on his ear. Tup’s greedy, devious touch dipping low, then lower. Low enough to grip a handful of your ass and squeeze, tight, dragging your pussy against his thigh. You thrust against the plate of his armour, turning to press your lips to his neck.

“Good boy.” 

You hadn’t meant to let it out. It had floated into your mind on the haze of your pleasure and slipped from your mouth in a low purr, all before you could think to hold it back. But before you can worry you’ve taken it too far, Tup’s head falls forward against you. He groans, heavy and stuttering, burrowing into the warmth of your neck. His eyes shut tight. His breath thick, searing on your skin.

Oh.

When he comes back out of hyperspace, his eyes are blown wide. There’s something under his gaze, something feral. You clench around nothing, driven wild by one thought: you’re going to bring that something to the surface, to see what else is lurking down there, waiting to be drawn out. Movements sharpened by lust and high on power, you hook two fingers into Tup’s belt and pull him toward the edge of the crowd. “Come with me,” you say. It’s not a question. Tup looks up. As though entranced, his feet move. He lets you lead him down the dark corridor, stopping at one of the bathrooms. 

The music dulls when you shut the door and snap the lock, sealing out the rest of the bar and leaving the two of you alone. You hadn’t realised how heavy you were breathing, not until you hear it in your ears and feel the heaving of your chest. Crowded close to you in the small space, Tup is faring no better. His eyes are laser focused on you, heady, hazy, and searching. A bright flush paints his desire clear across his cheeks, his lips parted enticingly. Curling locks have broken loose from his neat top knot. The loose strands catch the meagre light in the bathroom, glowing gold in a crown over his head. You open your mouth to speak, to check one final time that Tup is comfortable, that this is what he wants. Your answer comes before you can utter a single word: Tup takes your opened lips as his opportunity, and his mouth crashes against yours, swallowing your words and smothering your pleasantly startled moan. 

He's not patient. Despite his earlier shyness, or perhaps because of it, his kiss is frenzied, desperate and hungry. There are hands at your waist, your neck, your hips, your back, unable to settle anywhere for long. Like he's afraid the moment will be cut short, like he won’t get the chance to do everything he wants to. Wanting to reassure him, you lift a hand to cup his jaw. Your thumb traces teasing little arcs, feather-soft, across his cheek. “You feel good. Doing so good,” you coax, words muffled against his mouth. A low, shuddering breath fans your lips, and his grip on your upper thigh turns vice-like. You're pushed back, caged against the wall, your leg hauled up to hook around Tup’s hip while he drives relentlessly forward in rolling thrusts, chasing his own pleasure, grinding against you. Each wave sends flames licking up your spine, the hard plastoid of his armour unforgiving. It's too much, and it's not enough. You swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, tasting spotchka and something sweet as his mouth opens wider to let you in. The hot, heavy slide of your tongues together goads Tup on. The hand that isn’t holding your thigh creeps up your waist to the curve of your breast, gripping just hard enough that the pleasure verges on pain. You moan into Tup’s mouth, and, shyness be damned, he grins.

Not to be outdone, you give in to the impulse you’ve been fighting all night, and reach up to pull his hair free from its knot. It cascades down to skim his shoulders, gently curling now that it’s not pulled tight. Sharp nails rasp across his scalp as you gather a handful, tangling it in your fingers. You pull back from his lips, leaving him chasing you for more until you move to mouth at his neck, nipping at his jaw and the soft skin below his ear. At the same time, you clench your fist, twisting and pulling his hair roughly. Tup’s knees almost buckle. A ragged, broken moan wracks his chest.

“Kriff, please.” The words are torn from his throat, voice fraying at the edges. You smile against his neck, tilting until your lips graze his ear as you reply. “Please what?” you tease, head spinning with your own power. “Use your words, pretty boy. What do you want?” Need and anticipation saturate the air as Tup struggles to catch his breath enough to speak. He mumbles something faint and slurred into your shoulder. Leaning back as much as you can while still shoved up against the wall, you use your grip on Tup’s hair, guiding him up to meet your gaze. “You can do better than that. Tell me what you want, Tup.” Whining like a puppy, Tup’s eyelids flutter. You feel him swallow, his throat dry. Still, he wills his clumsy lips around the words, glazed eyes heavy on yours. “Want to taste you. Let me taste you. Please.”

You hadn't realised until that exact moment how soaking wet he’s gotten you, how near your own limits you are. When you hear the desperation in his words, his eagerness to please, you have to take a moment yourself before you regain your composure.

“Good,” you breathe. “Now… on your knees.”

The hand in Tup’s hair tugs downward, and Tup follows instantly, greaves hitting the floor with a dull thud. You hadn't thought he could get any more gorgeous. But kneeling before you, his big, brown eyes haloed by dark curls, your breath is stolen by more than lust. With trembling fingers, he slides your dress up, cresting the swell of your hips. The cold air on your flushed skin sends you shuddering. Your eyes fall shut, a hum deep in your throat quickly growing to a growl when you feel him tug your underwear down. Every inch of exposed skin feels electric, buzzing, sizzling like a lit fuse. Tup’s eyes flit from your exposed cunt up to look at you, kiss-swollen lips hanging ajar. Keeping your gaze locked, he leans in, breathes deep, and opens his mouth around you.

What he lacks in experience, he more than makes up for in enthusiasm. You don’t hesitate to tell him what to do, giving orders he follows with a true soldier’s precision and rigour. Each pass of his tongue coils you a little tighter, tracing lines of pleasure from you until it sweeps low to dip into your entrance. The angle presses the strong curve of his nose against your clit, and suddenly his shoulders are the only thing keeping you off the floor. “Good– mmph, good boy,” you heave, breathing short and sharp against the relentless pleasure. “You feel so good, Tup, don’t stop.”

The moan that spills from his lips hits right at your core, sending your cunt clenching around his tongue. He’s strung out, verging on animal, devouring you like a starving man, your slick coating his nose and running down his chin. He reaches up to clutch at you, at your ass and the backs of your thighs. Even through his gloves, his nails dig into your skin, little pinpricks of pleasure-pain like bright, burning comets among a glittering starfield. “‘M close,” you tell him, grinding forward against his mouth. “That’s it, just a little more. Just need–” Too pleasure-drunk to form the words, you find your punishing grip on his hair again and pull, dragging his lips up to your clit and pressing him in hard. He obeys instantly, sealing his lips around the little bud and sucking. You throw your head back against the wall, your mouth gaping wide around a silent scream. It’s already too much. You fist both your hands in Tup’s hair and clench tight, fighting hard to control the peak, to ride the wave without losing yourself. But then, that clever tongue circles across the tip of your clit. Gently, brutally, just barely ghosting across the white-hot nerves. 

Your mind fails you. Static fills your vision. Your ears are stuffed full of cotton. The air in your lungs turns to wildfire. The world outside shatters into a million tiny shards, until all that remains is you and Tup’s devastating touch, wringing every last drop of pleasure out of you that he can get.

You can’t say how long you drift out in oblivion before your senses begin to return. When you think you can trust your legs to hold your weight, you release Tup. He sits back on his knees, struggling to catch his breath, and it occurs to you with some embarrassment that you might have held him to you a little too tightly. He’s still panting as you pull your underwear up and shimmy your dress back down. Still, it doesn’t seem to bother him. On the contrary, he looks wrecked. He’s smiling wide, dazed and giddy, hair mussed, lips and nose glistening with evidence of his good work. You reach down to caress his cheek, and he leans into the touch, turning his head to press a wet kiss against your palm.

“Was it good?” he asks, sounding far too sweet for someone looking so utterly debauched. Your smile warms him, and his shoulders pull back in pride when you tell him, “It was perfect. You were perfect.” For a long moment the two of you stay like that, your gasping breaths gradually slowing and fading. Outside the bathroom door, the music continues to pound, a gentle reminder. Tup stands. His brothers are no doubt wondering where he’s gone. And yet…

“I–If you want to go–” You cut Tup off when he starts to speak, pressing a finger to his lips. “You were so good for me,” you say, hands searching around Tup’s waist until you find the latch you’re looking for. You lean in for a kiss, tasting your own release on his tongue. Tup’s crotchplate falls to the floor as you speak against his lips. “It’s only fair that I return the favour. Right?”

#clone trooper tup #tup x reader #clone trooper tup x reader #clone x reader #clone thirsting #drabble

[tcwmatchmakingau]

The Beauty In All, Part Two

Editor's note: written by @deejadabbles Pairing: Echo x GN!reader Rating: General Audience (but minors DNI) Summary: Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice- still shame on you, don't take advantage of my kindness! After so many times of falling for people who mock and manipulate your kind nature, you thought that love, true love, was simply not in the cards for you. Thankfully, Right to Love is here to make sure you and a lucky ARC trooper get your happy ending together. A.N: For some clarity: in my take on this AU, Palps had his "unfortunate accident" pretty late into the og clone wars timeline, so Echo was still rescued from the techno union and was rolling with the bad batch for awhile. And of course, since this is an everyone lives AU too, Tup's chip never activated so that whole thing never went down, Everyone lives, everyone's rescued, happy endings all around! Also....if you guys read this chapter closely, you'll see references to more stories I have planned for this AU *wink wink* Lastly, Daria is @blueink-bluesoul 's wonderful OC, who you will find in other works of this AU! Word Count: 2,742

Warnings: Mentions and discussions of ableism

Part One

With all her appointments taken care of for the day, Maura sat at her desk and got to work with the stack of profiles under her care. With her favorite playlist starting in the background and a shawl wrapped loosely around her shoulders, she started sorting today’s new clients. She used her own little “personality-type” system to highlight and sort each of them, which made it easier to draw up a short list of possible matches for each client, which were then looked into deeper from there.

She had gotten this process down to a nice, practiced rhythm and had just begun drawing up the ‘maybe-matches’ for the first new client, when there was a knock on her door. As usual, she gave a distracted noise to whoever was on the other side, and most people at RTL would know it meant a cheerful, “come in”.

“I come bearing gifts,” came an almost light tone, and Maura didn’t have to look up from her desk unit to know it was Kix.

Still, because it was Kix, she tore herself away from her work and smiled up at him. He was holding two togo cups in his hands, both bearing the logo of the tapcaf down the street that many at the matchmaking service frequented nowadays.

Kix was giving his most charming smile as he handed the cup to her, “One hot cocoa, with extra whipped cream and caramel drizzle. And yes, hot cocoa, because I know that, even if you like it, caf this late in the day makes you stay up all night.”

His smile was very infectious, not that she needed much reason to smile, but it was easy around a man like Kix. “You are the actual sweetest,” she said as she took the cup, waiting till she removed the lid and swiped some of the cream before adding, “even if it is just a bribe.”

Kix didn’t even flinch. He was still smiling as he put a hand over his heart, “But I bring you drinks all the time without ulterior motives.”

Maura leaned back in her chair and narrowed her eyes playfully at the medic, “In the morning, yes, not in the afternoon. Come on, Kix, out with it.”

He at least had the decency to look like he was thinking his answer over, even though she knew he had whatever he wanted to say planned down to a T. Finally he sank into her chair, instantly grabbing the tooka plushy and holding it aloft. “So, I had a lovely chat with one of today’s clients in the waiting room and I was thinking that they would be perfect for…you know who,” he moved the tooka’s head as if it agreed with him. Dang it, he was bringing out all the cute charm today

Honestly, she should have expected this, especially since she knew exactly who he was talking about…and that the thought crossed her mind too. How could it not? You were charming and sweet and obviously cared deeply about people, especially clones. One of her previous clients, Tiio, had sent her a long, detailed letter of recommendation the moment you signed up for RTL. Everyone knew about the whole flower crown event now and, according to Daria, even Fox was fond of you and the way you treated his brothers.

And, as for ‘you know who’, Maura had met the stubborn brother in question a few times now, when Kix invited her along to 79s. Even when she wasn’t working, Maura couldn’t help but to read people, to think about and observe them, and that man may benefit from someone like you.

But, in the end, none of that mattered. Not until Echo came to RTL himself. 

“Kix,” it was undoubtedly a warning, though it had no real teeth since she knew he was a good enough man not to make her resort to that. “You know I can’t do anything until he comes to us. And even then, I can’t set them up on a date just because you got a feeling or a vibe.”

“I know I know,” he set the tooka plush on his lap so he could hold up both hands to her, “Obviously you know more than I do, I just had a short conversation, but,” he shrugged, “I don’t know, I just got this feeling when I talked to them. You’re the expert but, if I can finally drag him in here, will you at least give their compatibility a look over?”

Maura quirked an eyebrow, “You think you’re wearing him down?”

He ran a hand over his neatly designed hair, looking a little smug now, “You know not to underestimate my skills. We’re going out tonight, a bunch of us and a lot are bringing their partners. I bet the morning caf that Echo’s name will pop up in the appointment requests by this time tomorrow.”

All she could do was wave her hands, “I won’t promise anything, but, if he submits his profile, I’ll keep all possible matches in mind.” Oh, he was practically beaming now. “But Kix, don’t expect me to wait for him if you still haven’t convinced him,” her tone was firm, but he knew she was only saying it as a professional reminder.

“I wouldn’t expect any less,” was his pleased reply, “I won’t even say I told you so when he signs up.”

“No.”

Kix looked quite affronted, “You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

Echo’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead, “You mentioned Right to Love, I know where this conversation is going.”

As if he couldn’t be bothered with his brother’s offended look, Echo simply took another drink of his Bespin brandy as Kix recovered himself. Currently, between everyone who had shown up tonight, Echo, Kix, Tech, and Hunter were the only ones still sitting at the booth and table they’d claimed. Fives always made sure to include Echo when the old 501st gang went out, and in turn, Echo tended to drag clone force 99 along with him. It had taken…a while for the two teams to get used to each other, but they'd managed something of a relationship by now.

Kix leaned back in his chair, “All I said was that there’s been another influx of new clients recently.”

“And,” Echo said in a bored tone, “that was your attempt at shifting the conversation so you can try to convince me to sign up, again.”

“There’s something wrong with that?” Kix shrugged, unbothered by the resistance, “It’s kind of my job to pester my brothers into taking care of themselves.”

“I don’t see how getting set up on a blind date is ‘taking care of myself’.”

“You know it’s more than that.”

“Kix,” Echo’s voice was a rumble now, but made it a little less barbed at the edges when he said, “why are you so set on this?”

The other man couldn’t help but sigh. He cast a look around the table, Tech was engrossed in his datapad while Hunter leaned back with his eyes closed. Hopefully, they would use the loud music as a way to turn a blind ear.

Still, Kix leaned in and lowered his tone when he said, “Vod, I see the way you look at them.” 

Even though he certainly didn’t need to, he nodded his head toward their brothers. To Fives who was dancing with his once shy partner. To Tup who was cheering his girlfriend on at the billiards table. To Rex who, while never having been a client, still found love at the little service devoted to it.

“It’s okay to want what they have, Echo,” Kix said, and he hoped the sincerity in his tone came through.

Echo didn’t look at him, at first he seemed to stare at nothing in particular, but Kix knew his eyes were drifting between the pairs. He saw the way he watched Fives tease a blush out of his cyare, or Tup smile when his girl leaned her head on his shoulder, or Rex and his little matchmaker staring at each other with pure adoration.

Kix took a sip of his own drink before adding, “Look, I’m not saying love’s going to make life perfect or anything, but, I think they could find someone who could really make you happy.” He waited a beat, then nudged his old friend in the shoulder. “Hell, I’m sure they can even find someone who can handle how grumpy you are. And when that happens, I know you can make that person happy too.” This time he didn’t give Echo a chance to reply, instead, scooting his chair back from the table as he took their glasses, “Think about that while I get us another round.”

  Still there, at the table, Echo watched the medic go and released a long breath from the depths of his chest. Yes, Echo had thought about Right to Love many, many times. Every time one of his brothers gushed about their partners, he would feel a small, short tug in his chest. Echo never had been, nor ever would be, the type of man who needed to be in a relationship, but, there was still a longing there. A pining, almost. And he supposed he owed it to himself to finally acknowledge its existence.

“I think it’s a good idea.”

The voice startled Echo out of his thoughts and he turned to find Hunter, still sitting with his head tilted back and eyes shut.

“All you can lose is time, Echo, so why not try it?”

“There’s more to it than that,” he grumbled.

Hunter finally opened his eyes and looked at him. “So? Since when have you backed down from anything? I would have thought the ARC trooper in you would like the risk.”

Echo knew what Hunter was doing, especially since Hunter was observant enough to realize what he meant by ‘more to it’. Still, he had to admit that Hunter's challenge was working.

And, once Echo thought about it with a little more grace, he supposed Kix had a point. If there was anywhere that could help him find someone who was nothing like his previous dalliances, it was probably RTL.

Kix was making his way back to the table now, and got a thankful nod from Hunter when he handed him a fresh drink. Before the medic could even settle back in his chair, Echo knocked him off balance with his next words.

“Alright, you win.” 

  If Echo wasn’t so hardwired to see things through, he might have walked out the door during the time he waited in the lobby. Filling out the profile questions had made this all feel a little too real all of a sudden and a part of him still couldn’t believe he was actually doing this.

Still, seeing the look on not only Kix’s face, but the way Fives’ lit up when he heard that Echo was coming here, made it all a little easier. Kix at least had the decency not to keep harping on the matter after he ‘won’ so to speak. Fives, on the other hand, couldn't stop going on about how excited he was that Echo was ‘getting out there’ again and would finally find someone they could go on double dates with.

It was half endearing, half annoying as all kriff.

Now, Echo was being led into a cozy little office by a woman who put the casual in business casual. A part of him was glad it was Maura who took him on, at least he knew her, even if they weren’t necessarily friends. Though, he supposed if they were, that would be some kind of conflict of interest.

“So, how does this work?” he asked after settling down in the chair across from her.

“Right now? We talk so I can get to know you better, so I can understand your needs and what you’re looking for better.”

To the point, but not unkind, Echo could respect that. “What do you want to know?”

For a moment she simply looked at him, considering and he felt a little uneasy under the gaze, not that he would let it show. Then, “I want to know why you were so reluctant to come here.” Her eyes softened a little, though she didn’t take them off him, “You don’t strike me as someone who balks at love, or even what we do here. And yet, Kix has spent many a lunch break complaining about how you brushed him off every time he brought it up to you.”

Alright, diving into the deep end. At least she didn’t waste time. Still, he needed a moment to think, to collect himself and she seemed patient, settling back in her chair to relax a little.

“It’s not just Right to Love," he started after a while, "it’s not as if I have some weird prejudice against this place. It’s just, dating in general, I suppose.”

“A bad history with dating?”

Echo scoffed, “Yeah, you could say that.”

She didn’t reply, just continued to look back at him, only now she gave him a small, encouraging smile.

Again, he waited a moment, falling back on some of his strategic tendencies before he even thought about it. Old habits died hard, but, he did want to think his answer over carefully. It’s not as if he kept these things secret and, if he was going to tell someone, it should be the woman responsible for finding him someone who wouldn't repeat the mistakes of lovers past.

Echo shifted in his chair, eyes drifting down to the dark wood of her desk. “In the past, when I’ve tried to date, I either get one extreme or the other.” He lifted his prosthetic hand and waved it over the rest of him, over every cybernetic detail. “A lot of people can’t handle this. They act like they can at first, but I see the way they look at me before eventually forgetting my comm number. Or, they’re at the other end of the spectrum. They see all this and think that they need to ‘fix’ me.” The word was bitter in his mouth, and his eyes snapped up to meet hers again, “I don’t need to be fixed, just like I don't need someone who can't stand the way I look. I don't want either of those. I want someone to look at me and…”

His voice trailed off, which was a little unlike him. Echo was usually so sure in his words and actions.

“To look at you and just see you?” Maura finished for him, and the words struck home.

Echo found himself taking in a breath, then, he almost let out a huff of a laugh, “Yeah. Just me. I’m not saying that these aren’t a part of who I am, they are, but there’s so much more to me than that.” He sighed, "So yeah, that's why I'm a little reluctant on dating."

That small, encouraging smile got wider and warmer as she straightened up in her chair, “Thank you for being so honest with me, Echo. Being hesitant to put yourself in our care is understandable, given all that.” It was only then that her eyes left him, instead focusing on her datapad as she typed away. “I’m not going to belittle the trust you’ve put in me by making flowery promises. I can’t guarantee that whoever I match you with will undoubtedly see you the way you deserve to be seen. I will, however, promise that I won’t give up until we find someone who does.”

Echo chuckled at that, “So, you’ll take on my high-maintenance case?”

Maura smiled at him, “High-maintenance? Oh, dear Echo, don’t flatter yourself. If you were truly that, we probably would have sent you to Daria. I don’t think there’s ever been a challenge that woman didn’t want to tackle." She winked at him, "You’re stuck with me instead.”

“You’re at least honest with me,” Echo shrugged, “And Kix seems to have faith in you, so I’ll trust his judgment.”

“I’m so glad I have glowing recommendations,” she drawled as she finished her notes.

He actually found himself smiling and almost, almost felt like something in his chest lightened. Alright, Echo wasn’t too proud to admit when someone else was right and, somehow, he actually had a good feeling about this.

 .

#tcw matchmaking au #clone matchmaking au #The Bad Batch

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

poll complete. y'all decided that.....

a nice sexy beating. 👍🏽

King of the Dragonfish: Chapter 2

Obi-Wan watches the sith rise from the water, sliding onto dry land like some kind of amphibious snake. Like a naga, but horned and clawed and radiating darkness in the force. His tail gives him extra height, letting the-

Letting the-

The zabrak? The dragonfish? The monster…?

Letting him loom, swaying slightly, the gills along his ribs fluttering in rhythm.

"Jediiii," he-

Him? They? It?

Force, what had the sith become?

Darth Maul croons to him with false concern, cloying and mad. "Have you not heard the dragonfish ditty?"

Obi-Wan ignores the nonsensical question. "You've won, sith. Well done. Now I've an appointment to keep this afternoon, so I'm afraid I really must be going..."

The man laughs like the sizzle of a frying pan, swaying his way closer. "Going? Going? Oh no, no, Kenobi~ you are going nowhere. Ever."

Well then. If that's how it's going to be.

Obi-Wan leaps at the creature, force fueled and bloody determined, with his fist aimed for that sharp jaw of his. The jedi's punch connects, speed and desperation lending it strength. The impact throws Maul back and away.

The sith screams, enraged, and coils in on himself before returning the spring attack with interest. Obi-Wan is dodging, rolling, trying to score another hit-

-and then he is hitting a wall, ears ringing, falling to the floor, sight spinning.

Clawed hands grab the lapel of his tunics, drawing him up and in until he is suspended before the dragonfish sith. Obi-Wan hangs there, blood dripping down the side of his face.

"Ohhhh, Kenobi," Maul hisses, "You provoke me. Yessss. To meet your end sooner rather than later, to escape my revenge."

Obi-Wan reaches up to grab the man's forearms, feet kicking as he tries to gain purchase on the slick black scales that have replaced his thighs. "Suicidal? I think not. I cut you in half once, Darth, and I'll find a way to do it again."

There's that horrible, sizzling laughter again.

A long black tongue slides from Maul's mouth, laving up the side of his face, smearing the blood. "I would like to see you try, jedi scum. Your blade is gone, your breathing tool is gone, and now you are powerless before me!"

Obi-Wan responds by kicking him in the face.

The cold grip on his tunic releases, and he drops like a tooka to land on his feet. The jedi braces, winding up another left hook-

A tail lashes at his head, wacks him, and even with strong assistance in the force he goes stumbling aside. That lithe, muscular tail whips toward him again from the other direction, and he takes it to the shoulder. The wall catches his fall. He impacts it with a slap of wet cloth and a sound of pain as his ribs creak.

Next thing Obi-Wan knows, there's a hand wound into his hair, wrenching his head back, and he's spread limbed chest-first against the stone. The sith is glued to his back, long tail separating Obi-Wan's legs, curling about and trapping them in place. He shoves backward against that heavy weight, force assisted, but it doesn't gain him enough space to act.

He reaches back to elbow the sith in the face, but he is caught, the limb pinned under the other man's arm where it's got his head. Obi-Wan's other arm is snatched as well, pinned at the wrist, leaving him with so very little range of motion.

He wrenches against the hold again, and again, but Maul has him well and truly helpless.

"Let me go!" he demands, but the sith only pulls on his hair, exposing the jedi's throat to the possibility of those jagged fangs.

"Mmno," the creature says, gleeful. "This is your tomb, Kenobi. However long I decide to make you suffer, this is where you will die."

He struggles anyway, through pain and the nausea of a mild concussion, through fear and mounting exhaustion. He fights, he fights, but it is not enough.

Heavy coils of dragonfish press to his back, sliding past in a slow and rhythmic writhe. The sith giggles, as if delighted with his new toy.

Eventually it isn't worth the energy to keep trying. Obi-Wan goes limp into the hold, panting and cold.

Chapter 1:

(next poll! if you want to be on the tag list, write 'add me to tags' in your reblog or the notes.)

#king of the dragonfish #darth maul #is having too much fun #Obi-Wan #is not having any fun at all #yet? #next poll incoming #chat writes the plot #Obi-Wan kenobi #star wars #sith #jedi #fanfiction live #maul opress #zabrak #nightbrothers #monster!maul #dathomir #obi wan kenobi #maul #creature mode #choose your own adventure #flash fiction #body horror #deep sea creatures #dragonfish

[523rdrebel]

Chapter 6

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Overall Summary: AU/Canon Divergent - Set after the rescue of Crosshair, Omega, and Tech from Mount Tantis. The Batch settles down on Pabu and are, for the moment, able to hide from the Empire. Crosshair, with much grumbling, is convinced to see one of the local doctors to monitor his recovery. Unfortunately for Crosshair, Dr. Isabella Ramót is a ray of sunshine and a breath of fresh air - and totally capable of handling his harsh, rough demeanor.

Chapter 6 Summary: Crosshair and Omega have a bonding moment, Bells and Crosshair get closer. Slow burn is slow burning but we're getting closer.

Sorry guys, It's a little bit of a shorter chapter, but I feel like a lot happens so hopefully that makes up for it.

Content Rating: SFW, some mild cursing/fictional cursing, mention of alcohol.

Trigger Warnings - None, mostly fluff and mild flirting.

Sunflower Divider by @saradika

Crosshair was at the shooting range, he'd set up the targets to attempt one of his old tricks utilizing reflector discs that Tech had remade for him. His aim and ability to calculate trajectory, interference, and ultimately hit his intended target was still there, but it took him longer to set up for the shot. His arms shook slightly from the newly rebuilt muscles, and he nearly missed the shot, muttering under his breath. 

"Woah! That was awesome!" A small voice breaks his focus from behind him. He sighs, glancing back at Omega. "Can you teach me?" She was nearly vibrating with excitement, reaching to retrieve the energy bow from her back.

He snorts derisively,  "No. Go pester someone else."

Her eyes widened and she stuck her bottom lip out, pouting like a tooka, "Pleeeease, Crosshair? I've gotten better with my bow but–"

He crossed his arms, closing himself off to avoid her overly enthusiastic tugging of his shirt, grumbling, "Tsk- Why Hunter even let you have that thing, I'll never understand."

"It's okay, I'm good with it! I'll show you!" She pulls out her energy bow and starts shooting at the makeshift targets.

Crosshair hated to admit it, but Omega was pretty good, though it took her a moment to take aim. She hit most of the targets- some a little askew, some near the center.

While she was shooting, Crosshair observed her stance, her breathing, the way she drew her shot. "You're too rigid. Stop trying to force it." He griped and tapped her knee, adjusting her stance for more stability and focus. "Draw again." 

She nodded eagerly, an excited squeal escaping, and drew again. Crosshair lifted her elbow, giving her more strength and control. "Take a deep breath and release slowly. Breathe out with the shot."

She nodded again and Crosshair watched as she breathed, perhaps a little too big, but released and hit the target just shy of center. "YES!" Omega exclaimed, throwing her arms up to hug him.

He grunted and placed one hand on her head to keep her an arm's length away. "Your weapon is an extension of you, not an accessory. Move with it, breathe with it. Practice. Until you don't have to think about it anymore. Then you might not be useless after all." Crosshair sighed and pushed her away,"Now go pester someone else…" Omega jumps up and down, smiling so widely he was surprised she didn't crack her face. "Thank you Crosshair!" 

Bells watched from afar, smiling fondly. It was an incredibly cute interaction. Omega greeted her happily, giving her a quick hug before racing off.

"You're a good brother, Crosshair."

He made a disgusted noise, "The kid's gonna get herself killed if she doesn't learn to handle that thing properly. Don't know how she survived this long with those di’kuts letting her handle a kriffing energy bow." He motioned for Bells to approach the range- another lesson was about to begin.

Despite the mid-morning sun on Pabu, there was a slight chill to the air. Isabella shivered and wished she could pull her chunky knit sweater a little tighter around her.

Crosshair hovered just to the side, body rigid and face severe as he observed for the umpteenth time Bells's posture, form, and control of her borrowed sniper rifle.

Every lesson started with a challenge, "Impress me," in that low, slithering tone that excited and made the skin crawl.

Isabella squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and approached the borrowed rifle. It was set on a platform, ready for assembly. This was always step one of Crosshair’s lessons, he felt that you needed to know your weapon inside and out in order to use it effectively. Bells took a deep breath, hands hovering above the pieces of the rifle, “Don’t lose focus, Bells. If you beat your last time, maybe you could a Reg a challenge." Crosshair ’s voice sneered and stroked her ear, incredibly close. She tried not to react, clenching her jaw against the errant shiver she felt.

He 'tsked' at her and flicked his chewed toothpick away, appearing unimpressed. She tried to block out his presence, instead focusing on connecting the pieces of the rifle. Part of her felt she had improved, hesitating less often and only for a fraction of a second before continuing, and her time had also steadily improved. The rifle was coming together smoothly, boosting her confidence in the knowledge she’d retained from her lessons. 

Once finished she placed the rifle on the stand, extended the scope, seeking the targets he’d placed around the range. She took deep, slow breaths, attempting to calm the beat of her racing heart. There! Breath in, out, release. The shot hits the mark - barely. Ignoring the tinge of disappointment she found the next target. Breathe in, out, and release. Another hit! This one slightly closer to center. As she lined up her sights with the third target, she felt a hand grasp her elbow adjusting its angle slightly. He walked slowly behind her to the other side and pressed firmly on her shoulder,  “Relax your muscles. You want a stable foundation for the rifle. If you’re too tense, it can affect the trajectory of the shot.” Crosshair leaned in behind her, steadying her arm with a surprisingly gentle hand and guiding her in deep, focused breathing. “Try again.” His voice is gruff, but Bells noticed how Crosshair relaxed, she even thought she'd caught a genuine smile when he didn't know she was looking. He was a man in his element and it was intoxicating.

Breathe in, out, and release. This time the bolt pierced through the target, just left of center. Bells exclaimed victoriously.

"Not so fast, Bells–  you still have two more targets." Crosshair reminds, voice smug and teasing, "And the crono is still ticking." She could swear the way he said her nickname had changed, had lost its mocking edge. Now– now, it sounded almost affectionate. Shaking her head to refocus, she squared her shoulders and identified her next target. Bells went through her mental checklist, attempting to relax her muscles and maintain the correct balance of loose flexibility and firm stability. Moments later she had identified and shot her final two targets. She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and looked expectantly at Crosshair.

He held her gaze for a charged, tense moment, before shrugging, “Your time improved by 15 seconds–” Her face breaks into a bright smile but Crosshair holds his hands up,  “Ah! Hold on, your accuracy needs work. Three out of five shots were wide,” He cocks his hip, one hand resting on his side, “You hold too much tension in your shoulders and you’re pulling your shots.”

“Okay. I’ll–”

“Practice.” 

“Practice.” She nodded affirmation.

“Good.”

It was overcast and rainy and Crosshair found himself wandering through the Pabu market. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t just go back home after meeting with Dr. Bells, but his body moved of its own accord compelled by some unknown search for something. He’d left her office feeling antsy and out of sorts, an increasingly frequent occurrence of late which only served to dampen his already dark mood.

Eventually, he reached the market, which was quite busy despite the weather. He wandered aimlessly past stall after stall, glaring at the sellers and causing them to shrink back.

Crosshair’s thoughts are cluttered, further frustrating him and he stifled a growl, turning swiftly on his heel with resolve to head home. A light twinkling sound stopped him in his tracks. His eyes scanned for the source of the sound, landing on a modest market stall that had a curious amalgamation of shiny objects, curios, and various metallic clutter items. His vision zeroed in on a hanging strand of brassy colored bells connected together by twine and accentuated with tiny orbs of green seaglass. His feet propelled him forward, one step, two, then a bitter thought cut through and he paused, What are you doing, Di’kut?

The stall worker eyed his approach warily, but after a moment seemed to notice the item that had caught his eye. He removed it from its hook and laid it out on a cloth covered table. The movement seemed to reset Crosshair’s mind and the thought dissolved, replaced by the confusing but insistent desire to purchase the bells. He only half heard the merchant’s words as he silently paid and the item was wrapped securely in a bright yellow cloth, then wrapped again in thin packaging. His brain badgered him incessantly on the return home: Why did you even buy that?

-You’re such a kriffing idiot!

            -She’s going to hate it

                       -This was a stupid idea.

He had just reached the doorstep to his home, when groaning and visibly distressed, and turned on his heels once more. "What the kriff am I doing!?" He grumbled through gritted teeth, his feet quickly finding the path back to the medical office.

He entered quietly, hoping desperately that the Doctor wasn't in. I'll just go in, set this on the counter and leave. She'll never know I was there.

At first glance, he couldn’t believe his luck, Isabella was nowhere to be seen. He let out a breath he'd been holding and stepped inside with more confidence.

"Crosshair?" Bells voice sounded brightly from around the corner, where her supply closet was, “I wasn’t expecting you back today. Is everything alright? Do you have another headache?” She approached him quickly with concern etched on her face.

Crosshair stood rigid for a moment and frowned at the package gripped tightly in his hands. He scoffed and held out the package, his eyes flicking to her hand where it brushed a light electric trail against his to retrieve the package, then back up to watch her face brighten and cheeks redden. He crossed his arms, an attempt to close himself off after this unexpected lapse in defenses.

“What’s this?” There's a new unidentifiable tone to her voice.

He rolled his eyes, remarking snidely, “Don’t be dull…”

She opened the package gingerly, sucking in softly as she picked up the bells and held them up into the small amount of light streaming through her window. “Wow.” An astonished exhale escaped her lips. “Crosshair… They’re beautiful. You got them for me?”

“Don’t think too hard on it.” He sneered, her earnestly happy reaction causing an alarming warmth to spread in his chest, “They’re just bells. It's stupid.”

Her blue eyes regarded him softly, a teasing smirk ghosting her lips, “Mhm. Well, these are going-” She turned in a circle to scan the room, “Ah! Right up- here!” She hung the bells on a hook putting them where they would dangle just low enough to catch the light of the afternoon, right next to a talentedly rendered painting of Pabu’s seaside view in the early morning - vibrant pinks, purples, oranges, and yellows cut dramatically by the brilliant blue of Pabu’s waters. “Perfect. Thank you for the stupid bells. They go perfectly with my nickname." She smiled softly, winking at him.

He stood stiffly, aching to leave but unwilling to show weakness by running away. He grabbed a fresh toothpick from his pocket, if just to keep his hands busy.

“Do you want to get a drink?”

“What-”

She pushed a strand of curls behind her ear, taking a couple bold steps forward and looked up at him with another challenging smirk, “Would you like to get a drink, Crosshair?”

“A drink…”

“An alcoholic beverage usually enjoyed at the end of a hard day of work-”

He snorted indignantly and fixed her with a hard stare.

“-an experience often made better when shared between friends…”

He rolled his eyes and leaned in, switching the toothpick to the other side of his mouth, “This included in my treatment regiment, Doctor?”

Bells smiled in return and refused to be the first to back up, “Within reason…Besides, you’ll be under supervision.”

“Well, I’m convinced, but I’m not the one who ‘takes their job very seriously.’”

“I’m off the clock.”

“How exciting.” His tone was flat, but Bells noticed the hint of sparkle in his eyes.

Bells grabbed Crosshair’s arm, tugging lightly, and led him out of the clinic, “Come on. First one’s on me.”

Ye Olde Taglist:

@anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @secondaryrealm @arctrooper69 @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @dystopicjumpsuit @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @sunshinesdaydream @followthepurrgil @yubnubhub @jediknightjana @dangraccoon @wizardofrozz @freesia-writes

#Rebel Writes #Sunflowers & Blasters #Sunflowers and Blasters #star wars fanfiction #crosshair x oc #Crosshair x “Bells” #Crosshair x Dr. Isabella Ramot #Star War AU #star wars #the bad batch #tbb #tbb crosshair #tbb Omega #Slow Burn #Fluff #Sibling Fluff #Crosshair is bonding against his will #Bells and Crosshair are cute #Me while writing: JUST KISS ALREADY #Also me: But the TENSION

[winniethewife]

Kinktober 23

Day Twenty Three: Dirty talk (Commander Wolffe x reader)

Warnings: smut under the cut, nsfw, 18+, FemBodied, blowjob, PnV

Minors DNI

Words: 556

“Commander, Please I need you.” She said as Wolffe held her close, having just returned to her coruscant apartment after a long campaign. Loving and desperate kisses shared between them as her Tooka has weaves between their legs. Her arms wrapped around his neck, his arms around her waist. His armor still on, still standing in her entry way, they haven’t moved since he came in the door. He kisses her again after she says this, growling softly into her mouth. They finally make their way to bedroom, Wolffe shedding his armor on the way, leaving him only in his blacks.

“Mesh’la…look at you…On your knees, that’s a good girl. Go on then take it.” She follows his every command, getting on her knees in front of him, and pulling his hardening length from his standard issue blacks. He watches, his eyes trained on her as she does so, her lips kissing the tip, then small kitten licks along his slit. Her hands moving up and down his shaft as she circles her tongue around the tip.

“Ngh, that’s it…ah…yeah…stick your tongue out… that’s it. mmm...that’s good….there, ah look at you, you do that so well…mmph.” Wolffe babbles as she starts to take him into her mouth, her head bobbing as she moves along his length, her eyes looking up at him as she does this. His hand on the back of her head guiding her, keeping the pace. With a soft pop from her lips she looks up at him

“Wolffe, please, I can’t wait any longer.” She whimpers slightly as she looked up at him.

“Kriff…Yeah, come on, get up on the bed, I wanna see you.” He helps her to her feet and onto the bed as she pulls her top over her head to reveal her bare chest, He does the same before pulling down her pants and underwear desperate to get to her. Dragging her to the edge of the bed before sliding his length along her glistening folds drawing a moan out of her lips. He slides inside her, a groan leaving his own lips as he fills her to the hilt.

 “Cyar’ika...Looking so good under me. Your body is divine. Taking all of me, feeling so good.” Wolffe was a relatively quiet man, but when he got going with her, he couldn’t figure out how to shut up, muttering every praise and dirty phrase he could think of as he moves inside her, taking breaks only to kiss her neck and suck softly on her breasts. Her soft mewls and his mumbles phrases fill the air as they move together, hearts racing, heavy breathing, her nails digging into his skin.

“Wolffe I’m gonna…Kriff….” She moans out as she feels the knot of pleasure in her stomach tightening around him every drag of his length bringing her closer and closer.

“That’s It, cum for me, Mesh’la. I wanna see your face when you cum on my cock…oh yeah…I love how tight you are, oh yes baby… ahh…Kriff me too baby me too…” Wolffe continues to ramble as they both reach their peak, she cries out, her legs shake as she feels his spend releasing into her, thankful for the birth control implant. Wolffe leans in and kisses her passionately without restraint, for the first time that evening, it was quiet.

~

Kinktober Masterlist

Tag: @queerponcho

#star wars #clone thirsting #clone smut #the clone wars #x reader #kinktober #fawktober2023 #star wars smut #dirty talk #commander wolffe #wolffe x reader #tcw fanfic #tcw commander wolffe

[sleepingsun501]

Good Morning, Princess

Pairing: Boba Fett x F!reader

Summary: Boba helps satisfy your needs after you wake up hot and bothered in the middle of the night.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Warnings: Soft!dom Boba, established relationship, female masturbation, fingering, dirty talk, praise, PiV sex (wrap it up), aftercare.

Word Count: 2k

Ao3 link

A/N: MINORS GET OUT OF HERE!! Hello all!! It’s been a while since I’ve churned out a fic, but I got inspired and couldn’t keep it in. It’s my first time writing for Boba, so I hope you all enjoy!!

Good Morning, Princess

In the early hours of the morning, well before the suns rose above the sands, you found yourself squirming beneath the heavy blankets on your luxurious bed and trying to ignore the persistent ache between your legs.

It had hit you unexpectedly, waking you in the dead silence of the night and only grew worse as the hours passed, making you restless and uncomfortable. You had done your best to ignore it, but your body was beginning to overheat with need—the cool desert air wafting in from the Dune Sea doing very little to soothe you.

Boba lay oblivious beside you—one arm tucked behind his head, softly snoring, and looking more peaceful than you had seen him in weeks. The steady rise and fall of his muscular chest in the low light did not help to quell the need stirring in your core, but you would not wake him for this. The stress on the mighty Daimyo’s shoulders had been heavy lately, and although he was still incredibly capable, the sleepless nights of his bounty hunting days were over. You could not imagine how badly he needed to make up for all that lost sleep.

Not wanting to disturb him but unable to bear the urges any longer, you shimmied your way further to the edge of the sprawling bed, pausing briefly when Boba shifted from the absence of your warmth.

Silently, you slipped a hand beneath the seam of your soaked panties and covered your mouth with your other hand to stifle your pleasured gasp, trying to imagine your fingers as Boba’s drawing tight, fast circles on your swollen clit to relieve the pressure building within you.

For several minutes, it seemed to help, but it did not last. You closed your eyes to keep your concentration and tried to pretend the powerful man beside you was the one bringing you to the edge of bliss, but it was no use. Your fingers were too small, too soft to be his.

Feeling frustration take the place of your brief contentment, you whimpered needily into your hand. In your desperation, you drew your legs up and plunged your fingers as deeply as you could into your drenched walls, but you could not reach that sweet spot you craved.

“Mesh’la,” Boba’s deep voice rumbled languidly from across the large bed.

Startled, you squeaked in surprise and yanked your hand from your dripping folds, scrambling to hide yourself beneath the blankets before Boba quickly snatched them from your grasp, leaving you exposed in your skimpy nightgown. The embarrassment of having been caught flooded through you in waves, only fueling your arousal as Boba’s knowing gaze locked onto your own.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you… I just… I-I was…” your words sputtered out of your mouth like the mewlings of a tooka kitten that had found its voice for the first time as you reached for the stolen blankets.

You yelped again as Boba reached over, pulled you to his side of the bed in one quick, fluid motion, and settled over you. He braced his hands on either side of you and was still peering down at you with that infuriatingly unreadable expression, and you felt the flush rising in your cheeks.

“Y-you were sleeping… I’m sorry,” you apologized automatically.

“You know you could have woken me, princess,” he whispered, his eyes softening and tracing the curve of your cheek with the roughened pad of his thumb. “I’m a little disappointed you didn’t.”

“But—” you started, but your excuse died on your tongue when you saw the desire burning in his deep brown eyes. A pang of guilt settled deep in your gut from the look, making your tightening core impossibly uncomfortable. “I just didn’t want to wake you. You looked so tired earlier and I could’ve taken care of myself,” you explained, breaking your eyes away from him in shame.

The thumb brushing your cheek grasped your chin and forced you to look back at him. “You don’t get to cum unless I say so,” he said quietly. His voice may have been soft, but the firm tone was irrefutable. “Unless I’ve suddenly started to talk in my sleep, I don’t recall saying so tonight.”

You shook your head in admission, biting your lip and shifting beneath him. His whole body was like a cage above you, and you wanted nothing more than to be ravaged by him—you wanted to feel his muscles flexing beneath the softness of his tummy crushing you to your shared bed, and the hardness of his cock stretching you open and driving deep within you until you forgot your name.

“Does my princess need to be taken care of?” Boba asked, taking the hand you had been pleasuring yourself with and suckling your fingers into his mouth. He cleaned your fingers thoroughly with his tongue, humming his approval when he tasted you, before hiking your nightgown up above your breasts and taking one into his mouth.

You gasped as your nipple pebbled beneath his tongue, and he spread your knees apart to grind his hips into yours. He was hard as a rock, feeling your intense heat through your soaking panties, and repeated his question impatiently against the shell of your ear. “I’m waiting for an answer, little one.”

“Yes. Fuck, yes, Boba. Just need you,” you sighed, pressing your hips up to meet his.

Returning to your breast, he gave your nipple a love bite, making you moan but doing nothing to assuage the ache now threatening to overwhelm your senses. “I think you should apologize first. Only good girls get to cum.”

You pouted at his teasing, but you also knew Boba would drag this out until the twin suns rose high in the sky if he wanted to as he began leaving delicate marks on your chest.

“I… I’m sorry,” you whimpered as he sucked a darker mark onto the tender skin of your opposite breast.

He chuckled darkly at your pathetic attempt. “Come now, my sweet girl, you can do better than that.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you,” you breathed, your hands coming up to grasp his broad shoulders. “I want you, Boba. I want you to make me cum. I need you inside me… need to cum on your cock. Please, I’ll be good and tell you when I need you from now on, I promise.”

Seemingly satisfied with your plea, Boba pushed your dampened panties aside and slid a thick finger into your warmth. You cried out in relief as your body responded to the intrusion, your cunt tightening around the digit and rocking your hips to grind your clit against his palm.

“That wasn’t so difficult, now was it, princess?” he teased, the smirk on his face leaching into his voice. He curled his finger inside you, finding that sensitive spot with ease before adding a second.

“Ohh, Maker… Boba, please more. I need… just need more!” you begged as the hot, electric sparks of your arousal fired through your limbs. You grasped his shoulders so tightly that your nails left little half moons dimpled into his bronzed, scarred skin.

“Don’t worry, little one. I’ll give you what you want, but fingers first. Always have to make sure you’re ready to take me,” he practically growled.

You pouted again, but any brattiness behind it melted away with a needy whimper as he eased his underwear down and slipped one of your hands around his length before settling beside you and throwing your leg over his hip. “That’s right, baby girl, you can take it. I know you can.”

You grasped his thick, leaking cock greedily and stroked him as best you could in time with his movements. Just the way he twitched and throbbed in your grasp with a deep groan was already enough to push you to the edge.

Combined with his fingers making the most lewd sounds as they pumped in and out of your soaked cunt, the feeling of his sturdy body shielding you, and the encouragement dripping from his beautiful lips, it was all too much to hold back. You crashed over the edge with a desperate cry into his chest, burying yourself against him for both affection and security as you rode out your first high.

“There it is,” he murmured soothingly into your hair, continuing to stroke you as you clenched around him. “That’s my good girl. That feels better, doesn’t it?”

You could barely hear him as your heart thundered in your ears. The tension and heat in your tightly wired core finally releasing around his long fingers but only bringing you a fraction of the relief you craved.

Before you had stopped spasming, Boba rested you onto your back again as you twitched through the aftershocks and buried himself in your walls with slow, steady strokes. He graciously waited until he felt the stretch of your walls accommodate him comfortably, but all you could do was cling to his dense shoulders again as he began pounding into you, losing himself in your wet heat.

“You feel so good, baby. So fucking tight… always so perfect for me,” he praised, his tone borderline reverential. He ran a hand up your body over the silk of your nightgown that had fallen back into place, marveling at the softness of it over your searing hot skin and silently worshiping you with his touch.

You let your eyes flutter shut as you gasped out his name, feeling your entire body quake beneath him as he drove you into the mattress. Somewhere in the depths of your lust-addled brain, you were glad he had taken you apart with his fingers first. He had gotten you out of your head, and now you could fully surrender to his control, never having felt safer in any other man’s arms.

The length of his thick cock slipping through your slick cunt was addictive and each stroke pushed you both higher into ecstasy, a sensation which you wished would never end. Even through the fervor of his thrusts, Boba cupped the back of your head ever so gently and brought your lips to his in the tenderest of kisses.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, his breath hot and sweet against your skin. “I love you, my perfect girl. Love you so much… gonna take care of you… never letting you go.”

“Boba…” you sighed, the devotion in his words melting your heart. You were about to echo the sentiment, but he stole your words from you with another breathless kiss as he reached between you and found your clit again.

You could feel yourself hurtling toward that blissful cliff again, bracing yourself for the plunge you knew he would take with you as he chased his release.

“Boba, I need—need to… please!” you cried, begging for permission.

“Together, baby. Cum with me.”

With a hiss and a shuddering, throaty groan, Boba tensed above you, pressing his forehead to yours. You could feel the heat deep within your walls as he painted your insides, and it triggered your second orgasm. Your cunt sucked him in deep as your legs trembled and locked in a vice grip around his waist, and Boba could not help but sigh your name sweetly at the sensation.

Though you both savored the peak as long as you could, you shivered at the loss of him as he eventually eased his softening cock from you. He quickly maneuvered you out of your sweaty nightgown and into the cradle of his arms as he reclined back and pulled the soft blankets up over your exposed form.

The faintest tinge of gold and pink was appearing beyond the horizon through the arches of the balcony, but Boba only had eyes for you. He toyed with the ends of your hair as he took you in, smiling down at you gently.

“I think we’re due for a bit of a lie-in today, don’t you think?” he asked.

You giggled and nodded in agreement, already settling into his chest and wanting to drift back to sleep in his strong arms. “Good morning, my love.”

He rested his head against the top of yours, breathing in your scent, and you felt him relax as well. “Good morning, princess.”

________

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#boba fett #daimyo boba #star wars #the book of boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x you #boba fett smut #nsft

[the-little-moment]

Part Four

Words: 1,381

Warnings: None

Summary: This chapter takes place during the events of "Return to Kamino" and "Kamino Lost". We'll eventually get to a place where we're not following the show so closely.

Lost

“Absolutely not. Look at him. He’s weaker than a wet tooka kitten. What am I supposed to do with that?” The Batch’s Trandoshan employer pointed a disgusted claw in the direction of Gregor.

“Come on, Cid. It’ll only be for a few days. He won’t be any trouble. We just,” Senna sighed, trying not to look desperate, “we need some help right now.”

Cid’s yellow eyes moved between the doctor’s pleading face and the seated commando, who was doing his best to look meek. She groaned. “Fine. But as soon as you get Dark-and-Broody back, you’re gonna make it up to me.”

“I don’t wanna know what that means,” Wrecker grumbled from his spot by the parlor door.

When Senna and Wrecker returned to the hangar, the ship had been repaired and the others were ready to leave.

“Hunter’s commlink has been activated,” Tech informed them with a frown. “He is no longer on Daro. It appears he has been transferred back to Kamino. Senna,” the pilot turned to her, “it would be wiser for you to stay here with Cid and the captain. We don’t know what, or who, is waiting for us there.”

“But what if you need me?” the doctor protested. “If someone gets hurt—”

“We need Senna.” Omega looked up at her, determined, then to Tech. “She’s part of the squad too.”

“I am not insinuating that she isn’t—” Tech started, before Wrecker knocked his shoulder.

“Hunter’s waiting for us. Are we going, or what?”

Senna gripped the back of the pilot’s seat, one of Wrecker’s steadying hands on her back, as Tech coaxed the shuttle down, meter by meter, towards the boiling surface of the sea.

“Lower,” Omega insisted and, finally, the promised landing platform rose up beneath them.

Fucking Se, Senna thought, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Of course the scientist had had a secret way offworld. Senna had never been deluded enough to think she’d discovered even half of what the Kaminoans had tried to keep from her. The cloners were professional secret-keepers, guardedness as much their way of life as the vast waters that surrounded them.

Speaking of waters… The doctor lifted an arm to shield her face as the ramp lowered and driving rain blasted into the cockpit, quickly drenching her. She followed Echo off the ship to stand on the circular duracrete platform, startling as thunder cracked overhead.

Tech turned to look at them, pointing to the domed roofs of Tipoca City in the distance. “Landing was only one problem. How are we going to get into the city?”

“We’ll take the tube system,” Omega explained, and the squad watched in surprise as an aperture in the center of the platform untwisted, a bubble-shaped transport of some sort rising up before them. “Come on!” she said, as it opened to accept her.

Wrecker laughed in approval as he followed the girl onto the transport. “Nice!”

Tech and Echo paused before following their siblings, turning to look back at Senna.

“I strongly advise that you stay with the ship,” the pilot said, his barely-visible eyebrows drawing together in concern. The rest of his face was concealed beneath his helmet.

“But—”

“He’s right, Sen.” Echo placed his hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have the training for this. Keep the ship ready. We’ll be back soon. With Hunter.”

Senna reached for his wrist, pushing her dripping hair out of her face as the wind gusted again. She wished she could see his eyes through his visor. “You’d better be.” She felt Echo squeeze her shoulder, lingering for a moment before he turned and joined the others.

Tech’s eyes were serious behind his rain-streaked goggles. “It is likely that we will be unable to communicate while we are inside the city. Lock the ship, and if we have not returned within twelve hours, you must leave without us.”

“Absolutely not!” Senna took a step towards him in shock. “I’m not—”

Tech wrapped his hand around the doctor’s elbow. “I have already inputted the coordinates to take you back to Ord Mantell. Engage the auto-pilot. Return to Gregor and contact Rex. He will know what to do.”

“Tech, please.”

Senna watched his eyes crinkle in a gentle smile. “Doctor, I am afraid that, in this situation, I outrank you.” Then he stepped onto the waiting transport and was gone.

The wait for their return was interminable. Senna paced the length of the ship, a strangling grip on the deece in her right hand, as she alternated between frustration and terror. Another roll of thunder drew her eyes to the viewport. She’d powered down the ship to keep it hidden from scanners, but the darkness inside lasted only seconds between each lightning strike over the waves. She hadn’t been prepared for the feelings that accompanied her return to this planet, to the stormy skies that had dominated the past thirteen years of her life.

Senna hadn’t even said goodbye to Kamino. Her uniforms still hung in the closet of her stark, white quarters, her toothbrush in its slot by the sink. She had been at the base on Coruscant when she had finally escaped the Empire – when she had left Crosshair behind.

Why had they brought her all this way only to leave her on the ship? How could Tech possibly expect her to abandon them? If she was going to be this useless, perhaps she should have stayed with Gregor.

Omega had understood. The fact that the others had taken the girl with them, but left Senna behind, stung. Echo was right, she didn’t have combat training, but she could shoot, and she was a more-than-qualified medic. She had trained the medics.

The doctor squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back tears. It was everything she could do not to comm them, the emptiness of the channel, deafening. Please. Please. You have to come back.

"Senna, we are approaching. We have retrieved Hunter. And Crosshair.”

The ramp of the Marauder was lowering as Crosshair pulled himself onto the duracrete landing platform. His stomach sank into his boots when Senna came running down it, throwing her arms around Hunter. He turned to Tech with a growl, “What the hell is she doing here?”

His brother raised an eyebrow. “It may surprise you to know that we were unaware the city was the target of an aerial bombardment. The doctor should have been reasonably safe aboard the ship, according to the information we previously possessed. Besides,” he shrugged, pausing to remove his helmet, “she insisted on coming.”

Crosshair gritted his teeth as Senna lifted her head from where she was kneeling to embrace the kid. He broke her tear-stained gaze and walked away from the others, looking out at the ocean. Of course the sun was shining. Why the kriff wouldn’t it be?

“Cross?”

The doctor’s voice behind him made him close his eyes. This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? To have her come home? But there was nothing left. A sudden image filled his mind – a laser flashing, like lightning from the sky, to strike the Marauder as it had waited on the platform. He hadn’t known about the strike either . He never would have—

“Cross.” He forced himself to turn at the gentle touch on his arm. She looked so strange, out of her uniform, her hair dangling down in a long braid. Then his eyes were drawn down to the arm he had snapped and he felt nausea rising in him again, dragging his focus back up to a point above her face.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” Senna said, looking in concern at the angry scar on the side of his head. She lifted her hand towards it, but Crosshair pushed it back down.

“I’m fine.”

Senna’s face crumpled at his rejection, but then she straightened, voice firm. “You will be. You’re coming back with us now.”

Crosshair swallowed hard. Did she still trust him, after all of this? The others didn’t, hadn’t, even after he’d saved the kid. That was why Wrecker had his rifle right now. That was why Hunter wasn’t looking at him, staring instead at the smoke rising on the horizon.

He looked at the doctor for a long moment, finally breaking away. None of that mattered anymore. “I’m not.”

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#star wars the bad batch #clone force 99 #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars oc #dr divehdi #not just the carcass but the spark #the little moment writes #tbb echo #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb omega #tbb wrecker

[the-starry-seas]

okay SO

Tech is not what you might call an 'animal person'. They're fine, but just fine. He doesn't understand the appeal of picking an animal to take care of for years when it won't even listen to all of the Very Important Things you know. He'll pet the various animals that Omega shows him - except the frog, they had A Fucking Problem about the sliminess of the frog - but that's it.

He's working on some Very Important Things on his datapad on the day things change. There he is, minding his own business on a street corner, when there's suddenly a horrific sort of noise that has him instinctively drawing his blaster, because surely the screaming means nothing good.

There's a tooka sitting there.

Tech does not know what to do about a tooka sitting there.

He assumes that he's somehow in the tooka's way, so he holsters his blaster, takes a step to the side, takes another two steps in case it's mad at him, and gets back to his datapad.

The tooka follows him, and seems to be rather vaguely smushing its face into his leg as it makes a sound like an engine with a wrench in the middle of it.

Tech is vaguely under the impression that it's about to explode, and takes another two steps away.

He thinks it's extremely illogical to run away from a tooka. He's not admitting that it's even more illogical to crab-walk away from a tooka, all the way back to the Marauder.

Hunter takes one look at him coming up the road like that and howls with laughter until he gets light-headed.

Tech is placating himself by imagining how he's going to hunt them all for sport later.

Echo finally comes out, and Tech is relieved to have some backup, until Echo also starts laughing.

The tooka decides that staying on the ground is boring, and starts clawing its way up Tech's leg to sit on his shoulder. He shrieks and wriggles the whole time, trying to get it off, but it perseveres and prevails.

Ultimately Tech stands frozen as the tooka starts that weird engine noise again, and Echo comes over and plucks it from his shoulder because apparently someone's gotta rescue this highly trained special forces trooper from this tooka.

Echo asks if they can keep it. Tech's exceptional mind fails him, and he says yes without thinking it through.

They use one of Hunter's spare headbands for a collar. Despite being a girl tooka, she ends up being called Tech Jr. Tech Sr is not particularly pleased by this but is overruled.

Everyone adores the tooka, but the only one she adores is Tech. She exclusively gets his attention by sneaking up behind him and either attacking his ankles or screaming like the day they met. If he doesn't pick her up, she'll climb onto his shoulders, no matter what he has to say (or swear) about it.

Echo finds it adorable that Junior so often wants to cuddle with Tech. Eventually, after a rather long adjustment period, Tech comes to find Junior equally adorable.

And then Tech starts getting blamed for the fur that she sheds everywhere, because they have the same hair colour, and he's pouting again.

He builds a roomba and sets it loose on the ship. Wrecker steps on it by accident twice so Tech makes it wider and taller. Junior decides that this makes it the perfect warm, rumbly bed. Tech is besieged on all sides.

When Junior hops up and vaguely smushes her face into his neck, somehow, it's all worth it. He always kisses the top of her head and never admits to it.

#this shit's hilarious love it #tbb tech