Echo fans, rejoice! I found new concept art for Echo's original Season 7 Bad Batch armor!
Turns out, he originally kept his ARC Trooper Pauldron and chest piece, including the hand print! The concept art is interesting, because Omega was originally a dark-haired girl, and Taun We was her handler.
Echo's skin color was also a bit less pasty than his Bad Batch design.
Each day, we get closer and closer to discovering Echo's full original Clone Force 99 armor!
I’ve always loved this show, but I’ve never been able to pick a favorite member—I love them all way too much! That’s why I wrote this 5-chapter fanfic, dedicating one chapter to each of the boys (excluding Omega, sorry sweetie!).
Just a heads-up: there will be smut in every chapter, one for each character.
I really hope you enjoy it!
Also, English isn’t my first language, so if you spot any mistakes, please don't hesitate to let me know!
And the remake of the meme is by me !
Warnings (for the whole fic) : Smut, Mdni (+18), afab reader, no mention of Y/n, piv, no protection used (wrap it before you tap it), bicep biting (because uugh... BICEPS), a bit of angst (with crosshair, mostly), mating press and pinning, almost public sex, getting caught, size kink, use of sextoys, oral (both recieving), ass slapping (kinda), sharing is caring, NO CLONECEST, handcuffs, alcohol consumption.
Let me know if I forgot any !
Hunter remembered the fear like it was still curling in his chest.
He remembered standing in the doorway of that cramped med clinic on Ord Mantell, watching Omega shiver under a thin blanket. Her skin had taken on a grey color that made him think of things he didn't want to think about. Things like empty cradles and soldiers who never came home.
The local medic had already told him there was nothing more they could do. Something about the fever being too advanced, the infection too deep for their limited supplies.
Hunter had looked at Crosshair first. Then at Wrecker. Echo had been pacing near the door, his mechanical hand clenching and unclenching in a rhythm that matched Hunter's own heartbeat.
"I'm not leaving her here," he'd said.
Nobody argued.
The frantic search happened through back alleys and shadow markets, through the kind of places where people didn't ask questions but charged triple for answers. Hunter remembered the stench of burning oil and rotting fruit. The way his feet had ached from hours of walking. The desperation that made his enhanced senses sharper than they'd been in months.
That was how he found you.
You weren't advertising yourself as a doctor. Just a woman with steady hands who knew how to handle a fever that wouldn't break. Someone who'd lost your practice to Imperial requisitions and now worked out of a storage room with a cot and a battery-powered sterilizer.
Hunter remembered watching you work. The way your fingers found Omega's pulse without hesitation. How you mixed compounds by eye, never measuring, always precise. Your voice when you spoke to Omega, low and calm, like you'd done this a thousand times before.
Something in Hunter's chest had loosened then. Just a little.
The fever broke six hours later. Omega opened her eyes, confused and thirsty, and Hunter had to turn away so nobody would see his face.
Now, a week later, he stood in the doorway of the Marauder's tiny galley, watching you eat a ration bar. The ship hummed around you both, that familiar vibration that had become his home for more years than he cared to count.
"You don't have to keep thanking me," you said, catching his gaze.
He hadn't realized he was staring.
"I know." He stepped into the galley, the space suddenly feeling smaller. "But I'm going to anyway."
You set the ration bar down. It crumbled on the wrapper.
Hunter's voice dropped, the way it always did when he meant something. "I thought she was going to die. That night. Before I found you."
The words hung in the air between you. He didn't usually talk about things like this. Feelings. Fears. The kind of softness that got people killed.
But something about you made him want to.
"I'm glad I was there," you said.
He nodded and sat across from you. The table was barely wide enough for two plates. He could smell your soap, something floral and cheap, and underneath it, the faint scent of antiseptic that clung to your clothes.
"So what's your story?" he asked. "How does a medic end up on Ord Mantell with no patients and no way off?"
You shrugged, but he caught the way your shoulders tensed. "Bad luck. Bad timing. The Empire doesn't like independent practitioners."
"They don't like anyone who isn't them."
"That too."
He let the silence settle before asking about something lighter. "What made you choose medicine?"
You thought about it, chewing slowly. "I like fixing things. People mostly. They're more complicated than machines, but the satisfaction is better when they walk out on their own."
Hunter smiled, a rare thing that felt strange on his face. "Omega's walking now."
"She is."
He leaned back, studying you. The way you held yourself, careful and contained. The way your eyes scanned a room before you relaxed. A habit you shared with him, he realized.
"What about your tattoo?" you asked, nodding toward his skull face.
He glanced down at it, then back at you. "Nothing mysterious. I just thought it looked cool."
"You're telling me the leader of Clone Force 99 picked a tattoo based on aesthetics?"
"Sometimes that's all there is to it."
You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. Hunter felt the corner of his mouth twitch.
"It goes further, actually," he said, gesturing vaguely toward his torso. "Covers most of my chest. Stops somewhere around my hip."
Your gaze flickered down, then back up. A flush crept across your cheeks.
"You could see it sometime," he said, letting his voice dip lower. "Find out exactly where it stops. Private like."
Your breath caught. He heard it, that tiny hitch, and felt a warmth spread through his chest. Your heart was beating faster now. His senses told him everything he needed to know.
"I—" You cleared your throat. "That's forward."
Hunter shrugged, still smiling. "Even if it's not a reg, I'm still a clone. We don't do subtle."
He stood, leaving you there with your half-eaten ration bar and your crimson cheeks. At the door, he turned back.
"Think about it."
Two hours later, you were sitting at Omega's bedside, watching her sleep.
The girl had been doing better. Her color had returned, her appetite was slowly coming back. She'd spent most of the morning trailing after Wrecker, asking questions about everything he was doing.
But now she was awake, blinking at you with tired eyes.
"Who are you?"
You leaned forward. "I'm a medic. Your brothers brought me on board because they were worried about you."
Omega processed this slowly. "You're the one who helped me?"
"Yes."
She smiled, a small thing, but genuine. "Good. I'm glad you're here. It's nice to have another girl on the crew."
Something in your chest tightened. "Thank you."
Omega sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Is Hunter worried about me?"
"He was. He still is, probably. That's what brothers do."
She nodded, then swung her legs over the side of the bed. "I should go see the others."
You helped her stand, steadying her when she wobbled. She walked toward the main cabin, her steps growing surer with every stride.
Through the open door, you watched her find Wrecker. He scooped her up like she weighed nothing, spinning her around while she laughed. Echo joined them, his usual reserve cracking as he ruffled her hair.
They looked like a family. A broken, scarred, beautiful family.
You stepped back, wanting to give them space, and walked straight into something solid.
Strong hands caught your shoulders before you could stumble.
"Careful there."
Hunter's voice, low and amused, right behind you. His chest was warm against your back. His breath stirred the hair near your ear.
You spun around, heart hammering. "Sorry. I wasn't looking."
"Clearly." He didn't let go. His hands stayed on your shoulders, thumbs brushing against the fabric of your shirt. "You alright?"
"Fine. Great. Perfect."
The words came out too fast. His eyes crinkled at the corners.
"Come talk to me," he said. "In my bunk."
Every nerve in your body fired at once. "Your bunk?"
"My room. For talking." He paused. "Unless you want it to be something else."
You didn't answer. Couldn't. Your throat had closed up.
He released your shoulders slowly, like he was savoring the moment, then turned and walked down the corridor without waiting for your reply. And of course you followed.
His room was smaller than you'd expected. A bunk, a locker, a shelf bolted to the wall. On that shelf sat a collection of objects that seemed out of place in a soldier's quarters: a crumpled drawing of what looked like a loth-cat, a bracelet made of woven string, a small carved bantha that had seen better days.
Omega's work, you guessed.
Hunter noticed your gaze. "She makes things. Gives them to all of us."
"That's sweet."
"It is." He gestured to the bunk. "Sit."
You sat. The mattress dipped under your weight, and he settled beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.
"I wanted to talk about something," he said.
Your stomach dropped. "Is everything okay?"
"Fine. Better than fine." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, I'm grateful for what you did for Omega. We all are. But I need to be honest with you."
"About what?"
He met your eyes, and his gaze was steady. Serious. "We're enemies of the Empire. All five of us. Every job we take puts us deeper on their radar. I don't want to push too far with your generosity. I don't want to put you in danger."
You held his gaze. "I know what I signed up for."
"Do you?" He leaned closer. "In two days, we're stopping on a civilized planet. If you want, in four days, I can have you back on Ord Mantell. Back where we found you."
Your heart clenched. "What if I don't want to go back?"
"Then you stay. But I need you to choose. Consciously. Not because you feel obligated."
You thought about the empty med clinic. The patients who'd stopped coming. The Empire agents who'd knocked on your door twice already, asking questions you'd deflected.
"I'll stay," you said. "For now."
"Good." He exhaled. "I don't want you to feel trapped."
"I don't."
He shifted closer, and his hand landed on your thigh. Warm. Heavy. Deliberate.
"You're welcome to stay as long as you want," he said. "Whatever you need, we'll figure it out."
Your skin tingled where he touched you. Heat spread up your leg, into your stomach, your chest.
"You're blushing," he said. "Your heart is racing."
His thumb traced a circle on your thigh. "I can hear it. Smell it. I know exactly what I do to you."
Mortification and arousal tangled in your gut. "That's.. you're..."
"It would be a shame if you left so soon." His voice dropped, rough and warm. "I haven't had nearly enough time to get more reactions out of you."
You forced yourself to hold his gaze. His eyes were dark, pupils blown, fixed on you like you were the only thing in the room.
He lifted his hand from your thigh and cupped your chin. His thumb traced your lower lip, feather-soft.
And then he kissed you.
It started gentle, almost questioning. His lips moved against yours, testing, tasting. You parted your mouth without thinking, and he took the invitation, pressing his tongue against yours.
Heat flooded through you. Your hands found his hair, threading through the strands, and he groaned, a sound that vibrated through his chest and into yours.
He deepened the kiss, pulling you closer, and you let him guide you back onto the mattress. His weight settled over you, straddling your hips, his hands roaming your sides.
"You have no idea," he murmured against your lips, "how long I've wanted—"
A knock.
Both of you froze.
"Hunter?" Omega's voice filtered through the door. "Have you seen the medic? I can't find her anywhere."
You looked at Hunter. He looked at you.
Your breath came fast. His hair was tousled, his lips swollen. He looked completely undone, and somehow that made everything worse.
He pressed his forehead to yours, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
"Give me a second, Omega," he called, his voice steady despite the chaos. "She's probably in the refresher. I'll be right out."
"Okay!"
Her footsteps retreated. Hunter stayed where he was, still laughing, his breath warm against your skin.
"That was close," you whispered.
"Too close." He kissed your forehead, lingering. "We're not done."
He rolled off you, stood, and straightened his shirt. At the door, he looked back, his gaze burning.
"Later," he promised.
And then he was gone.
You took a moment to collect yourself after the door slid shut.
Your heart was still pounding. Your lips tingled from the kiss. The taste of him lingered, mixed with the stale air of his quarters. You pressed a hand to your chest, feeling the rapid thump under your ribs, and took a slow breath. Then another. Then you stood, smoothed your shirt, and walked out into the corridor.
Crosshair was waiting.
He stood against the wall, arms crossed, his toothpick shifting from one side of his mouth to the other. The lighting in the corridor caught the sharp angles of his face, making him look even more gaunt than usual. He didn't say anything at first. Just watched you with those narrow eyes that seemed to see straight through walls.
You stopped. "Crosshair."
He pushed off the wall, falling into step beside you as you started walking. His presence was cold, deliberate. You could feel the tension radiating off him like heat from a broken engine.
"You should leave," he said.
The words landed flat. No preamble. No softening. You kept walking. "Excuse me?"
"At the next stop. Get off the ship and don't look back." He matched your pace easily, his boots silent where yours scuffed the deck plates. "It's better for you. We're all criminals. The Empire has us on every watch list in the galaxy."
"I know what I signed up for."
He stopped walking. You stopped too, turning to face him. His expression hadn't changed, but something in his jaw tightened.
"No," he said, "you don't. You're a civilian. You have no training, no augmentation. If we get pinned down, you'll be dead weight. A liability." He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "And Hunter doesn't need a weakness that obvious. None of us do."
The words stung. You felt them settle somewhere deep, like a splinter you couldn't dig out.
"I'm a medic," you said. "I can help."
"You can get yourself killed. And then he'll blame himself forever." Crosshair's eyes flicked down the corridor, toward the shared space where laughter echoed. "You think he can afford that? Any of us can afford that?"
You didn't answer.
He held your gaze for a long moment, then turned and walked away without another word. His silhouette disappeared around a corner, leaving you alone in the humming corridor.
You stood there, breathing. Then you walked toward the sound of voices.
The shared space was warm, cluttered with people and equipment. Wrecker sat on the floor, legs crossed, while Omega perched on a crate beside him. She was showing him something on a datapad, her small fingers tracing the screen. Tech and Echo were hunched over an open panel near the cockpit, wires spilling out like colorful entrails. Tech muttered something about voltage regulators, and Echo handed him a tool without looking.
You settled onto a bench near the edge of the room, keeping your distance.
Omega noticed you almost immediately. Her face lit up.
"Medic!" She hopped off the crate and padded over, her bare feet slapping against the metal floor. "Want to see what I found? It's a picture of a loth-cat. I think it's a baby one."
She thrust the datapad into your hands. The image showed a blurry holo of a small, fluffy creature with oversized ears. It was chewing on a cable.
"Cute," you said.
"Right? I want to get one someday. Hunter said maybe, when we have a place that stays still."
Wrecker lumbered over, grinning. "A loth-cat? Those things shed everywhere. I knew a guy on Corellia who had one. Got hair in his food for three years."
"Three years?" Omega's eyes went wide.
"At least."
She giggled, and something in your chest loosened. Crosshair's words still echoed, but this—this was easier. Soft. You let yourself sink into it.
Dinner came in the form of ration packs and reconstituted protein. Wrecker heated everything in the galley's tiny oven, humming something off-key. Tech and Echo joined them briefly, but Tech was still muttering about the power coupling issue, and Echo followed after him with a resigned shrug.
Omega sat next to you, her knee brushing yours as she ate.
"How old are you?" she asked between bites.
"Old enough to have been working for a while," you said.
"What kind of medicine do you like best? Emergency stuff, or the slow kind?"
"I like fixing things. People mostly. Emergency stuff gives you a rush, but the steady work feels better."
She nodded seriously. "I think I'd like the steady kind. But maybe emergency sometimes."
"That's a good balance." She chewed thoughtfully, then asked, "Are you single?"
The question caught you off guard. You felt heat rise to your cheeks before you could stop it.
"Yes," you said.
And you couldn't help it. Your gaze drifted across the room, searching, and found Hunter leaning against the doorframe of the galley. His arms were crossed, but his eyes were warm, and the corner of his mouth curved into that knowing smirk. He'd heard everything. Of course he had.
Then your eyes moved past him, into the shadowed corner near the storage lockers.
Crosshair sat there, cleaning his rifle with slow, deliberate strokes. His face was a mask, but his movements were too precise, too controlled. He looked pissed. The kind of pissed that simmered under the surface, ready to boil.
You looked away quickly.
Omega was still watching you, her head tilted. "Why are you blushing?"
"I'm not."
"Yes, you are. Wrecker, look, she's blushing."
Wrecker squinted at you. "Yeah, you're pretty red. You feeling okay? Need some water?"
"I'm fine." You stood, gathering your tray. "Just tired. Long day."
Omega set down her fork. "Can you put me to bed? Hunter usually does it, but he's busy."
You glanced at Hunter. He was watching you, his smirk still in place. He gave a slight nod, almost imperceptible.
"Sure," you said. "Lead the way."
Omega took your hand and pulled you down the corridor, past the bunks, past the refresher, to a small door near the end. Her room was tidy, a single bunk with a faded blanket and a shelf of trinkets. She climbed in, and you tucked the blanket around her.
"Will you stay for a bit?" she asked, her voice already softening.
"Just until you fall asleep."
She smiled and closed her eyes. Within minutes, her breathing evened out.
You sat there for a while, watching her face relax. Then you stood, careful not to make noise, and stepped back into the corridor.
Hunter was waiting.
He leaned against the wall opposite the door, his arms crossed, his eyes dark in the dim light. He didn't say anything. Just pushed off the wall and stepped close, close enough that his breath stirred your hair.
"I'd love to have you get me to bed too," he whispered, his voice low and rough.
Your face burned. Your mouth opened, but no words came out.
He smiled, slow and satisfied, then turned and walked away. You watched his back disappear into the shadows of the corridor, your heart hammering, your legs barely steady.
You made it to the refresher on autopilot. Closed the door. Leaned against the sink, staring at your reflection. Your cheeks were flushed, your eyes too bright. You looked like someone who'd just been kissed within an inch of her life. You splashed cold water on your face, took a breath, then another.
When you stepped out, the corridor was empty. You passed the shared living space on the way to Hunter's room, and through the open door, you caught a glimpse of Crosshair. He was still sitting in the corner, his rifle reassembled, his eyes fixed on you.
You held his gaze for a second. Then you looked away and kept walking.
The door to Hunter's quarters was ahead. You stopped in front of it, your hand hovering over the panel. You could hear his heartbeat through the metal, steady and patient.
You knocked softly.
The door slid open.
He stood there, shirtless, his tattoo curling across his chest and down his hip. The light from the corridor caught the lines of his body, the scars, the muscle.
He looked at you, and his eyes darkened.
"Come in."
You stepped inside, and the door closed behind you.
He didn't move. He just studied you, his gaze traveling from your face to your hands to the way you were holding yourself. His lips curved into a smirk.
"Your heart's racing," he said. "Loud enough to wake the whole ship."
"Shut up."
He laughed, low and warm, and stepped closer. His hand came up, cupping your cheek. His thumb traced your jaw, feather-light.
"You're so beautiful when you blush."
And he kissed you.
Soft at first, then deeper. His tongue brushed your lower lip, and you parted your mouth, letting him in. His other hand found your hip, pulling you against him. You felt the heat of his skin through your clothes, the hard planes of his body.
Your hands found his chest. The tattoo was smooth under your fingertips, warm even. He sighed into your mouth, a sound that made your knees weak.
He pulled back just far enough to whisper, "I really want to take off your shirt."
You nodded, not trusting your voice.
He did it slowly, fingers brushing your sides as he lifted the fabric over your head. It fell somewhere on the floor. He stepped back, just enough to look at you, and his breath caught.
"Stars," he murmured.
Then he pushed you gently onto the mattress. You landed on your back, looking up at him as he climbed over you, his weight settling on your hips. He lowered his head, his mouth finding your right breast. His tongue circled your nipple, then he took it into his mouth, sucking gently.
You gasped, your back arching. His hand moved to your left breast, fingers finding your other nipple, rolling it between thumb and forefinger. He alternated between the two, licking, sucking, pinching until you were moaning, your hands fisting in the sheets.
He groaned against your skin, the vibration sending sparks through you.
You felt him rock his hips against yours. The pressure was unmistakable. He was hard, and he was big. The thought made heat pool low in your stomach.
He lifted his head, and you reached out, tracing the tattoo. Black lines curled over his collarbone, down his sternum, across his ribs. You followed them with your fingers, watching his muscles twitch under your touch.
He unfastened his pants and pushed them down. Then yours. Then he settled over you again, skin to skin, and the sensation was overwhelming.
He entered you slowly.
You both moaned. He filled you completely, stretching you, and you felt every inch. He paused, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed to yours.
"You feel incredible," he breathed.
"So do you."
He started to move. Slow at first, deep strokes that made your vision blur. Each thrust hit a spot that sent pleasure rippling through your body. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders.
He covered your mouth with his hand, his eyes glinting.
"Quiet," he whispered. "You'll wake Omega."
You nodded, muffling your sounds against his palm. He kissed you then, swallowing your moans, his tongue moving in time with his hips.
The rhythm built. He turned you onto your belly, pulling your hips up, and entered you from behind. This angle was different, deeper. He found a spot that made you cry out, and he pressed his arm around your head, his bicep against your throat.
"Bite if you need to," he murmured.
You did. You sank your teeth into his forearm, muffling the sounds that wanted to tear out of you. He moved faster, harder, his breath ragged in your ear.
His thrusts grew sloppy. He buried himself inside you, and you felt him pulse, felt the warmth spread. He collapsed over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his heart hammering against your back.
After a moment, he rolled off you. You lay side by side, both breathing hard, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.
He reached over and pulled you close, spooning you from behind. His arm wrapped around your belly, drawing you against him. His lips pressed to the back of your head.
"Stay," he whispered.
You didn't answer. You just closed your eyes and let the warmth of him pull you down into sleep.
You woke to the sound of Omega's laughter, distant and bright. It filtered through the metal walls like sunlight through blinds.
For a moment, you didn't move. Your body was heavy, weighed down by sleep and the warmth of a bed that wasn't yours. The sheets smelled like Hunter. Like sweat and soap and something deeper, something you couldn't name.
Then you shifted, and the ache settled into your muscles.
Everything came back in a rush. His hands. His mouth. The way he'd pressed you into the mattress like you were something precious. Heat crawled up your neck as you pushed yourself upright.
The bunk was empty beside you. The sheets were cool where he'd lain.
You looked around, and your gaze caught on a folded pile of fabric near the edge of the bed. Clean clothes. A soft grey shirt and dark pants. You reached for them, and as you unfolded the shirt, you noticed the collar. It rose high, almost to your chin.
You slipped the clothes on. They fit well, maybe a little loose in the shoulders. The collar sat snug against your throat.
You caught your reflection in the small mirror bolted to the wall. The shirt covered everything. Every mark. Every bruise. You turned your head and saw the edge of a dark spot peeking out near your jaw, just below your ear. You adjusted the collar. Covered.
You left the room.
The corridor hummed with the ship's usual vibrations. The lights were dim, set to whatever cycle Tech had programmed for the day cycle. You followed the sound of voices to the shared space.
Wrecker spotted you first. His face split into a grin.
"Look who finally woke up," he said, his voice booming. "Thought you were gonna sleep through the whole rotation. Even I don't sleep that long."
Heat flooded your cheeks. "I was tired."
"Tired." He laughed, slapping his knee. "Sure you were. Come sit. Omega's been asking about you."
Omega appeared from behind Wrecker, her eyes bright. "Do you want to play a game? I found one about constellations. You have to match the stars to the right names."
You opened your mouth to answer.
"She doesn't have time for games."
Crosshair's voice cut through the warmth. He stood in the doorway leading to the cockpit, his arms crossed, his toothpick in place. His eyes were fixed on you.
"She has to get ready. We're dropping her off at the next planet."
Omega's face fell. "What? No. She's not leaving."
"She is."
"I'm not—" you started.
"You have a lot to do," Crosshair said, talking over you. "Your things need to be packed. Better start now."
Omega grabbed your hand. "You can't go. You just got here. And you're still tired. You should rest."
Wrecker nodded, his grin gone. "Yeah, she's right. You look like you need a break. Stay."
Echo leaned against the bulkhead, his mechanical hand still. "She has a point. No reason to rush things."
Tech glanced up from his datapad. "Statistically, a rest period of at least twelve hours after recovery from significant illness is recommended. Omega's assessment is medically sound."
You looked around the room. They were all watching you. All waiting for your answer. All except Hunter, who was nowhere to be seen.
"I still have to think about it," you said.
Crosshair grunted. He held your gaze for a long moment, his jaw tight. Then he turned and walked out of the space without another word.
You excused yourself.
The room they'd given you was small, tucked near the rear of the ship. A bunk, a locker, a small desk. Your bag sat on the floor, half-unpacked. You closed the door behind you and leaned against it.
Your throat tightened. Your eyes burned.
You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyelids and breathed. Once. Twice. Three times.
A soft knock.
You dropped your hands. "Who is it?"
"It's Hunter."
His voice, low and familiar. You crossed the room in three steps and opened the door.
He stood in the corridor, his hair slightly disheveled, his eyes scanning your face. He took in your reddened eyes, the way you were holding yourself, and something in his expression softened.
"Crosshair?" he asked.
You nodded.
He stepped inside. The door slid shut behind him. He sat on the edge of the bunk, looking up at you.
"He's acting like this because he cares," Hunter said. "About his family. About the squad. He doesn't want anyone getting hurt. When he asks you to leave, he's trying to protect everyone. You included."
"It doesn't feel like he's trying to protect me," you said. "It feels like he's trying to protect them. I'm just collateral."
Hunter's mouth quirked. "That's his particular way of expressing concern. It's not pretty. But it's honest."
You sat beside him, the mattress dipping under your weight.
"If you decide to stay," he said, "you should get ready. He won't make it easy."
"I know."
He passed an arm around you, pulling you into a side hug. His hand rested on your shoulder, warm and solid. You leaned into him, letting yourself feel the steadiness of his presence. His thumb traced a slow circle on your arm.
You stayed like that for a while, breathing in sync.
Then you pushed yourself to your feet. "I'm going to talk to him."
Hunter looked up at you, something like pride flickering in his eyes. He stood, and before he left, he tapped your shoulder once. A small gesture. Enough.
"Good luck," he said.
He stepped out and turned toward the cockpit, where Tech's voice was already muttering about power converters.
You walked back to the shared space.
Crosshair had moved. He sat near the storage lockers, a holomap projected in front of him. Planets and routes rotated in blue light, tracing paths through the galaxy.
You stopped a few feet away. "Can we talk?"
He didn't look up. "I'm busy."
"Just for a minute."
A pause. He deactivated the holomap and turned his head. His eyes were flat. "Fine."
He followed you to a quiet corner near the galley. You leaned against the counter. He stood with his arms crossed, his weight on one foot.
"I want to stay," you said.
He didn't react.
"And I want you to give me a chance." You took a breath. "Would you still be this set on me leaving if I proved myself? If I learned how to fight?"
He rolled his shoulders, a slow, deliberate motion. "It could change my judgment. Maybe."
"Then teach me."
He stared at you. A beat of silence.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it's a waste of time. You're a medic. You don't need to know how to hold a blaster."
"I'm staying for at least a month," you said. "If you train me, it's a win for both of us. I'd be less of a liability. And you'd have time to decide if I'm worth keeping around."
His eyes narrowed.
"You said yourself that your judgment could change," you pressed. "So give me a month. If at the end of it you still think I'm not worth staying, I'll leave. No arguments."
He studied you. The toothpick moved from one side of his mouth to the other.
"Fine," he said. "One month."
Relief flooded through you, tempered by the edge in his voice.
"But I'm not a gentle instructor," he said. "I don't have patience for failure. If you can't keep up, don't expect me to slow down for you."
You nodded. "Understood."
He turned and walked away, his boots silent on the deck plates.
You watched him go, your heart still hammering, but your feet planted firm.
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rex
wedding present (explicit) 900 words
summary: Your secret marriage to the captain of the 501st comes with many challenges.
multiples
tech x reader x echo
focus (explicit) 3k words
summary: You can't relax. Echo and Tech are more than happy to help.
note: I am currently hyperfixating on clones & need them so badly. There are so many wonderful writers on this app that I want to personally kiss on the forehead & reading their content has only made me want to write headcanons all day so I don't burst at the seams with my love for hunter bad batch et al.
★ headcanons - anyone or multiple people + the type of headcanon you’re thinking of
★ clone x reader/jedi x reader one-shots & ficlets - one-shot/ficlet with anyone of your choice (these take a little longer and range anywhere from 500-4k words)
details & guidelines:
★ will write anything under the sun (fluff, smut, kinky, angsty, etc) except for dd:dne topics (abuse, noncon, etc)
★ please let me know if you want anything specific & I will certainly try my best!
Here is a list of all my headcanons as of so far. If you're interested in requesting, please reference my guidelines here! Divider is by @snotbuggle if anyone wants to check them out.
💋 TBB X Reader Headcanons 💋
GN!Reader: living on Pabu
GN!Reader: who is an Inquisitor/Emperial
GN!Reader: how they like to kiss you
GN!Reader: accidentally showing your nudes !Suggestive!
GN!Reader: you leave to join the rebel alliance !Angst!
GN!Reader: coming home to you late
GN!Reader: the boys accidentally proposing
F!Reader: discovering they have a panty kink !Mature!
F!Reader: who gets cuteness aggression
GN!Reader: Forcing them to stay
GN!Reader: how the sleep/cuddle
GN!Reader: first relationship
F!Reader: finding time alone
🗡️ Hunter X Reader Headcanons 🗡️
Hunter x F!Reader: submissive Hunter !Mature!
💣 Wrecker X Reader Headcanons 💣
Wrecker x GN!Reader: baking
🧪 Tech X Reader Headcanons 🧪
Tech x F!Reader: making a sex tape !Mature!
Tech x GN!Reader: Jedi headcanons
Tech x Platonic Teen F!Reader friendship
Tech x F!Reader: NSFW Alphabet !Mature!
🥀 Crosshair X Reader Headcanon 🥀
Crosshair x F!Reader: NSFW Alphabet !Mature!
Crosshair x F!Reader: comforting reader with mental health struggles FWB !Mature!
I am sleep-deprived, but I must do my duty: TBB (separate) reacting to the reader, being tired, fresh out of kriffs just pushing them a little to just sleep with the boys being their body pillow before the boys would protest.
TBB X GN!Reader: forcing them to stay
Warnings: Suggestive
A/N: Thank you for the lovely request! Sleep deprivation is real, but honestly my best ideas come to life when I'm tired! A good cuddle with the boys would certainly help tho
Hunter
After ensuring that you were thoroughly pleased, fucked, and freshened up with a shower and a ice cold glass of water, Hunter could no longer ignore the twenty plus messages on his comm. There was no rush in leaving you, but with the high demands of his brothers, he should probably get going. Well, if you'd let him. "Please!" You whine into his back, hands slipping past the hem of his shirt and massaging his taunt muscles, "just stay a little longer..." His heart clenches and his fingers still as he leans over to put on his boots. Your arms are so tight around him, he's struggling to tell you no. Its not until you sniffle quietly, rubbing your nose along his shoulder blade that he finally relents with a low sigh. "Alright...but only for a little longer."
Wrecker
He tries to slip out quietly, tiptoeing out of your bathroom and making his way to the pile of armor he left littered on your living room floor. But he's out of luck when his hip catches on the door frame, and his head whips around to look at you in bed. Your sitting up, blanket slipping down your frame and his lips curl into a sheepish smile as he sees you pout. "Are you leaving me?" you demand, eyes narrowing with increasing suspicion. "Uh, just gotta get back to the others." Wrecker tries to explain but you only shake your head and pat the space beside you quickly. "Not without a cuddle, you're not. Get over here. Now." the firmness of your voice is as scary as being a thousand feet up, and Wrecker doesn't even try to fight it as he slowly makes his way back to your side.
Tech
Tech is reaching for his discarded clothes on the floor, mind already brimming with new ideas and projects after diligently fucking you to Naboo and back. He's itching to get back to the Marauder to test his theories and tinker with a few things he's picked up from the last mission, mind so swept up in his thoughts that he doesn't register your finger poking into his side until you lean forward and perch your chin on his shoulder. "I thought you didn't sleep with a shirt on?" You say, and he shakes his head slowly, fingers pulling out the sleeves to straighten his blacks out. "I do not, I am heading back to the Marauder now." He can hear your disgruntled huff and in a swift movement, you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him back against the bed. He lands with a quiet grunt, confused and annoyed. "No." Is all you say, squeezing onto him tighter.
Crosshair
Normally being with you has Crosshair relaxed and calm, especially since he's been fucking you for the past few hours. But when he goes to get you a glass of water, he can see the dozen or so missed messages on his comm before he even reads them. Of course they need him now when he's occupied. When he returns, he sees you curled up on the bed, wearing his shirt and playing with a piece of thread at the end of the sleeve. He sets the cup down, a knee up on the bed and leans over to tug on the fabric of his shirt. "I'm gonna need this back now." He bits the inside of his cheek as he sees you frown, but doesn't stop you when you reach for his shoulders and pull him down. "Not until I say so," you whisper, kissing the curve of his jaw.
Echo
Echo curls into you, nose in your hair and hand drawing light circles along your shoulder. You've been laying together for a few minutes now, sweaty and blissfully fucked. Echo hasn't even gotten up to get you some water yet, when he hears his comm buzzing on your bedside table. He ignores it, opting to enjoy your presence for longer. Until he hears another buzz, and then another, and then a few more times. His eyes squeeze together and finally he sighs, moving his hand down your arm before pushing himself up. He goes to reach for his comm, sure that his brothers are needing him now, when he feels you quietly call his name. "I should see what they want," he grumbles, frowning at the small glint in your eye. "Or....you could ignore them and lay with me instead?" You reason, lifting a finger to poke him in the cheek. "It could be important," he responds, leaning into your touch. "Could be...but don't you think I'm more important?" Well, how could he deny that?
adhd paralysis sucks bcuz im just sitting there and my brain is like
YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME
no work done no rest gained. literally no point of this at all
wolffe x fem reader
summary: slightly jealous/possessive wolffe gives you a lower back wolfpack tattoo + vicious backshots, in that order
warnings: sexual content
a/n: i didn't know how else to summarize this.
it was an impulsive decision on your part, but once wolffe found out about it, there was absolutely no way he was going to let someone else mark up your skin like this. his jaw clenches at the mere thought of you laying on your stomach for another person, your perky ass arched up into the air as you breathe softly through the sparse pinches of pain. that wasn’t gonna happen, not on his watch, and now he’s pissed as he hovers over you at home, tattoo gun in hand.
you turn your head to the side and look up at him, very pleased with the sight. his eyebrows are furrowed in agitation, but also concentration—deliciously shirtless with a thick, heavy cigar settled between his lips. his arms are big and bare and veiny, his shoulders broad in the domineering way he carries himself. and he’s glaring.
“you come to me if you want something done. understood?” he says sternly. puffs of smoke exhale with his words.
“aww, you still mad about that?” you give him a cute little pout. “i just wanted to surprise you…”
wolffe grunts under his breath and palms your head. his fingers sink into your scalp like he’s about to tug—a feeling you’re all too familiar with, but he just turns your face back down like he’s shutting you up. in other words, yes. he’s still mad about that.
you feel him work the needle into your skin right above your ass. his hand in your hair slides down to grip the base of your neck, rubbing gently in reassurance. but you’re not quite through with teasing him.
“mm, can’t wait for you to fuck me when it’s done,” you murmur. “i want you to cum all over it…”
wolffe squeezes his fingertips into your neck before taking his cigar out of his mouth. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he murmurs, blowing the smoke away from you as he brings the fat tip to your lips, not even needing to bark out an order. you lean into his hand and take a drag, tugging him down to exhale the smoke in his mouth. he kisses you slowly and sucks on your tongue, releasing your bottom lip with a teasing nibble.
of course, you’d like that. but you know he’d like it even more. he can’t leave you alone once the tattoo is fully healed. the small, dark wolf he wears on his armor is now etched into your skin, in a place where nobody can think of touching let alone seeing. only him.
“fuck, baby, that’s it…” wolffe grabs your hips, moving them back on his cock. he meets your plush ass and slams into you loudly, rhythmically slapping your skin together. your throat is raw and sore as you moan into the pillow, just getting pounded over and over again until he gets enough—and he can’t get enough. you soak his cock that pushes inside of you so easily, leaving you empty when it slides back out, your pussy clenching desperately for the thick, heavy pressure to stay inside of you. the feeling taunts you through his rough thrusts, and you spread your legs out wider for him, whimpering and crying when he stretches you out, drilling you with a hunger that doesn’t hold back.
“mm, that’s a good girl,” he praises. “oh, fuck, that’s good…” he throws his head back and lets out a deep, guttural groan, digging his fingers into your hips with a bruising possessiveness. his breath comes in fast and broken as he fucks into you deep and slow, finishing himself off with a controlled pace that allows him to pull out and cum all over your lower back. warm liquid white coats your skin, dripping down your wolfpack tattoo. it’s a filthy sight he stares at through heavy-lidded eyes, his chest rising and falling slowly. a sight that brings one word to his mind and one word only.
clone characters when you tell them you're sore during sex (my headcanons)
a/n: why’d this give me butterflies tho
afab reader
warnings: sexual content
"i’m so sore," you whine, moaning as a soft ache spreads between your legs...
hunter was worried that he pushed your body too far. his mouth comes down on yours sluggishly, his kiss prying your lips open to soothe his tongue over your whimpers. you feel his cock slow inside of you as he rasps, “fuck, i’m sorry, darlin’…” he stares down at you, his gaze taking in your flushed face and soft, heavy breaths. “just can’t seem to get enough of you…”
tech realizes he might have gotten a little carried away, and that you let him. he sucks his teeth and exhales a harsh, whimpering breath over your lips as he brings your bodies to a slow, rubbing his hand along your inner thigh. you squirm at his touch, your gasp muffled when he kisses you, nibbling at your bottom lip. “i’d be disappointed in myself if you weren’t.”
wrecker knows he’s a lot to take, so he’s always patient in giving you time to breathe. he furrows his eyebrows in concern and cups the side of your face, stroking gently as he says, “shh, i got you…i’m here.” he kisses your forehead, pausing the movement of your hips together. “you wanna take a break?” he mumbles, warmly nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.
crosshair never makes it too easy for you, but he always stays within your limits. he cocks his head to the side, smirking arrogantly as he leans in close and brushes his lips over yours. he teases a kiss, hoarsely whispering, “aw, is it too much for you?” he watches you whimper and feels you claw at his back, keeping an amused expression despite gentling his thrusts.
echo steadies your hips as you sink down on him with a sharp gasp. he wraps his arms around you, patiently rocking you against him. you bury your face into his shoulder, breathing hard from the overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure. “mhm, i know…” his voice is quiet but deep against your ear. “i know…you’re doing so good…we can stop whenever you want, okay?”
wolffe is guilty for getting a sadistic ego boost any time you affirm that you can feel the way he fucks you—that it leaves your body with deep reminders of what he and he alone can do to you. if you’re still walking properly, he doesn’t think he did it right. his smug ass loves to take care of you after ruining you. he grabs your chin as he slides his cock through your sore pussy, slipping his fingers into your mouth with a dirty caress that you suck on, never cowering from his rough side. “you take what i give you, yeah?” he murmurs in a low tone. “yeah, you take it so good, i know…there you go…”
fox is a little fucked up and hears your whimpers as praise. he smirks slowly as he rests his forehead on yours and runs his fingers over the bulge of his cock in your lower stomach. “where?” he mocks, pressing down slightly, “right here?” you moan under his touch, and he swallows your sounds with a kiss, murmuring, “oh, poor thing…” against your lips.
cody holds eye contact and sinks into you slowly, this time leaving no intention to pull out for another thrust. you stare up at him, your lips slightly parted in a soft sigh as you clench and squeeze around him. “how about we just stay like this for a little while…” he leans down to kiss your cheek, moving his lips until they’re sliding over yours hungrily. “hm?” he whispers.
mayday pulls out of you slowly, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your body until his face is buried between your thighs. he soothes your sore, pulsing clit with the flat of his tongue, licking gently, not caring that he was just inside of you. you sigh and thread your hands through his hair. “that feels good…” you tell him. he smiles and flicks his eyes up. “good.”
rex takes orders from very few people. you sit at the top of the list among these exceptions. he groans deeply as he drops his face into your chest, sucking on your tits to distract himself from desperately thrusting his cock into you again. “you want me to stop?” he grunts, his tongue swirling around your nipple as the rise and fall of your chest pushes up on his face.
fives looks up from kissing your neck, taking in the mess he made out of you. your matted hair, your swollen lips, and all the dark marks littering your skin. “fuck, baby, am i being too rough?” he kisses you gently, stroking the side of your face. “just can’t help it when you’re so damn beautiful…” he groans, holding himself back from devouring you all over again.
kix turns you over onto your side and cradles your body in his strong arms. he kisses your temple, letting his lips linger on your skin as he whispers, “i’m sorry, baby, is this okay?” you nod and reach behind you to bring his face down into the crook of your neck, whimpering through the gentle thrusts he pushes between your thighs while massing them slowly.
jesse gasps as he drives a sloppy thrust before dropping his face down on yours. his hard, heavy pants melt into a slow kiss that lets both of you take a pause, just holding each other close as he moans and tangles his tongue around yours, his cock pulsing against your walls. “fuck, baby, i wanna slow down but you feel so good,” he says through kissing you.
hardcase is used to tossing you around the bed a little rough, but he’s patient as he rolls you over on top of him, rubbing his hands down your back reassuringly. you prop yourself up to kiss him, and he holds your hips to guide them slowly, letting you take most of the lead in the way that feels good to you. he grins up at you and says, “take your time—mhm, just like that.”
gregor seems to startle at your words a little, like you’ve just sobered him up from the way he’s drunk on your pussy, how it squeezes around him with your breathy gasps. “am i hurting you bad, baby?” he murmurs apologetically, kissing the tip of your nose as he stares down at you, his gaze round and worried. “just tell me how it feels, i got you…”
howzer exhales raggedly in your ear, kissing the side of your neck. he murmurs, “alright, i hear you…just relax for me…” as he rubs his thumb along your clit, his hips unmoving to let his cock inside of you. you moan and writhe under him, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly while he kisses you between your noises and you finish around him from his fingers.
emerie kisses the inside of your thigh, holding your trembling legs open around her face. “thought you said you weren’t done,” she teases, running her pretty hands over your skin in soothing caresses. “just go slow…” you plead, giving her that round look in your eyes that always makes her fold for you. her lips twitch with amusement, the bold side you bring out of her.
Sometimes you just make unwise decisions in your navigation, and tonight is one of those nights. Taking a detour on your way to meet some friends leads you into the path of someone new, and changes all your plans for the evening.
WC: 3,653 - Read on Ao3 - Read on Reddit
Content Warning: Smut. Thigh Riding, Oral (m and f recieving, over panties), unprotected PiV, cum in mouth, clothes tearing, Casual sex, Drinking, Strip Poker Sabacc...
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
The sound of boots thumping against corrugated metal echoed loudly behind you as you tore through the dark dock.
Kark Kark Kark, trespassing is SO not worth it.
So much for a short cut. You were just trying to slip through the shipping cargo to get to the bar your friends were meeting at. They were trying a new spot and this seemed like a convenient straight way through. Till the guards spotted you… immediately
You had already snagged your stockings squeezing through the fence and now your coat is dirty. The tight, short pencil skirt was just riding up your thighs, not meant to be jogged in like this you felt it tug your already runny tights as it refused to stay in place. Definitely not worth the twenty minutes you saved cutting through.
You were trying to control your breathing against the fire starting in your lungs.
No good, I'm gonna have to try to hide.
You darted between the tight rows of tall crates. Lucky, the door of one was standing ajar. Diving into it you quickly pull the door closed with a sharp snap.
“Wait!”
You jump, skin going cold as a figure rushes through the dark to slam the door of the crate. There was a clicking whine coming from the lock and the shadow was cursing. The voice was masculine, and he hit the door again with an odd sounding clang.
“Kark!... Karken… Kriff me.”
You were frozen, scared stiff at the sudden aggressor so near to you and the implications of his fluster.
Did… did I just lock us in?
Speaking of us,
“Commander… I've hit a snag,”
A blue light reflected off a sleek helmet visor as the stranger spoke into their comlink.
“The timing bolts have activated. I'm disarming the explosives.”
Explosives?!
A voice crackled through the channel,
“Copy… what happened. Will you still make the rendezvous?”
The helmed figure seemed to look up at you,
“Affirmative, just a delay. The plan still holds…”
You glanced about the container in a mild panic. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness you were able to make out the faint blink of strategically placed devices around the container. The panic became something more cold and gripping. Those were explosives.
“What the Kark! Who the Kark are you?”
The man jumped as if he hadn't expected you to move, let alone shout. A glint off the helmet in the dim light as he stooped to tap at the blinking devices strapped to the walls. He didn't answer. Maybe you didn't want to know.
You fumbled for your mini pack, finding the lumenproj. You clicked the little ball and it lit up, hovering in place to cast shadows around the small container.
Your new companion froze and you heard the thump of boots approach as the guards that were pursuing you passed by. He breathed again, finally turning to consider his other problem… you. A sudden apprehension gripped you. It was obvious he wasn't supposed to be here, and no one was supposed to know about it.
You tensed, expecting an attack… but he just sighed, slumping against the wall.
“Better get comfortable,”
He reached up with his hand, you're now seeing he had just the one, to click the helmet off the fasteners on his head. Your eyes widened at the familiar face that came into view.
“You're a clone!”
“Is that a problem?”
“What is a clone doing planting explosives on a military dock?!”
You clenched your jaw suddenly. You didn't want to know. You wanted to pretend you never saw any of this. This wasn't the kind of thing that led to a long life.
Maker's mercy he didn't answer again.
“Look, these crates are fitted with timing locks. Even if someone came for us they wouldn't be able to access the door again for…”
He paced to the door, popping a small hinged panel to check a display… sighing again.
“Eight hours.”
“Eight hours!”
You had places to be, there was no way you were gonna stay stuck in a crate for eight hours,
“Hey!”
You shouted, running to the door to start hammering against it.
Before you could even make contact an arm wrapped roughly about your middle, hard plastic managing to bite into you through the thick layers. A hand clamped over your mouth, cutting off any protest.
“DON'T… do that. Calm down. I'm not gonna hurt you, but you can't do that… okay?”
You nodded and he released you.
“I just said it was useless. All you'd manage is to get us killed.”
“So what, we just sit here?”
He nodded, sliding down the wall to sit. You scrutinized the clone that had apparently given up. His skin was pale, sunken over his cheek and brow. Metal and plastic attachments adorned his skull, wrapped around his ears and of course… the arm, replaced with a droid scomp. Once you got past what made him different you could see the familiar handsome clone features that appeared around Coruscant. Broad of shoulder, slim but sturdy waistline.
At least there's scenery…
The thought made you smirk as you slid down the opposite wall, carefully between the rigged explosives. Your eyes followed the complicated web of devices attached about the container. It must have taken ages to set up the walls… All for, what? There was nothing in the crate.
Your eyes finally meandered back around to fall on the soldier again, catching him eyeing you back. Awkward.
You pulled you pack over, sighing,
“You play sabacc?”
His face brightened a little as he saw you withdraw an old, worn card deck and a flask from your belongings.
“What're we playing for?”
He was eager, but his face fell when he tapped his belt only to find a few broken data sticks and a defunct Republic credit.
You thought about missing out with your friends, all excited for a new hot spot and what you had already planned on for the evening. Lifting a brow to your captive company,
“Clothes?”
~~~
This just wasn't fair. You glowered at the man smirking down at his fan of cards. He was cool as could be, sprawled back against the wall with a knee up, staring down his extended leg at the cards on the floor.
Looking back down, you eyed your shyte hand and bit back a swear.
You hadn't won a single hand, and despite your layers you now sat topless with your mini pack worn backwards to guard your dignity.
About half the flask was gone, and your flush was hard to think through as you tried to formulate a strategy with the cards you were dealt. You played one. He set another down without hesitation… but…
Tentatively you played the card you were holding back, eyeing what was layed on the floor.
“Ha! Got you… kriffing finally…”
He smirked playfully,
“What should I give you?”
You spotted the glint in his eye, the amused tilt of his brow…
“You let me win, didn't you?”
“No! Course not,”
“Oh you did! You liar!”
You batted at his knee jokingly but winced when your knuckles struck metal. He chuckled, shifting his legs a little wider as he pulled his knee away.
“Either way, you won… what do you want?”
Was it just you or was it getting hotter in here? His eyes were following you as you moved, darting down occasionally as the curve of a breast edged around the small pack hanging over your chest.
“Do those come off?”
You defused the mounting tension, throwing him off guard by motioning at his earpiece.
“Yeah… can't hear without it though…”
He clicked it off, handing the surprisingly heavy piece to you. His ears were exposed, scarred and twisted, the damage of high heat and soft flesh. You resisted the urge to reach out and touch the ragged scarring, instead looking over the circuitry of the device in your hands.
“I change my mind, you should keep your hearing…”
He made a gesture towards his ear and shrugged, slacking his face into an exaggerated clueless expression. You snickered,
“You're kind of cute you know that?”
His eyebrows flew up and you smacked his leg again handing back the headpiece.
“You said you couldn't hear anything”
He chuckled, snapping the device back onto his ears,
“I can still read lips,”
Your fluster was mostly show, but you still felt the need to get back at him a little. You grabbed his hand.
“I'm taking this instead.”
Slowly, you tugged the fabric of his glove from his pointer finger, letting the fabric slide off on its own from the gentle coax. The article was surprisingly soft, the color that of a rich, fermented nectar that was so vivid in the dim light it made your mouth water.
His hand hung in the air where it was freed from the fabric, strong fingers, clean nails. For just a glove that felt more… intimate than you anticipated. He closed his fist drawing his arm to himself and started breathing again, reminding you to do the same.
But not for long. It might have been the drink, or the heat, or the sharp cut of his jawline but like a compulsion you crawled forward and brushed your lips against his. You drew back a breadth, biting the ghostly tickle on your lip from where they made contact; waiting for his response.
Calmly, his hand brushed up your arm to cup the bicep. He pulled you off balance from how you knelt over him so that your lips pressed more firmly together. There was a coolness to them, and his nose where it brushed your face… in comparison, you'd imagine you felt like fire.
You settled over his extended leg, leaning against his chest to squish the pack between you. He pulled back to look down at the bag with a cocked eyebrow. Flicking his gaze back to meet yours, he cautiously raised his hand to hook the strap. Scomp twirling through the opposite side, he pulled the pack from your shoulders to fall below your breasts.
“Cheater… you didn't win that one.”
His smirk was a little sloppy, not taking you too seriously with your nipples hardening under his gaze; it contrasted the polite timber in his voice,
“My apologies, Ma’am, what penalties should I pay?”
“Hmm… that's quite the debt,”
You ran your hands under the edges of the breast plate, finding the little magnetic locks. You popped them with a sharp click, claiming the armor for yourself.
“This for starters…”
You ran your hands over the looser knit the armor was hiding, feeling hard bumps down the center of his chest as you found your way to his belt buckle. Another soft click and the leather attachments about his hips fell away.
Pausing here, you leaned back onto his chest pressing your breasts against the soft sweater still separating your skin. You gave him a firm kiss, tugging where the shirt was tucked into his waistband. He mumbled against your lips, the low tone vibrating through where you were pressed to him.
“How much do I still owe?”
“Oh, a lot still… I might have to take all of it, leave you naked on the docks.”
He snorted at the image and admittedly lame drunken flirting. Your composer broke too,
“Kark it, just help me get this off you,”
He froze when he felt your tug on his clothes become insistent.
“What, what's wrong?”
“I just… didn't think it'd go this far …”
You tilted your head, sitting topless on his thigh,
“Where'd you think this was going?”
He shrugged and you shoved the flask back into his hand before reaching down to tug at the fasteners to his pants. You heard a slosh and a gulp as he took a large swig before casting it aside to help remove his pauldron and gauntlet.
Tugging the hem of the sweater up with a broad lift of his arms, you drank in more of that deep red as the undershirt came into view. He didn't have much room to maneuver between you and the wall and the sweater got caught on his chin, arms up with no leverage to get out of the sleeves. He had trapped himself and sighed deeply.
Stifling a giggle you slip your thumb into the neck hem under his chin, pulling it up over his wide nose… but not freeing him. You teased his lips with yours, brushing your nose against his. He held his breath and you kissed him, stealing it away from him as your tongue darted across his.
Your hands slid under the red tank, pulling it up to his collarbone. With his chest exposed he shrank a little, at your mercy with his arms caught… unless he made a fuss, which tellingly, he wasn't. Using your fingertips you traced back down his slim pecks, over the studs you had felt earlier and he shivered.
“Does that hurt?”
“No, just… tickles.”
“Tickle good or tickle bad?”
“Uh… b-”
You leaned down, licking the scarred skin along the side of one of the protrusions.
“Ah!.. uh… I dunno.”
“Hm,”
You shifted lower on his thigh to be more even with his chest. Carefully, you pressed your mouth over one of the bolts, warming the metal with your lips. The skin under you twitched while the man considered the sensation.
“ ...That feels nice,”
You moved to the parallel one, warming it too as you brushed your fingers down his sternum, prominent through his pale skin.
His leg under you trembled, bumping the soft mound under your panties where you straddled his thigh. You gasped softly at the contact through your thin stockings. Though the drink had you in action, you hadn't really felt how much this was turning you on. The light brush felt good.
The sound made the man under you tense, once more moving to try to free his arms.
“Help me out of this.”
You obliged moving up again, subtly pressing against his leg as you grabbed the sweater and tugged it up. You sighed together as his arms came free and he wrapped his live arm about your hips pulling you down to grind harder against his leg making you moan more honestly.
You took the invitation to move against him, whimpering at the needy pressure building between your legs as his eyes took you in. His scomp was tracing the outline of your breast, gently pressing the soft flesh to show off its cleave against your chest. He pulled you in, kissing and caressing where the skin folded, nuzzling his cold nose against the crease.
Your own thigh was rubbing against his groin as you rode his leg, you could feel him hardening under the open fly. Wanting it, you reached through the open slacks to retrieve him, making his throat catch as your warm fingers stroked against him.
“I need to get these tights off…”
Your free hand reached down, trying to get an angle on the waistband under your skirt. Instead, you were pushed up to stand while he rose to his knees, spinning your position so your back hit the wall. You were suddenly very aware of the twists of wire and blinking detonators to your sides.
“Careful, I don't fancy getting blown up…”
He shrugged,
“It's not so bad after the first time.”
You could feel your face scrunch slightly not sure whether to laugh,
“That… explains some things”
He grinned, then reached up grabbing a handful of your tights, piercing them with his scomp. Tearing through the new hole he ripped the tights up through the groin. Your thong had already been visible through the translucent fabric, but now he could see how turned on you were; the light from the lumenproj glinting off your slick thighs and damp underthings. He ran his tongue up the exposed, tender skin of your inner legs, tasting you, making you pant,
“Krriffff…”
Your leg twitched at the feeling of his tongue passing over your flesh, flicking at the sensitive skin at the joint of your hip… so very close to your panty line. Your breath stopped and you focused on him to realize he was staring back.
Sure your attention was on him, he leaned back in, nuzzling his nose against the fabric covering you to feel the shape of you underneath. A sharp whine escaped you as you felt his mouth press against your panties, tongue flashing out to massage the folds beneath. His hand drifted up to the thong’s band, twisting it to tighten the material against you; defining the shape more clearly. He continued licking, hard fast presses that dampened the fabric further, forcing sobs of need from your throat.
Needing more you bucked back, hands cautiously finding their way to his ear pieces and then, taking hold of them. He hardened his tongue against you letting you use him to rub just right…
Your knees buckled and he caught you before you slid too far down the wall. You leaned against the cool metal gasping.
“You okay?”
False concern, he wasn't able to mask the pride tinging the baritone whispered into your thigh.
“I'm fine… good, even…”
He chuckled,
“Good.”
He moved to stand, pushing you more upright. His scomp was guiding your leg up, slinging your knee over the attachment as he jabbed the point through the thin plate of the wall into the insulation. You balanced on your other foot, slightly on tiptoe with how high he pinned your calf.
You noticed him tugging the undershirt back down and made a small noise of protest.
“Shh, sorry, I don't want to catch your skin,”
He pressed against you claiming your mouth and you dropped the complaint, wrapping your arms about his shoulders. The soft fabric felt nice against your chest, cushioning the bolts punctuating his ribs. His lips distracted you further but it wasn't long before your attention was drawn to the hard cock pressing against your covered quim. He pulled back to look at you, fingers slowly trailing up your thigh, waiting for a protest that didn't come. He slid his thumb under the hem of the thong and slipped it to the side.
No hesitation, he guided himself to your entrance, penetrating slowly and making you squirm. Once he was in enough to not slip his hand found new purchase under your ass, lifting your other leg and straightening your hips. He sank further, finally hitting his pelvis against yours with a satisfying thump and a sigh of relief.
You pulled him to you, kissing him fervently to spurn his hips into action. He groaned into your mouth as his muscles flexed under your fingers and he moved. His slight form scooped against you, a long passionate stroke as he slowly withdrew from your body just to slam home again.
You cried out, head falling back with the jolt of pleasure. His lips found his way to your neck so conveniently thrust towards him and you leaned your cheek against his sharp brow. Your body shook with his rutting, hips hitting the wall you were suspended against. Hot breath was panted into your neck, the drink and teasing having him already skirting the edge of pleasure.
Using what leverage you had, you pushed on his shoulders, lifting your hips to meet his, helping him get you there too. You bit into him, muffling a cry as you went over, coming against him.
“I'm close too,”
He was breathy, lost in the feel of you.
“Should I…?”
You considered through your haze a moment,
“You should… in my mouth,”
His breath hitched and he released you, pulling his scomp from the wall and catching your arm to guide you to your knees.
You quickly took him in your mouth, tasting yourself on his shaft and he groaned, grinding against your tongue. He was stroking his length, so you reached up to cup his balls feeling them twitch and tighten as he finally came. The hot, bitter tang filled your mouth and you struggled to swallow it down around his cock still twitching and bucking between your lips.
He sank into the wall, resting his forehead on his arm while his scomp hung limply. His eyes, half lidded, stayed on you underneath him as you found the discarded flask and took a swig, swishing it around before swallowing,
“How much time left?”
“Hmm?”
“Till we can unlock the door?”
He blinked, tapping something on his wrist,
“Six and a half hours…”
“Kriff me.”
“Again?”
~~~
The fresh air tasted sweet, but his saliva was on your lips all the sweeter and it was all you could think about as you walked out into the corridor of tall, stacked metal. You turned to him before you could part ways,
“Do you have a personal com?”
“No.”
Answered flat, but then he met your gaze and corrected,
“Not yet.”
You searched your pack, pulling out a tube of lipstick. Rolling the hem over where his scomp connected to skin, you wrote your name and channel right above the scarring. Flicking your eyes back to his golden ones,
“Don't smudge it.”
“Yes ma’am.”
He paused, staring at you a moment more before slipping his helmet back on and starting off in the other direction.
“Wait!”
You recoiled at the way your voice reverberated off the metal crates and instead jogged towards him a little.
“Wait… what's your name?”
He turned back, giving a small salute,
“I'm Echo,”
~~~
—-----------------------------------
Terrorist attack on Coruscant!
Strategic storage facilities of the Imperial army have been targeted by violent insurgents, his excellen-
—-----------------------------------
“Hey… hey, hey you okay?”
You blinked at the hand your friend was waving in front of your face.
“Huh, what?”
“You good? You were just staring at the news smiling like a maniac,”
“Oh! Uh… my mind was somewhere else…”
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Author's Note: Oh how I want to write more for Echo.
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blakekathryn
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