Prompt: "back hugs" from @littlemissmanga and "comfort fic for nonverbal reader" from @nika6q
Song: Get You The Moon by Kina (feat. Snøw)
Rating: PG, but as always Minors DNI 🔞
Contents and Warnings: hurt/comfort, light swearing, Banshee kicks a door down in the name of love.
Summary: It's been a long time since Banshee's been home, and the stress of life has you overwhelmed at the worst possible time: right when Banshee gets home.
Author's Notes: another Banshee POV!!! Some hurt/comfort this day. Sorry it's so short, and not at all what I've been saying I'd write next, but at least it's something.
"Hey Ban~ Today is day 43 of our tragic separation, you're millions of miles away, and it's not fair. So today at work..."
"Day 55 of "No Banshee hugs for me". Seriously, when are you coming home? I miss you. Anyway, my Tooka came back from the vet today- oh right, I adopted a tooka kitten yesterday, I bet you can't guess what I named him-"
"Day 97, Rai told me you miss me. I just... I wish I could hear it from you. I know, I know it's not easy, I know you don't talk, I just-- I'd do anything to have you with me, just so I could understand that you miss me..."
"Day 122... I wish you'd come home..."
I've been listening to your recordings every day since I was deployed. All 132 of them. Every single day since we left, you sent me a diary of your day, stars I can't tell you how much I needed every single one of those. Running through battle fire, hearing you laugh about what "Banbino" was doing. I can't believe you named your tooka after me.
I've thought about you every second of the days. How your hair is tossed in the morning, how you scrunch your nose at how I make Caf... don't be mad, but I still haven't learned how to make it proper. The way your voice sounds and feels when you put my hands on your throat and chest, so I can feel every way you say you love me... I've thought about being with you again since the second I turned to leave 132 days ago.
So why am I stuck behind your front door? I can't even raise my hand to knock. Can't even enter the code to your flat... it's my number, you told me that so long ago now... I've been keeping track, I know it's your day off, I know you're just right behind this damn door so why can't I open it!? Come on Banshee! Open the door! Open the damn door, they're right on the other side, just open--
I... I heard that. Did you fall? Are you hurt? No, no don't be hurt I'm so bad at medical. C'mon, karkin' door open! Remind me to fix your locks, I'll replace them, I swear. Oh fuck, the hinges too, I uh... I kicked a little too hard, I think...
"Ban...?" You're crying... why... why are you crying?
When you hold your arms out to me, I dont even take a full step forward before you recoil and cover your face with a racking sob. I don't stop moving. I can't, you need me. I get to one knee behind you and gently rub your back, but it only makes you curl in on yourself more... what can I do for you?
Carefully I sit behind you, and collect you up in my arms, your back pressed to my chest. With my helmet off, I put my head on your shoulder, "I've got you, Cyare... I'm here."
You sound like me a moment, trying to talk, trying to force words. I shush you, leaning my head on yours and swaying softly. Eventually, you turn around, and bury your face in my neck. When I hum, you start to relax in my arms, and eventually, I can't help the little chuckle in my throat. You're snoring... Stars I love you.
It's another hour before you wake up. I moved us to your bed, and had since changed into the civvies you'd gotten me. Softer clothes, I figured you'd like it more than my hard armor...
"Banshee? You're... you're really home? I'm s-sorry, I'm sorry for-- I-I was just- I was so--" your blush when I press my lips to yours, it's so warm I could feel it on my own skin.
"I... it's okay, y-you don't ha-have to expl-pl-plain." Your eyes shine at the sound of my voice... I wish I could talk better, I'd speak for you all the time. "I've g-got you, Cyare."
You nod and set your head back on my chest. As I hum again, you join in, mumbling the words under your breath when you feel up to it. Take your time, Cyare. I know how hard it is to talk, I'm not going anywhere.
I humbly request a First Kiss prompt for SAWBONES.
Both of these seemed like they'd be great for him, so feel free to pick which one gives inspiration or mix the two or whatever you feel like:
*the first initial kiss being a simple peck, then they immediately go back in for a stronger, more passionate one.
* taller gently grasping the shorter's chin
I readily admit I am feral for your grumpy medic OC. 💅
Through the Darkness
OC Sergeant Sawbones x jedi!reader (gn)
Word Count: ~2.3k
Warnings: mention of war, mention of claustrophobia, violence, reader is said to be shorter than the clones, slight angst
A/N: I'm alive lmao work has been kicking my ass but I finally had a few days off and managed to get some writing done. After this, I also have a Fox fic that's ready to post 😈
Thank you for the request Reb and I'm sorry it took so long 🫂 🖤
Silence hangs in the air, your labored breathing deafening as you inch through the tunnel. Another mortar hits the rockface, knocking another cloud of dust loose, and you're forced to cover your mouth and nose to chase off a coughing fit. You can feel him lingering behind you, stopping when you do but saying nothing; even if you weren't trying to stay quiet, you wouldn't expect him to have anything to say anyway.
Sawbones leans forward, the empty visor of his helmet tilting toward your face. Even through the barrier, you can sense the question: are you okay? You wait for the tickling in your sinuses to fade before you nod, noting how his shoulders seem to drop slightly. Without thinking, you nearly give in to the urge to take a deep breath but clench your teeth at the last second, settling for another shallow inhale before you take another step down the narrow tunnel. Sawbones inches along behind you, his quiet breathing filling the small space.
The buzz of battle ebbs and flows, but you can't tell if it's coming from in front of you or behind you. You ended up stuck in this tunnel after an explosion caused a rock slide, and Sawbones, the trooper standing near you, yanked you off your feet. One side of the tunnel, the side where the rest of the wolfpack and your fellow master, Plo Koon, are still fighting, is mostly blocked, leaving you and the medic only one exit. Glancing over your shoulder, you catch a glimpse of Sawbones matching your steps as he walks backward, his rifle never lowering.
Most of your time during the war has been spent battalion hopping, a Jedi general without a squad, and so far, the 104th is your favorite place to spend your time. However, you refuse to admit why.
Sawbones taps your bicep.
A shiver races down your arm, fingers tightening around your unlit saber as you turn to face him. Every clone stands almost a head taller than you, but something about being this close to Sawbones, his height forcing you to tilt your head back, makes your stomach somersault. He nods toward the bend in the tunnel, his fingers gently curling around your arm, and you let him direct you out of his way. It isn't until he approaches the opening that you realize what he's doing.
Sawbones freezes, his head turning to look at you when you grab his elbow and stop him from stepping into the entryway.
"What're you doing?" you hiss. Your voice sounds too loud after the silence you've been moving in for some time, but you shake off the worry and stare into his dark visor.
"Checkin'," he replies just as quietly. The modulator in his helmet makes it sound staticky, almost inhuman, but there's still a hint of his natural voice and you find comfort in it. Logically, someone should check that the coast is clear, but the fact that he automatically assumes it has to be him is what makes your stomach turn.
"I can do it."
Sawbones tilts his head, and you can imagine the narrow-eyed look on his face; the thought almost makes you smile. He tries to reach for you, but you side-step, staying just out of his reach. The action is immediately followed by a frustrated growl that bounces off the walls curving over your head.
It's empty, blessedly empty, and your knees wobble for a moment. It's easy to put on a brave face, to act like fear isn't eating you alive, but the relief that rocks you is a little harder to hide. You glance up when Sawbones moves to your side, his faceplate still looking down the long tunnel.
"That was stupid."
"Not to me," you counter lightly with a shrug. The only response you get is a quiet scoff. Your mouth twists to the side to hide your smirk, but the way Sawbones shakes his head tells you that it was a failed attempt.
"Come on," Sawbones huffs, lightly nudging your shoulder.
Pebbles bounce off the narrow walls as you start forward again. It's hard to tell if it's an illusion or if the walls are closing in, the walkway tapering. Sawbones moves from your side to walk behind you, making your fear spike. Are you walking into a dead end? Are you trapped inside a mountain?
Rough fabric brushes against your arm, snapping you out of those spiraling thoughts with a soft gasp. His fingers linger on your arm, the touch grounding as you steady your breathing, clearing your mind of the fear starting to seep through your shields.
You've never been claustrophobic before, but you've also never been trapped inside a mountain, hoping the other end of this tunnel isn't blocked, too. It's probably not the best problem to worry about at the moment when your chest feels like it's going to cave in on itself. The grip on your arm tightens, drawing your eyes up to the dark visor.
Your reflection looks as panicked as you feel.
"We should keep moving," you force out. Embarrassment burns high in your cheeks at how frail your voice sounds, and before Sawbones can mention it, you step away from him.
Thankfully, the tunnel makes a sharp turn, widening again.
***
Time is a funny thing without having the sun as a gauge, and you try not to pester the medic stuck with you too much about what the readout on his HUD says.
The muffled thud of explosions subsided roughly an hour earlier, but you don't stop walking until the tunnel opens into a cavern large enough to make a small camp. Sawbones doesn't object, merely disappearing back the way you came for a few minutes before joining you again.
Doing a double take, your lashes flutter when you look up at him from your seat on the uneven ground, taken aback by the dark eyes staring back at you. Sawbones looks weary, his mouth drawn into a thin line under his unkempt mustache.
It hits you just how exhausted he must be after days of fighting, followed by trudging through a dank, stuffy tunnel with you as company. Your expression twists into a mixture of sympathy and guilt, but it only seems to make his features harden.
The crinkle of the ration bar landing in your lap makes you jump, and by the time you look back up, Saw's already turning away to set his rifle against the cavern walls. Releasing a long sigh, you look down at the ration bar in your hand again, and a small smile lifts the corner of your mouth when you note that it's your favorite flavor.
Favorite flavor or not, the ration bar is still chalky, and you call the canteen of water closer with the aid of the Force. The soft scuff of boots to your left draws your attention, and you find Sawbones lowering himself to the floor beside you. The cavern *is* small, but when he finally settles, long legs stretched out in front of him, there's no denying he's sitting closer than necessary.
Your stomach flips pleasantly, forcing you to hide a smile with another drink of water.
The silence is comfortable - it usually is with Sawbones - and you let yourself reach for the Force to soothe the tension still needling at you.
"We're almost out."
The sound of his voice jerks you back to the dusty little cavern. When you twist to the side, he's not looking at you; his attention is fixated on a piece of ration bar he broke off.
"What?"
You almost laugh at the hard warning look he throws your way. If you were certain other Jedi generals, maybe you would've reprimanded him; your soft spot for this specific medic probably doesn't help, either.
Lowering your voice, you find his eyes again. "If we're so close, why the hells would we stop?"
"Do you feel better?"
The question catches you off guard, and you blink at him. Now that you have considered it, you do feel better: the pounding in your temples has subsided, and it doesn't feel like your limbs weigh a thousand pounds.
"We haven't stopped walkin' since the landslide, and you haven't eaten since yesterday," Sawbones points out, looking back down at his ration bar. "No clue what we'll run into out there. Seems like a waste to make it this far only to die at the finish line."
"Oh."
You've been so focused on getting out that you weren't even thinking about what waits on the other side of the mountain. Coms have been static for hours, and for all you know, the rest of the Wolfpack could've been ordered to retreat. When you glance at Sawbones again, his expression seems to have softened - well, softened for him - and not for the first time, you find yourself grateful to have been trapped with him of all people.
"Eat," he murmurs, tossing a piece of ration bar into his mouth to make a point.
***
Darkness seeps into the mouth of the tunnel, and from where you're standing, you can see a few stars twinkling in the night sky. Sawbones' presence over your shoulder is grounding, and despite the danger that could be waiting just a few feet away, you find yourself pondering how quiet his mind is. Carefully, you reach out, your caress brushing against beskar walls that rival your own; Sawbones shifts, rumbling deep in his chest. Right, not the time.
He follows your lead, following your footsteps without making a sound, which is impressive with his armor. The Force brushes past you like a river moving around a rock, and you only find tranquility. The reassurance is what has you stepping through the archway, and the fresh air fills your lungs, almost making you dizzy.
Nothing. There's no clank of metal feet or tinny voices calling attention to you. There's only silence. You nearly stumble back into Sawbones as the relief hits you like a ton of bricks.
"Read ya loud and clear, commander."
You tilt your head to look up at Sawbones. His helmet is already angled down, and even if you can't see his face, the tone of his voice is enough to assume he's feeling the same relief you are. Clipping your saber to your belt again, you wait out the rest of the conversation as the tension in your muscles finally starts to melt away, and you tilt your head back to look up at the stars.
"They set up camp not far from here." His unfiltered voice draws your eyes down again. The exhaustion still lingers in the lines of his face, but there's a ghost of a smile on his lips.
Maybe it's your full-body exhaustion or the realization that you aren't going to die, but you can't stop yourself from admiring him. This close, you can see the faint wrinkles around his eyes and the thin patch of hair on his left cheek that struggles to grow. For one single moment, you let yourself pretend you're not a Jedi, that you aren't in the middle of an active warzone, or that you shouldn't want this. Your chest aches with the emotional turmoil, but you can't deny the attraction.
Sawbones goes rigid, and if you weren't shocked yourself, you would've laughed at the muffled surprise that makes it through his shields. The kiss is brief, your lips barely brushing his before you pull away, wide-eyed and shocked at your own boldness. He blinks at you, and the only indication that you have caught him off guard is how his brows arch upward.
Your surprise morphs into horror now that your mind is clearing, keenly aware of what you just did. Stumbling back a step, you worry that your heart might explode with how hard it's hammering against the inside of your ribs, and you immediately start to spiral again. The panic welling up in the center of your chest blinds you to everything else around you. The clatter of a helmet hitting the ground is lost in the chaos of your thoughts.
Then, every worry is ripped from your mind.
Sawbones gently cradles your face, a stark contrast to the urgency with which he kisses you. Your eyes shoot open, nearly bugging out of your head, but you aren't strong enough to fight the draw you feel toward him, which seems to be stronger than ever. Melting into the kiss, you throw your arms around his shoulders as your lips part.
Heat blooms under your skin when he releases your face to grip your hips, pulling your body flush against the unforgiving plastoid covering his body. Maker above, why hadn't you done this ages ago?
The first brush of his tongue against yours draws a soft, involuntary moan from deep in your chest. The answering growl Sawbones muffles against your lips is downright sinful, and right then, you decide you need more.
If you hadn't heard the faint roar of a speeder engine, you would've taken whatever he offered right there in the dirt.
Sawbones huffs softly, the exhale brushing against your lips, and you consider dragging him back into the tunnel you had been so desperate to escape.
He lingers a little longer, almost too long, before breaking away with another deep sigh just before the speeder comes into view. Quickly, you straighten your robes, hoping to look less disheveled and like you hadn't just kissed the sergeant like your life depended on it.
The speeder starts to slow, Wolffe and Comet's armor sharpening as they get closer, but you can’t resist one last glance at Sawbones. He pauses before sliding his helmet on, dark eyes flaying you open with a single look.
"Find me after the debrief," he says before putting on his helmet and turning to greet his brothers.
Your throat clicks as you swallow. Yeah, death is the only thing keeping you from that meeting.
❛ i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making. ❜
😌😌
Luv uuuu
My darling Pineapple, Ilysm!!! This prompt is divine, and I hope you enjoy it ❤️🤍 I had to go with Flicker for this one. He’s just so cocky and bratty. The prompt is in red!
Warnings: thigh riding, light bondage, fooling around in an alleyway, dirty talk, Flicker 👀 MINORS DNI
Word Count: 472
Dividers by my fave @dystopicjumpsuit
Song: from my 79’s playlist
The wall at your back was rough, biting at your skin through the thin material of your shirt, but you stopped caring shortly after Flicker had pushed you up against it.
“You didn’t tell me you’d be planetside,” he said, breathlessly between kisses. He tasted like cheap booze and candy he probably stole from Fox.
“Wanted to surprise you,” you moaned, as he easily parted your legs with an armored thigh. The ridge along the center pressed against your core, and you rolled your hips automatically.
“That’s it, mesh’la,” he purred against your lips, as one hand gripped the back of your head and the other found your hip.
“Missed you,” you said breathlessly, as the two of you moved against one another in a languid rhythm like you weren’t in an alleyway.
“Missed you too,” he said, kissing the corner of your lips, before nipping at your bottom lip.
“Can we…go back to my place?”
“Come first,” he ordered, releasing your hip, and using his teeth to tug one of his gloves off.
"Flicker," you whined, even as you gripped his shoulders and rocked your hips against his thigh.
"Mesh'la," he parroted back with a smirk, as his bare hand slipped up the front of your shirt to tug your breast band down. His nimble fingers circled, brushed, and pinched one of your nipples.
A moan rose out of your throat before you could stop it. You moved to cover your mouth, but the sergeant caught your wrists in his free hand pulling them up and holding them above your head against the wall.
"I don't think so," he chided playfully. "I wanna hear you. Every...single...sound."
He licked his lips as he took in the sight of you completely at his mercy. His to please and enjoy.
"Keep working those hips. I mean it, not leaving til you come for me," he said, stealing a heated kiss before pressing his forehead against yours.
You complied, grinding against his thigh, growing more vocal as you got closer and closer to your climax.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" He asked as his name flowed past your lips amidst a plethora of colorful swears and groans of desire. "I can't hear you over all that noise you're making."
He slid his hand down your body, and reached around to grab your ass, and move you over his thigh.
With one final mewl of bliss, your pleasure crested like a wave, leaving you to fall apart in Flicker's grasp.
"You sound so good when you come for me," Flicker praised, releasing your wrists to cup your face once more.
"Apartment now?" You asked, reaching up to cup his face and draw him into a soft kiss.
"You got it. I want you to do that again on my cock when we get there."
❛ i'm waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you. ❜
With!!!
Whisper!
or any oc of your choice if they're easier 👀
😘💜💜💜
OMG I am so excited that you asked for him!!! I can't tell you how happy this makes me my friend, thank you!! 😭I hope this satisfies you and that it makes you like Whisper even more because I loved exploring him with this prompt. I changed the wording of the prompt ever so slightly to fit his cadence better but it's still highlighted
You can find out more about Whisper here and here if you're interested <3
Clone OC Whisper x reader
Rating: Mature, toeing the line of Explicit
Word Count: 987 (me? Writing something under 1k?? I can't believe it myself)
Warnings: Sexual themes, biting/marking, slight restraint (hands being pinned down), reader is technically GN but no lube is mentioned so plz keep that in mind.
Masterlist /// Tag List Sign Up /// AO3
He hadn’t said a word since he came home to you, simply wrapped you in his arms and lost himself in your kiss.
That wasn’t unusual for Whisper, especially after a rough campaign. Silently falling into your embrace was his favorite welcome home. A shuddering breath left him when you traced his lip with your tongue and suddenly you were falling back on your bed.
He was on you instantly, lips finding your neck and hands gripping your thighs. With a gasp of your own, your fingers found their way to his long curls, desperate to pull him closer as he explored your neck. His name was on your breath as you breathed out a moan and that’s when you felt the pleasant flash of his teeth sinking into your skin.
It took you by surprise, which showed as you cried out in pleasure and tightened your grip in his hair. His tongue came out to soothe the bite instantly, tracing it delicately, a silent apology.
That also wasn’t unusual for your dear trooper, for him to pull back the moment his hands and mouth aired on the rough side. He always touched you as if you were the most precious thing he would ever hold, as if you would crumble under the sheer weight of his need for you.
“I don’t think you know what you do to me,” came his quiet, smoky timbre.
Maker, his voice always did things to you. Always so purposeful, almost airy despite its deep tone, like a cloud in a dark stormy sky. In answer, you pulled him closer and pressed your lips to his ear.
“Show me,” was your whimpered reply, “want you to show me what I do to you, Whisper.”
Beside your head, you felt his fist dig into the pillow and he pressed his face deeper into your neck, his other hand sliding to your hip. He drew in another breath this time through clenched teeth, as if they were biting down on the last thread of his resolve.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for, my love,” he hissed through his teeth and it was the roughest you had ever heard him speak.
“Yes, I do.” To drive your point home, you nipped your own teeth at his earlobe, which instantly had his hips snapping against yours. Damn the clothes he hadn’t pulled off yet! “I’m not made of glass, Whisp,” your nails raked lightly against his scalp, “you don’t have to hold back when you take me.”
That’s when he growled, a deep, primal sound you never knew you wanted to hear from him. He finally pulled away from your neck and his eyes were dark as he looked down at you. Most of his hair had tumbled from its tie and the tips, which were currently dyed your favorite color, brushed against your face in a way that felt so intimate in that moment. You had to hold back a shaky breath as you looked back at him, the heat pooling in your center was practically unbearable now.
Whisper’s eyes slowly started to trail down your body, eyeing your bare chest with a hunger that was familiar in theory, but had a shadow to it this time. Eyes now half lidded, he dropped that skilled mouth to the spot just above your heart. He kissed gently at first, but it was all just a prelude to the way they traced your skin as he moved to the hard bud of your nipple.
Those hooded eyes were locked on your face again, watching you as his tongue darted across the sensitive spot. Then you were choking on a gasp as his teeth came out to play. Your body lifted up to meet him on instinct and his hand released its death grip on the pillow, darting down to pin your chest back to the bed.
He held you there as he left his marks, a pattern over your heart, lips and teeth working in a head spinning tandem that had you crying his name again. Oh, he liked that. His teeth pressed harder and his free hand dug possessively into your thigh without a word.
Whatever fire he had been quelling before, it was consuming him now. With one final lick to comfort the abused skin, he pulled back, hands darting to your underwear and practically tearing them off as he pulled them down your legs.
“Look at me,” he breathed out harshly.
You blinked at the quiet command, having barely realized that you were watching his hands, not his face. When you obeyed, locking eyes with his again, Whisper released the clasp of his belt with one hand and pushed his pants down with the other. His hard cock pressed against you as he leaned over you fully, large arms pinning beside your head to cage you. To envelop you in nothing but him.
“Say it,” was his next command, his hips pressing teasingly into yours.
It was all you could do to swallow and choke out a “What?”
“I’m waiting,” his hands found yours, fingers gripping you tight as he lifted them above your head and pressed them against the bed, “for permission.” He leaned down to press his lips to your ear. “Give me permission to have my way with you.”
“Yes!” you moaned, wrapped your legs around him, “Please, Whisper, do whatever you want with me!”
Another low growl was the only answer you got before he drove into you hard and fast. He took what you offered without hesitation, relishing every sound you made and left you begging for more.
A/N: ALRIGHTY THEN. Did I intend to write a part 2 for this little ficlet from my 400 follower celebration? No. Did I do it anyway and use it as an excuse to introduce my OC Crater? Yes. Will there be a Part 3? Also yes. I REGRET NOTHING. The biggest of thank you's to @teletraan-meets-jarvis, @sleepingsun501, and @rexxdjarin for helping me make sure my boy gets the best intro and that all of the thoughts/thots about him in my head translated well onto paper! If you'd like a little more info about Crater, you can find his character sheet here.
Pairings: OC Crater x f!Reader, mentioned Gregor x f!Reader
Rating: E (18+ MINORS SKEEDADDLE)
Warnings: language, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, fingering, rough sex, anal play, oral sex, PiV sex, marking, anal sex, sex toy use, cum eating, mention of foursome
Word Count: 13.5k words (I'm sorry... it got away from me so fast)
“KARKING HELLS, CHUCK! Do you have mynock shit between your ears instead of brains?”
You’re angry. Angrier than you’ve been in a while. And Chuckles isn’t backing down either.
“I don’t know who the kriff you think you’re talking to, Bolts, but you’d better take a walk before we both say something we’ll regret,” he grits out, teeth clenched and a fire in his eyes.
But you’re not about to be told what’s what. Not when he’s on your turf.
“It’s my fucking garage. You don’t like what I’ve got to say? You take a walk.” You jab your finger into his plastoid chestplate threateningly. His nostrils flare as he glares at you, and you can see him teetering on the edge of control.
You’ve gathered a bit of an audience as you and the mohawked clone pilot go nose to nose, some of which are snickering and “ooooh”-ing.
“Your garage?” Chuckles snarls.
“Yeah, in case you missed it, I run shit around here. And I’m telling you I can’t get your fucking fighter fixed until next week.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“You should have thought about that before smoking your stabilizers flying like a fucking hotshot.”
“You sure you wanna tell me how to fly my ship, Bolts?”
“Since you don’t seem to have an idea how to, sure.”
The vein in his neck is bulging now, and the scar at the corner of his mouth is pulled tight. You’ve known Chuckles long enough to tell that you’ve pushed all the right buttons to get a rise out of him.
Good. Asshole.
“I thought Gregor fucked the grump out of her,” Strike mutters from his seat on a crate, which garners more snickers. You whirl on him, brandishing a wrench and waving it menacingly at the pilot.
“You want me to fix your face next, shithead? Got the only thing I need for that right here.”
Strike scowls, pushing himself to a standing position. “You’re out of line, Bolts.”
“I’m out of line? Fuck you.”
“That’s enough.”
The jeers and laughter grow silent and the crowd parts as the commanding officer of the 28th Combat Wing strides forward, carrying his helmet under one arm. Crater’s voice is gruff as he steps in between Chuckles and you, glancing back and forth between the two of you.
“She’s right, and you know it Chuckles. You’ve been told before not to fly in that config. You know it burns out the stabs faster. Now, I’m sure you’ll get your fighter as quickly as Bolts can get to it. Isn’t that right, Bolts?”
You glare at him, but his eyes demand a response. “When I get the parts.”
Crater watches you for another moment before nodding. He seems to understand that’s as much of a concession as he’s going to get out of you right now.
And then he whirls on Strike. “And you will learn to hold your fucking tongue. We don’t do that shit here. You want to air other people’s business out in front of everyone? You go run for the fucking senate. Until then, you keep the scuttlebutt you hear to yourself.”
“Didn’t hear anything. Just not hard to put two and two together,” Strike mutters under his breath.
Crater strides forward until he’s looming over Strike. They’re the same height, but somehow, the captain towers over the other pilot. His tone is low and dangerous, his voice dropping to a gravelly octave that makes you shiver. “I know you haven’t been off of Kamino long, but around here, you don’t speak to a commanding officer that way. Especially when you don’t have a single scratch on that shiny fucking armor.”
Strike swallows slightly but says nothing else.
Crater glares down at him for one more second, pinning him with his gaze before he turns and addresses the rest of the onlookers. “Now all of you get to the fucking barracks and get cleaned up. You stink to the seven hells.”
The squad departs, some of them still shooting dirty looks over their shoulders at you, especially Chuckles.
He’ll get over it.
You turn on your heel, heading towards your private office in the corner of the garage. The door’s been off track for a while, so you slam it open unceremoniously and stride inside. Just as you go to slide it shut with a grunt, a gloved hand slips around the edge, keeping it open. You glance up and meet Crater’s eyes.
“Can we talk?”
You shrug, stepping away from the door and plopping down on the creaky chair by your desk. The joints protest as you lean back in it, threatening to finally give out and dump you on your ass. Crater shuts the door behind him before setting his helmet on your desk and leaning a shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms as he studies you. He looks tired, and you’re not sure if it’s the campaign he just got back from or his men or you. A small pang of guilt shoots through you as he meets your eyes, raising his scarred eyebrow at you.
“You wanna tell me what the hell that was all about?”
You sniff, shrugging as you pick some lint off your jumpsuit. “Nothin’. Just a scuffle.”
“Seems like you’re getting into more and more of those.”
You and Crater have always gotten along just fine, finding a mutual respect and trust almost immediately. He always seems to have everything figured out, and you’ve never seen him fly off the handle like some of his brothers. In fact, the incident in the garage just now is the most upset you’ve seen him, and even that was hardly more than a growl and a few threats. You admire his leadership. He always seems to find the right thing to say to each of the various personalities on his squad, but sometimes you dislike when he deploys the same understanding on you. It unnerves you to a degree.
Now, you roll your eyes at his observation, astute as it is. “Your boys don’t listen, Crate. Neither do any of the other flyboys that come through here. Everyone’s shit is broken because they can’t be bothered to fly with an ounce of sensibility, and then they’re all pissed when it takes time to get repairs done.” You wave your hand at the stacks of datapads and flimsi that are stacked on your desk. “I’ve got backorders on backorders, out-of-date maintenance logs, you name it. But I’m one person. And there’s not exactly a line to come work down here.”
“You’re stressed,” he notes.
“No shit.”
“Overwhelmed.”
“Tired of giving orders and making requests that are ignored.”
“Tired of being in charge?”
“Sometimes. Yeah,” you admit. “But someone has to be.”
He nods. “When’s Gregor planetside again?”
You glare at him, but he gives you a knowing look. You sigh. “Who the kriff knows? That’s not a regular thing, by the way. Just a way to blow off steam. But it’s been months since I saw him last. Seems he’s being kept busy.” You worry about the commando sometimes, but you’re not about to admit it. Judging by the look Crater gives you, you don’t need to.
“And you were more tolerable when it was happening,” he teases.
“Yeah, yeah. Well, I’m on my own in that department for the foreseeable future.”
You don’t know why you feel comfortable talking with him about Gregor. Probably because it felt less like an accusation and more of just a concerned observation, not like he was looking to get more gossip at your expense.
Because you trust him. Maybe too much.
Crater is quiet for a moment, watching you carefully, clearly weighing something.
“What?”
He smirks.
“Well, if you’d ever like to blow off some steam, let me know. But you can’t keep taking it out on my men.”
You snort out a laugh. “Crate, I don’t think you can help with that.”
“Oh, I think I could.”
“How so?” Your curiosity is piqued, particularly with the way his grin is playful but his eyes have darkened considerably. You’re in denial internally about what he might be implying, but that only lasts for another second as Crater huffs a quiet laugh before closing the distance between you. He puts one gloved hand on your desk, leaning over you as his other hand comes to rest just above your shoulder, gripping the back of your chair. Your stomach flutters as he stares down at you, tilted back in your chair so far you feel as though you’d tip over if he let go. The chair creaks, but you hardly note it over the sound of blood rushing in your ears. You can feel his breath on your cheek and your cunt throbs at the realization he’s standing between your knees, your toes barely touching the floor with the way he has you tipped backward. You feel as though you can’t breathe. He’s studying you again, clearly making a final judgment call before he speaks.
“I think you’d like someone else to take charge for once. So you can let go.”
His voice is so low, it feels as though it rumbles every organ in you and sends shivers down your spine. He’s so close, you can smell him, see the tattoos on his neck that just barely poke out above the collar of his black undersuit, and the greys that are beginning to dot his dark chestnut beard and hair. You’ve always thought Crater was attractive. You’d have to be blind not to, but you’d never anticipated having him lean over you like this, so close that you can feel the heat radiating off of him while he suggests things like that.
At least, you think that’s what he’s suggesting.
You can’t help but tremble slightly at the thought as his eyes bore holes into yours. Your thighs clench together subconsciously, and his eyes dart downwards, watching you squirm. He laughs in a low rasp that promises trouble, straightening and picking his helmet up off the desk. You haven’t moved, but he’s already at your door, pushing it open again.
“Remember what I said, Bolts. All of it.”
And with that, he’s gone.
—
Weeks pass. Nothing gets better. If anything, things get worse. A major supply hyperspace lane gets shut down by Separatist forces, meaning parts are even harder to come by, causing even more delays. At least the clone pilots seem more understanding, the 28th Wing in particular. You aren’t sure if Crater privately met with his men, but they have been suddenly more lenient with you. The natborns, however, make up for it by being infinitely more terrible.
“THIS IS COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE,” one particularly surly human admiral rants, spittle flying unchecked as you don’t even bother looking up from your datapad. “You are to have those fighters ready to go within a rotation. That is an order.”
“Well, unfortunately for you, Admiral, I don’t take orders from the GAR,” you mutter. “And unless you’ve got a stash of converters, stabilizers, hyperdrive capacitors, and power couplings in your back pocket, no, your fighters will not be ready to go in a rotation.”
“I’ll have your job for this.”
You’re exhausted, but can’t help but give him a smug smirk, nudging him even closer to an explosion. He’s easy prey in that respect, hardly sporting, but it’s been a miserable week, and you’re ready to have some fun. He’s not the first officer to try to intimidate you with unemployment, and you know he’s unlikely to be the last. But you also know it’s an empty threat. No one else could handle this work. If that person existed, the GAR would already have hired them since you’ve pissed off everyone else.
“I have work to do, Admiral. So if you’re done bloviating, get out of my office and try to have a lovely evening.”
The man is practically purple with rage, veins bulging from his throat above his tight Republic collar. He clearly isn’t used to having people check him, and his response is even more telling.
“I’d heard you were challenging, but really, you’re just a frigid little bitch.”
That does it.
You stand, kicking your seat away from you. It rolls into the back wall with a loud crash. “You wanna try that again, Admiral?” you ask, charging towards him with anger heating your cheeks. He’s taller than you, but that’s never stopped you, and you certainly aren’t going to let some washed-up asshole that reeks of stale caf and cheap cologne talk to you like that in your own office. His fists clench, and you almost hope he swings first so you have an excuse to pummel him right there.
“Problem in here?”
You both whirl to look at the doorway. There stands Crater, helmet on and cocked to the side as he studies the both of you. His posture is completely relaxed, as if he didn’t just walk in on the start of a physical altercation.
It takes all of the wind out of your sails.
The admiral turns and smirks down at you, clearly convinced he’s won by your reaction. “I was just leaving.” He pushes past Crater, exiting the office. Crater’s visor never leaves you, but you can’t look at him.
You’re fuming. Angry that nothing’s going right. Angry that your garage can’t run efficiently and the reasons are completely out of your control. Angry that you didn’t sock that admiral in the jaw. Angry that he got the best of you and he knows it.
Crater says your name, but you don’t look up, trying to slow your breathing. He sighs and turns to leave.
You make a decision.
“Captain.”
He turns back.
Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you plunge into uncharted territory.
“I’ll take you up on that offer you made a few weeks back.”
He doesn’t move for a moment before, clearly making sure you won’t change your mind. Some of your fire returns at his hesitation, and you jut your chin out defiantly.
“Chickening out on me?” you challenge.
In an instant, he’s closed the distance between you and has backed you up against the wall. Your breath fogs his visor as he stares down at you, resting his hand against your throat.
“You certain you want to be a brat right out of the gate?”
You swallow hard, feeling the gloved palm of his hand press against your neck.
“Might want to pace yourself. Otherwise you’ll be in for a long night,” he warns.
“What makes you think that isn’t what I was hoping for?”
He chuckles darkly, and the helmet’s modulator seems to make it even more intimidating.
“What are your hard no’s?”
“You’ll be hard-pressed to find them,” you reply. Your mouth is dry, but other places are already soaking. You’re almost glad he has you braced against the wall because your knees suddenly feel gelatinous beneath you.
He tilts his head. “Think on it a bit more. Have an answer when I come back from my briefing. Then we’ll begin.” He releases your throat and steps back. “Be ready.”
He once again leaves you alone in your office, shivering in his absence.
How the fuck do I get ready for this?
You brush your hair out of your face, catching a glance at your reflection in the small mirror you have stuck to one wall. You’re covered in grease and sweat, and your hair is sticking out at odd angles.
A shower then.
You’re glad the day’s over as you slide your office door closed. It would be hard to concentrate on anything else right now. You push through the door that connects to the small apartment and refresher that have become your home away from home. It had been one of your few stipulations when you took the job, knowing you’d rarely make it back down to your lower-level Coruscant apartment. It had originally been a large storage closet, but with some work, you’d converted it into a decent-sized bedroom, stacking a few changes of clothes in an empty crate in one corner. The bed was at least comfortable, tucked up against one wall with a small bedside table next to it. You quickly shove the dirty clothes strewn on the floor in a corner before shucking off your jumpsuit and hurriedly showering. You don’t have any sort of lingerie or anything remotely alluring here, and you’re considering what to wear while wrapped in a towel when you hear a soft knock at your door.
You turn and find Crater’s silhouette looming there, blocking out the dim light of your office.
“That was a quick briefing.”
He shrugs as if he’s used to coming upon you in only a towel.
“You shut the office door?” you ask.
“Yes. And you should really get that fixed.” His helmet is off, and his dark eyes are roving over you and your towel-covered body.
“Add it to my list,” you mutter, trying to maintain some sort of confidence under his stare. “I’m sure that admiral will be so pleased to hear it takes priority over his fighters.”
He snorts in amusement as he steps into the room, shutting the apartment door behind him. He sets the helmet on the ground before he starts peeling off the top half of his armor, one piece of plastoid at a time, and neatly stacking it in the corner.
“Did you think more on what your hard no’s are?” he asks.
You’d come up with a few and rattle them off.
“Those are fairly extreme. Don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” he rasps. The top half of his armor is completely off now, and he rolls up the sleeves of his black shirt as he approaches you, circling you slowly. “But I’m glad you put serious thought into it and came up with something.”
“You got anything I need to avoid doing?” you ask, trying not to nervously rock on your heels. You’d rarely had issues with people seeing you naked, but for some reason, Crater’s gaze has you feeling timid, even with the towel still hiding your body.
“I don’t think you’ll get there, but I’ll let you know if you get close,” he replies as he comes to a stop in front of you. His sleeves are rolled all the way to his elbows, and you can see the tendrils of the other end of his tattoos poking out on his forearms. You’d never realized how far his tattoos stretched, only ever having seen the fine lines that poked out of the collar of his shirt. Now, you find you want to know how much of his skin is inked and how far the pattern stretches.
“My eyes are up here, gorgeous.”
You flush, but raise your eyes to meet his steady gaze. He’s watching you carefully and fuck, you want to squirm with him looking at you like that.
“So you respond to praise then. You prefer that?”
You shrug. “Could go both ways.”
“Where would you like me to cum?”
You can’t help but smirk at that question, but his expression is stern. “Wherever you like,” you reply. “I’ve got an implant.”
He hums, gently brushing some of your damp hair out of your face, a tender gesture that contrasts sharply with his next question. “May I mark you?”
“Nowhere the jumpsuit can’t cover.”
“How rough would you like me to be?”
You think for a moment. “Breathplay is good. Impact too. Bruising is fine. Nothing that would draw blood.”
He smirks. “Good girl.”
Your thighs rub together, and he notices, huffing a quiet laugh.
“Toys I can use?”
You point to the bedside table. “In that drawer.”
“You know the color system?”
You nod.
“Give me your definitions.”
“Green is good. Yellow is slow down. Red is stop.”
“And if you can’t verbally communicate?”
“Three taps.” You reach out and demonstrate on his chest, letting your fingertips rest there.
He catches your hand. “I want to be very clear here. You are under no obligation to do anything with me. And if you say red, we stop. No debate, no questions. This is for your benefit, so I’ll push, but when I hit a limit, you have to let me know. Deal?”
You can’t help but smile there. “Deal.”
“Any other last requests?”
“Ruin me.” The words fall out of your mouth before you realize you’ve said them, but you don’t regret them. You need this, and he can see it. Crater’s eyes darken even more, and he grins wickedly as he pulls your wrist to his lips. You feel his beard scratch your skin, and you shiver at the thought of where else you may feel that sensation before the night is over.
“With pleasure.” He cups your jaw, running a thumb over your lower lip. “You will refer to me as Captain or sir. Understood?”
A thrill shoots through you, and you push your luck, shrugging. “Sure.”
His nostrils flare and his grip on your jaw tightens. “You are such a fucking brat,” he whispers. “I'll fix that.” He grips the towel, giving it a firm yank and tossing it in the corner. He steps back and studies you. You shiver again, although you can’t be sure if it’s from the chill on your damp skin or his piercing gaze. He circles you again, inspecting every inch of your body. You feel yourself tremble slightly as he leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “On your knees.”
You think about pushing him further, but decide against it, at least for the moment, slowly sinking to your knees and gazing up at him expectantly.
“Open your mouth.”
You narrow your eyes at him. He squats down in front of you, balancing on the balls of his feet, watching you. You start to giggle from nerves, but his hand rockets out, catching your jaw again and squeezing until your lips part from the pressure.
He slips the tip of his glove into your mouth.
“Bite,” he grits out.
He loosens his hold just enough for you to do as you’re told this time, gently taking the tip of the fabric between your teeth. His fingers slip out of the glove, and he takes it from you. He repeats the exercise with his other glove, tucking them both in his back pocket. Warm tan fingers press on your lower lip, and you open your mouth, allowing him in. Two fingers slide in, pressing on your tongue. Saliva pools in your mouth, but Crater keeps your jaw pried open until you feel some drool slide down your chin.
“Messy girl,” he rasps. “Suck.”
You close your lips around his fingers, sucking gently on the pads. You can taste his sweat, slightly salty against your tongue.
“Oh, come on, gorgeous. With a mouth like that, I expected more. You’re going to have to do better than that if you want me to let you suck my cock later.”
You feel your cunt throb and you inhale sharply as warmth floods between your legs. You’re certain you’re dripping onto the floor by now, and it’s only been a few minutes.
“You like that thought, don’t you?” Crater asks, shoving his fingers into the back of your throat. You gag, and he starts to withdraw, but you catch his wrist, pressing his fingers deeper while you run your tongue over his knuckles.
Crater’s brow furrows and his lips part slightly as he watches you gag again on his fingers, but you keep going, obediently sliding them in and out of your mouth. You hum around him, and you can see he’s fighting to maintain control. You grin.
“Something to say, pretty girl?” he asks, shoving another finger into your mouth. “Go on.”
“Having fun, Captain?” is what you try to ask, but it comes out garbled around his digits.
“Try again, gorgeous. I can’t understand you.”
You glare up at him and he smirks before withdrawing his fingers.
“I was always told it’s rude to talk with my mouth full, sir,” you snark.
“You’ve had no problem being rude up until this point,” he murmurs, letting his damp hand trail across your collarbone before grazing your breast.
You clench around nothing. It's been months since anyone touched you.
He notices your response, raising his eyebrow as he pinches one nipple between his fingers and tugs it gently. You whimper quietly.
“Needy,” he observes.
“Been a while.” He pinches your nipple harder. “Sir,” you gasp.
“Hmm.” He releases you, pushing himself to a standing position. You shift, trying to gain some source of friction, but he slips a knuckle under your chin, tilting your head upwards. “None of that. You take what I give, and nothing more. Understood?”
You bat your eyelashes at him. “Yes, sir.”
Crater stares down at you with an unamused expression for another half a beat before releasing you. He crosses your room to your nightstand and pulls open the drawer, rummaging inside. You can see his eyes raking over the contents, carefully cataloging everything before he holds up your plug, glancing over at you.
“You stretch yourself on this?”
“Yes, sir,” you say quietly.
“Anyone ever taken you there?”
“No.” It’s something you’ve always wanted to try, but you’ve never had a partner you felt bold enough to ask. And those that have asked have always seemed too eager. So you’ve resorted to toys, stuffing your ass full with the plug as you fucked your cunt with another toy. But no matter how many times you came, teeth clenched around the fabric of your pillowcase, your curiosity about the real thing still wasn’t sated. You always knew it would have to be with someone you trust completely, someone you know won’t push you or your boundaries just to lay claim to you.
Someone like Crater.
He stays silent, clearly expecting more from you.
You try to stutter out a more thorough response. “B-but I like to feel full when I…”
“When you what, pretty girl?”
“When I fuck myself.”
The corner of his lip curls. “Filthier than I thought. Good.” He takes out a bottle of lube, your dildo with the remote, and the plug and sits on the bed with them next to him. He leans forward on his knees, crooking a finger towards you.
“Come here, gorgeous.”
You grin, falling forward on your hands and crawling towards him, allowing your ass to sway back and forth. His face remains neutral as you slide between his knees, running your hands over the plastoid that still covers his thighs. You’ve always been good at finding the right buttons to push with people, but Crater has largely remained a mystery to you in all the time that you’ve known him. Now, you watch carefully as you scrape your fingers closer to his inner thigh, watching for any telltale twitch. You want to see if you can make him crack.
He’s immovable.
“You seem to think this is some sort of competition,” he says quietly, as though he can read your thoughts. “You won’t break me, sweetheart.”
You pout your lips. “You’re no fun.”
He slips one hand into your hair and grips tightly, pulling your head back as he leans over you again. You can feel the roots of your hair tug sharply, and it sends another thrill through you. Crater leans forward to whisper directly into your ear. His beard scrapes your cheek, and his breath is hot against the shell of your ear. “You’re still being a brat.”
“I thought pilots enjoyed a challenge,” you manage to gasp.
“I do.” He releases your hair, and you sit back. He shifts back on the bed and pats his knees. You start to straddle one, but he places a hand on your hip, stilling you. “No, love. Over them.”
Your legs quiver at the realization of what he’s asking, and your mouth falls open slightly.
“Tick-tock, pretty girl. The longer you stand there and waste my time, the longer this’ll be.”
You drape yourself over his thighs slowly, shuddering at the chill of the plastoid and how the edges of it bite into your skin. You rest your elbows and knees on the mattress on either side of him, balancing as he pushes down on the small of your back to arch it to his liking. Your ass is in the air, and it feels so exposed. Crater rubs small circles in your spine before allowing his hand to drift downward, lightly passing over the curve of your ass. You feel your skin explode in an array of goosebumps as a jolt shoots through you. You unleash a shuddering breath.
“You are needy. So eager to be touched,” he teases as he traces down the curve of your ass, curling his fingers on the inside of your thigh. He’s so close to where you want him, but he steers clear of your dripping cunt. For now.
“I think fifteen is a good start considering how you’ve behaved the last few weeks,” he rasps. “And if you’re good, I’ll let you have my cock.”
“Fifteen, huh? Can you count that high, Captain?” you ask, earning yourself a sharp pinch to your nipple with his other hand. You inhale sharply, biting back a curse.
“Twenty then. And you’ll be the one counting. I’m sure you can do that, can’t you, smart girl?”
You open your mouth to retort, but the first smack lands hard, biting into the skin of your asscheek. Heat floods through you and your mouth falls open.
You’re already craving another.
“Count for me, or we start over.”
“One,” you pant.
He continues, landing some blows over the same area, and you can feel the heat and redness bloom there. Other times, he moves onto an untouched patch of skin, and the shock of sudden pain makes you squirm, desperate for some sort of friction against your neglected clit. It feels as though electricity is licking up your spine with every strike, the pain giving way to a euphoria you’ve never before experienced as his warm palm soothes your stinging skin in between each blow.
But you keep count.
“See, I knew you could be a good girl for me. You’re doing so well,” he whispers as he rubs the place you’re certain he just left a handprint. “Halfway there.” One hand curls around your thigh again, and you feel fingers finally brush against your folds, slipping along them with ease. “I see you’re enjoying yourself,” Crater observes. “You’re soaked.” He lifts his fingers to his lips, sucking your taste off of them before he lets his hand slip back between your legs, sinking two of his thick digits into you. You fist the blankets as the next blow lands at the same time Crater curls his fingers inside of you.
“Ah fuck! Eleven!”
Crater pulls out slightly out before pressing back into the knuckle, driving into you. He finds the spongy place inside of you and bears down on it as he spanks you again in the same place. Your eyes roll back into your head.
“T-twelve.”
“Good girl.”
SMACK.
“Thirteen,” you whine. The plastoid is so cold against your heated, sweaty skin as you writhe in his lap, trying to press back against his hand. He adds a third finger.
“Who would have known all it took for you to be nicer was a few spanks and some fingers in your pussy?” Crater chuckles. “Such a desperate girl.”
“Please,” you whisper.
“Please what?”
“More.”
“So polite all of a sudden.” He presses against your asshole with his thumb, and you arch your back, pushing against him. “Oh, you want me to take you there, don’t you? Want me to claim your ass tonight?”
You do. You want him to, and he knows it. You mouth a silent “yes” as you glance back at him, and his eyebrow raises at your muted admission.
Crater hums as he pushes harder against the tight ring of muscle and you gasp. Your knuckles are white with how hard you’re gripping the sheets.
“Color?”
“Green. Fuck. Green.”
SMACK.
“FOURTEEN.”
Your breath is coming in short pants as he rubs at the raised, tender flesh of your ass. You hear the click of a cap, and suddenly his thumb is pressed back against your asshole again, slicker than before. He pushes forward, breaching the tight ring of muscle as he curls his fingers in your cunt again.
“Oh, Maker, yes. Right there, Crate-”
SMACK.
“It’s Captain or sir,” he reminds you in that same gravelly tone he used on Strike, sending a shiver through you. “Now what do we say when someone gives you what you want?”
“Fifteen! Thank you, sir,” you gasp, tears starting to pool in the corners of your eyes.
“Good girl.”
You clench around his fingers at the praise, and he huffs another laugh, pressing his thumb deeper into your ass. He lands the next few blows in rapid succession.
SMACK.
“SIXTEEN. THANK YOU, CAPTAIN.”
SMACK.
“FUCK. SEVENTEEN. THANK YOU, SIR.”
You can feel the coil tightening in your stomach as he lands two more, nearing the end. After nineteen, you’re babbling in his lap, desperately pressing back against his hand, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers.
“You think you deserve to cum?” he asks.
“Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease,” you whimper.
“Not yet, pretty girl.”
SMACK.
“Twenty,” you sob.
He removes his fingers from you, and you immediately feel painfully empty. His other palm rests on your back, rubbing soothing circles as you feel your pulse in your fluttering, empty cunt.
“You did so well,” he praises. You quiver under his touch. “Are you still green?”
“Still g-green,” you stutter.
“Louder.”
“Green,” you declare more firmly.
“Good. Lie down.”
He helps you stand on shaky legs, carefully moving you to lie on your back on the bed. You feel the softness of the blanket rub against the inflamed skin of your ass and thighs, and you shudder at the thought of the marks that’ll be there tomorrow, a reminder of your night with the captain.
But he’s far from done with you.
“Wait here,” he commands. “Don’t touch yourself.”
“Yes, sir,” you sigh with a hint of a whine.
He retreats to the refresher, washing his hand before he comes back, his head tilted as he watches you, laid out for him on your bed. He quickly removes the rest of his armor and boots, grinning smugly as your eyes follow every new part of him that’s exposed to you. You want him, and he knows it. Reaching for his waist, he tugs his shirt up and over his head, tossing it next to his armor.
He’s fucking stunning. You knew he would be, but somehow still weren’t prepared. The tattoos you’d seen evidence of curl from his elbows over his shoulders, weaving in geometric patterns across his collarbone and shoulder blades before reaching up his neck, where they end. Each line seems to flawlessly frame a muscle or tendon, perfectly accentuating it. His body is littered with small scars, with one larger one visible on his hip, dipping below the waistline of his pants. Without his codpiece, you can see the pronounced outline of his cock, straining against the black fabric. Your mouth waters, and you lick your lips, meeting his eyes.
“Not yet,” he teases.
You’re huffy now, having recovered slightly from your denied orgasm, and he glowers at you as you pout.
“Hands under the headboard,” he orders. You glare at him for another moment, and he raises his eyebrow again in warning. You concede, slipping your fingers under the wooden edge and gripping it tightly. “Good. Keep them there,” he orders as he slowly approaches the bed. “Or else I’ll get some binders.”
“Probably the most use they’ll have gotten,” you snicker.
“You really want to make this difficult?”
“Got a reputation to keep up.”
He snorts before climbing onto the bed and straddling you, lowering his body onto yours slowly. You can feel the warmth of his chest against your skin, and your body is screaming at you to wrap your legs around him, but you really aren’t that interested in the binders that he threatened you with.
You’re more interested in getting his cock inside of you as quickly as possible.
Crater is infuriatingly patient and precise in his motions, but then again, you suppose that’s why he commands an entire combat wing. He slips his hand into your hair again, gripping but not pulling. He tilts your head slightly, exposing your neck to him. “If I remember correctly, your jumpsuit collar goes to about here,” he whispers, nosing at the perceived boundary on the skin of your throat. His beard is tickling you, and you’re shaking with anticipation. “That seem right to you?”
“Yes, s-sir,” you stutter.
“Already a mess and I’ve hardly started,” he rasps, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll have you begging soon enough.” He kisses your neck, and you let out a sharp exhale. You’ve tried to play it neutral, but somehow, he’s zoned in on the exact spot you like to be kissed, the spot that drives you wild. And he notices the way you respond, bearing down on it with his teeth and tongue. You start to grind against him, desperate for any sort of friction, desperate to feel his cock. You manage to catch the head of it on your clit through his pants, rubbing for a millisecond before his unoccupied hand locks firmly on your hip, holding you still.
“You’ll take what I give, pretty girl,” he snarls in your ear. “And the longer you’re greedy, the longer you’ll wait to have me fill that pretty pussy.”
You whine but relent, letting him resume his attack on your neck and collar bone. He works slowly and methodically, marking you as he works his way to your breasts, where he seemingly spends an eternity lavishing them with attention. He sucks bruises, he bites gently, and he takes your nipples in his mouth, paying special attention to what makes you writhe and gasp.
And then he moves lower, slipping between your legs and kissing just below your navel as he spreads your legs wide with his hands on the back of your thighs. His breath is so warm against your dripping cunt, and you spasm in his grip as he blows on you purposefully.
“Asshole,” you grumble.
He bites the inside of your thigh hard, and you yelp. Looking down, you can already see the bruise blossoming where his teeth caught your skin.
“Only nice girls get to cum. Now, remember, keep your hands where they are.”
He nuzzles against the flesh of your unmarked thigh, placing warm kisses and gentle bites. His beard scrapes the tender skin just before his teeth graze you, threatening to mark you where only you’ll see. You close your eyes, tipping your head back as you try to fight the way your legs are trembling, but that earns you a sharp slap to the inside of your thigh.
“Eyes on me, pretty girl.”
You catch your lip between your teeth as you obey, your eyes finding his brown ones, which seem to be practically glowing. He keeps his gaze locked with yours as he nuzzles your clit, blowing on it gently. You whine, and your legs try to close, but he firmly holds them open.
“I’m going to break you,” he whispers. “By the time I’m done, all you’ll know is my name and the word ‘please’.”
You tremble again just as he dives in, driving his tongue and eating you ravenously as you gasp and thrash in his grasp.
Crater is a master at pulling you apart slowly, and he takes his time, working you to the edge with his tongue and mouth and then chuckling as he pulls away, leaving you trembling and crying out in frustration. He’s a quick study and eventually adds his fingers, thrusting into your cunt as he suckles at your clit in the way that he now knows will have you clenching and gasping. The third time he deprives you, you unleash a frustrated growl, and he laughs quietly at your frustration.
“Please, Captain,” you whine. “Please.”
“Not yet.”
He goes at you again, alternating with his tongue and his fingers, and it feels as though it only takes seconds for your body to begin to tighten, begging for the release that he’s robbed you of.
“Knew you’d taste good,” he mumbles into your skin as he presses his fingers back inside of you. “So sweet and warm.”
“P-p-please. Please.”
He nips at your thigh and you cry out, tears leaping into your eyes as droplets of perspiration dot your forehead. Crater bears down on the spot inside of you, watching you as you babble.
“Please, I'll do anything you want. Please, sir, please. I need it.”
“Tell me what you need, gorgeous.”
“I need to cum. Please. Do anything you want to me. Please just let me cum. PLEASE!”
“Not yet.”
You sob.
He keeps working you, disintegrating your resolve with every pass of his tongue and his fingers. The scratch of his beard is delicious, contrasting sharply with the warmth of his mouth and the soft press of his tongue against you as he laps at your heat.
“Captain, please. Gods above, I’ll let you have anything.”
“Anything?”
“Yes. I’ll suck your cum out of your cock. You can have my ass. I’ll give you anything.”
He chuckles. “At the bargaining phase, are we?”
The tears are streaming from your eyes, and you unleash a choked sob.
“Ask me again.”
You’re gasping now, teetering on the edge.
“Please, Captain. Please let me cum.”
“Good girl.” He kisses your clit, and you moan, your knuckles aching from how hard you’re holding the headboard.
“Cum for me.”
You do, screaming his name as your body spasms with wave after wave of your orgasm. He holds you in place, working you through it until your body finally sags into the bed, slick with sweat and wrung out. Your mind is hazy as you feel him crawl up next to you, pressing his fingers against your lips. You let your mouth fall open, welcoming them in as you clean your release from the pads of his fingers. When he’s satisfied, he leans over you and kisses you, and you can feel how wet his beard is from your release. He reaches up as he kisses you, pulling your hands from the headboard. You immediately bury them in his dark curls, running your fingers over the back of his head, relishing this new touch he’s permitted.
The way Crater kisses you feels as though he’s stealing the air from your lungs. His tongue gently finds its way inside your mouth, running along your lower lip as his hands wander your body, gently rubbing and caressing. After what feels like an eternity and not long enough, he relents, resting his forehead against yours.
“Are you ready to continue, my gorgeous girl?”
“Yes, sir.” You’d been determined to make this harder for him, but he’s broken you, and you’re more than ready to bend to whatever his will may be. You trust him implicitly, just like you always have, but somehow, it feels deeper now. You know as rough as he may be with you here, he’ll never hurt you in a way you don’t ask for. His eyes are staring directly into yours as he strokes your cheek tenderly.
“So good for me,” he whispers. He kisses your cheek, moving along your jaw until he reaches your ear. He gently takes your earlobe between his teeth as he grips your thigh, coaxing you to wrap your legs around him. You do it immediately, quivering again at the thought of finally being filled by his cock.
Crater is kicking his pants off as he whispers into your ear. “Now that you’re being good, I’m going to fuck you until you’re boneless. You’re going to cum exactly as many times as I want you to, and no less. But you have to ask me first, and ask nicely. Do you understand?”
You nod.
“Use your words, love.”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
“Color?”
You can feel the head of his cock resting against the puffy, soaked lips of your pussy. Crater is stroking himself against your slit, coating himself with your release. You look down and see he’s as big as Gregor, but with a little more girth, and Maker above you’ve never wanted anything more.
“Green.”
He grunts as he notches his head at your entrance. “Good girl.”
Crater enters you slowly, watching your face as he breaches you. Your release makes it easier to take him, but not easy. You feel your walls stretch to accommodate him as he slowly thrusts shallowly into you, pressing a little deeper each time. Every time his head catches your entrance, you whimper, and he responds with a thrust. You can feel how tightly you’re stretched around him, every ridge apparent as he takes what you’re more than willing to surrender.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers.
You reach up to touch his face, and he catches your hand, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist before he leans forward and captures your lips again. He groans into your mouth as he bottoms out, pressing his hips against yours, and the feeling of him inside of you is bliss you’ve never experienced. He stays still, but his entire body is tensed, a taut spring waiting to be unleashed. He strokes your cheek.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I won’t be gentle.”
You raise your head, grazing his lips with yours. “I don’t want you to be.”
He chuckles darkly. “Good.”
His hips draw back before slamming against yours, and you see stars as the head of his cock finds the perfect place inside you. He starts off at a steady but hard pace, knocking the wind from you with every thrust of his hips. His hands wander your body, squeezing your breasts, playing with your clit, finding every place that makes you unfurl more underneath him.
At one point, he sits up, placing his hands at the back of your knees and pushing them towards your chest. The angle of his next thrust has you screaming to religious entities you don’t even believe in as he reaches impossibly deeper inside of you. His thrusts are deliberate and perfectly timed, his fingers bruising, and it’s not long before you’re pleading with him again.
“Maker, I’m gonna cum again. Please let me cum, Captain. Please.”
“Yeah? Already? You’re not making this very difficult.” He sheathes himself to the hilt and holds there. It feels as though he’s rearranging your insides, and you’re shocked you can’t see an outline of his cock through your stomach.
“Gods. Please, Crate. I’m so full.” Tears are leaking from the corners of your eyes as he drags himself out again, leaving just the head inside of you. His thumb presses against your clit with a feather-light touch, and you jolt at the contact, whining desperately.
“Not yet, you’re not,” he rasps. You feel his fingers prod at your asshole, and you fist the sheets, arching your back as your mouth falls open. You hear the click of the lube bottle opening again.
“Color?”
“G-green.”
His cock slips from you, and you want to scream, but he holds your legs where they are, and you feel the blunt head of the plug nudge your other entrance.
“Relax for me, pretty girl.”
You do, inhaling and exhaling deeply as you quiver with anticipation. The plug slips inside you, and it’s bliss you’ve never experienced. Crater watches you for a moment before he slides his cock back inside of your pussy, folding you back in half again.
You’ve never felt this full before, never this pleasured, and you’re not sure you’ll ever feel this way again.
But you need it.
“Fuck. Don’t stop.”
A hand settles on your throat, firmer than the last time he grasped you like that.
“Eyes open for me, love.”
You didn’t even realize you’d closed them, but your eyes flutter open and find Crater’s in the dim lighting. They’re piercing. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and his gaze follows it.
“Do as you’re told, yeah?” he groans.
“Yes, sir,” you gasp.
The grip on your throat tightens slightly, pressing on the sides. “Squeeze for me.”
You focus on contracting your muscles even though your mind feels like a blur. Crater grunts as your cunt tightens around him. “Good girl. Good fucking girl.” His cock slams into you, and you relax, letting him fill you.
“Again.”
Crater releases your legs, fucking you with his hand around your neck. You’ve never tried spice, but you imagine this has to be what it’s like. You’re floating, you’re moaning, you’re sweating, all while wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, more intense with every thrust of Crater’s hips as the head of his cock continues to stroke that perfect place inside you. The grip on your throat tightens when he wants you to flex your muscles, and after a few cycles of it, you tighten around him without having to be asked. Crater’s fucking you in earnest now, the hand still around your throat, and your head is swimming. He releases you for a second, watching you.
“Color?”
“Green,” you whisper.
“Louder for me.”
“Green,” you say more firmly.
He’s still watching, and you see a flicker of something, concern maybe.
“I said I’m green, Crater.”
He takes your hand, placing it on his side. “Tap if you need.”
“I will. Now please fuck me.”
The grip tightens again, and you’re back to floating, and before you know it, you’re begging him again.
“Cum on my cock, pretty girl.”
You do. You cum hard, clawing at his back as he bites your shoulder. Your vision whites out as you writhe underneath him, clenching around his cock until the orgasm subsides, leaving you panting.
“Good. That’s two.”
“How many you shooting for?” you gasp.
“As many as it takes. Now on your knees for me, love.”
You roll over onto your knees, bracing yourself against your elbows. You feel exposed like this, back arched and presenting yourself to the captain. You feel him staring at your dripping heat, and you shiver under his gaze. His fingers trace along your lips as he positions himself behind you, nudging your knees apart as he presses his cock back into you. Your back arches almost by instinct, and he groans as he bottoms out, leaning over you. You feel his abdomen press against the plug in your ass, and you try to push backwards to drive it in deeper, but a sharp smack to your ass makes you freeze.
“What did I tell you about being greedy?” he rasps. “You take what I give you.”
You squeeze around him in the only act of defiance you can muster, and he chuckles darkly before he leans forward, pinning your arms behind your back with one hand while fisting your hair with the other. The roots of your hair creak again under his grip, but the pain is beautiful as he slams into your cunt again with a wet slap that makes your face burn.
“You talk a big game, but I know what you really crave,” he grunts as he fucks you. “You want to be told how filthy you are. You want to be used like this, to surrender to someone else. You want someone else to take charge. Your dripping little cunt tells me everything I need to know.” He’s got his weight tipped forward onto the small of your back, arching it even further as he snaps his hips into you again, accelerating the pace with each thrust until he’s pounding you into your mattress. Your head is pulled back and forth by the grip he has on your hair, and you allow yourself to go limp as Crater drives into you again and again. You’re more than happy to let him use you, especially as he strokes your insides deliciously, stretching you around his cock as your ass relaxes around the plug. It’s bliss.
After a few minutes, he adjusts again, tipping further forward, and suddenly, he finds the deepest part of you again, and he knows it when you moan loudly under him. He slows, dragging himself out of you before thrusting roughly back in, and you try to bury your face in the sheets to hide the obscene whines that are falling from your lips. But a rough tug of your hair turns your face outward, and you gasp and moan, some of your saliva leaking onto the sheets as Crater fucks you.
“None of that, love. I want to hear every noise you make.”
He pulls you apart, piece by piece, yanking another orgasm from you in a matter of minutes before he flips you back onto your back, pulling your ankles up to rest on his shoulders and gripping your hips as he pistons into you roughly. You lose track of how many times you’ve orgasmed, and each time, Crater only allows you a moment to catch your breath before he’s moving you again, gripping your body roughly and taking what he wants from you. You’re boneless and malleable, and he’s seemingly insatiable.
He’s fucking you on your back again, with one leg extended between his with the other on his shoulder as he drives into your soaked cunt. Sweat is trickling down his neck, trailing along the lines of his tattoos. His dark curls are glistening with moisture, and one drop falls from his nose, landing on your abdomen as he snaps his hips into you relentlessly.
“I’m almost there, love,” he gasps. “Gonna fill this pretty pussy up.”
You’re panting with exertion, trying to hold your orgasm at bay as he grips your hip, driving himself into you impossibly deeper. You worry that his orgasm will mean the end of this night, and he seems to notice your concern.
“Ask for what you want, pretty girl.”
You’re suddenly shy, even with his cock buried inside you, even wearing the marks of his teeth and his hands on your flesh.
He slows, whispering your name. “Tell me what you want.”
“I… I want you to fuck my ass. I want you to have me there, Crater.”
His eyes search yours for a second before he resumes his relentless pace. “I’m going to cum in this pussy. Then you’re going to clean my cock off with that smart mouth of yours. And once I’m nice and hard again, I’ll claim you there. That what you want?”
Heat rises in your cheeks. “Y-yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, sir. Please sir.”
“Good girl.”
He leans forward, adjusting to the angle that he knows will rip another orgasm from you, and sure enough, you’re pleading with him again in a matter of seconds. This time, he’s merciful.
“Cum with me. Right now. Do it.”
You’ve never been so responsive to a lover, never felt as though your body was perfectly calibrated to follow their commands, but Crater’s words send you hurtling over the edge, and you feel him twitch as he empties himself inside of you. It takes several thrusts, and you’re certain you’re full of his cum, dripping with it.
His final thrusts make obscene sounds, and you feel the warm stickiness dribble out of you. Crater pushes himself up on his hands and knees, reaching for the dildo and gently nestling it inside of you, replacing his cock. It’s cold and not enough compared to him, but your disappointment only lasts a moment as he crawls to the head of your bed, sitting against your headboard with his legs spread. He reaches for the remote on your nightstand and beckons you forward.
“Come clean me off, love. Get me ready to take you again.”
You feel as though you’re drunk as you roll yourself onto your hands and knees, clumsily crawling towards him on wobbly limbs. He watches you with a slight smirk as you drop to your elbows between his knees, nuzzling at his abdomen and kissing the scar on his hip. He gently brushes your hair out of your face, gathering it in one hand.
“You want this, love?”
“So much,” you whisper.
His cock is still half-hard, glistening with your combined releases, and you gently wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue around the tip. The taste is salty and tangy and warm, and you can’t believe how quickly you crave it, slipping him further into your mouth. He grunts in surprise as you suddenly feel a second wind overtake you, making you eager to run your tongue along every inch of him. You clean him until your saliva replaces the slick cum on his shaft, tracing veins and flicking the head of his cock with your tongue. You hear a dull thunk as his head falls back against your headboard, and he gathers your hair in one hand, applying pressure to the back of your head.
You want him to use you. You want him to bruise the back of your throat. You want him to make your voice rasp in the morning as a reminder of this night.
His cock hits the back of your throat, but you hold yourself there, fighting your gag reflex and the tears that are blurring your vision. You can see his abdomen heaving as he experimentally thrusts into your mouth, testing your limits. You swallow around him.
Crater moans.
“Good fucking girl. Maker, I knew that mouth would be incredible. Gonna have to be careful or else I’ll cum down your throat, love.”
You hum and the grip on your hair tightens as you feel his cock swell and pulse against your tongue.
“Oh, you want that do you? You want me to fuck your mouth?”
The sounds as your saliva squelches around him are obscene, but he begins pistoning up into your mouth, moving your head to meet his thrusts. You rest one hand on his thigh in case you need it, and you feel his muscles tense with every snap of his hips.
“So fucking good. I should come by more often just to do this. Shut your office door and fuck your throat when you get mouthy with me. You love this, don’t you? Love being put in your place. Love being used to slick my cock, you sloppy little thing. Relax your throat for me. Oh, fuck, yes. Just like that.”
You’ve never heard him this vocal, and as you manage to glance up, you see how his lips are slightly parted. His brows are furrowed, and you can tell you might finally have him knocked slightly off balance. A new wave of arousal shoots through you at the thought of making Crater crumble. With renewed fervor, you bury your nose in the curls at the base of his cock, inhaling his scent just before your airway is cut off, and you gag. But you hold yourself there, and his hand rests heavily on the back of your head.
Suddenly, you groan as he clicks the remote for the dildo in your cunt. It vibrates to life, pressing against your stretched walls, making your legs quiver.
“Good girls get rewarded,” he rasps.
You become ravenous, eager to taste his cum, desperate to have this man fill your throat. You want nothing more than to pleasure him, to submit to him, and you let him take what he wants from you. Crater drops the remote, burying both hands in your hair as he lazily thrusts in and out of your mouth, giving you instructions occasionally, which you follow without question. The dull buzz between your legs combined with the pressure in your ass and the throb of Crater’s cock on your tongue brings you to the edge again, but this time, you can’t beg with your mouth full.
He notices.
“Do it. Cum for me. You’ve been so good.”
He clicks the remote again, and you scream around his cock. He presses your head all the way down, groaning as your shrieks vibrate around him. Just as you’re spent, he pulls you off of him, turning the vibration off. He’s almost painfully hard, you can see that. His cock is fully erect and twitching, glistening with your saliva in the dull lighting of the room. You rest your cheek on his thigh, and he strokes your hair.
“Tell me what you want, pretty girl.”
“Wanted… wanted to taste… you,” you pant.
He strokes your hair. “Another time. I promise.”
You whine. “Please fuck me.”
That was apparently the answer he was hoping for, not wanting to expend himself too early if that’s what you really wanted. He’s read you again, but you can’t be bothered by it as he asks you “Where?”
You know he’s making sure this is what you want, so you meet his eyes with as firm a gaze as you can muster. “Please fuck my ass, sir. I need it.”
“How could I refuse such a polite request?”
Crater eases out from underneath you, crawling around behind you and guiding you onto your stomach. He folds a pillow in half and helps you raise your hips to stuff it under them, raising them to his liking before he straddles you, enclosing your legs with his. He pushes the vibrator in your cunt a little deeper, you having squeezed it out slightly during your last orgasm, and then he clicks the low vibration back on. Your muscles tighten around it, and you grip the sheets, arching your back and moaning as he presses it further in and clicks the button again. The vibrations ramp up, and you writhe beneath him. He taps the end of the plug in your ass, and you turn to look over your shoulder at him.
“You gonna let me have your ass, sweetheart?”
It’s one last check. And you’re so grateful for it. But you’re also so impatient.
“Yes. Please fuck my ass, Captain.”
His eyes leave yours to watch as he plays with the plug a little, tapping and moving it in and out of you before he removes it completely. You feel achingly empty and wiggle your ass, hoping it will entice him to fill you faster. You’ve never been taken there before, but right now, you want nothing more.
“I’m going to go slow. Use your colors.”
“Please, Crater.”
The lube bottle clicks open, and a few seconds later you hear the sound of him slicking his cock. Coolness hits your asshole, and you gasp as fingers slip inside of you, working you even more open.
And then you feel it.
Crater uses one hand to spread your asscheeks as he notches the head of his cock at your entrance and slowly begins to ease in. So slowly. Tears leap into your eyes as your muscles stretch to accommodate him. It’s slightly painful, but the pleasure outweighs it as he gently thrusts just the head in and out of you. It feels as though your cunt is stretching too, and the vibrations inside of you suddenly become more intense.
You need him deeper.
“More,” you plead.
Crater sinks a little further into you, moving his hand to the small of your back instead to brace himself. And that’s when it hits you: he’s inside of you completely, not having to hold himself there, in a place no one else has ever been.
The realization drives you wild.
And then he taps the vibrator again. You gasp loudly, fisting the sheets.
“More. Please!”
He sinks deeper, but it’s too much too fast this time. You gasp out a color.
“YELLOW.”
He backs off quickly, but your hand rockets around to keep him inside you.
“Just a little slower. I’m sorry. I thought I was ready,” you choke out.
“Don’t be sorry. Not at all. I’m glad you told me.” His voice is tight. You know he’s holding back. And that’s why you want to keep going. Because you trust him like you’ve trusted no one else.
“Don’t stop. Just go slower. But please don’t stop.”
“You’re sure?” he asks again.
“Yes. Please. I’m green.” You thrust back slightly, just to your breaking point, and he takes your lead. You feel your body relax around him, and this time, you’re positive when you ask him for more. He’s slow and patient, working his way inside you. The stretch is delicious, and Maker, you’ve never been this full. Nothing you do with your fingers or toys after this will be enough. Not with the way his hand is rubbing comforting circles in the small of your back as he destroys you one centimeter at a time.
“More.”
He sinks deeper, and now you’re babbling as he slowly drags himself back out of you before sinking back in. You reach between your legs to press the vibrator against your clit.
“Fuck, Crate. You’re so big. It’s so big and perfect. Fuck. I fucking love the way you feel in my ass.”
“You gonna let me cum in this tight ass, pretty girl?” he grits out. He doesn’t correct you on his title, but you’re pretty sure he’s almost as far gone as you are.
“Gods, yes. I want you to claim me there. Paint my walls where no one else has. I want to feel you leak back out of me.”
His hands grip your hips so hard you’re certain there’ll be a perfect set of fingerprints there. He’s doing everything in his power to go slow, and you can’t wait to turn him loose.
“More, Crate.”
You feel his hips come to rest against your ass as he bottoms out. He’s panting against your shoulder blades, attempting to keep his composure. The realization of how deep he is inside of you has your cunt fluttering around the vibrator, and you almost orgasm from the thought alone. He stretches his legs out, lowering his weight on top of you. One set of his fingers interlaces with yours, and the other hand comes around to cup your throat. He doesn’t squeeze this time, just cradles your jaw, holding your head up as he nuzzles against you.
“You’re so good for me,” he whispers against your skin. “So fucking good.”
You look over your shoulder at him as much as you can, watching a line of sweat trickle down his temple.
“Fuck me, Captain.”
He does. He’s slow at first, but the drag of his cock all the way back out and all the way back into your ass makes you mewl, and before long, you’re pressing back into him. He ramps the vibrator up to its highest setting, and your eyes roll back into your head.
“Harder. Please.”
He obliges, snapping his hips deeper and putting more of his weight into each thrust. Your toes dig into the sheets as your whole body begins to tighten.
“I’m so full. It’s so good. So good. Fuck.” You can’t stop babbling as he pounds into you.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he gasps. “You take my cock so fucking well. Like you were made for it.” He groans loudly as he bottoms out again. “You love this, don’t you? Being stuffed in both holes?”
“Yes,” you sob. “It’s so good.”
“I bet you’d love to have Gregor’s cock in here too. Maybe he takes your sweet little cunt while I pound your ass.” You moan, clenching at the thought. Crater doesn’t stop. “But that still leaves your mouth. Maybe I get Chuckles in here to fuck that smart little mouth while Gregor and I take you. Would you like that, pretty girl? To be ruined by three men at once?”
You whine and spasm around him, and he feels it. “Fuck, you’re such a dirty girl. Who would have known the smart-mouthed mechanic would let me do this to her? Let me ruin her in the backroom of her office. I want you to always remember this when you’re out in that office working. How I took you back here and made you scream my name. How you begged for my cock. Maybe I’ll take you over that desk before I go in the morning so you think about that for the rest of the day while my spend leaks out of you.”
“Crater, I’m gonna cum.”
“Not until I say you are,” he grits out. “Not until I’m ready to.”
You inhale sharply, trying to keep your body from toppling over the edge.
“Don’t you cum yet,” he snarls.
“I’m trying,” you whine. “But I’m so close, Captain. So close.”
“Keep talking.”
Your mouth runs on autopilot, desperate to find the words that will yank him to the edge alongside you so that you can both tumble off together.
“Your cock is so fucking good, Crater. Gods, nothing will ever be enough after this. You fill me up so perfectly. I need it, Crate. I need to feel your hot cum in my ass. I want to feel it leak out of me. Fuck. Please give it to me, Crater. Please cum in my ass.”
His thrusts grow more erratic, and you know you’re about to get what you want.
“G-gonna fill you up,” he growls. “Gonna be the first to claim you here.”
“My ass is yours, Crater.”
“Yeah it fucking is.” The grip on your throat tightens, pulling your head back again, and that last little pinprick of pain has you teetering on the brink. It’s like the first day when he had you tipped in the chair of your office, your toes barely touching the floor. All it will take is the slightest push to send you toppling over the edge.
Just a little further. So close.
“Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease,” you sob.
“You’re so cute when you beg,” he rasps directly into your ear. And with a loud groan, his hips stutter as he cums in your ass, gasping.
“Now,” he moans.
And your orgasm rips through you. He drops your head, and you scream into the sheets as wave after wave washes over you in the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. Tears stream from your eyes and your body spasms again and again. You feel like you’re floating somewhere between consciousness and some other plane of existence as you come out of it, barely aware of what day it is or what your name even is anymore.
When the waves of your orgasm finally stop battering your wrung-out body, you collapse limply against the sheets of your bed. They stick to you, but it feels as if you’ve sunk halfway through the mattress somehow. Your mouth feels dry from screaming. Your tongue darts out to moisten your lips, and you’re aware Crater is laying on top of you, panting against your neck, but trying to hold the majority of his weight off of you.
“Get it out,” you mumble.
He’s already slipped from your ass, but he quickly turns off the vibrator and eases it out of your cunt. You feel yourself start to shake uncontrollably. You’re not sure if it’s due to the orgasm, the sudden chill on your sweat-soaked body, or something else. Regardless, Crater lies next to you and pulls you close to him, being careful to keep his sullied hand clear of you. His nose grazes yours as he gently cradles your head.
“Breathe with me, Bolts.”
You do, and the shivering begins to subside after a few cycles. You finally open your eyes and find Crater’s steady gaze watching you, a comfort as always.
“I’m going to go get something to clean you off with. I’m going to be right back. Alright?” You nod, your mind still hazy, and he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before moving off towards your ‘fresher. The sink hisses softly, and a moment later, you feel your legs gently being parted and a warm, damp cloth moving over your body, thighs, and between your legs as Crater carefully cleans you. Once he’s done, a dry towel runs over the same areas, soft and gentle, before he rolls you onto your back, removing the pillow from beneath your hips. You hear the mini-fridge in your outer office open and close, and a straw is placed at your lips. You drink greedily as he strokes your hair, draining the water packet in a few seconds.
“Good girl.” The words are softer now, carrying no heat. “Do you need more?”
You shake your head and open your eyes just in time to see him toss the spent water packet into the rubbish bin. He slides into the bed next to you, pulling the blanket over the two of you before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. You snuggle into the crook of his shoulder in a daze, inhaling his smell and draping one of your legs over his thigh. His fingers stroke your cheek, and he presses gentle kisses to your forehead and cheeks. Strong, gentle hands trail over your skin, caressing tenderly in a way that so sharply contrasts with how he touched you just moments before. He searches for sore muscles or tension left untouched but finds none; you’re completely relaxed in his grasp. His fingers graze over the bruises and bite marks he left, pressing gently and watching for your reaction, ensuring you’re not in too much pain. It’s sweet, but not something you’re used to. You know this hardly counts as being pampered by most people’s standards, but you’re not used to the doting tenderness. Even if you do find yourself melting into him more with every passing second, allowing your eyes to drift shut again as you release a satisfied sigh.
“I’m alright, Crate,” you mumble after a few moments, growing shy under his attention.
“I need to be sure,” he says quietly. “That was intense for you.”
You smile. “It was, but it was so good.” Your eyes flutter open, and your heart melts at the way he’s looking down at you. You were worried about how this moment might go, concerned about how your friendship might shift after allowing this to happen.
But you should have known better. Crater is a pillar but also a soft place to land, someone you’d confide in without hesitation. His men fall in line because he’s someone to fly into battle with, someone you know will keep you safe. He’s proud but humble. You know he won’t tell a soul about this night. He doesn’t need to. He knows what he did for you, how you begged for him, and that’s enough. And if you’re honest, you think he got as much out of it as you did, enjoying watching your walls come down and you relaxing with him, enjoying the process of helping you.
“Just didn’t realize this was an all-inclusive sort of encounter,” you joke. “You’re starting to make me feel like royalty with all the attention.”
His expression grows serious as he looks down at you, pushing some of your hair out of your face. “You shouldn’t be accepting any other kind of encounters, Bolts. Do I need to chat with Gregor when he gets back?”
“Nah. He’s fine for what he is. And he does take care of me. It’s just… different.”
He grunts noncommittally, pulling you closer. You feel his thumb graze your spine.
“You jealous?” you ask, tongue poking out between your teeth teasingly.
“Not at all. We’re different people giving you different things.”
“That makes it sound like you don’t intend for this to be a one-time thing, Crate.”
“That is entirely up to you.” His thumb caresses your lower lip, and you kiss it.
You pretend to consider it for a moment, as if this night won’t have you craving his touch seconds after he’s gone. “Well, I can’t be getting cranky with your men again, now can I?” you murmur, snuggling deeper into the crook of his shoulder.
The corner of his mouth twitches into a smirk. “Definitely can’t have that. And I’m more than happy to do my part.”
“More than happy?”
“Yeah, Bolts. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t think I’d enjoy myself too.”
“You do this with a lot of people?”
“Nope. Only ones I trust. And that trust me.”
You twist one end of your hair nervously, the mention of trust bringing a question charging to the forefront of your mind. He can tell, taking your fingers and carefully intertwining them in his own.
“What is it? You having second thoughts?”
“No, not at all. This was great. It’s just… have you heard if Gregor’s talking about him and I? I didn’t think he would, but what Strike said a few weeks back stuck with me. I don’t want to be the Battalion Babe of the week.”
He nods, pulling your knuckles to his lips. “I can assure you that I haven’t heard anything and I don’t think Gregor’s like that. I think Strike was angry and lashing out. I know several of the men did see you leave 79s with Gregor, so the conclusion wasn’t too far-fetched. But Gregor’s not feeding the rumor mill.”
You sigh. “Dammit.”
“For what it’s worth, you haven’t been a topic of conversation within my earshot. I had a chat with Chuckles too and asked him to make sure it wasn’t happening when I’m not around. He said he would, and I trust him. As much of a pain as he is at times, he’s a good man. I trust him.”
You nod appreciatively, melting slightly at the thought of Chuckles doing that for you, but the mention of the mohawked pilot brings another question to the front of your mind. “Were you serious about you and Gregor and Chuckles?”
He shrugs. “It was something I said in the moment, but not a thing I’d approach them about without your express consent. No one needs to know about this if you don’t want them to. And I would only bring in people you and I trust explicitly. Gregor and Chuckles are two of those people. But again, it was said in the moment and doesn’t have to be a serious thing ever.”
Your mind is whirling at the thought of having three of them at once. You can’t lie, it does pique your interest. You smirk up at him. “I’ll let you know.”
He huffs a laugh. His eyes are gentle as he leans down, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Thank you for trusting me to do all that for you.”
You snuggle further into him, absently tracing his tattoos with your fingertips. “Thank you for doing it for me in the first place. I’d have never asked.”
A quiet laugh rumbles through his chest. “I know. You’re too stubborn. That’s why I offered.”
“Glad you did.”
“Me too.”
His steady heartbeat lulls you to sleep only a few minutes later.
—
When you wake in the morning, Crater’s still there, but he’s in the process of getting dressed. He’s snapping his vambraces in place as you stir, sitting up and stretching. You ache deliciously in all of the right places, but seeing him standing there reawakens your hunger. He smiles at you as you sit up in bed.
“Morning. Figured I should get out of here before the droids start powering on. They’re not known for gossip, but better safe than sorry.”
“I suppose you’re right.” You can’t keep the disappointment out of your voice, and even if you had, you’re confident he still would have picked up on your cues. He pauses.
“What’s wrong?”
You wonder if you’re overstepping, but after the night you just had, you figure it doesn’t hurt to ask. You get out of your bed, opening the door to your office. Despite you being completely naked, covered in his marks, Crater’s eyes are firmly locked on yours. You lean against the doorframe, glancing over at your desk.
“You mentioned a parting gift last night that involved my desk. That offer still on the table?”
He huffs a laugh, his hands falling to your waist and gently guiding you out into the office. The cool edge of the desk presses against the front of your thighs as he leans down to speak directly into your ear.
“Elbows on the desk for me, pretty girl. And try to be a little quieter this time.”
You shudder as he nudges your feet apart, placing his codpiece on the desk next to you.
I humbly ask to be wowed by your writing once again with an ask for “soft kisses along their jaw” from the Physical Romantic Gestures that Make Me Weak list with Grain please? (Shocker it’s for Grain, I know lol)
-💋 anon
His Distraction
Summary: Grain works hard, too hard, so you decide to help force him to relax.
Pairing: CMO Grain (Clone OC) x Reader
Word Count: 805
Warnings: None
Tagging: @trixie2023 @kiss-anon
Divider by Saradika
Of all the things you love most in the world, you have to admit that your boyfriend of 6 months is probably the top of the list. He’s handsome, kind, and respectful. Also, he’s amazingly smart.
Of course, you haven’t quite gotten to the point where you’re comfortable saying the big L word to him, but you’re close.
You just don’t want to scare him away is all.
Grain, somehow, seems to think that he’s not good enough for you, and nothing you say, or do, can convince him otherwise.
You rest your chin on your folded arms, a lovesick smile on your face, as you watch him do his paperwork for the evening. He knows you’re staring at him judging by the slightly flustered look on his handsome face, and you muffle a giggle as he pulls his datapad so it’s covering his face.
“You’re doing this intentionally,” He accuses good naturedly.
“Of course. You’re gorgeous.” You reply easily.
“Oh, I didn’t know that there was a mirror on the back of my datapad.” Grain muses thoughtfully.
And it’s your turn to flush pink, “You know, the fact that you say things like that makes you even more attractive to me.”
He glances at you with a small, mischievous smile on his lips, “I speak only the truth, cyare.” Grain replies solemnly.
You grin at him, “How much longer until you’re done with work?”
“Well, seeing as I’m going to be working until the day I die-”
You sigh and drape yourself across his desk, “Grain!”
“Okay, okay! I only have a few more charts I need to fill out,” He replies with a laugh, “Though, they can probably wait until tomorrow…”
“Yes! Let them wait until tomorrow,” You say as you perk up immediately.
He tries to shoot you a stern look, though an amused smile plays on his lips, “These are important.”
“Yes, they are. But so is rest. Isn’t that the thing you say to Riff all the time? Stillness is as good as movement. Or something?”
“I…may have said something like that to my stubborn older brother, yes.” Grain admits.
“And if it’s good enough for Riff then it’s good enough for you.” You push yourself to your feet and circle his desk, before you promptly settle yourself on his lap, “Please?” you ask as you wrap your arms around his neck.
“Cyare-”
You drop your head to his shoulder, you know that tone of voice. That’s Grain’s ‘I’m sorry, I have to finish this’ voice. Which means it’s time to pull out the big guns.
You shift your head slightly and press a light kiss just under his ear. And Grain stills, his voice stopping mid-sentence. A giggle falls from you, but you don’t allow his sudden stillness to stop you.
You are on a mission, after all.
You trail your lips down his jaw, stopping every now and then to press hot, open mouthed, kisses against his jawline, and you release a happy hum when you feel his hands settle on your hips.
“Please Grain,” You purr, as you kiss his jaw, and then allow your lips to drift down to teasingly nip at his neck, an action that pulls a strangled noise from his lips, “You need a break, and I’m so very lonely.”
Grain releases a shaky breath, “I know what you’re trying to do, cyare.” A low groan escapes him as you nip his neck once more, “This stuff is important-” He tries.
“Not so important that it won’t hold until tomorrow,” You counter, your lips moving to continue their lazy trail against his jawline. “Just a short break,” You bargain, “Only for an hour or so?”
His hands flex on your hips, “And what, exactly, do you plan for this hour?” Grain asks.
You grin against him, and you reach down to grip his hands on your hips. You slowly, teasingly, guide his hands under your shirt, until their resting just over your ribs, “I was thinking,” You coo, “That I could pull out that new paint set I have, and you can paint me.”
“That sounds…messy.” Grain notes, as his calloused hands start gently caressing your sides.
“Mm, and then we can shower together,” You offer impishly.
A sharp breath leaves him, “Is that right?”
“Who better than you to make sure all the paint is washed off?” You tease, and then you tilt your head to the side. Just a little more, and you’ll have him. “Besides,” You offer slyly, “I do, so, love being naked under you.”
“Fuck.” Grain breathes out, one of his hands flies to the back of your neck, and he pulls you into a messy kiss, “You win, cyare.”
You giggle against his lips, “I always do.” And you happily accept the second kiss he offers you.
Sorry, it took me a bit to get this request to you, and Tumblr is being Tumblr 😅.
Hello, love! For the first kiss ask:
How about Tal with an accidental first kiss ooooor taller gently grasping the shorter's chin. (The chin grasp kills me 😫).
Feel free to use one or both or switch it up! 🥰🥰
hiiii friend! I'm so sorry this took so long for me to get to; between realizing that my OC Tal is in fact aro/ace and does not feel like they'd fit the prompt, and just general life things, and also the muse being a fickle beast, things have been A Lot! but I'm finally happy with how this turned out, and I really enjoyed the chance to explore the softer side of another OC: Commander Creed! <3
Broken Rules
Summary: Creed decides the best path forward is to just be honest about his feelings.
Warnings: this is mostly just fluff but blog is still 18+; gn!reader
Word Count: 887
Creed has always been a man of action, of direct words, of clear intentions. He says what he means, and means what he says—even when everyone around him would rather waffle and oscillate and obfuscate. Even as a cadet, participating in the training simulations with the other young clones destined to become commanders, he earned a reputation for being rough, abrasive, blunt.
His Jedi commander calls him grumpy. He calls them naive. Without fail, they laugh with a mischievous smile—and that always gets you going, a tiny grin threatening to break over your face.
As a nat-born handler assigned to his battalion, you’re one of very few personnel aboard the Messenger that Creed doesn’t fully understand how to act with. His Jedi colleagues at least make sense; they’re part of the war effort to minimize loss of life and to protect the Republic, same as he and his men are. His brothers, of course, he has no problem connecting with. Most of the other nat-born contractors stay out of his way, which is more than fine with him.
But you? You baffle Creed, and the only thing more confusing to him is the way you make him feel.
If he’s being blunt with himself, he knows it’s a crush. It’s the only thing these feelings can be—the anticipatory tightening in his chest when he hears your voice around the corner, the fluttering in his chest whenever you smile in his direction, the maddening urge to tilt your head up so you meet his gaze straight on. If he’s being honest, he knows that the way you act around him, shuffling your feet and glancing away from his gaze, probably means his feelings aren’t one-sided. But these are things the Kaminoans never trained the clones for, and instead of facing the situation head-on like he does everything else, Creed waffles.
And he’s so karking tired of it.
So he’s not entirely certain what he’s doing outside your personal quarters, but he’s knocking on the durasteel door before he can talk himself out of this. It’s late—at least, his body tells him it’s late; there’s no way to know for certain when they’re in hyperspace—but despite the hour, it’s only a moment before your door slides open.
“C-Commander!” You immediately stand straighter, smoothing out your sleep clothes. “What can I help you with, sir?”
Your name falls from his lips before he can process it. Your first name, not your title, or your last name, but a name that feels so unfamiliar and yet sounds so right coming from him. “I’m not here on business.”
“Oh.” You blink at him. “Well, still. Is there something you needed?”
“I—” Creed sighs, drawing a hand over his face. “May I come in? I’d like to speak with you.”
He catches the momentary flare of panic that crosses your features, but you step aside regardless. The door slides shut behind him. Your quarters are sparsely furnished; it makes his heart feel funny, that you haven’t made this space your own yet, despite being attached to the 387th for months now.
“No decorations?” he asks.
“Um.” You sound taken aback. “It’s...against GAR regulations to—”
“Right,” he says, waving his hand. Maker, could he be any worse at this? “My ARCs would tell you regulations are in place to be broken.”
“Are you...giving me permission to break the rules, Commander?”
“Creed.”
“What?”
“Call me Creed,” he says, finally lifting his gaze to yours. “Please.”
His eyes flicker down to your lips as they part in surprise. Stars, you really are a sight, and he wonders why he hasn’t taken the time to fully appreciate the view until now. Heart pounding in his chest, he wipes his palms on the fabric of his blacks.
“The answer is ‘yes’,” he says. When your brow furrows in confusion, he continues, “About breaking regulations. Because I’m about to break several.”
“What’s going on?”
Idly scratching at his ear, a nervous habit he picked up as a cadet, Creed sighs. “I like you.”
He winces internally at the brusque timbre of his words, but understanding dawns over your face like the sun’s first rays. Swallowing harshly, Creed forces himself to stop fidgeting.
“May as well throw out all the handbooks,” you say after a moment. “Can I break a few more?”
“Please.”
You close the distance until you’re in his personal space. Peering up at him from beneath your eyelashes, you reach with tentative hands to brush your fingertips over the swell of his cheeks. Creed nearly leans into your touch. Instead, he does what he’s been wanting to for weeks, and he tucks one finger under your chin to tilt your head up as he leans down.
Your lips are soft and warm against his own. He exhales a shaky breath as your hands slide around his neck, anchoring him to you; this is so far beyond uncharted territory that Creed can’t help but simply marvel at the rhythm you set. Mouths moving slow and in sync, you tilt his head, deepening the kiss.
When you pull back, he finds you already gazing when he opens his eyes.
“Never woulda thought our big scary commander would break so many rules,” you say with a soft, teasing smile.
I'm here with one of my favorite fics to re-read by friend @the-bad-batch-baroness and her clone oc Brett called Puddles and Paddles it's nsfw and it's so good
Reading the warnings like *tucks hair behind ear* hey. Also, giggling about "Brett is his own warning".
Thanks so much for the rec!
Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)
