Starting my fic migration off with a bang! This is by far my most popular work on AO3, because people be horny. Delta Squad/Republic Commando girlies, come get y'all juice!
Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI
Pairing: Sev x Fem!Reader
Wordcount: 2.9k
Summary: You are a GAR analyst, and your job is to process clone trooper helmet feeds. Being surrounded by incredibly handsome, competent troopers makes it hard to keep a professional distance, but you've managed. Until now.
Warnings: SMUT; voice kink, praise kink, body worship
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You love your job. As a GAR tactical analyst assigned to the Venator-class Star Destroyer Guarlara, you spend your days immersed in clone trooper helmet feeds. It might seem boring or tedious to some, but with your keen eye for detail and extensive knowledge of tactics, it is as close to a perfect occupation as you can imagine.
Besides, the clones are pretty entertaining. You always love the snippets of banter that pop up in their comm feeds, from gallows humor, to good-natured mockery, to genuine awe or delight at a new planet. Seeing the galaxy from the perspectives of these men, who have seen too little of beauty and too much of the chaos and horror of war in their short lives, gives you a new appreciation for its wonders.
At first, you try to maintain some professional distance from the troopers, if only to preserve your sanity when so many of them are lost in each engagement, and you have the responsibility of watching as their helmet feeds fade to black. But it isn’t easy. The battlefield camaraderie you witness in their feeds continues onboard the Guarlara, and you can’t help being pulled into it. You make friends with a few clones, and every time they go on a mission, you hold your breath until they come back safely.
It doesn’t help your resolve to keep them at arm’s length that you are surrounded by incredibly handsome, competent soldiers in peak physical condition. Several of your fellow nat-born analysts have already had flings with clones, and by all accounts, the experience is worth the risk of official reprimands or even demotions. You haven’t done it yourself—yet—but you’ve been tempted.
And the temptation just got one thousand times stronger.
A new clone commando unit has been temporarily assigned to the Guarlara: Delta squad. Regular clone banter is entertaining, but the Deltas are on a whole different level. Boss is all business, and Fixer is quiet and by-the-book, but Scorch and Sev are hilarious. You often have to bite your lip to keep from bursting into unprofessional laughter at their antics, even as you are blown away by their tactical prowess.
You find yourself saving the Delta feeds for the end of your work cycle, just so you can finish your day on a high note. Sometimes, you wish you could get your hands on some Mantell Mix while you’re watching the feeds. They’re better than any holoflick you’ve ever seen. If only they could be released to the public; they would make a blockbuster action comedy.
But there’s another reason you are quickly becoming obsessed with the Delta feeds.
The first time you hear Sev’s voice, you gasp, and prickles run down your neck. He sounds different from the other clones: deep, gravelly, menacing. Incredibly sexy. You often find yourself replaying snippets of his comm feed, just so you can hear him speak. Whether he is making a dark joke, tallying his kills, or snarling at an enemy, his voice never fails to make you breathe a little faster.
You have never met the squad, never seen their faces, though you’ve seen them in their distinctive armor around the ship. The commandos mostly keep to themselves. You aren’t even sure which armor belongs to which commando, though you would bet every credit of your cycle’s pay that Sev is the one with the helmet painted to look like a bloody handprint.
You know that the commandos were the same height as all the rest of the clones, but somehow, they seem larger. More solid. Far more intimidating. Maybe it is the armor, but you doubt it. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about what Sev looks like under all that bulky commando armor. Lying in your bunk during your sleep cycle, you picture him. Copper skin, curly black hair, eyes the color of amber. Hard, sculpted muscles. Broad shoulders, narrow hips that flex against yours, driving his thick cock deep inside you until you whimper his name. And of course, you imagine his voice: deep and dark, murmuring the filthiest words in your ear as he pounds into you with that incredible clone commando stamina.
When you meet up with your fellow analysts for lunch in the mess hall, you confess that a clone has finally caught your eye—or more correctly, your ear.
“He has the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard,” you say, keeping your volume low so as not to attract attention from the troopers eating at nearby tables or milling around in small groups.
“They all do,” laughs Drinna. “They’re clones!”
“This one is different,” you insist. “It’s so deep and growly. He sounds so… dangerous.”
Jeelee shivers next to you, and you don’t blame him. None of your friends can deny that the rush of adrenaline is at least a small part of their attraction to the clone troopers. There’s just something about a soldier who has been trained from birth to be a killing machine that activates your fight, flight, or fuck response.
“Stars, I never thought I’d get turned on listening to someone yelling, ‘Trando scum,’” you say with an uncertain laugh. “If it weren’t a massive security breach, I’d try to smuggle some of his feeds into my bunk for a little private viewing session.”
Drinna snorts with laughter, and the group hurries to finish the meal before you all have to get back to your stations to close out your work cycle.
---
Sev can’t believe his ears. He’s sitting in the mess staring at the empty table where you and your friends were just sitting. He’s off duty and wearing only his black body glove, which is why you don’t notice him sitting alone when your group takes the table next to his. But he notices you. How could he not? He’d spotted you the very first day he and the Deltas came aboard.
He isn’t completely sheltered. He’s met nat-born GAR personnel before, including a few female officers. And he has made the rounds at 79’s during Delta squad’s all-too-rare shore leaves. But something about you grabs his attention. He first notices your laugh. You laugh a lot, and you do it with your whole body. Your eyes light up, your mouth opens in a delighted smile, your head tilts back, your shoulders shake, your tits bounce. One time, he saw you laugh so hard you had to lean against a wall for support when your knees gave out. It makes him want to be the one who makes you laugh.
His keen sniper’s eyes have also spotted you stealing glances at him and the rest of his squad when you pass in the hallways of the Venator. He’s seen you chatting amiably with other clones, and he wonders why you never try to talk to the Deltas. Maybe she’s intimidated, he thinks. He doesn’t blame you.
When he overhears you talking to your friends, he doesn’t think much about it. He just enjoys getting a little glimpse into your life. And then he hears it: “... turned on listening to someone yelling, ‘Trando scum.’ If it weren’t a massive security breach, I’d try to smuggle some of his feeds into my bunk for a little private viewing session.”
Sev nearly chokes on his nutrient paste, and for once, it’s not because of the flavor.
It’s me, he realizes. She’s talking about me.
All this time he’s been watching you, and now he knows you’ve been thinking about him. Getting off to his voice. Imagining him during your “private viewing sessions.” The thought of it has him semi-erect in the middle of the mess hall, with no armor to disguise his state. He spends a long time eating his nutrient paste.
---
The next time the Delta feeds update, you notice that Sev’s is a little longer than the other three. As usual, you save his feed for the last of your day. You take a quick look around to make sure nobody is watching, which is ridiculous, because this is literally your job. But you can’t help feeling a wicked little thrill as you queue up his feed, as though you are about to do something forbidden. You settle the headphones over your head and turn up the volume as you press play.
The holofeed isn’t what you expect. Instead of a battlefield or the inside of a gunship, you see a barracks filled with empty bunks. It looks spare and sterile. The bunks don’t even have pillows; just thin blankets and rough sheets. Your own quarters are austere, but at least you have the luxury of a door and a small refresher. You’ve never seen the inside of the clone barracks before, and you feel as though you are intruding on something private. You reach to scrub forward through the feed, but you halt when Sev’s voice crackles in your headphones.
“I heard a sexy little analyst say she likes my voice,” he says. “I have a present for her ‘private viewing sessions.’ If she comms me the code to her quarters, I’ll know she wants it.”
Oh, stars. He heard. He knows. And he knows who you are. If ever there were a time for the Guarlara to have a small hull breach and launch you into space, now would be the ideal moment! Your heart beats so hard you are sure everyone around you can hear it. You steal a glance out of the corner of your eye, but none of your fellow analysts have noticed anything out of the ordinary.
You send him a quick message. “RC-1207, this is the tactical analysis center. Your helmet feed flashed an error code during your most recent upload. The code is one-one-three-eight-four-echo-bravo. Please run a diagnostic and purge your helmet’s memory bank to prevent corrupted feeds.”
The reply comes almost instantly. “Copy that, tactical. Thanks for the code. That’ll help me track down what I’m looking for.”
You take a deep, shuddering breath, and turn your attention back to the feed. It cuts to the hallway of the Venator as Delta squad heads out for a mission, and the comm feed is just more of their usual banter, followed by their day’s activities in the battlefield.
You scrub back to the beginning of the feed and listen to it one more time before you trim the recording and upload it to the GAR server. You often have to cut out sections of feeds, so the missing section won’t raise any eyebrows, but Sev could get in huge trouble if anyone higher up the command chain saw the original recording.
With shaky hands, you tidy up your workstation as you do at the end of every work cycle. You straighten your uniform, joke with your friends, and head out of the analysis center. You meet up with a few clones in the corridor, and you make your way as a group to the mess hall, where you complain about the bland rations and make plans for your next shore leave. When you’re confident that you haven’t aroused suspicion, you stretch and tell your friends that you’re going to turn in early.
You barely restrain yourself from running through the halls to your quarters. You key in your door code with fumbling hands, and once inside, you spot it immediately: a datachip lying innocently on your pillow. You plug it into your personal player. There’s no holo, but Sev’s voice rumbles through your headphones.
“Get comfortable, beautiful. I want this to be good for you.”
You gasp. You pause the recording and strip out of your uniform in record time, flinging it across your cramped quarters to lie rumpled on the floor. Crawling into bed, you slide naked under your blanket and pull the headphones back over your ears.
“That’s my good girl. Are you naked? Kriff, I hope so. You look hot as hell in your uniform. You must be the prettiest karking thing in the galaxy out of it. All that soft, smooth skin. I want you to feel yourself for me, little one. Run your fingers through your hair. Is it as soft as it looks? Does it smell as good as I imagine?”
Oh, sweet gods, he’s been imagining you, too. You wonder if he has been picturing you when he touched himself. Arousal licks up your spine, tinged with a tiny bit of disappointment that you hadn’t made a move sooner. You push the thought aside, determined to enjoy this moment.
“Now I want you to touch your skin. Slide your hands up and down your body, your arms, your thighs. Cup your tits. Give your nipples a little squeeze. Do you like that?”
You nod, biting your lip and breathing hard. You imagine Sev’s hands, rough and strong and big, and your hand drifts down your belly.
“Don’t touch your cunt, sweetheart. Not yet. I don’t want you to rush this.”
Force, it’s like he’s there with you, watching you, instead of away on some Maker-forsaken planet blasting droids. You obey his pre-recorded commands, wanting to get the full experience.
“Brush your fingers over your neck. Do it gently, like you can feel me whispering in your ear instead of a recording. Touch your mouth, baby. Gods, I wish it was me. Would you lick my fingers? I wonder what you taste like. I bet you taste amazing. Sweet, soft lips, wet little tongue. Fierfek, you make me so hard I could nut right fucking now. How kriffed up is it that I’m jealous of your hands?”
Your breath stutters as you hear another sound in the recording: the rhythmic slide of skin against skin. Oh stars, he is getting off on this, too. Or he already got off. Whatever. You roll your hips instinctively, looking for stimulation.
“Damn it, Sev, let me touch myself,” you whisper.
But you don’t. Not yet. You wait for his permission. Instead, you writhe in the bed, sliding your hands all over your body, pinning your hips to the mattress, touching yourself everywhere except the place you so desperately need.
“If I were with you, I’d take my time. Explore your whole body inch by inch. I would kiss you, and taste you, and suck on your tits until you beg for more. I’d bite your sexy ass and then kiss it better. I’d eat that pretty little pussy until you scream for me. Oh, fuck—” He panted for a moment. “Sorry, honey, I needed a minute to cool down or I was gonna blow early. I don’t want you to think I’m not up to the mission. Because right now, you are my mission. And you know that the mission always comes first.”
You can’t help it: you giggle. It’s endearingly cheesy, but you suspect it’s also true. Once Sev has you to himself—because you have no doubt that he will, and soon—he is going to give you the ride of your life.
“Have you been a good girl for me? Did you touch your pussy before I said you could?”
You shake your head. “Please, please, Sev, I need it.”
“I think you have been a good girl, and now you deserve your reward. I want you to touch your cunt, angel. Just brush your fingertips over it, nice and easy. Are you wet? Kark, I hope so, otherwise I’m doing this wrong. Slip your fingers inside, just a little. Get them nice and slick. Now I want you to play with your clit. Do what you like best, baby. Go hard, or go soft. Rub it in circles, or give it a little tap, or press on it nice and slow. I can’t wait to find out what makes you scream. Do you like it when I suck on your clit? Or maybe you like it a little rougher. Do you want me to slap you, pretty thing? Slap that beautiful little pussy and then lick it better? Or would you rather I go slow and gentle, just barely touching you, taking hours to build you up before I ruin you?”
You moan as you work yourself frantically. You are close, so close, and his voice is doing unholy things to you. You can hear him fucking his fist again, and it turns you on even more to know he is into this just as much as you are.
Sev’s breath grows ragged. “It’s gonna be so good when I fuck you. I know your cunt feels amazing. So tight and wet and warm—fuck—gonna be incredible. I can’t wait, I can’t kriffing wait—gods baby, gonna make me come—FUCK!”
He grunts, and it is loud. You can hear the wet spatter of his orgasm, and the sound of it pushes you over the edge. You feel the entire universe contract into your body, so tight, so hot, and then Fuck! The tension snaps, and you cry out as your body jerks and spasms. You gasp for air, twitching away from your own fingers as your hypersensitive body shudders. Your body is drained, your head is empty, every drop of energy in your being is utterly spent. Your eyes close, and you slip into oblivion.
---
Chapter 2
Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul
This compilation of lines from the Republic Commando game will never not be funny to me: https://youtu.be/WHXy-_mztg0
Thanks so much for making the list of fic writers! Can we add @jetii to the list? Her pics constantly make me swoon 😍
You're welcome!
Yes I can!!! I'll add @jetii to The Wall of Fame.
ANYONE ELSE WANNA HAVE SOMEONE ADDED???
I have two pages of wonderful creatives on my Tumblr Master list!
One for CLONE THEMED WRITERS:
Check out these talented fan ficer's!
PLEASE LIKE, COMMENT, AND REBLOG! They don't get engagement without it, and tell them how much you e
AND
One for CLONED THEME ARTISTS:
Check out these talented creatives!
PLEASE LIKE, COMMENT, AND REBLOG! They don't get engagement without it, and tell them how much you enjo
PLEASE MESSAGE ME TO ADD YOUR FAVORITES TO THE LISTS!
It's much easier to keep track of requests when I am messaged than just added the comments section. Thank you!
Reminder: This is for STAR WARS ORIGINAL MOVIES/CLONE WARS/THE BAD BATCH/BOBA FETT/REBELS OR ANY OTHER SHOWS IN THE FRANCHISE FEATURING CREATIVE MATERIAL FROM PEOPLE ON THIS PLATFORM (CANON AND NON CANON INCLUDED: LEGENDS, ETC.)
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Oh...and if you want to suggest YOURSELF, please do! Don't wait for someone else to suggest your name. Shamelessly self-promote! You deserve it!!! <3
