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littlemissmanga · 13 days

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The Slow Stretch

Pairing: Wrecker x f!Reader

Warnings: This is all spice. Rated E for explicit. There's no plot. Barely a framing device. Size kink, like really that's 90% of it, praise kink is also strong in this one. 18+ only please, if you don't like smut please don't interact but do not put a label on this!

Also, lazy writing but Tumblr wouldn't let me use bullets so I apologize this isn't as smooth as some of my other stuff. It is still pretty delicious, if I do say so myself.

W/C: 1,713

Summary: I had a very vivid thought about what a session with Wrecker would look like if you had a harder time taking him. Guys this thot consumed me and then I imagined how he'd encourage you through that and what soft praise would sound like coming from him ... and I became so unwell I had to get this written. It's pure filth. Enjoy.

Imagine sitting on Wrecker’s lap, three of his fingers buried in your cunt. He doesn’t move them, doesn’t curl them to make you see stars. He’s learned that’s how you get too overstimulated too quick.

But he has to prepare you, to make you come just enough that your tight walls can relax enough to accept his much larger size.

So he just holds you close on his lap, knuckles deep in your pussy as he coos at you to relax.

“I got ya, pretty girl,” he says, his large, warm hand rubbing soothingly on your lower stomach, pressing down just a little. It wasn’t much at all, but it was enough to force you further down on his fingers, the calloused tips now brushing mind numbingly against a spot that makes your vision blur. “Don’t clench, baby. Keep them muscles nice an’ relaxed for me. You can do it, I know you can.”

You don’t want to disappoint him, so you focus as hard as you can, concentration cutting through the fuzzy pleasure vibrating through your core as you force yourself to unclench your muscles and melt into his warm, broad chest behind you.

“Tha’s it. That’s perfect, sweetheart.” His other hand comes down to draw gentle yet firm circles directly on your clit, forcing bolts of electricity through you. “One more. Just gotta give me one more an’ I think I can fit.”

You shiver on him, around him as his relentless assault on your clit gives you no other choice than to surrender to the pleasure as he rips it from your body … leaving you perfectly boneless and ready for him.

“Please, Wreck, please. Wanna feel full.”

With a deftness you’ve come to expect from Wrecker, he presses his fingers deeper, pushing against that tantalizing spot just once more before replacing them with his cock. He pushes in slowly, pulling you back so your head rests on his shoulder. He can see your face now, his eyes never leaving it, alert for any hint of discomfort even as he groans deep at the incredible way your walls constrict around him as he lowers you onto him.

Your back arches off him, your legs curling instinctively to give him more room, to spread yourself further to ease his progress. You vaguely remember you need to relax, but the stretch of him everywhere inside you, pressing not just against one pleasurable spot but all of them at once … It’s involuntary the way you convulse around him, the pleasure from one area flaring up before the pleasure from another can even fade.

Never before have you understood what it meant to be so deliciously full. You lose coherent thought, your entire being focused on experiencing the sensations coursing through your nerves.

Wrecker pauses as he all but bottoms out, just a few inches unable to sit inside you comfortably. Doesn’t matter. All he can focus on is breathing. The way your walls undulate around him, the way he can feel the intense pleasure ricochet through your body and into his threatens to push him over the edge.

“Shhh, pretty girl … need you to relax. I don’t wanna end this too soon, d’you?”

You whimper and shake your head back and forth dramatically. Still trapped in a hazy fog, forming words is beyond you but you need to make your immense displeasure at the idea of him leaving you empty and wanting after pushing you over the edge of heaven known.

“Tha’s good. So take a deep breath for me.” Again, his hands came to rub soothingly against you, this time trailing along your sides from your knee to your ribs and back again. You could feel Wrecker’s chest expand with each deep breath, a warm encouragement for you to do the same. So you did. Over, and over, until the tension slowly leeches from your muscles.

Soon, the desperation fades as well. But the pleasurable haze does not. It leaves you pliant and dazed on Wrecker’s lap. You remain draped back over him, but now your limbs hang limp. You trust him to keep you upright.

He moves your legs outside his own, spreading you wide around him. Looking down, he can see how wet and puffy your lips are, so red and swollen around him. He groans into your shoulder and feels his cock twitch inside you. You cry out instantly, but don’t tense beyond a quick pulse he could tell you couldn’t control.

“Take me so good, sweetheart. Knew you’d be able ta do it.”

You hum in contentment. This is what you were craving when you approached Wrecker earlier. It wasn’t just to make the most out of your precious alone time. But a bone-deep need to be consumed by him. And now you were.

“You okay? Don’ go quiet on me now.”

A gentle press of his knuckles — still a little wet from your juices — turns your head to face Wrecker, a gentle smile trying to hide the glimmer of concern in his eyes.

“M’fine,” you manage to mumble. You decide actions are easier, so you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, lips brushing his sensitive skin there and curling into a smile at the choked sound he makes in response. “So fine. So full. ‘T’s perfect.”

“Good.” He pushes your legs together, mindful of the strain he must have put on you keeping you spread open. The movement draws a prolonged moan from you, but it’s gentle enough to keep you from getting desperate again. His thumbs run firm strokes against the top insides of your thighs before circling around your middle and holding you to him.

He knows it won’t be long before the pressure that’s blissing you out now will turn to pain soon. The constant stimulation wears you out quickly. That’s why he loves when you get like this — needy not for how he can take you, but just for him. He craves getting to hold you close and feel you surround him just as much as he sees you crave him filling you to your breaking point. A small thrill runs through him, knowing only he can make you feel this full, this good.

Eventually, once your cunt has completely relaxed around him, when your eyes have closed and even your pleasant little hums have quieted, Wrecker brings his hand once again to your clit. This time, he keeps his strokes gentle, coaxing your next orgasm from you. “Doin’ so good for me. Lettin’ me play with ya an’ stretch you out like this.”

For once Wrecker’s voice is subdued. He’s not whispering, but his gentle rasp is the softest you’ve ever heard him before. It rumbles through you, waking you slowly from the foggy, trance-like state you fell into. Without thinking, you shift your hips, trying to catch that slight tickle that made your sensitive flesh tingle.

And then you do. His rough thumb catches on the hood of your clit, making you clench all at once around him. Your hands fly to his forearms that are caging you in on either side of your hips, squeezing at the intensity you’re feeling.

“Hold on to me all ya need. I got ya.” Wrecker’s free hand flexes under your thigh as his other continues its almost painfully gentle ministrations.

“R-right there,” you breathe, knowing Wrecker is out of patience and you are out of time. With a hum, Wrecker focuses his attention repeating the motion to your exact request. But he keeps his pace smooth and controlled. He knows this is gonna be intense for you. So he’s gonna be as gentle as he can.

The slow, steady push combined with how deliciously Wrecker fills you guides you to the edge of what you know will be an intense orgasm. His steady strokes leaving no question to the exact moment your body will be pushed over. Even so, you’re still unprepared when it happens.

“Let me feel you, sweetheart.”

Every since inch of your body tenses as you seize in pleasure. The walls of your cunt spasm harshly, simultaneously pulling Wrecker ever deeper and pushing him out all at once.

You can barely feel your body. All you know is the bliss that wraps every inch of you in its embrace.

But Wrecker can definitely feel your body. Can feel the way your walls threaten to strangle him and he would happily welcome it at this rate. His hips begin finally thrusting into you as his thumb continues its assault on your clit, noticing the way you jump at each pass.

“WRECK” The cry is ripped from your throat as a wall hits you.

But Wrecker’s attention is pulled by the feel of water hitting his legs. He curses when he looks down to see he’s soaked. “Kark I love when you squirt all over me.”

You can only moan as he fucks you hard now, seeking his release as your body finally offers absolutely no resistance. Absently, you can feel the way you drip around him. Delight zings the edges of your consciousness as you realize to yourself, I was able to take him.

The indulgent satisfaction only intensifies, melting into a lava that crawls through your veins as Wrecker grunts once more into your neck and after two more thrusts, presses himself as deep as he can get to come inside you.

Neither of you move for a moment, too overstimulated and sore. Soon, though, Wrecker wraps you in his arms and, as slowly as he can, pulls himself from you, earning several shivers and whimpers. He coos and presses kisses to the side of your face and forehead at each one to soothe the sting.

Finally, when he’s completely out, you both groan in unison. You can feel the surge of his cum leaking out of you, cooling the abused flesh of your hole. And based on the angle of his eyes, he’s watching it drip out of you on to the floor below.

“I’ll get ya cleaned up,” he offers in a hoarse voice.

You tighten your grip on his arms. “Just … just hold me a little more?”

You can feel his lips stretch against the top of your head. “’Course. Long as you need.”

Taglist: @dreamie411 @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @wolffegirlsunite

@secondaryrealm @idontgetanysleep @multi-fan-dom-madness @dystopicjumpsuit @sinfulsalutations

@sunshinesdaydream @wizardofrozz @anxiouspineapple99 @dhawerdaverd @mythical_illustrator

Divider art by @pinkiemme, divider by @freesia-writes

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb wrecker #wrecker #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker x you #wrecker x reader #wrecker x you #spicy fic #clone thirsting #size kink go brrr #praise kink go brrr

311 notes · View notes

soaringthroughthegalaxy · 5 months

Note

Hi. Can you write something spicy with Wrecker x f! reader with the prompt 62. “Is that my shirt?” Maybe reader needs new clothes during a mission and she forgets her spares on Kamino, leading her to wear Wrecker's. She takes advantage of the situation to tease him a little, but we know Wrecker is a little innocent, until Crosshair opens his eyes.. "If you don't fu** her, I will." 😂

Hi,

Thank you so much for this request, I absolutely loved writing it!

What's Mine is Yours

While working on a mission on Corellia, a clothing mishap leads to much more than you anticipated.

Pairing: Wrecker x F!reader

Word count: 4.2k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!

Warnings: accidental clothes sharing, reader described as busty, lewd comment as motivation (one guess who it comes from…), confession of feelings, idiots in love, first kiss, oral (f!receiving), face sitting, fingering, semi-clothed sex, unprotected PiV, squint for size and strength kink.

“Where the hell is it?” You huff, hands scrambling through your backpack as you pull out your belongings, scattering them across the dresser in the dingy hotel room.

You and the boys had been sent to Bela Vistal, a small mountain city on Corellia. The Jedi had caught wind of a shady auction, with whispers of a Holocron up for grabs. It was your job as a squad to scope the place out, gather as much intel as possible, and strike and extract the Holocron if the opportunity presented itself.

By now, you’re used to working with limited information. As a civilian handler, it was your job to fill in the blanks and help the boys with anything they needed to successfully complete their missions – something you’d spent over a year doing remarkably well at. Today that had included wandering around the city with Tech, pretending to be together – out of them all, his appearance was less likely to arouse suspicion. You’d conversed politely with market vendors and cantina owners, asking subtle questions to discover more about the auction.

Ultimately, it had been a fruitless endeavour, and the pair of you had returned to the hotel as the sun had been setting, food in hand. You’d excused yourself after eating, slipping back into your room via the door connecting the two rooms you’d rented for a quick shower.

And now here you were, furiously rifling through your belongings for a clean shirt. You’d packed one; you swore you had. Fingers finding soft fabric, you let out a small noise of triumph, prying the material from your backpack. Towel falling to the floor, you shimmed on a clean pair of panties and some sleep shorts before dragging on the top. Only once it was over your head did you realise something was off. Either you’d suddenly lost a lot of weight or…

Scrambling for the neckline, you twist and turn until you can see the tag and the large ‘W’ sewn into it. “Dank farrik.” You mutter, teeth sinking into your lower lip at the realisation that you’d somehow packed Wrecker’s shirt instead of your own.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at yourself in the mirror on the back of the fresher door. The oversized garment hit mid-thigh, the sleeves extending far beyond your hands. The only saving grace was that your boobs took up enough room that it gave the shirt a little bit of shape. You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

The thought of going out into the field wearing Wrecker’s clothing was hilarious, but your laughter soon subsided as you really looked at yourself. Oversized it might be, but it almost…suited you. And though it was clean, you lifted the collar to your nose and inhaled, picking up on a sweet scent that seemed to linger on all of Wrecker’s belongings.

You’d found great comfort in that scent over the last few months, drawn towards Wrecker and his infectious grin. Lips tugging into a smile, a tender warmth spread through you as you thought about the countless times Wrecker had been there to lighten the mood with his quips and laughter and how his protective nature made you feel secure amid the uncertainties of life.

The realisation of what your feelings meant hit you like a wave, and as you stood there, a myriad of emotions swirled within you. The laughter that had filled the room moments ago was replaced by a soft, introspective silence. As you continued to gaze at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but acknowledge the depth of your connection with Wrecker. It went beyond the professional companionship forged across dangerous missions. It was something more personal, something that had quietly grown amidst the chaos of your work.

“Oh, kriff…” You whisper, staring at your own wide-eyed reflection. The sound of a knock on the connecting door interrupts your thoughts. Startled, you turn towards it, momentarily forgetting about the shirt you were wearing. Smoothing down the fabric, you move across to open the door, revealing Hunter.

“Thought you might’ve drowned.” He quips as the door opens; your showers never usually take so long. Gaze dropping down, Hunter takes in the sight of you, chuckling. “Well, looks like you’re drowning, alright.”

“I must’ve grabbed the wrong shirt in our hurry to leave Kamino.” You admit sheepishly, feeling warmth in your cheeks as Hunter steps aside, revealing you to his brothers.

To his credit, Tech offers you a reassuring smile while Crosshair snorts in amusement. But it’s Wrecker’s reaction that catches you off guard the most.

Wrecker’s eyes widen as his gaze rakes down your body. “I-Is that my shirt?” He asks, swallowing thickly. Heat creeps across his cheeks as he admires you, the curves of your body making it look entirely different than it did on him. He can feel the heavy thud of his heart, and for a moment, the room is filled with an almost tangible tension. Wrecker stands frozen, his eyes locked onto you.

“Yeah, I, uh, must’ve grabbed it by mistake.” You stammer, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze.

Wrecker blinks, tearing his eyes away from you to glance at Hunter, Tech, and Crosshair. Hunter raises an eyebrow, clearly finding the situation entertaining but not commenting further. Tech adjusts his goggles, a knowing glint in his eyes, while Crosshair smirks, thoroughly amused. Clearing his throat, Wrecker manages to break the silence. “Well, it looks... good on ya.”

The sincerity in his voice surprises you, and you catch a flicker of something in his eyes that you can’t quite place. You give a nervous laugh, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. “Thanks, Wreck. I’ll wash it and get it back to you.”

“Nah, keep it.” He says quickly, almost too quickly. “Looks better on you anyway.”

The room falls into another awkward silence as Wrecker scratches the back of his head, unsure how to navigate the sudden shift in the atmosphere. It’s rare to see the big, boisterous man at a loss for words.

Hunter, always the pragmatist, breaks the tension. “Alright, enough of the fashion show. We’ve got a mission to focus on.”

The seriousness of the mission looms over the room, momentarily overshadowing the awkwardness. You gather around the table, holomaps of the city and your datapads spread out as you discuss the action plan.

As the discussion progresses, Wrecker finds his eyes straying to you often, trying to commit the vision of you in his clothes to memory, the way it drapes over your frame and the subtle scent of your shampoo that he knows will linger on the garment now too.

The realisation hits him like a ton of bricks – the feelings he’s been trying to suppress, the concern that goes beyond the missions, the warmth he feels when you’re around – it’s all there, staring him in the face.

Wrecker clears his throat again, attempting to focus on the plan you’re all hashing out, not the crazy beating of his heart. He chimes in enthusiastically, but his mind keeps drifting back to you. As the planning continues, Wrecker catches the knowing look Tech throws him. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to concentrate. He wonders if you feel the same, if the newfound awareness is mutual.

Finally, the planning ends, and with your usual round of goodnights, you’re back in your room, the connecting door firmly shut. Only once you’re gone does Wrecker feel like he can breathe again.

“Real subtle there, big guy,” Hunter comments, giving Wrecker’s shoulder a pat as he passes him.

“What?” Wrecker questions, playing dumb. He’s not quite ready to admit his feelings to his brothers; he’s just starting to come to terms with the recent revelation.

None of them are fooled. Tech reaches up, adjusting his goggles. “You were admiring her quite intently.” He points out.

“I would, too, if she were wearing my shirt.” Crosshair chimes in, leaning back on the small couch in the room, propping his feet up on the table as he feels Wrecker’s eyes narrow in his direction. “But hey, if you won’t kriff her, I will.” He comments, unafraid to poke the bear.

In sync, Hunter and Tech facepalm.

A flash of anger courses through Wrecker. “You wouldn’t.” He growls, hating the very idea.

“Wouldn’t I?” Crosshair goads. “She’s a pretty little thing. Bet she’d looked even prettier underne-“

“Hey!” Wrecker’s sharp shout cuts him off. “You don’t talk about her like that. She deserves better, and I won’t let ya disrespect her. Not when she’s the best thing to happen to us in a long while and always lookin’ out for us.”

Amusement curls at Crosshair’s lips. Truth told, forcing those words out had been horrible – he respected you too much – but it had given him the ammunition he needed to make his point. “Hm, sounds like you might have some feelings there, Wrecker.”

Realising he’s been caught in one of his younger brother’s traps, Wrecker groans in frustration, shooting Crosshair a glare that bounces straight off him. With a sigh, Wrecker’s shoulders sag, and he glances over his shoulder towards the connecting door to your room.

Worry curls through him. He did have feelings for you, that much he’d realised, but he wasn’t sure how you felt. The thought of making things awkward or disrupting the dynamics of the squad by introducing personal feelings weighed heavily on Wrecker’s mind.

Hunter picks up on his brother’s internal struggle. “Wrecker, if you’ve got something to say to her, just say it. We’re all adults here. We’ve faced worse than admitting feelings.”

Wrecker sighs. “I just don’t wanna mess things up, y’know? What if she don’t feel the same way, and it makes things weird?”

Tech chips in with his usual logical perspective. “Statistically speaking, relationships formed within a close-knit team can enhance cooperation and overall performance. Emotional bonds can be beneficial.”

Wrecker shoots Tech an incredulous look. “You suggestin’ I tell her I like her ’cause it’s statistically beneficial?”

Tech pushes his goggles back up his nose. “I am merely presenting a logical argument in favour of expressing one’s emotions.”

A noise of frustration slides from Crosshair’s lips, and he pushes himself off the couch. Grabbing Wrecker by the arm, he drags him over to the connecting door, banging his fist against it a few times. “She was eyeing you up, too. Don’t overthink. That’s Tech’s job.” He insists, returning to the couch, shaking his head while muttering about Wrecker’s lack of game.

Hearing you say the door was unlocked, Wrecker takes a deep breath before pushing it open, sliding into your room, letting it click shut behind him.

With Wrecker gone, Hunter, Tech, and Crosshair exchange glances before arranging themselves on the couch to play Sabacc. “You swapped her shirt out of her pack,” Hunter comments as Tech deals the deck, his eyes darting over to Crosshair.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Crosshair doesn’t bother answering; instead, he picks up his cards. Hunter couldn’t prove anything.

Looking up from the dresser, where you’d been trying to organise your belongings back into your backpack, you smile at the sight of Wrecker standing with his back pressed to the door. “Hey, Wreck. Everything okay?” You ask, abandoning your repacking to give the gentle giant your full attention.

Wrecker’s heart pounds in his chest as he steps further into your room, the weight of the revelation he’d shared with his brothers settling in his chest. He grapples with the best way to express his feelings to you, scratching the back of his neck out of nervous habit.

“Uh, yeah, everything’s fine.” He mumbles, avoiding direct eye contact for a moment. “I, um, just wanted to talk to ya about somethin’.”

You tilt your head curiously, a small smile playing on your lips. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Wrecker took another deep breath, his gaze finally meeting yours. “Well, it’s about... us. I mean, you and me. I’ve been feelin’ things, and I just gotta say it. I really like you. I like ya a lot.”

The sincerity in his voice is unmistakable, and your heartbeat quickens in response. Surprise paints your face, delight seeping into your veins that your feelings were returned – that he’d come here to share them with you.

“Wreck.” You begin, your voice soft. “I’ve... I’ve been feeling the same way. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Relief washes over Wrecker’s features, and a wide, genuine smile spreads across his face. “Really?” he asks as if confirming that he wasn’t dreaming.

You nod, your own smile mirroring his. “Really.”

Wrecker chuckles nervously. “Well, guess Crosshair wasn’t entirely wrong about us eyein’ each other up.”

Your jaw drops a little. You’d thought you were being subtle, but you should’ve known the man with super-human vision would catch you out.

Wrecker takes a step closer, gently cupping your face in his large hands, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “I’m not great with words, but I really do care about ya.” He confesses.

“I care about you too, Wreck. And you don’t need to be great with words.” You reply, your eyes locked with his. “Actions speak louder.”

“Then let me show ya.” Wrecker murmurs, head dipping down to kiss your lips tenderly. Large hands move to rest on your hips, pulling you closer. One of your hands finds home at the nape of his neck, keeping his lips against yours as the other settles on his upper arm.

You taste like heaven, like everything Wrecker has ever wanted and dreamed about. His grip on you tightens ever so slightly, but he’s cautious, not wanting to accidentally hurt you. The kiss breaks a moment later, eyes locked on one another as you pull apart, chests heaving. Desire swirls in your gaze, and Wrecker wants to worship you. But he’s conflicted – is this too soon? Do you want this too?

Palms smoothing across Wrecker’s body, you take his hands in your own, walking backwards the few steps to the bed. Sinking to sit on the edge of it, you guide Wrecker down with you, a thrill zinging through you as he wraps an arm around your middle and hauls you further up the bed before settling above you. With one hand supporting most of his weight, you marvel at how warm and broad he is, your body hidden under his as he presses against you, lips finding yours again for a searing kiss.

You’re so small beneath him, so delicate and so pretty, with your hair fanned across the sheets, your beautiful eyes looking up at him with such adoration. Wrecker can’t resist kissing you again, savouring your shared feelings. Tentatively, his hand roams to your thighs, large palm smoothing across soft skin, creeping up, ruching his shirt as his fingers skim under the edge of your sleep shorts.

The gentle touch makes your breath stutter, a low noise sliding from your lips, muffled by the kiss.

Wrecker pulls back, watching as your eyes flutter open. “Too much, babe?” He asks quietly, unsure whether the noise is good and not wanting to push too much.

Shaking your head, you lean up to pepper kisses across his jawline. “More. Please.” You ask, heat building in your belly.

Thrilled, Wrecker breaks out into a grin, shivering as your hands pry his shirt up and off his body. Your fingers fan over his bare chest, tracing every muscle and scar. His pants are next to be discarded, your sleep shorts joining them on the floor before your lips meet again in a needy kiss. Your panties go, followed by his boxers, but as you go to remove his shirt, Wrecker’s fingers still the action.

“Leave it on, babe.” He admits, a flush on his cheeks. There was something so intrinsically hot about you wearing his clothes.

A noise of delight leaves you, followed quickly by one of surprise as Wrecker rolls you both, placing himself beneath you. Straddling him, it’s impossible to ignore the press of his thick, hard cock. It feels enormous, and you’re almost afraid to look down.

Thankfully, you’re spared as Wrecker grabs your ass, huge hands dwarfing it as he hauls you up his body.

Wrecker groans, hands squeezing as he draws you further up. “Want you to sit on my face, babe. Lemme eat that pretty pussy before I kriff ya.”

Heat strikes through you, pussy clenching around nothing at Wrecker’s request. “I-I don’t wanna suffocate you.” You worry as you’re lifted over his face, knees on either side of his head. Warmth blossoms across your cheeks as he stares right at your cunt.

“Ya won’t. And even if you do, what a way to go.” Wrecker growls, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he gazes up at your pussy. Gently, he encourages you down, groaning in satisfaction as you rest lightly against his face – nose and mouth brushing against your slick folds. “That ain’t sittin’.” He grumbles as he notices you trying to hold up some of your weight. Using a little more of his strength, he pulls you down until you’re firmly against his face, his nose pressed to your clit as his tongue laves over your entrance.

“Oh, hells…” You cry out, holding onto the headboard with one hand while the other lands on Wrecker’s head. That first lick of his tongue had felt incredible.

Wrecker feasts, your pussy his new favourite meal. The taste of you fills his mouth, and he moans, dragging his nose across your clit, tongue sloppy as he laves at you before pointing it and pressing it into your hole. He takes a breath whenever he can, drawing the flat of his tongue up through your folds to flick across your clit, lips latching around the sensitive bud so he can suck on it, brushing his tongue over it at the same time.

White hot pleasure is all you can feel, hips rocking as you ride his face, chasing your high. Your hand strokes across his head, fingers gliding over scarred skin. “Kriff, Wreck. Yes. Just like that.” You encourage, pleasure building quickly.

The stretch catches you off guard, two of his thick fingers pressing into you, crooking, as his mouth focuses on your clit. Head thrown back, his name falls from your lips as you come, thighs shaking and pussy spasming around his fingers as the pleasure rolls through your body.

Working you through the high, Wrecker gently pries his mouth off your clit, fingers slowly scissoring as he stretches you out a little more now that you’re more relaxed. He knows he’s big, and the last thing he wants is to hurt you.

Your hips roll slowly, grinding lazily against his face once again as he continues working you open, another thick finger joining the two already buried inside you. Biting down on your lower lip to muffle your moan, the trembles from your orgasm subside.

Fingers slip from you, hands finding your hips. Lifted, you’re moved back down Wrecker’s body until he can kiss you, mouth and chin covered in your juices. You gasp at the taste, at the way his tongue presses into your mouth, and you lazily make out.

Slowly you draw apart; Wrecker’s fingers that weren’t buried in your pussy move to push your hair out of your face tenderly.

The throb between your thighs intensifies, and you lift your hips, shifting until you can grind down against Wrecker’s cock. The rumble in his chest does funny things to your inside, and you smile. “I wanna ride your cock, too.” You state sweetly, enjoying the delight that flares in Wrecker’s eyes.

Scooting back just a little so you rest on his thighs, you drag your gaze from his face to finally take in his cock. It’s much thicker than any you’ve seen before – in person and on the holonet – and longer than average.

He curves a little to the right, the tip flushed a deep red, a bead of pre-cum in the slit. Taking him in hand, his groan reverberates through the room, and you can’t help but dip down to lap at him, the tang on your tongue dragging a sound from you that Wrecker echoes.

Your fingers don’t touch around him, and for a moment, you worry you won’t be able to take him. Shuffling forward a tiny bit until you’re back in your previous position, you line him up with your entrance, pressing just the tip in, and slowly start to sink down, letting gravity do the work.

Wrecker’s pretty sure he’s shaking – from anticipation or barely-there control, he’s not sure. All he does know is that his hands are wrapped around your hips to help guide you but not force you down, and inch by agonising inch, his dick is slowly being enveloped in the heat of your pussy.

The stretch burns a little, even after an orgasm and three fingers working you open. Taking your time, you let out deep breaths as you sink down until you’re finally flush, feeling fuller than ever.

“Stars above, Wreck.” You pant, holding his gaze as you adjust to the feeling. His jaw is clenched, soft brown eyes looking at you with such profound adoration, like he can’t quite believe this is happening. His hands on your hips slide upward, under the edge of his shirt, until he’s grasping at your waist.

Steadily, you give a small roll of your hips, rising ever so slightly before sinking back down. The action pulls a moan from you, Wrecker’s head tilting back against the bed, his groan mingling with your needy sounds. Finding a rhythm, you lean back a little, hands resting on his muscular thighs as warmth builds in your belly with every rise and fall. The burn of the stretch dissolves into pleasure.

Chin tilting down, Wrecker watches as you ride him, how your lips part with every little whimper and sigh, and your tits bounce beneath his shirt. The sight goes straight to his cock, hand sliding up from your waist until he can palm your breasts under the garment, fingers pressed against soft flesh. You’re a handful, even for him, and he grunts, thumb and forefinger tweaking your pebbled nipples.

The whine you let out is delicious, and his gaze roves down your body, settling on where the two of you are connected, watching how he slides in and out of your pussy. The sight, the sounds, and the feeling of you around him push him closer and closer to the edge. Fingers smoothing back down your body, they press against your clit, firm circles rubbed against the sensitive nub.

“Kriff. Kriff. Kriff.” You curse, eyes screwed shut as the warmth grows towards an inferno. Pitching forward, you change the angle, hands resting against his broad chest, providing better leverage as your pace quickens. Your thighs start to ache, but you’ll be damned if you let that stop you.

“That’s it, babe. Hells, your pussy feels so kriffin’ good.” Wrecker pants, his words helping push you over the edge. Your body goes taut above him, pleasure contorting your face as you clamp down around him, coming on his cock with a cry of his name. He keeps his fingers moving, working you through the high until the tremors in your body stop and your hazy eyes open to meet his.

You share a soft smile, and Wrecker surges up, lips meeting yours for a passionate kiss as he grasps back at your hips. Holding you in place, his hips snap quickly as he fucks up into you, chasing his high now you’ve been satisfied.

Tongues meeting, the kiss is frantic and messy, noises muffled by each other’s lips. You pull back just enough to gaze down at him. “Come in me. Please.” Your needy whine reverberates around the room.

You were perfect. So perfect. Your pleading words, the grip of your tight pussy around him… Wrecker’s thrusts falter, and with two more sharp snaps of his hips, he pushes himself deep inside you, growling out your name as he’s swept into pleasure, filling you.

The room falls silent except for your harsh breaths, gazes locked before you steal another kiss. Slower and softer, the lust dissolves into something sweeter. Strong arms wrap around you, and you’re rolled onto your side, pulled flush against Wrecker’s body as he pries his lips from yours. He smiles, and you can’t help but match it, a giggle bubbling up and out. The sound of Wrecker’s chuckle melds with yours, happiness simmering between you.

“You okay?” Wrecker asks, one hand smoothing across your cheek, cupping your face.

You lean into his touch with a small nod, eyes fluttering shut. Wrecker’s hand is warm against your face as he caresses you, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your cheek. The aftermath of shared intimacy leaves you feeling content and connected.

Overjoyed, Wrecker presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, hand sliding down your body to wrap back around you as he holds you close. Now he has you, he’s never going to let you go.

In the cocoon of his embrace, you slowly drift into a serene slumber, knowing you’ve found a sanctuary that feels like home in his arms.

Tag list: @clonethirstingisreal

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letsquestjess · 2 months

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The Bad Batch and Reuniting After Time Apart (TBB x GN!Reader)

Summary: It is inevitable you will have to spend time away from the Batch, but time apart makes your reunions all the sweeter.

Warnings: Mostly fluff. A little separation anxiety.

-- -- -- -- --

Hunter

Although Hunter doesn't enjoy being away from you, he accepts that there will be times when it's necessary. When you get back, he greets you with the most endearing smile and a loving embrace. He seems collected on the surface, but deep down he is thrilled to be with you again. He squeezes you more than usual, his kisses linger a few seconds longer, and he can’t take his eyes off you, smiling like a fool when nobody is looking and basking in how his brothers and Omega greet you so warmly upon your return.

On one occasion, you had to leave the group for a couple of months to help a friend. It was the longest you had been away since you had met them, and Hunter was secretly worried, but he trusted in your ability to handle whatever challenges you faced. He had seen your strength and determination countless times, so he just had to be patient. He busied himself with looking after his siblings and making sure they were cared for, silently hoping you would arrive back sooner than expected. Omega was the first to spot you when you returned, and she eagerly rushed over to say hello, followed by her brothers. For the first time, Hunter felt such an overwhelming sense of family and belonging that he had to fight back the tears. To conceal his wet lashes, he embraced you tightly and planted a tender kiss on your lips, welcoming you back, to your home and your family.

Echo

Whenever you have to venture out alone without the team, Echo is determined to remain practical to stave off the rising concern about your safety. He creates a checklist and guides you through the potential dangers and escape plans. Emergency contacts follow the immediate potential perils, as well as call signals and safe spots in each sector of the galaxy. It gets to the point where you can recite them all before he does, finishing with a kiss on his cheek and a promise to stay safe. That is all he needs to settle his concerns, that one little promise. When you're expected to return, he waits for the others to greet you before finding a secluded spot for the two of you to talk in private.

You received a call to attend to pressing matters concerning a loved one. Fortunately, you were able to maintain contact with Echo while away. Each night, as the stars drifted in their rotation, you both snuggled into your beds and talked for hours, sharing how your day had been and counting down the time until you could reunite. Upon the arrival of the much-awaited day, Echo ensured they reached the assigned port early and made extra arrangements to make sure they went unnoticed. You arrived to a whirlwind of smiles and hugs from his siblings, each of them eager to share their recent news and ask about your travels. Echo waited as the tales were exchanged, and once aboard ship, he found you both a private corner to embrace away the distance you had felt for the past few weeks.

Wrecker

Wrecker absolutely despises being away from you, but damn he loves that first sight of you again after time apart. The swell of love that surges through him is only surpassed by the way it feels to have you back in his arms. Without fail, when you reunite, he runs towards you, lifts you off your feet, and spends the rest of the day with a huge grin on his face, unable to resist squeezing you tightly at every opportunity he gets.

A complex mission required you both to split up for a few days, your separate skills needed with the other group. Deprived of any form of communication or assurance of your well-being, Wrecker fell silent, craving your presence and the serenity you always brought. Time seemed to crawl, but finally, you were reunited, and he held you as if you might vanish if he loosened his grip. Back on the ship and in his bunk, he engulfed you with his arms, his cheek touching the crown of your head as you recounted the progress of your mission, and eventually, you both drifted off to sleep, entangled in one another.

Crosshair

Crosshair has a habit of hiding his emotions, but as you become closer, he starts to open up. When you have to go, he withdraws, fearing his brothers will mock him if he admits he misses you. Whenever you're gone, his mood plummets, not to the point of bothering his brothers, but enough for them to take notice. Rather than teasing him as he expects, they encourage him and cheer him up until you return.

During a chaotic mission, with every risk and peril imaginable, you had been split up. You had only just been able to communicate that you were safe before the transmission cut completely. Despite your reassuring message, any calm within Crosshair melted. The mission was irrelevant; his sole focus was on ensuring your safety and he embarked on an almost self-sacrificial fight to find you. The moment he laid eyes on you he wrapped you in a tight embrace that made you fear something terrible had transpired in your absence. He pulled away slightly to place his forehead against yours, unconcerned about his siblings' judgments; the other half of his soul had returned safe and sound, and his family was back together again.

Tech

When you're away, Tech does his best to maintain a sense of normalcy. He occupies himself with his projects until your presence returns and he no longer feels that something is missing inside him. He knows you'll only leave if it's absolutely necessary, and each time he wishes you well and ensures you're prepared, offering a comforting smile as you leave.

You had left to visit some loved ones and would be away for some time. Tech felt fine at first, but after that month mark, he noticed himself growing irritable at the void inside his heart. Rather than letting it defeat him, he seized control and resolved to create something for you. He started making recordings just for you, capturing the tabletop games he played with his siblings during their hyperspace travels and the fascinating planets they explored. It reached the point where he made recordings while tinkering with his latest project on the ship, his voice filled with nostalgia and love, all but whispering those private thoughts into the aether in the hope you might hear them. The night of your return, he shared the recordings he made. When it reached the videos of him talking to himself about how he felt about you, you pulled him closer, smoothing the pads of your thumbs over his cheeks before you kissed him.

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jedipoodoo · 15 days

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In The Garden Would You Trust Me? (Wrecker x Fem!Jedi!Reader)

This was written for @imarvelatthestars for the @cloneficgiftexchange Di, I hope you enjoy this one!

Notes: No warnings, Jedi reader, injured Wrecker, tending to injuries, self-disparaging Wrecker, discussion of trust, Wrecker feels bad about himself, but you're there to make him feel better.

"I am so in love with her right now," Wrecker held his head in his hands, keeping his head upright so that he wouldn't have to look away from his general. Your lightsaber cut through the droids that had ambushed them like shaak butter.

Tech coughed sharply and waved his flashlight, "Wrecker, eyes on me." He needed to see if his brother had another concussion. Wrecker hesitated, so Tech finally grabbed his chin, forcing his brother to let himself be examined.

"We've gotta get him out of here!" You were suddenly standing over them, and Wrecker stared at your hand on his shoulder, unaware of the dorky little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Hunter, however, didn't, and couldn't resist a conspiratorial grin beneath his helmet, "We can hold them off, can you get him to safety?"

Tech missed Hunter's intentions, "The general is the most formidable of all of us, if anyone is going to press forward with the mission is should be her-"

Hunter gripped Tech's shoulder tightly, "The general has the medical training to take care of Wrecker for now, but she doesn't have your prowess with technology."

"Hey!" You teased, though it was true. No one could best Tech's skills with hacking and reprogramming.

"Still, It would be quiet unorthodox if the general was unable to ensure the completion of the- ow!" Tech batted Hunter's hand from his shoulder.

You laughed softly, "A true leader protects their people," You said wisely, "Besides, if I can't count on you boys to take down this prison outpost, who can I trust?"

Wrecker felt a bit ashamed at that. Did you mean that you couldn't trust him? He did tend to get a little overexcited from time to time, but you always picked him to stand by your side and to stay with him to disarm any explosives you encountered on your missions. Had he been mistaken in thinking that meant that you trusted him?

Tech humphed, "Very well. Though we should move quickly, another wave of droids is making their way towards us."

You nodded and slung Wrecker's arm over your shoulder.

Surprisingly, the rest of his body followed, laid across your shoulders like the spoils of a hunt. If Wrecker hadn't been in love before, he was a goner now.

"See you at the rendezvous, boys!" You bid farewell to his brothers, and then Wrecker was flying.

He'd seen you use the force before; leaping to incredible heights, deflecting a hailstorm of blasterfire, calming the angriest gundarks, even making a tiny flower bloom right before his eyes, but it was another thing entirely to experience it for himself.

You'd explained it to him before: the force was an energy field that connected everything together. He could almost feel that energy field himself in this moment. The air around him tingled, like right before an explosion was primed to go off. Is this what you felt like all the time? It was exhilarating.

You came to a stop some klicks away from the Separatist outpost the others were supposed to infiltrate to find the Wookie prisoners and lay Wrecker down to rest against the trunk of a grand wroshyr tree

"How's your head?" You asked.

Wrecker shrugged, "Dizzy, but it doesn't hurt right now."

"Are you nauseous?"

Wrecker shook his head, and instantly regretted it, "Whoops, now I am."

You pushed him backwards until he was sitting on one of the large, exposed roots, and helped him lean forward to bring his head between his knees.

"Stay like that until it feels better, focus on this leaf and try not to think about throwing up." You placed said leaf on the ground between his feet, and as he looked at it, Wrecker felt his headache fading. You were a lot better at this medical thing that Tech was, more patient, more gentle.

"You're a good medic," He mumbled.

"Why thank you," You grabbed a stick that could serve as a temporary splint for his leg, comparing it to the size of his leg to see if it would hold.

"I wish you could be our medic all the time, you're way better than Tech." Wrecker continued, trying to focus on that one leaf like you'd said. It was still a little blurry, but it was getting better if he concentrated.

You giggled, "Then who'd be your general?"

"Hmm, good point." Wrecker hummed, "I like that you're my general."

You ducked your head, staring intently at his twisted ankle. "I do too, Wrecker."

Wrecker sat up. He couldn't hear very well with only one good ear, but your quiet tone sounded...off. You were never that quiet. Even when Hunter was trying to sleep, you always spoke in a more exaggerated whisper, always making sure Wrecker could hear.

"You okay, General?" he asked, not sure why he felt so shy. Was it true then? Did you really not trust him to do a good job and that's why you were always hovering next to him?

"Huh? Oh yeah, I'm fine!" You insisted. You tore a few strips of fabric from the hem of your robes, wrapping it around his leg as fast as you could.

"Yow!" You wrapped it a little too tightly, and Wrecker yanked his foot out of your grasp.

"Sorry! Sorry, I wasn't paying attention!" you blabbered out apologies, quickly unwrapping the bandage so that you could adjust it. You bit your lip, but your nerves had already spread to Wrecker, who anxiously tapped his fingers against the wroshyr roots while he waited for you to finish bandaging his ankle.

"General?" He started, trying to speak calmly so he wouldn't spook either of you again, "Do you trust me?"

Your hands froze, "Do I what?" Finally, you looked up, puzzlement in your radiant eyes.

Wrecker's heart did a summersault and he gulped.

"I know I can be a bit...a bit much, and sometimes I miss things that are obvious to people like Tech, but I just-"

Both your comms beeped insistently, interrupting Wrecker's heartfelt confession. It was Hunter.

"General, how are you and Wrecker?"

You answered with another curious glance at Wrecker, and he felt embarrassed for even asking.

"We're alright, Sergeant, we're out of danger and getting him all bandaged up."

"Good. The wookiee prisoners are free, and we've handed out the extra weapons we were able to carry."

Wrecker sighed heavily. He was missing all the action! What good was he all bandaged up and stuck on the sidelines? No wonder the General didn't trust him.

He stood up, with every intention of marching back to the outpost to help his brothers, to prove to you that he could be just as reliable as Tech or Hunter, but his ankle just wouldn't support his weight. It slipped out from under him, and he pitched forward.

"Woah!" You were under him in a second, arms wrapped around his torso to keep him from falling face-first into another complex root system.

"...Is everything alright?" Hunter asked over the comms.

"We're fine, hold the outpost for now, and wait for General Windu's regiment to meet you." You cut the comm, and adjusted your hold on Wrecker so that you could look up at him.

"I can't leave you alone for a second without you getting into trouble, can I?" You asked.

Wrecker tried to dig the toe of his boot into the dirt, "I don't mean to, general."

"I know you don't," You grinned at him, and kissed the tip of his nose.

Wrecker froze, heat gathering on his cheeks.

He wasn't thinking. He knew he wasn't, but he never had much of a filter in the first place.

"You're beautiful," He whispered.

Your face went bright red.

"Thank you," You said softly.

You were both silent as you helped him sit back on his throne of roots, and you knelt in front of him, squeezing his hands to grab his attention before his thoughts could start to wander again.

"I trust you Wrecker, I promise. More than even your brothers."

"More than Hunter?" Wrecker asked in surprise.

You nodded, "I promise. Never for a second think that I don't trust you, because I do. Why do you think I always ask you to be my backup every time we have to split up? It's because I know I can trust you to watch out for me the way I look out for you."

Wrecker rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, "Well, I trust you too, General." He said.

You sighed, and opened up your arms, "Get over here, you big goof," you wrapped your arms around his neck, and even before Wrecker could reciprocate, you pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

Wrecker enveloped you in his own arms, holding you close. He may not know exactly what this meant for the two of you, but he might have to get injured more often to find out.

#TBBE24 #lizart writes #tbb gift exchange #wrecker x reader #wrecker x you #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker x you #wrecker bad batch x reader #wrecker bad batch x you #the bad batch wrecker x reader #the bad batch wrecker x you #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you

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sinfulsalutations · 1 year

Text

𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕣 𝕤𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕤/𝕠 ⋆*･ﾟ𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙 + 𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕣𝕖𝕩

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ɴꜰꜱᴡ, ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ꜱᴘɪᴄʏ ɪꜱ ᴀʟʟ ɪᴍ ꜱᴀʏɪɴɢ.

⋆ ★ ɪ ꜰᴇᴇʟ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴏʙʟɪɢᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀꜱ ɪ ᴀᴍ 4’11 ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ꜰᴜɴɴʏ ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʟʟʏ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ ꜱᴡ, ᴀɴᴅ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ᴍʏ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ʙᴏʏꜱ ᴀᴛᴍ ᴀʀᴇ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ɢɪᴀɴᴛꜱ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ɪ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴅ ʙᴀᴛᴄʜ+ʀᴇx ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ/ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ꜱ/ᴏ! ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Hunter

Despite being the only one out of clone force 99 who’s the average clone trooper height, he still is immensely taller (and broader, to be frank, excluding that little slutty waist) compared to you.

It strokes his ego quite a bit

Maybe a bit more if you like to point it out.

It ties into any sort of praise you shower onto him, really. If you tell him all about how tall and big and strong he is, you’re practically begging for him to pounce on you.

Hunter’s just whipped for you like that.

Despite that, he finds your height to be really cute.

It’s not everything he likes about you, of course, but it just ties it all in; it's just an aspect he adores sometimes.

He tries not to do it anymore because he wants to be helpful, but occasionally he’ll sit back and watch you struggle to reach something high up. The grin that spreads across his face could lift the entire galaxy’s spirits.

If you realize, you put a hand on your hip and pout.

“Really?”

He hides his red face and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, mesh’la. You just looked so cute.”

When you huff again he reaches for the object you were trying to reach and hands it to you like it was a delicacy on a silver platter.

Whenever you're in a position like that, where your chests almost touched and he looked down at you, you enjoyed going on your tip toes and pecking his chin affectionately.

“I’m adorable, aren��t I?”

Tech

At first, even as you start a relationship with him, it is simply an objective fact about you.

He’ll make slightly offhanded comments about it, but you know he doesn't mean any harm when he says them.

“I should probably handle this instead since it would be easier for me to complete. Considering our heights.”

“Please don’t climb over the shelves, dear. You might hurt yourself.”

Eventually, the comments stop, you don’t really know why.

You do realize though he will always offer help in a situation where you are vertically challenged and his comments aren’t meant to be demeaning.

The height difference between you two, however, shifts from a focus on your height to his.

Tech knew that you gained a sense of enjoyment from the contrast in appearance, but didn’t realize how much you liked it.

And you liked it a lot.

Something about Tech completely towering over you while ever so slightly asserting his intellectual superiority rubs you in all the right places.

You tell him about it, and he tries his best to nod it off. Emphasis on tries.

He subconsciously begins trying to catch you in positions where he’s physically overwhelming; dwarfing your body into his and enveloping you into him wholly.

He doesn't notice hes doing it, but you do; oh you do.

You won't point it out. Both of you get off on his little power trips.

Wrecker

Let’s be real, this man has a raging size kink.

Of course, even if you’re average height or above, you’re minuscule compared to Wrecker. But man, if you’re short, petite, etc.? Wrecker is GONE. Deceased. Done.

He simply will never be able to get over how cute you are.

And maybe you feed into it as well.

Call him ‘big guy’ or give him that doe-eyed look like you’re in awe of a giant overtop you and you won’t walk for the next week.

He gets just a tad bit feral.

Sometimes, he finds it more comedic.

Like when you topple over trying to reach something on a high-up shelf.

You’ve become quite embarrassed about always needing assistance from Wrecker, especially because of all the teasing you’ve gained from his brothers.

So despite him always being fully willing to help at any time, you get a little too flustered for your liking and try to do the tasks yourself.

And yet, this doesn’t solve your problem. You continue to fall straight on your ass every time.

His laughter fills the entire ship.

“I must’ve turned invisible” he toddles over and opens his arms out wide. “Your footstool is right here!”

You can’t help but facepalm.

Other times, he finds it arousing.

Like when you press up against his stomach and chest, your chin resting up so you stared at him with wide eyes.

His whole body could completely swallow you whole in those moments.

How could he not get a boner?

BONUS: You’re small enough to huddle up on his lap and fit your entire body onto him with your arms loosely wrapped around his neck. Yes, those are the best cuddles. Yes, you both fall asleep instantly.

Crosshair

I'm sorry, but if you didn't think Crosshair was gonna tease you, he’s not your man.

On a day he's being especially pesky, every other sentence that comes out of his mouth is commenting on your height.

Crosshair loves seeing you frustrated, he thinks you look cute like that. He's like a schoolboy in that way, but don't say that. He’ll get all pissy and refuse to talk to you for a few hours.

Yep. Definitely a whiny schoolboy.

Will use the top of your head as an armrest and won’t protest if one of his brothers captures a photo of you two in that position.

Even if you're sitting next to each other he’ll find an opportunity to prop an elbow on your shoulder or head. it never fails to make him chuckle darkly to himself.

But if you ask him to help you reach something high up, he’ll do it wordlessly. Save the teasing for after.

if you blush furiously and scold him, he’ll only smirk and if no one else is around, give you a peck on your forehead.

“Can’t stop myself, doll.”

Won't offer help with any vertical challenges despite him being much taller. He’d like to, but in his head, he still thinks that he’ll come out too soft.

He might do it wordlessly and swiftly, even if you don't ask. Perhaps that's his way of showing love.

Echo

He won’t comment on it. Not for a while at least.

This man has had his fair share of body insecurity, and he isn’t so sure if your height is one of yours. He won’t risk that, he cares far too much about you to hurt your feelings inadvertently, or accidentally trigger any association with bad thoughts about yourself with him.

You’re the one to first bring it up, in fact.

It came out when you had started to get a little tipsy at Cid’s, and were talking about the batch’s physiques.

“And Echo, I know there’s wrecker over there but…” you cradled his face and looked up at him with awe, more adoration than he’d ever felt in his life. “You’re just so big and tall… and strong” with your last word, a small, whimpered moan followed.

Oh, if you were only sober enough to notice how his codpiece rubbed against your stomach harder than usual.

Sure, you got some shit from the boys for it the day after when you sobered up, but you didn’t regret saying it.

Finally, you got out of your head and told Echo how much you loved your height difference.

He stumbles a bit at first with your confession, but once the two of you go to continue doing something else, you notice how his chest puffs out just a little bit more and his shoulders are more squared up.

He always used to help you when trying to reach something high up before, but after that day, every time he does it feels so… purposeful.

It kind of is (he’d never admit it though).

He just can’t get your comment out of his mind.

It’s almost feral how kindred his need gets when you look, feel so much smaller than him.

But he’d never say it.

Actions, however, always speak more than words when it comes to Echo.

Rex

Rex is such an act of service guy, c’mon

He’s the kind of guy to always clean up after himself always if he’s around at your place. Does all the gross, menial tasks in the kitchen. If you fall asleep watching something, he’ll turn it off and carry you to bed.

He’s just such a gentleman, you can’t convince me otherwise.

So of course, if you’re more, ahem, vertically challenged than most, he is there.

He’s not the type to hold off on helping you out, like Hunter or Crosshair, but he might make a couple quips after or just randomly through the day.

“You’re so cute like this.”

“Aw, cyare, ‘m sorry you need my help. Can’t imagine living like this every day.”

It's hard to get mad at his comments, though.

Not when he’s always there the second you need him.

Though, when the two of you are more… intimate, the size difference comes into play more.

He doesn’t really have a size kink like Wrecker does, but Rex would be lying if his dick hasn't throbbed seeing the way his hand completely covered yours while going to town.

But he’s just so sweet about it; you’ve seen the way he looks at you in moments like those, with pure awe and revel, it makes you feel so loved and protected.

He could never make you feel otherwise.wise.

#nour writes stuff #the bad batch #the bad batch headcannons #hunter tbb #tech tbb #wrecker tbb #crosshair tbb #echo tbb #captain rex #tbb hunter x reader #tbb tech x reader #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb echo x reader #captain rex x reader #star wars #the clone wars #star wars headcanons #reader insert

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ireadwithmyears · 17 days

Text

How each member of the bad batch would be with a visually impaired significant other (short imagine’s/headcannons

Word count: 5.4K

Pairings: the bad batch ex female reader (individual)

Tags/warnings: some are suggestive, mostly domestic fluff, hurt/comfort, mild injuries

note: look, it’s the epitome of self indulgence. I wrote this solely because I’m blind, and have never seen these ideas discussed when it comes to our beloved boys. However, I recognize that the majority of people reading this will not have shared this experience, so this is why I am adding a disclaimer/reminder to tell you that blindness is a spectrum, and the majority of us have at least a degree of useable vision left, so that is why I continue to use visual language/descriptors like look or watching. That being said, I hope you enjoy these, I had so much fun writing them, and if you have an idea for a specific scenario so I can do more of these, or another particular clone who isn’t a member of the batch, please let me know, and I would be happy to write more

Hunter🩷

Hunter is the best at planning dates when it comes to keeping your accessibility and comfort in mind.

If he wants to take you out somewhere, he’ll always go and scope it out beforehand, analyzing things that might not make it an enjoyable experience for you. I.e. if the lighting is too low and will obscure any of your remaining vision. If the music is too loud and will make it hard for you to effectively communicate with him. He knows that both of these things, especially when they’re working in tandem, can make you feel on edge and anxious, and that’s the last thing he wants you to feel when he’s taking you out on a date.

He will always ask the establishment about things like accessible or braille menus, or, if you happen to have a guide dog, seating that will have the space to accommodate and be comfortable for all of you.

If the menu isn’t accessible for you, he will always give you a heads up beforehand, using his datapad to pull up the menu on the holonet so that he can help you familiarize yourself with it, and you can decide what you want before you get there, taking a lot of the stress and pressure off of you because you don’t have to rush.

He wants you to feel cherished, loved, and safe when you’re out and about with him. So if you are going somewhere that’s particularly busy or crowded, he will also adapt himself.

He’ll keep you close, whether it’s with your arm tucked securely in the crook of his elbow to guide you around, or his hand gently placed on the small of your back, letting it rest there so that you know he’s right there with you.

He never plans on getting separated from you, but if, by some unforeseen circumstance, it happens by accident, he has a plan for that too.

If you’ve got remaining vision that is useable, he will intentionally wear bright, contrasting colours to make him easier to spot, even when he’s a distance away.

If you don’t have any remaining vision, he’ll wear something like keys that jingle, or an article of jewellery that makes a distinct sound as he walks so that you can tell when he’s approaching.

Regardless, every time you go on a night out, he will take the time to describe his appearance to you in detail, his general physical description, what he’s wearing, so that if, for some reason, you do get separated, you know how best to describe him to someone, so that they can locate him for you and help you make your way back to him

His enhanced senses have become innately attuned to your normal patterns and rhythms, and if he notices any rapid fluctuation or change be it with your breathing or heart rate, indicating that the environment you’re in is causing you stress, he’s whisking you away, taking you back home, despite any of your protests. He knows you’re just fighting him because you feel guilty about potentially messing up the night, which you absolutely are not.

He will not let you feel that way for long, because when you’re home, he is determined to make you feel like the beautiful, treasured, and wanted human being that you are.

He orders your favourite takeout food. He’ll lie you down on your bed, surrounding you with soft blankets and pillows, gently and tenderly beginning to caress and massage the tension from your tensed up shoulders and back, partly because he feels like he might have inadvertently been the cause of it being there in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” you try to apologize. “I know you really wanted to...”

“Shh,” he quiets your apology, a hand coming up to softly brush a finger against your lips, resting his forehead against yours gently. “Meshla,” he breathes, unable to help the small smirk of amusement that pulls at the corners of his mouth as he observes, taking note of your breath audibly catching in the back of your throat as his finger, slow and slightly teasing, begins to lightly trace the edge of your bottom lip.

He presses his lips to yours in a sweet, chaste kiss as he affirms, “this is all I want,” he breathes in a whisper close to your ear that immediately has your whole body erupting in goosebumps.

“You,” he continues, his voice a low, husky rumble against your neck as his lips press, warm and deliberate, directly where your pulse flutters beneath them, pulling a soft, yet audible gasp out of you, that makes his lips curve up into a smile that you can feel against the skin of your neck. “Are all I want.”

He spends the rest of the night taking his time to prove that to you, in every way that he knows how.

Tech🩷

He takes note of every single bruise you get on your legs from bumping into shit all the time.

You’re blind, it’s just an occupational hazard. You might not even notice that you have one, but he certainly does, and he’ll take care to notify you of every time you accumulate a new mark in your collection.

“There is a bruise directly above your left knee,” he observes, gentle fingers tracing over the mark with a soft frown marring his features.

He naturally has picked up on using the language that is most helpful to describe the location of something visual to you. You didn’t even have to ask the first time you were on hands and knees on the floor, feeling around for one of your shoes. He didn’t point, and say “it’s over there,” which is just instinctive habit for most people. Instead, he had a used more specific directives like “behind you, on a slight diagonal to your right.”

“How did this happen,” he asks softly now, placing your hand directly on top of the blossoming mark on your leg.

You give him a half shrug and a rueful smile. “I don’t know,” you admit, honestly puzzled. “It happens all the time.”

From then on, he observes you closely, quickly coming to the realization that there are things that are just harder for you to look out for, and, just as quickly, doing his best to rectify each one. He’s easily able to identify a pattern of cause and effect that lead to your many bruises, bumps, and small every day accidents, and rather than being over bearing and cautious with you, he just figures out a way to remove the root of each problem entirely.

Each step on the Marauder’s gangway is suddenly marked with a long strip of brightly coloured tape at each edge, so that you can more confidently move down the steps without having to fumble to find the edge with your foot.

Low sitting caf tables in the middle of the living room, with sharp, jagged corners jutting out are suddenly pushed up against the wall, so that you don’t have to be careful while stepping around them, trying not to hit your leg off of one of them.

He makes sure that any overhead cupboards in the kitchen that are hard for you to notice until your head is colliding with their open doors, are kept securely shut, recalling a particular incident when, whilst putting away dishes, your head had caught on one of the cupboard doors, large bump blossoming on your forehead, just barely missing your eye. He had frowned, gently holding an ice pack to the swelling bump, deciding that from now then on, he would put any of the dishes away that needed to go on the top shelves. He wouldn’t budge on this, even when you tried to argue.

“Cyar,” he had said, voice stern, even as he gently took you by both of your shoulders. “I understand your need to be able to do things independently, and I respect it greatly. But, as much as you can make a light about getting bruises on your legs from these little incidents. Your head is much too important to apply that same lightness to, and I will not compromise on that so please, let me do this for you.” he had leaned down, barely brushing his lips over the bump on your head in a caring, affectionate gesture, and that had made your resolve completely crumble.

He’s also hyper aware of your systems and ways of organizing things, and it has become a habit for him to make sure that it is maintained.

Shampoo and conditioner bottles that look almost identical with exception to the labels that isn’t much help to you are always set in a specific order for you to find in the shower. You always leave things like your wallet and your cane in the same place, and if anyone messes with these orders, it can really throw you off.

If anyone does touch or move any of your things, regardless of how insignificant, without telling you first, Tech will find out, and, especially if it’s one of his brothers, will thoroughly scold them for it, ensuring that they understand why somethings so small could be really frustrating and disorienting for you, and makes sure that they never do it again.

If you read braille, this man learns it for fun one day on a whim, and he doesn’t even tell you about it.

He’ll put away your groceries for you one day, and then you’ll be searching for something like a dinner ingredient, and find that he’s attached a braille label to the box, with completely correct use of the six dots that form the language.

When you confront him with it, he only shrugs, adjusting his goggles with a slightly confused expression.

“You sound surprised,” he observes with one raised eyebrow. “In a practical sense, this was a logical solution,” he continues, clearly unfazed by your display of shock.

“That’s not fair,” you pout, leaning against the counter and folding your arms. “If you’re going to learn braille, then you at least need to teach me some Mandoa,” you challenge.

“I was not aware that you were interested in the subject. But that is an agreeable request. What would you like to know?” He asks, looking at you questioningly.

“Like,” you bite your lip, considering, tilting your head in curiosity. “What’s that word that you always call me?” You ask. “It starts with an S? I think? Or maybe a C...c cyar?” You say, suddenly uncertain and cringing at your own pronunciation.

He straightens, suddenly grateful that you’re unable to see the blush that’s crept into his cheeks as he answers evenly.

“Ah, yes, the word that you were saying is correct. Cyar... it means, love... or beloved,” he answers, voice going soft as he catches your hand in his, almost absently pressing his lips to the back of your knuckles briefly as you stare at him, surprised.

“You ... you love me?” You ask, hopeful and voice clearly bewildered. The smile that pulls at the corners of your lips lights up the whole room.

Both eyebrows arch as he looks down at you, because now he’s the one who’s confused. When he responds, his voice is far less confident and sure than it usually is. It holds almost a shy, completely uncharacteristic timidness, which conveys the genuine honesty in his words when he speaks.

“Well ...cyar. of course I do. I thought it was obvious.”

Echo🩷

Echo, unlike most people, understands all the aches and pains, mental and physical, that come with being disabled.

He’s sat with you on the bathroom floor, your head resting against the cool linoleum of one of the tiles on the wall after a concert. You had come home to find your head throbbing from the after affects of being surrounded by a combination of extremely loud music, a screaming crowd, and strobe lights that made you wish that you didn’t have any remaining vision at all.

Your eyes were shut tightly, and your heart fluttered with surprise and gratitude when, with his one functioning hand, Echo, movements slow and meticulous, carefully began to undo your hair from the tight updo it had been forced into all night. There he sat, fingers so, so gentle as they ran through your hair, undoing the tangles and soothing away some of the tight ache that had gathered at the back of your head.

He’s careful to stay quiet, not wanting to interrupt the little bit of peace that you had found. The only thing that fell from his lips were gentle breaths and soft murmurs of “oh, sweetness, s’okay,” lips pressing the lightest kisses to your flushed cheek, the side of your aching forehead, until the painkillers had finally, finally kicked in.

If you’re a cane user, he always has his eyes peeled for the little bumps and cracks along the sidewalk.

He’s seen what happens when the tip gets caught in one of them, when the handle inevitably jabs against your stomach or ribs and the immediate discomfort on your face that follows.

He also sees the bruises that are left there afterwards, and as much as he loves gently pressing his lips to each of them, reassuring you that he’ll kiss them better, he’d rather them just not be there in the first place.

So, he always watches out for them, giving you an ample warning on ones that your cane could get caught in so that you can move it out of the way.

He takes you to a holofilm, and you both don’t realize that it’s not available with audio description until you’re in your seats and the headset doesn’t work. He immediately turns to you, giving you a reassuring smile and offering his hand, saying “We can leave, if you want. If you’re not going to get anything out of this, we can go, and we’ll find something else to do.”

You decide to stick it out, rationalizing that you’ll still be able to get something out of the film, if not the whole story, and besides, he can catch you up on parts you didn’t understand after it’s over.

In the end, it’s still worth it for you.

You finish half of a bag of popcorn before commercials are even over. You’re intrigued by the movie for almost half of it, and then finally, you spend the rest of it passed out with your head resting on Echo’s shoulder, only for him to wake you, slightly chagrined, when the credits are rolling.

When you’re out of the theater, you walk together hand in hand down the street. He apologizes profusely, saying that he should have done more research. You try to laugh it off to reassure him that it was fine, because you just had one of the best naps of your life in that theater. When it’s clear that that doesn’t help, you’re turning to him, sighing with a small frown.

“Echo,” you say with a small shake of your head. “I’m the one who should be sorry, not you, love.” At his look of bewilderment, you continue. “You do so much for me already, and I’m just so, so grateful for that. It’s not always something I feel like I can repay you for.” You look away, ashamed.

Because it’s true. He has his own set of issues and lingering problems from the injuries he sustained at the citadel. You can encourage him to do things like his physiotherapy exercises that ensures that his cybernetics are working in tandem with his body. But you can’t actually help him with them, whether it be with making modifications or repairs. It sometimes makes you feel a bit useless, because he helps you so much and you feel like you can only help him so little, and you feel like you’re just adding to his already overflowing plate sometimes.

“I know there could be easier people for you to be with,” you confess, voice quiet.

Echo stops dead at the street corner, catching your wrist to stop you from moving forward, and turning to fully face you with his brow creased in a frown.

“Oh, Cyar’ika,” he says, voice soft, reaching out a hand to tilt your head up so that you’re looking at him. “Now who put that idea in your head, ner kar’ta?” he whispers, gazing down at you with pursed lips.

Unexpected tears spring to your eyes at his gentle tone. The truth is that you can’t place this feeling on a singular person, though people have contributed to it. Family members have made comments in passing, strangers who look at the two of you and immediately begin to judge from there own preconceived notions and outside opinions. It’s society at large, who has made you feel like your blindness is a burden to the ones you love.

You don’t know how to say that, though. So you remain silent as Echo leans down, dropping a lingering kiss to your forehead as he whispers, “I don’t need you to make my life easier, cyar. You make my life meaningful, and that, to me, is more important.

He rests his forehead against yours, brushing a soft kiss to your lips. “Your needs don’t make you a burden, cyar’ika. I want you to remember that. I want to make sure that they are always being met. It’s the least I can do, you understand?”

All you can do is nod, your heart in your throat.

The next time you go see a holofilm with him, and the audio description isn’t available, Echo is prepared this time.

He still offers to leave, but when you refuse, he has a plan. In his own time, and on the occasions when you both have been watching something at home, he always makes sure the described video settings are on, for your benefit, and when he’s alone, for his.

He’s observed closely, listening and carefully paying attention to how the narrator’s go about describing things. So, when the movie starts, he leans over to you, keeping his voice low and quiet, beginning to describe to you what’s happening onscreen, careful to never interrupt any dialogue.

You stare at him, more than a little surprised. “Echo, are you going to do this for the whole film?” You ask, caught off guard and delighted all at once.

He gives you a quick nod. “Yes,” he answers matter-of-factly. “Now, be quiet and let me do it.”

True to his word, he does, staying close to you and keeping his voice quiet, so as not to disturb anyone around you. If someone still tries to shush him or gives him a dirty look for talking in the theater, he glares at them, in only the way that Echo can, until they stop.

This time, you stay awake during the whole film, watching intently, and listening to echos every word as he is meticulous in describing the visual things that you’re missing. In spite of all of the things that are different in comparison to your last date, one thing still remains the same.

You still finish the movie with your head resting on his broad shoulder, and he still looks at you like you’re the centre of his world.

Wrecker🩷

The first time you make a blind joke about yourself in front of him, he’s terrified.

Instinctively, he starts laughing, but then, registering your words, he immediately cuts himself off, not wanting to offend you, and is concerned that you’re being mean to yourself, which he will not allow.

When you only snort at his reaction, playfully nudging him and explaining how it’s fine, because you have to make fun of the things that you are unable to change, and how it’s actually a mark of self love if you have the ability to laugh at yourself, slowly, he begins to understand.

Soon enough, he not only readily laughs at your self deprecating humour and blind jokes, but at one point, he ends up slipping out one of his own before he can stop himself.

Again, he’s immediately apologetic and regretting his words, but when you throw back your head and laugh heartily, he feels a little less insecure and soon enough, you both have the ability to crack blind jokes with each other without missing a beat, to everyone else’s chagrin and fond amusement.

He decides that having the ability to make you laugh, getting to watch your eyes sparkle with amusement and hearing the sounds of your joy is music to his ears, and is one of his favourite things.

Wrecker is your number one protector. Not in a toxic, over protective way.

Even though he’s only got one functioning eye, chances are he’s still got more vision than you, so he’s taking it upon himself to be the working set in this relationship, meaning he’s always watching out for you.

If you’ve got a guide dog, the first time he encounters it, he might have gone to pet it, but, before he did, he sees the do not interact sign, and stops short, quickly pulling back and apologizing.

He asks questions, just to make sure he understands why it’s important, and after you explain it, he fully respects the boundaries and never forgets them, to which you are immensely thankful.

He doesn’t understand why you’re so grateful for him just doing the decent thing, until you tell him that a lot of people understand that you’re not supposed to pet the dog, but will either do it anyways, thinking that if you can’t see them doing it and they do it silently, you won’t notice, or they’ll talk in a distracting way to the animal, which is sometimes worse, and equally as distracting for the dog to work through.

This angers him, that they would take advantage of your blindness in such a disrespectful manner, and because you’ve explicitly told him that distracting your dog could potentially put you in danger, under the right circumstances.

From then on, he’s always watching.

If someone is petting your dog while it’s working, or trying to distract it, he’s right there, towering over them and glaring with his arms crossed, not so subtly pointing at the do not pet sign until they back away, stuttering and flustered.

If a child runs up to pet it, he’ll much more gently intercept them, crouching down on the ground to quietly explain to them the rules. In your experience, children are often much more respectful than adults, and watching him interact so kindly with them melts your heart every time.

Wrecker is tall. Standing at 6 feet six, it makes him not the most ideal guiding companion.

If he’s guiding you himself, sometimes, unintentionally, his elbow might knock against your head, for which he is immediately aware of, and instantly apologetic.

He will always stop, large hands gently cradling the sides of your face as he looks you over, worried that even the slightest bump from him could leave a bruise. Regardless of what he finds, though, he’ll always lean down, dropping a kiss to your forehead with a soft, “m sorry, meshla.”

His solution to this problem, however, is a tad bit unconventional.

When confronted with a situation where it’s just more efficient for him to guide you, for example, a street blocked off by construction, taped off areas and pylons everywhere, instead of offering you something like his hand or his wrist to hold, he simply reaches down, scoops you up into his arms and carries you over his shoulder until you’ve both cleared the obstacles together, you letting out a surprised squeak and giggling all the while.

Wrecker finds you beautiful, every day, all the time, and he is constant with his reminders of that.

As a blind person, it can be more difficult to coordinate a whole outfit, look, hair, and make up. He is so appreciative, and loves if you do that. But, if you’re one of those blind people who never learned how to do make up, who isn’t as confident in their sense of personal style, and you feel a little bit self-conscious about how much, or how little, in your opinion, effort you put into your look when you’re going out on a date with him, he will quickly assuage your fears the minute he catches wind of them.

He’s very good at detecting those days where you’re not feeling good about your appearance, just intuitively sensing when you’re having a bit of an off day, and when you could use a reminder of how beautiful and precious you are to him. He knows he can’t magically change your mind.

But he can tell you about all the things he finds attractive about you, every day, if you need that reminder.

He’ll tell you of each one, each part of you that he finds beautiful beyond belief, while taking the time to softly caress and kiss each one, with whispered affirmations of “Such a pretty little thing,” and “You’re perfect, cyar, absolutely perfect.”

And if that’s not enough, he’ll keep going, keep moving downwards until he can look up at your beautiful face, watching from in between your parted thighs as your lips form equally beautiful noises for him.

Crosshair🩷

It isn’t that Crosshair doesn’t want to help you. It’s just that, honestly, he’s a little bit hesitant to, in the beginning, fearing that he might overstep, because he places such a high value on choice, and respects your independence and autonomy to much to question you and your abilities.

He trusts that, if you need his help, you’ll come to him and ask. He also trusts that you’ve been living with blindness for a long time, maybe even since birth, and you’re aware enough to know your boundaries and limits, trusting that you’ll advocate when you need him to help with one of those limits.

Just because he doesn’t help you as much in the physical sense, does not mean he isn’t your number one advocate, because he absolutely is.

For example, if you’re a guide dog user, and you both are going out together using a ride sharing app. If the driver refuses to let you in they’re speeder because of your service dog, he will wait patiently for you to explain, analyzing every micro expression of the driver and knowing when they’re still not listening to you, and he will step in without hesitation.

Wearing his most menacing glare, and in a voice that is deadly calm, he will absolutely read them the riot act. He knows every law regarding your guide dog, and knows just how properly to phrase them in a way that will make the driver scared, usually when he mentions the 5000 credits fine they could be sued for not denying you access

He’s also keeping his eyes out to make sure that no one distracts your dog, and isn’t afraid to directly confront anyone who tries, saying something snarky like, “You know, maybe you’re the one who needs a guide dog, if you can’t read the don’t pet me sign that’s right in front of your face,” paired with a signature eye roll.

They always back away stuttering, and it always makes you laugh, even as you gently rebuke him, saying “Cross, that was a bit rude.”

He scowls, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him as he responds.

“And you, sweet girl, are too nice,” he purrs lowly against your ear. But, with the way that he begins to nuzzle at your neck, you don’t really think it bothers him that much.

If you’re one of those blind people who feels like asking for help is just burdening other people with your problems, and would rather risk facing the consequences by trying to do something yourself, rather than ask for help, he will find out, and he will not be pleased in the slightest.

Your stubbornness is something that he loves about you. But if it has a tendency to go too far, especially if you’re putting yourself in harms way, that adoration will quickly turn to frustration.

For example, one time, you both were staying at a place that had a glass topped stove.

These things are so inaccessible for blind people, it’s not even funny. But rather than admit defeat and let him cook dinner, you decided that you could figure it out, and gave it your best shot.

Your best shot ended with you trying to line up the pot with the burner, and very quickly, receiving a searing burn on your hand from touching the heat.

You had not anticipated it getting that hot that fast , and as you quickly pull your hand away, tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you let out a pained hiss.

““what are you doing?”

He had materialized behind you from seemingly out of nowhere, voice a silky, yet tensed coil as he reaches around you carefully, quickly flicking off the burner before long, dextrous fingers wrap around your wrist, still gentle, even as he insistently pulls your hand away from where you’ve been clutching it to your chest, eyes keenly examining the burn with a soft frown on his face.

Wordlessly, he guides you over to the kitchen sink, hand on the small of your back, turning the water on cold and carefully placing your injured hand beneath the stream.

Only then does he come to stand in front of you, placing both of his hands on your shoulders, his expression hard as he looks down at you.

“What were you thinking, cyar?” He grits out, voice almost a growl as he tries to understand. “Why didn’t you wait for me? I could have helped and prevented this,” he gestures to your hand. “From happening.”

You blame the trembling in your voice on the lingering throbbing ache in your hand.

“I’m s sorry. I I thought that I could figure it out. You were busy, and I didn’t want to bother you B because I’m scared that I burden you with all the help I need sometimes and.”

“Stop,” he cuts you off in one quick, decisive syllable, and you instantly fall silent.

He tilts your chin up with one hand, guiding your eyes to look at him. His lips form a thin line when he sees the glimmer of unshed tears there. When he next speaks, his voice is still firm, but there is an underlying gentleness and softening in his tone. It has lost its hard edge, and it’s protective bite.

“You are not a burden, to anyone, but especially to me.”

“But,” you try to interject, but he easily silences you, taking your face in both of his hands and cradling it gently.

“Shh, cyar, listen to me,” he says, his voice a quiet command.

“If you are a burden, then you are my burden. In the same way that I am yours.” He takes your uninjured hand in his, relaxing his fingers against yours, allowing you to feel it’s tremors.

Oh.

It’s been so long since his hand has shaken like this. He’s worked so hard to try and work through this particular trauma, and though it hasn’t completely gone away, it only begins to tremble during moments of high stress. You flush with shame, realizing that this moment of high stress is completely on you.

“I know what you’re doing, and stop it,” he says, voice stern, squeezing your hand in a silent warning. “Look at me, cyar’ika,” he continues, voice softening.

When you do, he continues. “If we are each other’s burdens, then we take care of each other, together. Do you understand me?”

You nod, actually stunned into complete silence at his proclamation.

“Good,” he says, voice softening further. He leans forward, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, fingers gently caressing the side of your neck as he pulls back.

He gives you a playful nudge as he smirks.

“Don’t ever try something like that again, cyar,” he quips with a scowl. “Your eyes already don’t work, and if you lose one of your hands, you’re completely fucked.”

All the levity of the moment vanishes, and it ends with your face pulling into a smile, a soft laugh falling from your parted lips as he watches you, eyes filled with adoration.

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mandos-mind-trick · 11 months

Text

Clone Soulmate AU Series

A Masterlist of all my fics for my Soulmate AU series. All of them contain smut so minors vanish.

MAIN MASTERLIST

Blessed Silence - Tech x reader

Monochrome - Imperial!Crosshair x medic reader

Jaig Eyes - Rex x medic reader

Carry Me Home - Cody x reader

Danger - Wrecker x reader

00:00 (Zero O'Clock) - Hunter x reader

Cabur - Wolffe x reader

Grey - Jesse x reader

Healing Touch - Kix x reader

Lost Time - Gregor x reader

The Soldier and The Spy - Fives x reader

See You In My Sleep - Howzer x reader

Dream of You - Echo x reader

Blurbs:

The Thing About Soulmates

On Soulmate Rejection

A Little More On Rejection

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lulalovez · 6 months

Text

Hi I need some help.

I found this art on pinterest. Does anyone know who the artist is??? Because I immediately need to follow them. I need to thank them for creating this masterpiece.

Awooga 🥵

#sw tbb #tbb #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker #the bad batch wrecker #the bad batch fanart #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #its so hard to find juicy fanart of wrecker #like youd expect more people to simp for him #but sadly hes in competition with his brothers #looking at you hunter simps #and crosshair simps #thats me im crpsshair simps

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vodika-vibes · 3 days

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I would love to see Wrecker with Topaz in the winter! Warm soup, cozy fireside snuggles, and just sheer cuteness! 💕

Silent Night

Summary: After Wrecker and the Batch’s Medic are stranded in the middle of a winter wonderland, Wrecker decides to make the best of it.

Pairing: TBB Wrecker x F!Reader

Word Count: 725

Warnings: None

Prompt: Topaz - Affectionate Love

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: This one fought me at every turn. I knew what I wanted it to say, but I'm not sure I managed to make it as soft and sweet as I wanted. Oh well, Happy reading!

“You know, you’re pretty good at this, Doc.” Wrecker says with a grin as his gaze drifts from the fish he’s cleaning, to where the team medic is crouching next to a roaring fire.

The light from the orange flames gives her an almost ethereal look, and Wrecker has a look away before he gets too distracted. “Well,” She admits as she clears a space of snow, as best as she can, and pulls the tent out of his kit, “Mom and dad divorced when I was a kid. And while mom had a nice house, dad wasn’t so lucky. So his weekends were usually spent camping.”

“So you could probably clean this fish then?” Wrecker asks, as he glances at her curiously.

She smiles sheepishly, “Well, dad did show me how, but you’re doing a wonderful job.”

He grins at her, and sets his knife to the side, “Well, as it happens, I’m done anyway. You have everything set up?”

“Yep. Just toss everything in the pot.”

Wrecker does as she instructs, and watches as she adds a few packets of seasoning, as well as some dehydrated vegetables, “I’m guessing your dad had you doing most of the cooking?”

“Yeah. Well, he wasn’t very good at cooking, really. So it was either learn to cook, or me and my siblings were going to end up with tapeworms or something.” Wrecker sits on the flat rock that she found…somewhere…and starts cleaning his knife.

“You know, you don’t talk about your family often.”

She glances at him, “Well, there’s not really much to say, is there?” She drops the contents of a second package into the pot, and then sits next to Wrecker, “My family is just average.”

“I’m not sure what an average family is,” Wrecker points out, “Though I bet Tech could tell me.”

She laughs, “Right, right. Well, there’s mom. She was a housewife up until she and dad got divorced, and then she got a job at the local elementary school getting me and my siblings free tuition. Dad was a firefighter who had a gambling issue. And then there’s the kids, my other brother, me, and our younger sister.”

“Well, you’re a doctor. What do your siblings do?”

“My brother is a chef at some big name restaurant on Coruscant. My sister is trying to become an actress, though she’s only really starred in commercials.” She shrugs, “Like I said, normal. Your family is so much more interesting.”

He laughs, “That’s one word for them.” Wrecker finishes cleaning his knife and stashes it away, “Are you comfortable?”

“Hm?”

“It’s kind of cold.” Wrecker points out.

“Oh, I’m alright. The fire is helping, and Hunter insisted I wear cold weather gear for this mission.” She hesitates, “Do…do you think-?”

“I’m sure they’re fine. Tech is there, after all.” Wrecker drapes an arm over her shoulder and tugs her against his side, “We’re the ones who have to camp outside in the snow.”

She smiles shyly, “I’m not worried.”

“No?”

“I have you here, don’t I?” She asked with a small, almost flirty, smile.

Wrecker’s heart flips nervously, “I…uh…”

She tilts her head, “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Nah, Doc. I’m just…I’m not Hunter or Crosshair, I’m not used to flirting.” Wrecker admits.

“I’ll stop, if you want.”

“Well now, I didn’t say that.”

She laughs, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, “I like you, Wrecker. You’re fun and you make me laugh and you make me feel safe. I’d like to go on a proper date with you, if I can.”

Wrecker blinks at her, “You…you do?”

“Yeah, if it’s alright.”

“We don’t really…there isn’t much time for proper dating-” Wrecker stammers, “And I don’t get paid-”

“I do get paid, and, well, it doesn’t have to be a big thing, Wrecker. I just want to spend time with you.”

“Well, in that case, can’t this be considered a date?” Wrecker points out.

She looks startled for a moment, and then she beams at him, “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” She lifts to her knees slightly and presses a light kiss against his cheek, before she settles next to him again.

Wrecker presses his hand against his burning cheek, a wide grin that he isn’t even trying to stifle.

Being stranded here isn’t as bad as it could be.

#star wars #tbb #vodika vibes 500 followers celebration #tbb wrecker x reader #wrecker x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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sailorkamino · 1 year

Text

your pet name {bad batch}

relationships: gn reader x bad batch

a/n: i tried to make this gender neutral. which name is ur favorite? his pet name can be read here

crosshair

• "don't start something you can't finish, doll."

• the first time cross calls you doll it's in a mocking tone. instead of snapping back you flash a pretty smile and call him something sweet in return. his heart stutters, ears turning warm. once the shock wares off he's pissed. you think you can fluster him and get away with it? not a chance in siths hell. (crosshair is the type to think you flirting = mind games and i stand by that.)

echo

• "stars, you're an angel"

• the only medics allowed near echo are tech and kix, even with them he's reluctant to ask for help but you can tell when he's in pain. one trek in hyperspace the cold is really making him ache. you bust out some prosthetic cream you purchased and offer a massage. he's excited because your hands on his body is a dream come true but he's also wracked with nerves and insecurities. yet the second you rub his sore shoulders he loses all filters.

hunter

• "hey sweetheart, can i borrow your body spray? i want my blacks to smell like you."

• you quickly realize that strong scents, even good ones, give hunter headaches so you go on the hunt (hehe) for something subtle but sweet. one day you try a woodsy, fruity body spray and hunter is attached to you like a leech, flirting that it's 'sweet like you.' he's literally a golden retriever boyfriend... meaning he wants your scent on all his belongings cuz it reminds him of you. also he can literally hear your heart beat so,

tech

• "can you hand me the spanner? thank you, starlight"

• tech is unflinchingly honest. it usually gets him in trouble but once in a while it works in his favor. one day you're sitting in the cockpit together, you're telling him about your latest interest, when he blurts out that you look beautiful in the starlight. his first reaction is to apologize for interrupting you because he genuinely does care what you have to say but then you're kissing him and nothing else matters.

wrecker

• "you're too cute to be scary, little tooka."

• the first time wrecker compares you to a tooka you're sleepily nuzzling into his chest. the next time you're pouncing on him playfully. he doesn't even stumble, wrangling you in his arms with boisterous laughter. doesn't matter how tall, big, or otherwise intimidating you are, to wrecker you're his baby. (cue the strong must protect the sweet gif)

#clone wars #star wars #the bad batch #bad batch #clone force 99 #bad batch x reader #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x reader #tbb tech x reader #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb wrecker x reader #sergeant hunter #clone trooper crosshair #clone trooper tech #clone trooper wrecker

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cloneficgiftexchange · 9 days

Text

All of the fics from the bad batch exchange have officially been posted!

If you missed some of the amazing stories written for this event, here is a list of them, all organized by character and in alphabetical order by title. You can also access a collection of those who posted their work on AO3 HERE! It’s still open in case anyone ends up posting there in the future.

If you liked a story, consider reblogging it! Reblogs are a great way to show appreciation for an author’s work. Reblogs to signal boost this list are greatly appreciated as well.

NSFW fics are strictly 18+ and are marked as such.

Aim For The Heart by @alegendoftomorrow

Broken and Grazed, Loved and Saved by @221bshrlocked

Interesting (NSFW) by @flyiingsly

Me and You and Midnight by @theunderscorekinginyellow

Mine by @arctrooper69

Step Into The Daylight by @imaginesfordifferentfandoms

Take Me Out by @masterjedilenawrites

The Right Wrong Turn by @intricatechaosofyou

The Stakeout (NSFW) by @isaidonyourknees

Echo and the Tooka by @hunterscyarika

I'll be needing stitches by @ladyanidala

No More Words by @hexerein

One Drop Among Millions by @autistic-artistech

Rather Be Hurt Than Be Okay by @rinwritesfics

The Commander (NSFW) by @heavenseed76

We'll Make It Out by @alegendoftomorrow

Working Parts by @cc--2224

Built to Fall by @imarvelatthestars

Infectious Love by @dragonrider9905

Keep You Safe by @starjedi86

Lightsaber Shenanigans by @urfriendlyneighbornightfury

patched up by @starboytech

Small Days and Grand Gestures by @orbital-mirror

The Galaxy Can Grant A Second Chance by @ghostofskywalker

Beach Day Surprise by @deezlees

Of Honeysuckle and Haiku by @frostycatblr-fandom-files

Softness Suits You by @knightprincess

Somewhere Over The Rainbow by @apocalyp-tech-a

In The Garden Would You Trust Me? by @jedipoodoo

It's A Tradition, Right? by @melliejellybellybean

Sweet Promises by @ladysongmaster

Wedding Vows by @captainpains

Ballroom Blitz by @skellymom

#TBBE24 #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb echo x reader #tbb tech x reader #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch x reader

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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 2 months

Note

hi!! just read both of your wrecker works and rineicbeijcwjkdjs LOVED THEM!! wrecker’s my fav of tbb and i really feel like he needs more love😭 i'm gonna be checking out some of your other works later lol

anyways i saw that you were taking requests, so i went through your prompt list and saw two that caught my eye. they're 24. “You need to wake up because I can't do this without you.” and 18. “I almost lost you.”

i was wondering if you could write something with those prompts for wrecker please? like tbb + reader were able to rescue omega, crosshair, and tech (i am believer in tech surviving season 2 finale), but the reader got seriously injured during the rescue and is now in a coma. wrecker would be the one to say the prompts and it would be angsty like wrecker thinking the reader might die. but please let this end happily.

other than those details i trust your writing skills and process for anything! take your time writing, there's absolutely no rush!! and again your writing is soooo awesome!!😊😊

Well hello there!

I'm so glad you enjoyed those fics, and thank you for popping this request in - so sorry it's taken me so long to write it! I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope it hits the spot 😁

I guess it's also technically canon divergent now S3 is out, haha 😅

Through the Darkness

No one said rescuing the rest of the Batch from Mount Tantiss would be easy - you just didn't expect it to go like this.

Pairing: Wrecker x F!reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: canon typical violence, reader in a coma for a bit, little bit of angst, but also dashes of hope, happily ever after.

Translations: sarad - flower

Hemlock has his hands on you, his blaster pressed to your temple. The sounds of fighting cease. Dead TK Troopers litter the floor. Wrecker and his siblings freeze, slowly lowering their weapons.

Your back is pressed to Hemlock’s chest, and there isn’t a clean shot at him.

“Anyone moves and your dear liaison will pay the price,” Hemlock states.

Rage flows through Wrecker. You were in danger, too far for him to grab and shield, and he had no idea what to do. He glances at his siblings – Omega curled against Hunter’s side with weariness painted on her face, Tech leaning heavily against Echo for support as his body protests the prolonged time standing. Crosshair had peeled off from the group earlier, searching for what or who none of them was sure. They were all back together again. A family again. He wasn’t about to let Hemlock take you from them.

Shakes start in your thighs, slowly creeping up your body until your arms and hands tremble, too. You’ve been in dangerous situations before, had your life threatened before - but you’re certain Hemlock would do it. The man is crazy and will stop at nothing to get his hands on your family. The sound of his verbal back and forth with Hunter is like white noise.

The slightest movement in the rafters above catches your attention, and your eyes dart up. Battered and bruised, Crosshair has found a vantage point and a rifle. Those hawkish eyes meet yours, and a silent conversation is shared. You do the maths. There’s only one way out of this. Thank the Maker you still trust him, even after everything.

You give an almost imperceivable nod, knowing he’ll catch it. You flick your gaze to the others, taking one last look, just in case. Echo, who’d joined you all near the end of the war and had so seamlessly slipped into the fold of your family. Tech, worse for wear after his fall on Eriadu, but with that same solid determination in his eyes. Hunter, the man who’d welcomed you into the squad all those years ago, listened when you shared your thoughts and didn’t make a fuss when you broke terrible news to them about the next mission. Omega, trying to hide her fear through bravery – so much for a young girl with such a pure heart to endure. And Wrecker, the imposing force of a man who’d always put himself between you and danger, who reached for you at every opportunity and consoled you when things had gotten too much – the man you’d quietly loved for some time.

With a shaky breath, you close your eyes, placing all your faith in Crosshair. The quiet sniper who’d at first sneered at you and flicked toothpicks in your face before he’d thawed out and helped perfect your aim, taught you how to use his rifle, and what to look out for when scouting.

The sound of his shot reverberates around the hanger, and milliseconds later, searing pain tears through your shoulder, pulling a piercing cry from your lips. Legs giving out, you crumple, welcoming the cold durasteel you hit.

You don’t know if they all made it out, but you pray they did.

Wrecker hasn’t moved in weeks, refusing to leave you alone. The memory of you being shot won’t leave him; the sound of your agony is stuck on repeat. You’d been in bacta for what felt like forever, the shiny skin on your shoulder a testament to its healing power, but it wasn’t enough to wake you from the coma you’d slipped into. Pabu’s only Doctor had insisted on removing you from the tank once your physical wounds had healed, transferring you to a standard medical bed.

Crosshair’s shot had torn through your shoulder, but the angle had been perfect. Wrecker hadn’t expected any less from his little brother. The bolt had exited you and entered Hemlock, hitting him straight in the chest. A kill shot. That hadn’t killed you. Or so Wrecker hoped. Even if you woke, your shoulder would likely ache for the rest of your life, and your arm would not be as strong as before.

The sound of the door opening pulls Wrecker’s gaze from your prone form and across the small room in Pabu’s clinic. Crosshair slides through the crack in the door, thin lips pressed together, brow pinched. He visits often, guilt in his eyes every time he looks you over. You might’ve okayed the shot, but it still tore at the sniper’s soul to have hurt you.

“Nothing?” Crosshair rasps, sticking close to the door as he glances between you and his brother. He’d never admit it, but fear was starting to settle in his gut. If you didn’t wake…

“Nothin’.” Wrecker confirms, shoulders slumped. “Been talkin’ to her. Doc said she might be able to hear us. Not that it’s doin’ much good.” He sighs, gaze shifting back to you. “Told her we all got out okay. That you and Tech and the kid are alright. Don’t want her worryin’.”

Crosshair makes a slight noise, acknowledging his brother’s words as his gaze lingers on your prone form.

“You stayin’ a bit?” Wrecker asks, using one foot to push out the spare chair at his side – the rest of their siblings often visited, too.

Hesitating, Crosshair lets out a small sigh as he moves across the room, lowering himself silently into the chair. He hadn’t stayed before, preferring to flit in for any news before disappearing. It hurt too much to see you this way, knowing he’d caused it. That and he was still working through everything that had happened during his time with the Empire, trying to fix his relationships with his siblings. But Wrecker needed him, so he’d stay.

You’d always hated the dark.

The shadows surround you, pressing in from all sides. Yet amidst the inky darkness, you find yourself standing in a solitary spot of light, its glow offering a semblance of warmth amidst the chill of the void. The lights kept appearing, and you’d learned quickly that when a new one glistened on the horizon, you had to run for it before the light you were already standing in disappeared.

You’d lost track of how many lights you’d chased so far.

Each one varied in intensity – sometimes brilliant beacons, other times mere flickers barely piercing the gloom. Yet, regardless of their brightness, they all held a magnetic pull, drawing you forward with an unyielding force. And each time you reached one, a brief respite washed over you, a fleeting moment before the next journey into the unknown began.

Scanning the horizon, you spot another light starting to beckon, its faint glow a promise of safety. With a heavy heart, you know what you need to do.

Taking a deep breath, you burst into a sprint. Each step forward is a battle against the darkness, its tendrils reaching out like icy fingers, eager to drag you into its embrace. Goosebumps prickle your arms, heart pounding as fear gnaws at your insides, but a stubborn determination fuels your movements. You can’t afford to falter, to succumb to the darkness, not after everything.

Worry lingers at the edge of your consciousness, a constant reminder of uncertainty. What lay beyond the lights? Will you ever find your way back to the world you once knew? The questions taunt you, echoing in your mind relentlessly the longer you spend here.

Yet, a glimmer of hope remains amidst the fear and uncertainty. Though the darkness threatens to overwhelm you, there must be a reason for the light. There has to be something causing it. Blessing you with it. Giving you these small moments of respite and keeping you in one piece.

You keep going. One foot in front of the other.

A shove yanks Wrecker out of sleep, and the big man jolts awake with a small yelp.

Crosshair snickers, leaning back in his seat, drawing his hand back towards his chest. “Sleeping on the job, vod.” He can’t help but jibe, his smirk melting into a frown at the sound of Wrecker’s stomach growling. “When’s the last time you ate?” He asks. He hadn’t wanted to wake him, seeing him finally getting some rest, but the sun was high in the sky now, and Crosshair knew it wouldn’t be long until Omega and Hunter swung by.

Blinking, Wrecker’s mind takes a moment to catch up with the fact he’s awake. “Urm, yesterday? Maybe?” He guesses, not really sure. The days were starting to blend together.

With a huff, Crosshair stands, long legs unfolding. “Will get you something. Can’t wither away before she wakes.” He mutters, grateful for the opportunity to leave and not have to sit any longer in silence with his feelings – he’d done enough of that for the day.

With a slight nod of appreciation, Wrecker watches as Crosshair heads out the door, hearing the gentle click of it shutting behind him. Hand wiping over his face, Wrecker shifts in the chair, stretching a little. But he can’t avoid the inevitable forever, and although it pains him, he looks you over for what feels like the millionth time.

Despite his imposing stature, he feels powerless.

He hadn’t been able to protect you - the woman he loves. He’s loved you since the moment he first met you in the hanger of a Venator, as you’d been assigned to him and his brothers as their liaison. You’d offered them a smile that had rendered him speechless, and his booming laughter had then filled the hanger when you’d quipped back at Crosshair as he'd sneered about them not needing a babysitter.

You kept them on their toes and blended in so seamlessly with their chaotic lives.

Without an audience, Wrecker clears his throat, leaning forward in his seat to gently take your tiny hand in his much larger one. “I hope ya can hear me, sarad.” He starts, voice mellow. “Been a few weeks now since we got ’em back.” He’s not sure how much you’re aware of, if the passing of time is something you’re experiencing. “Cross was just here. Finally sat for a bit. Think he feels guilty.” Wrecker pauses, brows furrowing, face pinching. “I feel guilty. Should have protected ya, kept ya close.” Wrecker’s voice cracks a little, emotion seeping through.

“We’re all here, though. Ain’t leavin’ ya, no matter what. Can’t wait for ya to wake up and tell us all how much trouble we’re in.” He chuckles softly, a hint of sadness in the sound. “Just...ya need to wake up ’cause I can’t do this without you.” He admits, a well of emotion pressing down on his chest.

Wrecker’s words hang heavy in the air, the weight of his emotions palpable even in the silence of the clinic. He wishes he could shake this feeling of helplessness and do more than just sit by your side, waiting for a sign of life. But for now, all he can offer is his unwavering presence and a steady stream of conversation, hoping against hope that somewhere within your subconscious, you can hear him.

Keep going. You need to keep going.

The darkness claws at you, desperate to slow you down and draw you into its embrace. But the light grows closer with every step you take, with every thud of your heart as you race forward. Amidst your footsteps echoing in the void is the faintest whisper of something familiar.

No.

Not something.

Someone.

“Wreck!” You cry out into the darkness, feet faltering for a second as you recognise the deep voice. The darkness tries to take advantage of your momentary hiccup, but with a yelp, you pick up your pace. The hope that lingers in your heart explodes. As you draw closer to the light, Wrecker’s voice comes into focus. “Ain’t leavin’ ya, no matter what.”

With renewed determination, you push yourself harder, every muscle in your body screaming for rest, but you refuse to give in. The light grows brighter, its warmth now palpable against your skin.

And then, just as you’re on the verge of stepping into the light, a sudden force knocks you off balance, sending you sprawling onto the cold, hard ground. Panic grips your chest as you scramble, desperate to continue your pursuit.

But the darkness has other plans, closing in around you like a suffocating blanket, obscuring the light. Amidst the coldness creeping through your body, you cling to the memory of Wrecker’s voice, a lifeline in the darkness.

Body straining, you crawl forward, ignoring the pain and exhaustion, determination burning bright within you. You don’t belong in the darkness. You belong in the light. With them. With him.

Straining, you reach out an arm, trembling fingers skimming the edge of the light as Wrecker’s voice comes through loud and clear. “…ya need to wake up ’cause I can’t do this without you.”

The darkness recoils.

With a final surge of strength, you propel yourself forward, breaking free from the suffocating grip of the void. The light envelops you, wrapping you in its warm embrace as the shadows recede into the distance, getting further and further away. Relief floods through you, tears of joy mingling with sweat on your cheeks.

Head tilting back, you look up at the light, a bubble of laughter escaping as you bask in the glow. Eyes fluttering shut, you savour the moment. Yet this time, when you open your eyes, there’s no darkness or blinding light anymore.

You blink. Once. Twice. The soft hum of medical equipment fills the air. And there, beside you, is Wrecker, head bowed, the weight of his hand wrapped around yours.

Everything seems to freeze except the frantic thudding of your heart. “Wreck…” You whisper, your voice hoarse from disuse as you dare to hope you’re back. Really back.

Wrecker’s head jolts up at the rasped sound of his name, his good eye widening as he meets your gaze, your name falling from his lips as his features crumple, a heaving sob of relief escaping him.

You slowly sit up, wincing at the ache that shoots through your shoulder. It’s still tender, but the pain is nothing compared to the overwhelming flood of emotions that wash over you at the sight of Wrecker’s tear-streaked face.

You reach out, cupping his cheek in your hand, the warmth of his skin grounding you in reality. “I’m here.” You murmur softly, your voice barely above a whisper, unsure if you’re trying to convince yourself or him.

Wrecker’s grip tightens around your hand as if afraid you might slip away again if he lets go. He leans into your touch, his words catching in his throat momentarily before he stands, leaning over the bed to envelop you in an embrace, protective yet gentle, conscious of your shoulder. “You’re back.” He murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “Thought I almost lost ya.”

Weak but grateful, you return his embrace, feeling the warmth of his presence washing over you, grounding you in reality. A lump forms in your throat at the thought of him worrying about you, thinking he would lose you. “Not going anywhere, big guy.” You reassure him, sniffling as you try to keep a lid on your emotions. “The others?” You ask cautiously, dread curling in your gut.

“All made it,” Wrecker confirms, arms slowly uncurling from around you as he sits back in his chair, hand scooping up yours so he can maintain some contact.

Your dread is swept away and replaced immediately by relief; this time, you don’t bother holding back your sobs.

“No cryin’, pretty girl. Please.” Wrecker’s heart aches at the sight, his free hand moving to cup your face and wipe away the tears.

You smile through your tears, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions. Wrecker’s touch is like a lifeline. “Sorry.” You manage to choke out between sobs, trying to reign in your feelings. “Just...so relieved.”

Wrecker offers you a tender smile. “No need to apologise, sarad,” he murmurs softly, his voice filled with warmth and reassurance. A bolt of courage has him leaning forward to gently kiss your forehead.

As Wrecker’s lips meet your forehead, warmth seeps through you, chasing away the last remnants of the dark coldness. He pulls back a little, his gaze meeting yours, and the air feels electric. Without a word, you lean forward, closing the distance between you as your lips finally meet his in a soft, tentative kiss.

And you realize that amidst the chaos and darkness, love has always been the guiding light, leading you back to where you belong.

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

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letsquestjess · 4 months

Text

The Bad Batch and Watching a Sunset (TBB x GN!Reader)

Summary: Sunsets can be pretty romantic and the Batch enjoy watching them with you.

Warnings: None. All fluff!

Hunter

Hunter has convinced himself he isn’t much of a romantic, but you know different. Whenever the team finds a safe planet for a few days, he never misses a chance to watch the sunset by your side. With the sun gradually descending, he’ll prepare a dinner outdoors and chat with you, sharing jokes and opinions on trivial topics. Once you’re finished, he will lovingly cradle you in his lap as you watch the day depart.

During one memorable trip, Tech enthused all day about a rare sky phenomenon that graced the planet during sunset once every hundred cycles. Eager to share the experience with you, Hunter set out cushions by the ship, and invited you to join him. With his legs on either side of your hips and his arms tightly wrapped around your middle, you settled to watch the display. The sun set in a blaze of lilac and jade hues, and as the last arc of sunlight slipped below the horizon, the sky burst into a kaleidoscope of colours, translucent waves fluttering like a celestial blanket. In a moment of heightened awareness, Hunter told you to watch and pointed out a cluster of birds just before they emerged from the trees. You jokingly called him a show-off, but you wouldn’t trade being by his side for anything else in the galaxy.

Echo

Echo gets a little fussy when you both watch a sunset, but only because he wants you to be comfortable and most places outside lack suitable seating. When you nestle your head on his shoulder and draw nearer, he eases a bit and relishes the tranquillity of your shared time. You rarely get time to stop and enjoy some peace, so when you do, he savours every moment.

While watching one sunset, Echo recounted what they were like on Kamino. When the rain ceased and the clouds dispersed enough to make out the horizon, it was like watching a ruby drop into the water. Tiny and unimportant to most, but he found solace in it. No matter what happened, suns would always rise and fall and rise again. Rather like him. His peaceful expression captivated you, the lines near his eyes barely creased and the calm in his hazel eyes holding you spellbound. It was a rare sight, and you made a conscious effort to soak in every aspect. When you asked him to tell you more, he vividly recalled the strange weather he had witnessed and the funny situations it had caused, often involving lost brothers and their antics. Cuddling him again, you listened to his tales, the sun long gone and the stars lingering to listen too.

Wrecker

Wrecker is an expert at savouring sunsets and turns them into memorable evenings. He plans everything thoroughly, carefully selecting your favourite snacks and drinks, and arranging a cosy nest of blankets and pillows for the two of you. His primary goal is to lavish you not only with a picturesque scene but also with immense love and adoration that those quiet moments are perfect for.

One evening after an early dinner, Wrecker placed a blindfold over your eyes and carefully led you into the sparse copse close to where you landed. When he removed the fabric, a wave of awe washed over you. Dimmed lanterns gently swung between the boughs. As you approached the bank of the lake, you noticed a delightful arrangement of blankets and cushions, and a food hamper. He had even scattered vibrant petals around the area too. He gently grasped your hand and settled you down, pulling you close as the sun started to descend, all the while whispering words of love in your ear. You both spent the night there, sleeping in each other’s embrace until daylight broke again.

Crosshair

The first time you and Crosshair experienced a sunset together, it happened spontaneously. While hauling supply crates into the ship, you paused for a moment to witness the sky change. Noticing you’d stopped, Crosshair asked what you’d seen, thinking there was danger, but he relaxed a little once you explained you were merely fascinated by the way the sunlight cut through the trees. He couldn’t comprehend why some were so captivated by it, but you seemed to relish it, so he watched a little longer. The sunsets after that, you would sit in solitude, taking in the impressive sight. Eventually Crosshair joined you, secretly revelling in the way his surroundings grew calm. There were no loud noises or screams, or frightful sprints back to the ship. Everything was perfectly quiet.

Seated in a shaded spot and watching the bright star dip one peaceful evening, he began to talk. He knew you were curious about certain parts of his past, and he assured you that you were free to ask whatever you wanted. He’d answer honestly, no detail spared or horror held back. You caught the vulnerability in his voice and didn’t want to pry, but when you glanced up at him, you could see he wanted to tell you; he just needed a bit of prompting. So you asked him everything you had ever wondered, every brief allusion he had ever made to the dark patches in his past. True to his word, he opened up. With each sunset you witnessed together, he would divulge more, disclosing personal details that even his brothers didn’t know about and dismantling the emotional fortress he had built around himself.

Tech

When it comes to Tech, observing a sunset is initially approached as a scientific study. Every planet he visits, he positions himself at the best vantage point, datapad in hand as he records the angle of the descent, the trajectory, the variation in hues, and cross-references it with data from other planets. He will talk while he observes, explaining exactly what he’s doing to fill the silence between you. Your one-sided conversations often end with him rambling for some time, not that you mind. You can see the joy radiating from him as he indulges in it. But there’s a small part of you that wants nothing more than to nestle into his arms and watch it together. Over time, he notices small subtle cues that you aren’t enjoying the sunsets as much as he is, and after confiding in Wrecker, he realises why.

The next sunset was one you wouldn’t forget soon. You joined Tech as usual, plonking yourself down on the makeshift bench as the twin suns chased each other towards the eastern horizon. Fiery hues blended in the middle and the sky and began to burn gold, clouds and birds fleeing the impending night. For the first time since you can remember, Tech was not engrossed in the streams of information filtering through his datapad. In fact, you couldn’t see it anywhere on his person. He encircled his arms around your shoulders and brought you close to him. Instead of offering facts, he commented on the breathtaking beauty of the sunset and how he cherished the opportunity to experience it with you.

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