#this week's out of context linguistics lesson inspired by the fact that i cannot shut up about the polynesian language family | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imarvelatthestars · 1 year

Text

Six

Pairings: Wrecker x f!Reader

Warnings: just cuteness, thigh grinding, and a little intelligence/competence kink maybe; references to sex; reader wears glasses and is plus sized coded, but it's not explicit

Notes: At this point, I'm sure no one is surprised I have more Wrecker content. Was this a blatant self insert? Yes. Hush.

Like most clones, at least the ones that are interested in this sort of thing, Wrecker isn't sure what to do when faced with a pretty girl. And the galaxy has loads of them - tall and muscular, short and round, stick thin and broad shouldered and round ankles, and he loves them all. He even likes some of the non-human ones, the ones with pretty purple skin or patterned lekku. So when he sees you for the first time, his reaction is about the same as it usually is.

His breath stutters, his legs tense up and his chest gets tight, his hands go clammy under the gloves, and his heart goes pounding right out of his chest. He knows Hunter can sense it all, but he usually doesn't tease him about it other than a smile and an elbow to the ribs. The rest of the team are thankfully fixated on something else, Tech on his pad while Crosshair and Echo discuss something. It's all nonsense to him, really, because all he can focus on is you.

Your spectacles are the first things he notices. They're not goggles like Tech's, but actual spectacles with transparisteel lenses; he can tell by the way they catch the late afternoon sunlight and refract it across your cheeks. Then he notices your profile, the slope of your nose as it bends to your lips and chin. There's a softness to you, something in your cheeks or your mouth, your shoulders and arms perhaps, or maybe it's the way you've furrowed your brows? He can't put his finger on it. All he knows is that you're disarmingly cute.

The relaxed expression you're sporting suddenly shifts and your entire body moves in response until you're sitting at attention, scrambling about you for something. It takes him a moment to realize that you're writing.

He reacts without thinking. "Hey, Tech." His hand smacks against his brother's shoulder pad and there's a quiet huff of irritation immediately following. "I thought writin' on paper didn't exist anymore."

Tech looks thoroughly unimpressed. "It is an outdated method of preserving information, I'll admit, and much less efficient than any contemporary technologies, but it is still a viable-"

"Well, then why's she usin' it if it's so outdated?"

Four heads go swiveling your direction, following the vague direction of Wrecker's outstretched arm. And suddenly he remembers just how loud he can be, how far his voice carries, because you're suddenly looking up. At him. You're looking at him. Kriff.

He's embarrassed you, he can see it in your eyes, the line between your brows, the way the corners of your mouth have turned down. Double kriff. Shit fuck kriffing stars above, why is he such an idiot? He can hear Echo lightly chastising him and Hunter sighing, but mostly he can hear the blood rushing in his ears because you look so uncomfortable and he feels like such a fool. He was only curious.

"Really living up to your name, aren't you?"

Wrecker turns and glares. "Shut it, Crosshair."

But his brother simply smiles. "You're just mad you scared her off."

"Did not!"

Crosshair points back in your direction with a lift of his chin and sure enough, you're gathering your things under your arm and starting to rise from your seat. Something in the back of his mind screams no! because you looked so perfect sitting there, so pretty with the sun behind you and your spectacles all shiny. You looked interesting, sweet, soft, smart, all until he opened his big mouth.

His entire body wilts. He probably wouldn't have approached you in the first place, but now he definitely can't and it makes him sad.

"I believe you embarrassed her."

"I know," he sighs.

"You probably should not have said that."

If ever there was a time he wished Tech came with an off button, it's now. "Yeah, I know!"

"Lads, lads!" Hunter's voice cuts through it all with the practiced patience of a sergeant. "Settle down. Now's not the time."

Wrecker is still watching you leave and feeling all the while like a kicked massiff.

"Echo, Tech, you two head back to the ship and get it ready. Crosshair, with me. And Wrecker?" Hunter's hand claps on the curve of his pauldron. "You still have a mission to finish."

That has him frowning even more. "I-I do?"

"I believe you have an apology to make. And a comm number to retrieve. Now get going, soldier."

By all rights, you should get along with Tech the most and while the two of you do have plenty in common, you seem to like Wrecker the most. He tries not to brag about it.

And by all those same rights, he shouldn't like you as much as he does. Because you remind him a bit of his brother with the spectacles and intellectual tendencies, but that's where the similarities stop. You're so much kinder, so thoughtful and curious. And you're funny, much funnier than Tech's ever been on purpose.

He likes that you're smart. You love history and other cultures, learning about their art and their religions and all the little intricacies that build up their traditions, and you love sharing them. You love libraries and outdated things like paper and ink and handmade fabrics. He loves that you're not like anyone he's ever known.

You're so soft, he's not sure he'll ever be over it. You have your rough spots, of course - the callouses on your fingers from so many years spent writing things out by hand, the ones on your feet from a lifetime of travel, the dry patches on your elbows - but you are made mostly of gentle curves and swells and dips, even in the most angular lines of your bones. He holds onto the side of your thigh now as you rut against him, marvels at the strength of your muscles beneath all that softness.

"Keep goin', mesh'la," he grunts.

Your voice trembles when you try to speak again. "I can't."

Wrecker shudders as your hot breath fans out across his face. "Go on." Every molecule and atom in his body is straining against his skin, desperate for release, for the pleasure of your mind and body to sing out for him. "Wanna hear you."

When you start to protest again, both his hands suddenly settle on your hips and grind you down on his thigh, and your resounding yelp only serves to egg him on even more.

"Tell me, smart girl. Can't..." White hot arousal shoots up the entire length of his body when one of your knees rubs into his crotch. "Uh, can't let you come 'til you finish tellin' me."

It takes you a long second. You're fighting with yourself, trying to struggle through the fog of pleasure to find the words, and he knows he's not making it any easier for you. But he has to hear you.

"It's... it's because they're from the same, fuck, same linguistic ancestor."

He can't help grinning. "Yeah?"

Your head bobs. "Uh huh." You're mewling by now, whining, all but begging for him to let you come, to touch you where you need it most, to fuck you properly, but he knows you know that won't happen just yet. "I think they split off a couple, couple centuries before the mass emigration, fuck, right there."

He'll never be over how smart you are, either. Never. You're not as smart as Tech, probably no one is, but you're brilliant in your own right and dammit it all if that isn't the sexiest thing about you.

"The numbers," he pants, simultaneously grinding your crotch down onto his leg while bucking his against your knee. "You said somethin' about the numbers. I-I don't-"

Now you're smiling. "That's how you know they share a linguistic ancestor, baby." And Maker, your voice. "Every, every single dialect and language in the tree has the same word for six. Almost, mm, no fluctuation in pronunciation or spelling."

Oh? Wrecker can feel his ears perk up. There's something about that number that he likes. "What's it called?"

You swallow hard as your chest rises and falls. "O-Ono. It's ono."

Warmth bubbles up in the pit of his stomach. He leans into you, puts a hand on the back of your neck to draw you on top of his chest, and sucks on your earlobe for a second. "I think that's how many times I'm gonna make you come. Ono."

The sound you make is utterly profane.

"You like that, pretty girl?"

A shudder ripples up your spine and you all but collapse. Wrecker spreads his big hands out over your shoulder blades, down your back, under the swell of your ass, and he teases his fingertips along the seam of your underthings.

"Please," you whimper into his neck.

Yeah. He thinks you like that a lot. You'll like it even more once he has your legs over his shoulders and his tongue buried in your slick.

#wrecker x reader #wrecker x you #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker x you #wrecker #tbb wrecker #star wars #my beloved husband #this week's out of context linguistics lesson inspired by the fact that i cannot shut up about the polynesian language family #and i think wrecker would like a smart girl who makes him laugh and dazzles him with her special interests

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