Tumgir
#bad batch crosshair
moonstrider9904 · a day ago
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oops I made another one
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marveloushunter · 2 days ago
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Where did I go wrong?
I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life.
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arachnidaszypalo · a day ago
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Simple doodle
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lorjukka · 2 months ago
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they peeking 👀
[please reblog if you like it]
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003mm · 10 months ago
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Credit to @Bribinart
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rebekadjarin · a month ago
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CROSSHAIR
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CROSSHAIR
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CROSSHAIR
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wolveria · 2 months ago
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Yielding
Pairing: Crosshair x Female Reader
Rating: 18+ only, Explicit Sexual Content
Summary: Tired of seeing you miserable with one failed date after another, Crosshair takes matters into his own hands.
Word Count: 6k
AO3
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You stepped onto the gangplank of the Marauder, and for the first time in what seemed like a long time, you could breathe.
It wouldn’t have been a particularly nice breath to most people. The ship held the air of being lived-in by five grown men in a cramped space, but it felt like coming home in a way your own apartment never did.
Unfortunately, the ship also appeared to be abandoned, the boys nowhere in sight. You turned to leave, stomach falling with disappointment, when a soft noise came from the direction of the bunks. Upon investigation you found Hunter there, splayed out on his bunk with an arm over his eyes.
“Headache?” you asked softly. He gave a grunt of affirmation, not at all surprised to see you there. He’d probably heard you coming from halfway down the block.
“79’s didn’t do me any favors.”
“Ah. Is that where the rest of the boys are?”
“Mhmm. Want me to tell ‘em you’re here?”
Your stomach churned again, but not with disappointment.
“No, that’s okay.”
“Well, you’re welcome to stick around until they get back.” He peered at you from under his arm, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Special occasion?”
“Ugh.” You glanced down at your attire. Black leggings, a tight skirt, and a halter top with a light jacket wasn’t your usual affair, but this wasn’t supposed to be a usual night. “Not anymore.”
“Something happen?”
You shrugged, wincing as you shifted from one foot to another.
“I was stood up. Again. No big deal.”
He spoke your name, the word edged with concern.
“And I had to do a bit of walking since it wasn’t in the best part of the city. It’s fine, nothing happened.”
Hunter’s gaze narrowed, but you planned your escape before he could further comment.
“I’ll be in the cockpit,” you announced, tugging at the hem of your skirt even though it was perfectly straight. You’d considered stopping by the apartment and changing, but you didn’t want to go home yet, defeated and alone with sore feet and stiff ankles.
He said nothing as you retreated to the helm of the ship, and you slid into the copilot seat with a sigh. As soon as your back hit the cushioned seat, the tension seeped from your muscles. The glitter of Coruscant from the viewport was gorgeous at this angle of the hangar. The city lights were thrown before you like an ocean of stars, reflecting the constellations in the night sky.
Less than five minutes had passed, just as you were beginning to doze off, when light footsteps padded up the gangplank. You angled your head, focusing on the rhythm and weight of each step, and the quiet carefulness told you exactly who it was.
Your chair shifted as someone leaned his arm across the back.
“You look nice,” the voice drawled, all silk and velvet. “Going somewhere?”
“Nope.”
Ordinarily, you would have been happy to see him, but the tension was back in your spine. You opened your eyes to stare out the viewport, but the sniper wasn’t about to be ignored.
Crosshair swiveled the chair with an expert placement of his foot, turning you to face him. You didn’t look at him, an impressive feat when he filled your field of view.
The shift of his hips drew your eye anyway, your gaze flicking up long legs, across his chest where his arms were folded, and up to his lean face. He mouthed at a toothpick, gaze narrowed in annoyance. You couldn’t begin to guess why, annoyance seemed to be his default setting, but he generally wasn’t annoyed at you. Not in any serious manner.
“What?” you finally asked, crossing your own arms over your chest if only to shield yourself from his imposing stare.
“Why didn’t you comm?”
You blinked.
“Why would I do that?”
He shifted the toothpick to the other side of his mouth, jaw so tight you worried he’d snap it in half, but he leaned his weight against the dashboard and gave a shrug.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you were stranded without transportation.”
Hunter, you silently cursed. The sergeant had the best of intentions, but sometimes you wished he was less of a dad.
“I’m fine,” you insisted, frowning. “I’m not going to comm every time I run into trouble.”
“Perhaps you wouldn’t run into trouble if you picked the company you kept with more care.”
You stood to your full height, still shorter than Crosshair even with him leaning against the flight controls.
“What did you say?”
He languidly got to his feet, towering over you, and making your posturing look like a joke.
“You heard me,” he said, voice low as he leaned closer. “And you know I’m right.”
Your mouth hung open. Crosshair had never commented on your failed dating attempts, of which there were an embarrassing many. But he did know about them, seeing as you ended up on the Marauder afterwards if the squad were on planet. Either you’d all head out to 79’s or have a night in of card games and drinking, but the talk would eventually turn to you and your string of bad luck. It would have been humiliating, but the squad was equal parts playful and sympathetic.
All of them teased you about it, except Crosshair. He would go silent during those conversations, grinding down on a toothpick for several minutes before skulking off to another part of the ship. You’d taken it as disinterest, but he seemed very interested now.
“What do you care?” you asked, eyes narrow. “It’s none of your business.”
His smile grew sharp and mean.
“Who was it this time? One of the regs?” He huffed. “That wouldn’t surprise me.”
“No, he’s not a clone trooper.”
Your fists were tight against your thighs, you were practically seething, but Crosshair either didn’t see the signs or didn’t care.
“A civilian? Even worse.”
“I don’t exactly have many options, do I?”
You leaned into his space, and his eyes marginally widened as you poked a finger at the grey armor covering his chest.
“Not all of us are perfect specimens,” you hissed. “Some of us have to settle for less so we don’t wind up alone.”
With one last jab of your finger, which hurt you more than anything, you left Crosshair where he was. You didn’t bother to say goodbye to Hunter as you raced down the gangplank; he would have heard the entire conversation anyway, and you didn’t want his look of pity.
You knocked into a wide set of shoulders once you reached the ground. Wrecker steadied you before you could fall, but you brushed past him and Echo, Tech moving aside before you could knock into him too.
“What’s wrong with ‘er?” Wrecker asked in what was probably supposed to be a whisper but was easily heard from several feet away.
“I’m unsure,” Tech commented. “Crosshair wouldn’t say what Hunter told him over the comm—"
Their voices trailed away as you put distance between you and the ship, and thankfully, no footsteps followed. Arms huddled over your chest, you made your way to the nearby sky lanes and hailed a cab through the blurry haze flooding your vision.
As the lights of the city streamed by, the cab narrowly missing one deadly crash after another, your thoughts turned, as they inevitably did, to the sharpshooter.
Crosshair just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could he? His barbs had never bothered you before, and over the course of getting to know him, you’d realized his prickly side was a cover for how deeply he cared. After the Batch had extracted you and Senator Minora from Separatist captivity, he’d been the one who stayed by your side, firing on any droid who got too close while the rest of the squad cleared the way.
And it was during that mission he’d learned you weren’t easily intimidated. After all, you’d been in the middle of trying to break yourself and the senator out of your cell when the squad had come to the rescue, and when Crosshair had offered you one of his pistols for the escape, you hadn’t shied away. He’d seemed to have a gradual but growing respect for you after that, and you took his teasing of your “terrible” aim a sign that he liked you well enough.
But tonight was something else. Crosshair pushing buttons was normal, but this felt personal. You wished you hadn’t gone to the Marauder, that you’d gone straight to 79’s and found him in a better mood there. In fact, Crosshair half-drunk and hunched over the table was the only time you could get away with things like spreading your fingers through his hair and scratching the back of his scalp. He would melt under the touch, burying his face in his arms in a poor attempt to hide the blush creeping up his neck.
That was the Crosshair who was your friend, not the cold version staring you down in the cockpit.
The cab arrived at your building too quickly, and you trudged up the stairs, each aching step another tally to the score of your misery. You jabbed the keys of your doorpad before stalking into your apartment, throwing down your purse and yanking off your jacket. The leggings came off next, stripped down your legs and tossed to the floor on your way to the bathroom. Your anger wouldn’t settle as you washed your face, glaring at your reflection in the ugly yellow light above the mirror.
There was a rattle on your balcony, followed by the creak of the door moving along its sliders.
Moving on instinct, you crept into the hallway and opened your closet, grabbing the blaster hidden under a stack of blankets. Your mouth dry and heart thudding in your ears, you took a breath and moved into the dark living room.
You raised the blaster, aimed it at the balcony door, and lowered it with a long exhalation.
“Eight-point-nine seconds,” Crosshair said, leaning in the doorway. “Sloppy. You’d be dead twice over by now.”
“Lucky me.” You set the blaster on a side table to remove the temptation to shoot him anyway. “What are you doing here?”
The toothpick was back in the corner of his mouth, and you hoped he hadn’t chewed on it while riding the speeder hovering next to your balcony.
“I was going to give you a ride, since you live in such a wonderful neighborhood.” He eyed a particularly large crack going down one wall, the sound of multiple sirens wailing through the open doorway. “But I see you have, once again, survived despite your best efforts.”
You scoffed in disbelief. First, he mocked your choice in dates, and now he was being rude about your living situation? Of course you couldn’t afford to live in a better part of the city! Being employed as an attaché to the senator of a small system barely paid anything, and he knew that.
“What do you want, Crosshair?”
You stood before him, equal parts weary and angry. His sharp eyes wandered your face, perhaps seeing the lack of patience there. Or perhaps not.
“I just told you.”
“No, you told me what you were doing here.” You scowled. “You didn’t say why you’re still here.”
He pushed off the doorframe, flicked his toothpick over the balcony railing with perfect accuracy, and walked forward until he was towering over you.
“Making sure you don’t spend the evening wallowing in your own misery.”
Your lips crinkled into a snarl. You were just forming the words to tell him to fuck off when he cupped his gloved hands around your jaw and leaned in.
Your body stiffened, lips parted in surprise, and Crosshair made his move. His mouth on yours was like a lightning bolt down the spine, rooting you to the spot as a hot flash shot through your limbs.
You were pliant as he guided you backwards, long-fingered hands on your shoulders until your back was flat against the wall. He broke the kiss, which couldn’t have been longer than a couple of seconds but seemed to last an eternity, his gaze a dark amber.
You tried to speak but nothing came, your brain short-circuited and able to think of nothing past his lanky form pinning you. He smirked and moved his hands away.
To your horror you leaned forward, aching for the lost contact, and his smirk grew. There was a light pressure on the base of your throat as his hand returned, pressing you back to your place against the wall. The touch was featherlight, you could have easily shoved him away, but you remained obediently still. You were mesmerized by this side of him you’d never seen before, hadn’t even known existed, let alone that it would be focused your way.
“Look at you.” His hand traced up your neck, long fingers holding your jaw easily. “All it took to make you calm down was a kiss.”
You frowned, the space between your brow tightening, and you opened your mouth only to have Crosshair claim it again.
This time, a breathy, quiet moan left you, and he swallowed it whole. Crosshair licked into your mouth but only barely, teasing you, and you weren’t proud of the way you tried to chase the kiss.
He pulled back, holding onto your jaw so you couldn’t follow. His lips pulled into an amused tilt.
“See?”
You swallowed, staring at his mouth as if it was all you wanted in the world. And really, it was.
“If you… if you’re going to make fun of me,” you panted, “then you can just… just go. I’ve had enough games for one night.”
The smile disappeared, his gaze hardening.
“You know me better than that,” he said, breath hot against your lips. “I don’t play games.”
You thought you were prepared for the next kiss, but you were wrong. Everything up until this moment was just a preview of what Crosshair was capable of. His lips on yours were hot and filthy, his tongue delving into your mouth without waiting for permission, claiming what he seemed to know had always been his. His hand around your jaw kept you in place as he licked and tasted and curled his tongue around yours.
You groaned, almost helpless with want, the way his tongue fucked into your mouth leaving your knees ready to buckle.
You wavered, and Crosshair reached down and placed his free hand under your thigh, hooking it around his hip. His fingertips danced down your bare leg, the shock of it drawing a gasp from your mouth.
He pulled back enough to get a good look at you, preening at your debauched state. His fingers were still curled under your knee.
“I like this much better.” His hand moved back down, gripping the flesh of your thigh. Your hips moved at the pressure, and the pleased smirk returned as he kept you pressed flat against the wall. The hard curve of his pelvic plate rubbed against your clit, the thin fabric of your underwear the only barrier. The cold shock of it sent heat through your core and up your cheeks.
“How far do you want me to take this?” he drawled, lips lazily tracing your temple. “Best tell me now.”
Despite your leg around his waist and his hips gently grinding against yours, your dignity wasn’t in tatters quite yet.
“That… depends.”
“On?”
You looked away, unable to meet those molten eyes if you were to form the words.
“If this means… anything to you,” you said. “Or if this is your way of feeling sorry for me.”
A growl rumbled in his throat. Any sane person would have cowered at the sound so close to their ear, but you squeezed your eyes shut as a rush of warmth bloomed in your core.
Crosshair moved back just enough to pry off the front of his codpiece, and your eyes flew open when his hard length pressed against you, straining at his bodysuit.
“Does this feel like pity?” he asked, the growl still in his voice.
You met his gaze, your mouth running dry.
“No,” you whispered.
“How far. Do you want me. To take this.”
Before you couldn’t meet his eye, and now you couldn’t look away. The dark want in them was captivating, and you didn’t break eye contact as you took the hand still wrapped around your jaw and dragged it downward.
Crosshair didn’t look away either, his gaze narrowing as you traced his fingers down your top, across your stomach, and over your abdomen. His eyes widened when you slipped his hand under your skirt and pressed his fingers against your soaked underwear.
“I want all of you, Cross.”
He let out a growl, pulled away his hand and used it to catch your other thigh, hoisting both of your legs around his waist and completely lifting you off the ground.
You gave a startled noise and wrapped your arms around his neck, and he leaned you back against the wall. With you wedged in place and not going to fall, he delved his fingers back under your skirt, slipped past the waistband of your underwear, and stroked your folds.
You shuddered against him with a whine, both at the sensation and your precarious position, but Crosshair wasn’t letting you go. The tips of his fingers massaged your entrance and his mouth latched to your throat.
The noise he forced from you as his thumb found your clit wasn’t one you’d ever made before, and you groaned as two fingers easily slid up to the first knuckle.
“You sound so pretty like this,” he purred. “Already soaking wet. Did you prep yourself?”
You shook your head, burying your face in his neck as your cheeks burned.
“All for me, then.” The smirk was audible in his words. “I should have done this sooner.”
Your hum of agreement turned into a muffled cry as he slid in the rest of the way, up to the last knuckle, and stars burst before your eyes when he curled them. Those stars turned to fireworks when he rubbed small circles into your clit, and you leaned your head back against the wall, surrendering what was left of your control.
Crosshair took the opportunity to lick the exposed parts of your neck, lips tracing the column of your throat as his fingers worked in tandem, rubbing and thrusting against your sweet spots.
“Cross,” you gasped out. “If you… keep going… I’m going to come.”
“That’s the idea,” he said lazily in contrast to the precision of his fingers. “I’m going to make you come harder than anyone has before, using only my hand.”
You whimpered. He’d already succeeded in making you feel better than anyone else had, but Crosshair wasn’t one to stop at half-measures. He exceeded with everything he did, and right now, that was to make you clench around him.
“Crosshair.”
“Come for me, sweetheart.”
The command sent you over the edge, reeling as your vision whited out before you slammed back into awareness. You throbbed around him, his fingers still rubbing until you stopped him with a shuddering whimper.
“That’s it,” he purred into your ear, placing a small kiss there. “You did so well for me.”
You melted at the praise, barely having the strength to keep your arms and legs wrapped around him, but you didn’t want him to let you down. Instead, when he pulled out of you, you groaned and rubbed against his hard length.
“Want me to fuck you right here against this wall?” he asked, the words crude but his tone nearly affectionate as he gently pet your hips.
You nodded, still gasping for breath while trying to calm your racing heart.
“Please.”
His eyes sparkled with mirth.
“So polite. Who knew it only took an orgasm to make you a good girl.”
Maker, he was going to be the death of you if he kept talking like that.
“Please, Crosshair.”
You rubbed yourself against him more insistently. His hands tightened around your hips to still them, his gaze growing dark again as his sharp eyes roved over your face. He looked a predator deciding which part to devour first.
“Maybe later,” he said, voice low. “I want to do this right.”
Before you could ask what he meant, he grabbed your ass with one hand and wrapped the other around your back. You tightened your legs just in time for him to lift you from the wall, and you held on fast, opening your eyes when you sensed he wouldn’t drop you. It was easy to overlook his strength because of his wiry frame, but he carried you as if you weighed nothing, all the way to your bedroom, which he somehow knew the location of despite never being there before.
He laid you at the edge of the bed and you remained there, leaning on your elbows so you could get a better view of him in the dim light.
Crosshair sent you a small but sharp grin as he began to strip. First came the grey plastoid armor, each piece removed with quick efficiency, but once those were gone, he took his time with his bodysuit. He removed the top portion, leaving his smooth chest bare, and your fingers itched to trace over the valleys and ridges of his muscles. But it was the sizable bulge that drew your gaze, and his smile took on a teasing glint.
“Like what you see?”
He slowly rolled down his suit, revealing the weeping head of his cock, flushed and pretty. You didn’t think a cock could be pretty, but his certainly was.
“I hope so,” he continued as the suit was pulled past his hips. “It’s all for you.”
Your skin was hot, your mouth flooded with saliva at the length curved against his abdomen. You couldn’t begin to guess where he kept it all with that tight pelvic plate he wore.
“I do like it, very much,” you said after finding your voice. “You’re gorgeous.”
Anyone else might have missed it, but you spotted the slight widening of his eyes and the bob of his throat as he swallowed.
He didn’t waste time after that. Kicking off the bottom of his suit, Crosshair wedged himself between your spread thighs, dipping his head so you couldn’t see his face, which meant he was definitely blushing. He fidgeted with the hem of your top, your breath catching in your throat as he pressed against you completely naked while you were still clothed.
“Want these to come off or stay on?” he rasped against your ear. “I’ll make you feel good either way.”
Fingers trembling in your haste, you pulled your top over your head and tried to wiggle out of your skirt.
Smirking at your enthusiasm, Crosshair helped tug it down your legs, leaving you in only a bandeau and underwear. It was the nicest pair you owned, lacy at the edges and made of a soft black material.
His eyes went dark as they roved, starving, over your body.
“You wore this for him?”
Crosshair leaned in, a possessive hand gripping your hip.
“He doesn’t deserve you.” His gaze was molten amber. “None of them do.”
His lips on yours, hard and unyielding, left you without breath as he pushed you flat against the mattress. His deft fingers stripped your underwear down your legs and your bandeau over your head with that same efficiency he tackled every mission.
You groaned into his mouth, the noise pitching into a whine when he stroked the head against your folds. Goosebumps breaking out on your skin, you wrapped your legs around his waist and one arm around his back. The other you curled around his neck, your fingernails scrapping against the back of his scalp.
He pulled from your lips with a growl and kissed down your jaw until he reached your neck, nipping the sensitive skin there.
When you bucked your hips upward, Crosshair took advantage of the angle and pushed. The head of his cock slid in easily between your slick folds. Your back arched as you gasped, the stretch as he continued to push dizzying.
Sensing your discomfort he slowed, but you held onto him tighter and shook your head.
“Cross, please, don’t stop. I’m-I’m fine.”
“Good.” His voice simmered in a way that left your skin tingling. “But I’m going to take my time with you, pretty girl. I won’t stop until you unravel and beg for your release.”
Crosshair slipped his hand between you and pressed his thumb against your clit. You made a choked noise as you clenched on the head of his cock, and he let loose another growl as he pushed in further.
You arched your back, head pressed against the sheets, and his lips returned to your neck, sucking and licking as he drew torturous circles around your nub. It made your entrance tighter but slicker, sending contradictory signals of pleasure and pain, though it was quickly turning to pleasure as the curve of his cock rubbed against the spot inside that made your toes curl.
The noises you made were unabashed, any shyness you had gone as he bottomed out. The stretch was a wonderful pressure, and Crosshair’s languid circles against your clit left you approaching the edge, even as his cock remained unmoving inside you.
“Please,” you offered what remained of your composure. “Please, Cross, I need you.”
“You have me.”
His lips traced your jaw, his words puffs of air against your skin.
“You’ve always had me.”
His hips pulled back, almost all the way to the head, before he slammed back in.
You released a startled cry, barely able to take another breath before he did it again. Both hands gripped your hips, his knees braced against the edge of the bed as he fucked down into you. He angled you upwards so each stroke went deep, every thrust striking the bundle of nerves against your inner wall.
You reached the edge faster than you ever had before, holding on for dear life as Crosshair picked up his pace. If he’d wanted to go slow, that time was over, and he fucked into you like a man possessed.
You made a needy noise as you clenched around him, so close but unable to tip over the edge, and you begged him, each word a sobbing mess.
“Maker, Cross, please, fuck me, please—”
He was already fucking you within an inch of your life, but they were the only words your brain could muster. Either way, he understood.
Crosshair tilted your hips at a steeper angle, practically spearing you on his lap, and he reached between you to press his thumb sloppily against your clit.
As soon as he touched you, the band in your abdomen snapped and you cried out. It was the only noise you made, breath stolen as you clenched around him like a vice, your slick soaking his pelvis and running down your ass.
Crosshair made a low, wrenching noise as he lost his rhythm, his grip on you bruising as he buried himself to the hilt and spilled inside you.
You held him close, one hand between his shoulder blades and the other rubbing the nape of his neck in a soothing motion. You didn’t know why you did it, maybe because he’d seemed to like when you did it before, but you still didn’t expect him to melt in your arms and bury his face in your neck. You smiled, blissed-out and hazy, and neither of you were in a hurry to move from your tangle of limbs.
He finally pried himself from your grasp, and you made a small, unhappy sound as he pulled out.
His smile was close-lipped and amused before he disappeared down the hall. You were just rising until your elbows, wincing at the sore muscles announcing themselves, when Crosshair returned.
“Don’t move.”
You blinked up at him as he bent over you and began to clean you with a damp towel. The easy contentment he’d had while wrapped around you a moment ago was vanishing, replaced by the usual tension on his brow and in the line of his lips.
After he was done and began to turn away, you grabbed his wrist, gentle enough that if he wanted to pull away, he could.
“Stay?”
His eyes widened imperceptivity as he studied your face. And then he bent down and scooped you up, carrying you to the head of the bed and setting you down proper. Before you could blink he was right beside you, pulling the covers over you both.
Well, that hadn’t taken much convincing. Nor did he stiffen or get annoyed when you gravitated to him and wrapped your limbs around him. Instead, the ease returned, and he held you close as if it’s what he’d wanted all along.
You rested your chin against his collarbone, allowing your own stiff muscles to relax at his familiar, comforting scent.
“If you have somewhere else you need to be—”
“I don’t.”
His bluntness made you smile. But the realization of what you’d done was slowly seeping in, the weight of it resting on your shoulders, and the smile faded.
“Thank you for… this,” you finally said, not sure how else to word it.
He gave a huff, his characteristic snark making a return, softened by the fact his chin was resting on top of your head.
“Don’t thank me.”
You stiffened. He released another breath, one hand moving up your back to draw slow circles along your spine until you relaxed again.
“I told you it wasn’t out of pity,” he continued. “It wasn’t a favor, either.”
“Then… why?”
There it was, the question circling around your head, swooping in right after you’d come down from your high and whispering in your ear that this was a one-time thing. Nothing more.
His next words shattered that assumption.
“I wanted to.”
“You… wanted to?”
The motions of his fingers along your back stopped as he pressed his hand flat against your spine, pulling you in tight.
“I didn’t fuck you into the mattress because I was bored and needed to pass the time, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
You buried your face against his chest, cheeks burning, but Crosshair didn’t let you hide. He dipped his fingers under your chin to tilt your face upwards, his sharp eyes burnished with heat.
“You seem to be under the impression this means nothing to me.”
“How can it?” The words came out faster than you could stop them. “Just look at you. And look at me.”
He moved with the silent, uncanny grace of a cat as he moved on top of you, hips between your legs before you could blink.
“I am looking,” he answered, voice smooth. “Look any closer and I’ll be buried inside that delicious cunt of yours, which is fine by me.”
You made a strangled noise in your throat as his hard length slid along your folds.
“Cross.”
“Is that a yes?”
You struggled to respond, your hips tilted upward in a silent plea, but Crosshair shifted onto his knees, no longer rubbing against you.
Your annoyed whine became a shuddering moan as he claimed your lips, the kiss gentle enough so you could breathe but insistent enough to send a fresh wave of heat through your core.
He moved back slowly, his thumb stroking along the side of your jaw.
“I’ve wanted this for a long time.”
The roughness of his voice glided up your spine.
“A long, long time. Every night you went out with one of those mouth-breathers, my trigger finger itched. And every time you returned, alone and with that sad look on your pretty face—”
He rolled his hips against yours, sending sparks through your core as his length dragged along your folds.
“—I wanted to fuck you right there against the hull of the ship, whether my brothers were there or not. They could watch for all I cared.”
“Cross,” you pled again, fingers digging into his back.
“Don’t believe for a moment this means nothing to me.” Another roll of his hips to prove his point. “It means everything.”
You couldn’t take it anymore. The longing, the countless lonely nights, wishing things could be different every time the lanky sniper sent you one of his rare smiles. The words spilled out of you in a rush.
“I never let them touch me. I didn’t want them, it was always you, Cross—”
With a deep growl, he snapped his hips forward and plunged into you with one smooth motion.
You cried out, barely able to hold on as he picked up the pace, fucking you relentlessly, each thrust wet and obscene. You could barely think, each drive of his hips tightening your walls, the curve of his cock hitting that spot with ruthless efficiency.
You couldn’t speak, either to tell him to slow down or to beg for more, you simply held on for dear life. Crosshair had fucked you hard before, but this was purposeful and driven, leaving you practically choking on your own pleasure.
There were no thoughts in your head besides how much you wanted him, and when he growled out a command for you to come on his cock, his thumb grinding against your clit, your thoughts vanished altogether.
Your abdomen tightened in an unfamiliar way, and with a snap, there was a rush of warmth and tingling pleasure. By the way he gripped your hips tight and buried himself up to the hilt, it must have driven him over the edge.
“Fuck,” he bit out in a soft growl, burying his face in your neck as he panted. You fought to catch your breath, shivering with each aftershock around his cock.
He pulled out, gentle enough to minimize the sting, and instead of rolling over next to you or getting another towel, he pulled you up in his arms before you could protest.
“Cross,” you groaned, your words slurred from the midst of your haze. “Put me down.”
“You made a mess of us.”
His usual silky voice was rough from the exertion of fucking you hard, twice, and despite your own exhaustion, your body stirred.
You didn’t have the energy to argue, and you certainly didn’t want to after he set you in the shower and you realized he was going to join you. Getting to see his tall, lanky form in the light, all lithe muscle and smooth skin, was enough to make your body give a valiant effort at arousal, but you were too tired to do anything about it. Between the warm water hitting your back and Crosshair washing your body with tender care, you were half-dozing on your feet.
When you were both sufficiently clean and he shut off the water, Crosshair toweled you both dry and said, “Have any extra sheets?”
“In the closet,” you mumbled into his shoulder, leaning against him for support and a need for affection. “I’ll worry about that tomorrow. We can just sleep on the couch.”
Despite everything, a part of you braced for the rejection of Crosshair making a quick exit. He did no such thing, instead picking you up in his arms and carried you naked into the living room.
“Going to spoil me by carrying me everywhere.”
“What a shame.”
You groggily smiled. Despite everything, at least this hadn’t changed.
Your couch was spacious enough for two people, though it was a tight fit, and the cushions were thick enough to sleep on. You’d purchased it specifically if any of the Batch needed a place to crash, and you never could have imagined you’d be using it for this.
Crosshair laid you down, grabbed the blanket off the back, and squeezed behind you. He covered you both and tucked your back against his chest, his body warding off the chill of the poorly insulated building.
“You really do live in an unpleasant hovel,” Crosshair purred against your ear. “Ever considered better lodging?”
“Mmhmm.” Your eyes drifted shut, losing the struggle keep them open with your body encompassed in warmth. “But I don’t think there’s room for me on the Marauder.”
“Could stay in my bunk. Keep you as a pet.”
You snorted, but when Crosshair remained quiet, you realized he might actually be serious. At least, about the staying in his bunk part.
“As much as I would love to, my job’s here on Coruscant. And you and the squad go where the war takes you.” You took his hand and weaved your fingers through his. “But the offer is tempting.”
Crosshair’s muscles relaxed, and you realized he might have been waiting for a rejection.
“But you’ll come see me whenever you’re planetside, right?”
Your voice wavered, unsure, but Crosshair was right there to wrap his arms around your waist and prop his head against your shoulder.
“I would much rather spend the time with you than with my brothers.”
You let out a soft snort, but still, you smiled. That’s how Crosshair was. What often sounded like an insult was something deeper, if one cared to take the time to understand him.
He nuzzled your ear, planting a kiss below the earlobe. He wanted this to happen again, even if it was difficult for him to say the words, but that was all right. You were learning to listen when no words were spoken.
“It’s a date.”
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donkey-rider · a month ago
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*The Bad Batch watching a nature documentary*
Tech's S/O: If we were both penguins, would you bring me rocks for my nest?
Tech: of course my love
Omega: awh that's so sweet <3
Crosshair: I want to leave
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peapa-artist · a year ago
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Cross and Tech are the siblings who give eachother the most shit let's be real
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echos-newlegs · 5 months ago
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could you write something about how the members of the bad batch would react to being called pretty 👉👈
Oml yesyesyes sorry for the delayed response to this but YEAHHH-
Warnings: none
The Bad Batch Reacting to You Calling Them Pretty:
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Hunter:
The first time he heard it he was a bit surprised.
Pretty? That wasn't the first time someone told him he was, but from you it felt.. Different.
You were his everything, even if the two of you weren't in a relationship yet. Everything that you said to him meant the world to him.
So when you called him pretty he was standing there with a lost expression on his face.
"You think so?" "I know so."
He would make it in his best effort to compliment you back. Where it be with a simple endearment, or with acts of kindness. Letting you know that he greatly appreciates everything that you do for him.
He would also swoon no matter how many times you call him things like 'pretty,' 'handsome', or literally anything that's a compliment to his looks. He needs the hype.
Tech:
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
This sweet boy hasn't been complimented on his looks a lot. Let alone called pretty.
His heart would be beating a hundred miles a minute while he internally screams. Raking his brain for any sort of information to help him process.
"Pretty? That's not what I would call myself." "Then what would you call yourself?" "Well.. I don't know, but not that."
You would ask him if he wants you to not call him that.
"What? No! I mean, it's fine. I like the compliment. Thank you, you're very pretty yourself, so much that words can hardly express it."
He'd be flustered because you'd be flustered at his sudden admission.
If you kiss his cheek there will be a 404 ERROR going on in his brain. He will just sit there and stare for a good 20 seconds before being all,
"Wait, did you kiss me? You kissed me." And then he would overthink everything.
So please do not just leave him sitting there.
Wrecker:
My man will seek any sort of validation or kind comments from you
They remind him that you like him and aren't mad at him. Or that he annoys you.
When you call him pretty, he may just kind of stare blankly at you for a second, but then he breaks out into this big grin.
He's pull you in for a huge hug, because dammit you made his whole week with just that simple compliment.
"You're pretty, too!" He'd tell you with a chuckle. Putting you back down onto the ground.
He expects you to tell him how pretty or handsome he is anytime you get the chance now. This is now your job.
He'd brag about it to everyone, too
"Yeah, y/n called me pretty. Which means I am prettier than all of you." "Technically, Wrecker, it would be 'more pretty,' not 'prettier.'" "Tech, I don't care."
Crosshair:
"What did you just call me?"
You would have to repeat yourself. And he would still stare at you like you just called him hideous.
You would ask if you did something wrong, but he would shake his head 'no,' and just walk off.
He isn't one for compliments. They scared him. They make him feel more attached to the person that is giving them to him, and he hates them for that.
Okay, he doesn't actually hate you, but it does scare him, and he may end up avoiding you for a bit.
Even if he did kind of like the compliment.
No, he really liked it, it even went to his head a bit..
"Hey, Crosshair, I'm sorry about calling you pretty.. I didn't mean to upset you, I won't do it again."
He would be upset with himself for making you think he was upset with you. Sure, you scared him a bit, but he wasn't mad. He couldn't be mad at you.
He would half-ass explain the situation and why it startled him. That he wasn't used to being called anything positive. That he did appreciate it though.
If you smile when he says he enjoyed it, you'll get a smile out of him, too.
"Well, it is true, Cross'"
He'd be giddy with joy, but just roll his eyes at you.
This is definitely feeding his ego for the next few weeks.
Echo:
He would be smiling so shyly when you tell him.
Rubbing the back of his head bashfully, and looking everywhere but at you.
"You don't mean that.." "Oh, but I do."
He'd look at you like you hung the planets in every system.
he would feel absolutely lucky to have you in his life, too.
"Can you tell me everything about me you think is pretty?"
He would be thrilled when you tell him everything you think is pretty about him.
Also from now on, expect him to come to you when he feels insecure so you can hold him and assure him he is in fact pretty and an amazing human being.
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chopper-base · a month ago
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Hunter: Cross, where are you going?
Crosshair: to get ice cream or commit a war crime. We'll decide in the ship.
Hunter: ...'we'? Who is 'we'?
Omega: *following Crosshair* it'll probably be ice cream-
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kamino-coruscant · a year ago
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Crosshair and Wrecker's Relationship
The Clone Wars S7 and The Bad Batch
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crosshairscyare · 5 months ago
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sniper appreciation post 🔥
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wowsomanynames · 9 months ago
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Damn toothpick :d
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suck-a-egg · 4 months ago
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Rex: That sounds like a terrible plan. The Bad Batch: Oh, we've had worse.
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lisasstars · 9 months ago
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I absolutely loved the fact that despite Wrecker having a fear of heights he didn’t hesitate to jump down and save Crosshair. His friend, his brother. ��️
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I miss them working together; always trying to top the other, but in a friendly competitive way between brothers. 😭❤️
I really hope one day they will be like this again. 🥺🤞
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tis-the-marmot · a year ago
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Grumpy rat spending time with his family c:
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wolveria · 4 months ago
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Bonus: ✨Puppy eyes✨
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shane-isa-shame · 4 months ago
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The Bad Batch Unpopular Opinion/Hot Take
Crosshair would be actually pretty touchy with his partner. Yes, even in front of others (or at least the Batch).
Like:
Pulling them into his lap while discussing some mission with the Team & completely not acknowledging it
They stare for a sec but what they gonna do? Moving on
Holding them close while in the market to get supplies (handholding, arm over shoulder, etc.)
Crosshair is absolutely the guy to do the one arm on doorway leaning thing
And his partner would be trapped between him and the doorframe more often than not
Hugs from behind (by either him or his partner) when the other one is listening to something Tech is explaining
He loves leaning his head on their shoulder when tired
Or nuzzling his face in the crook of their neck, while hugging from behind
Kisses are more of a private thing tho
There will be some small ones as a gesture but it’s rare outside the closed doors
And he still doesn’t particularly talk much
but there is way more touching (in my opinion) than most people write him with
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rebekadjarin · 11 months ago
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Tup killed a jedi and we still love him. It was the chip.
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Jesse wanted to execute Ahsoka. It was the chip.
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Same with Rex. He almost did it because of the chip.
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They all executed order 66.
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Wrecker almost killed his brothers but we're quick to forgive him. It wasn't him. It was the chip.
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Why is Crosshair different? Why would he deserve what he's getting? He's the same as Tup, Jesse, Rex, the 501st and Wrecker. We are quick to forgive them but not Crosshair?
It's also not him. It's the chip.
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