Omg I Loved This So Much !!! Nervous Rex Is My Favourite, And Such A Nice Concept Too :)

omg I loved this so much !!! nervous rex is my favourite, and such a nice concept too :)

Necklaces - Rex x f!JediReader

Summary: Rex told himself the necklaces you adorned were only so captivating because Jedi didn’t usually have such things. 

A Rex one shot where we follow Rex working through his thoughts (feelings) about your necklaces. 

Tags/Warnings: CT - 7567/Captain Rex, Jedi Reader, Rex is confused bless him, implied sexual content, alcohol references.

Word count: 1.2k

Author's note: This came to me this afternoon and I had to get it out of my brain. This is for my girlies who love layering their drip and love Rex. Niche? Probably yes.

On a more serious note, this is my first time writing again in years. Do I feel vulnerable posting this? Yes, dear reader, I do. But you gotta start somewhere. Feedback is appreciated :)

— 

It’s not like he hadn’t seen them before. Rex knew that. Many women wore them in a variety of colours, stones, metals, and he didn’t care then. So why, Maker why, was he so captivated by the delicate necklaces you wore around your neck everyday? 

It had been the second thing he’d noticed about you when you’d met. The sterile light of the ship danced across the silky chains, pulling his eyes both up to your neck and down between your cleavage. 

He told himself the necklaces were only so noticeable because Jedi didn’t usually have such things. Wasn’t it forbidden anyway? He thought as he regarded you from afar. 

He’d steal glances at them. He’d watch you untangle the fine chains during moments of respite, lifting your hair away and methodically shuffling the clasps to the back of your neck. He quickly realised you’d toy with them when deep in thought, too. 

He’d watch the chains dangle from your neck when you lent over the command table to point at something, and force his eyes to wherever you were gesturing. Doing his best to ignore the sounds of clinking pendants accompanying your smooth voice. 

He’d watch the way his brothers also took note of them, feeling a lump in his throat and twist in his gut which he didn’t want to name.

— 

He remembered the day he asked you about them. It had been a few months since you’d joined the battalion and while he cringed inwardly at asking such a personal question, he’d grown tired of wondering what the shapes and symbols meant to you. He wanted this information for himself, making sure to ask you when everyone else had left the command room for the evening.

You’d smiled at his question and absentmindedly moved your hands to fiddle with the chains – unaware that you’d mesmerised the Captain in the process – as you explained they were from your home planet. You frowned when you discovered they’d tangled yet again.

“Allow me, ma’am,” Rex stepped forward, feeling like his feet weren’t his own as he moved into your space and tilted his head to get a better look at your neck.

His ears felt so hot he almost didn’t hear you thank him. His hands didn’t betray his nerves as he brought his thick, calloused fingers to the dainty chains. He huffed as he managed to tangle them even more before finally getting the hang of it and gently prying them apart. 

In such close proximity, he almost felt dizzy. He’d never have guessed you’d smell so floral, sweet, womanly. You’d averted your gaze, watching him in your peripheral vision with a small smile. Rex could feel your heartbeat in your neck thrumming away, and resisted reaching out to run his knuckle along your high cheekbones.

—

Then there was that time you joined them at 79s. How could he forget? You’d worn a dress that, while modest, didn’t exactly hide your figure as you sat across the table looking at him. The sweetheart neckline you wore was anything but sweet on Rex’s alcohol-buzzed mind. 

And those necklaces. Fuck… those necklaces, Rex thought as he ran a hand over his face at the booth. They sit so beautifully on your skin, he noted, before realising this was his first time seeing them against your flawless skin and not your robes. Taking another sip of his drink, he shoved down his brain’s traitorous musings of how the chains would lie on your chest if he could lay you down and– 

Standing up, and feeling grateful for his codpiece, Rex went to get some air. He took a woman home that night. She wore necklaces too.

—

And then one day, while lying in his bunk and trying to fall asleep, Rex realised that his fascination with your necklaces actually had very little to do with the necklaces. 

—

It was stupid. Plain bloody stupid. Reckless, too. But there Rex stood. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other outside your door. His heartbeat thundering away. The door opened and you smiled at him. It may as well have been a bullet to his heart. 

“Yes Captain?”

“I-uh, I got you this.”

Rex reached into his utility belt, mentally kicking himself for stammering like a shiny. 

His chest tightened watching you quizzically look over the velvet pouch he’d put in your hand. He almost wished he could take it back. Take it all back and get on with his life again. No matter how much duller it would be.

You gasped as you pulled the necklace from the packaging. A fine golden chain bearing a pearl dangling in the air as you examined it. Rex tried to gauge your reaction. He both wanted to see every minute expression you made, but also to turn away and hide should you hate it or him for doing this. He felt sick. 

“Rex, it’s gorgeous,” you found your voice, “how did you know I’d lost my other one?”

“Hard not to,” Rex shrugged, before wincing at giving himself away. 

Great, now she thinks you're some creep keeping tabs on what she wears, he thought, before groaning inwardly at the realisation that he had been doing exactly that. 

But how could he not know? Rex had noticed your distress when you’d realised that one of your necklaces was missing only a few rotations ago. Most of the men were tired, sitting on the shuttle floor as it carried you to The Resolute. You hadn’t said anything, but you didn’t need to. He noticed. Through his helmet, he watched you clasp the base of your neck, counting your chains with knitted brows, before checking your belt, your pockets, even your boots, before you looked down and pinched your eyes shut. He knew what that expression on you meant by now.

He could feel your hurt from across the shuttle. And he hated it. 

Your soft lips pressed to his cheek snapped Rex back to the present moment. His eyes went wide and body as rigid as durasteel. He just knew his cheeks had flushed.

“Thank you Rex. Would you do the honours?” You fiddled with the new addition to your stack.

Red nodded, his throat too dry to speak. 

He watched you turn around, presenting your neck to him. Gently, so gently, perhaps as cautiously as he’d ever moved in his life, Rex swept your hair to the side. He raised the necklace, taking a selfish moment to breathe you in. He was so scared he’d wake up any minute now, in his bunk with his heart hurting and panicked breathing. 

But when he felt your warm skin under his fingertips, he knew this couldn’t possibly be a dream. Securing the clasp, he thanked the gods above that you liked it. That he hadn’t overstepped. That you’d let him get this close again.

His breath hitched seeing the pearl as you turned around. It looked like it was always meant to be there, falling perfectly between the other jewels and gleaming the light. 

“What do you think?” You asked cheekily. You’d pushed your chest out towards him, as if it would help him see any better.

Maker, are you trying to kill me? 

Rex wracked his brain for an intelligent response. For something that walked the line between professionalism and flattery. He blanked and settled with the truth instead.

“You’re beautiful.” 

Your subsequent blush is unmissable. Rex grins, euphoria flooding his veins and reaching every fibre of his being. 

— fin —

gonna start saying 'I am in touch with my emotions. slay!' as an affirmation from now on

DAY ONE

Rating: General - No Warnings Apply Relationships: Pretty much just platonic with mentioned Foxiyo Genre: Crack Word Count: 1K Prev | Next A/N: Part of the Fives State of Mind Universe. Read Ask Fives in my pinned post or on AO3 for context! Not beta read but I'd like to think if there are any typos, it was intentional on Fives' part given the form this fic is in.

The esteemed advice columnist Fives has taken some time off work to move into his new home. However, he cannot keep away from the pen for too long. Follow a week in the life of Fives through diary entries as he tries to figure out how to live with four Tauntauns while balancing clone rebellion logistics and organising a housewarming party.

Day one of world domination

Dear Diary,

I heard that all the cool kids keep a diary (not a journal) so they can track important life events. Since I’m going to become super famous (I’m already a famous advice columnist but I’m gonna be even more famous), I thought I may as well start working on my autobiography. After all, if someone is going to write about me and make credits off it, it may as well be the man, the myth, the legend itself. No, not Echo. ME. Mr Fivesalicious.

I like to call it peak multitasking - making credits, preparing for my future, and taking time out for self-care. If one is to give advice to the galaxy and guide it into glory, he must also make sure his personal life is glorious too. My mental health is top priority. I think if we were taught on Kamino to communicate our feelings, half of our problems would be fixed.

Well, maybe not half. More like a small portion. But the point stands - I am in touch with my emotions. Slay!

Bob (my precious smol shy baby boi Tauntaun) is currently snuggled up on my lap and fast asleep. I just moved into my new house and I think he took the move really hard. He really loved Hoth Dawg Ranch and they loved him. I don’t blame them. If you don’t love Bob, there is something seriously wrong with you. I’d follow him to the ends of the galaxy if he asked me.

Anyway, the sudden change of environment has been a bit of a shock. He is a bit anxious and the cooling isn’t cold enough for him. I’m going to let him sleep in my room until my sweet son gets settled in.

In the meantime, I’m working on making his floor of the house fivestastic. I’m giving him a whole floor to himself because he deserves it. There’s 6 floors in my house. One for each of my Tauntauns - Obi-Taun Kenobz, Tauntaunakin, Ahsoka Tauntauno, and Bob. Then there's one for Tup, then Echo and I are sharing because that’s been our lifelong dream. We’re gonna have bunk beds and posters on the wall and party every night! He's setting up a super sweet commlink so we can prank call Rex and Cody and Kix. He's a bit reluctant to prank call Wolffe.

I invited Rex to live with us but he said no :( I’m not sure why he refused my offer to move in with us. Why would he want to sleep in his stuffy quarters when he could have a whole floor to himself at the Fives Mansion! (Note to self: come up with a better name).

Bob’s room is gonna be painted dusty blue and Echo’s painting snowflakes on the wall. Jesse found a disco ball out the back of 79s in a dumpster and is borrowing it for Bob’s room. Tomorrow, I’m going to get some fluffy blankets and get the sound system working. I’m hoping that the playlist of ‘Ambient Noises for Tauntauns to Live To’ will help settle his anxiety. It’s really soothing. I think Captain Rexy should listen to it (I probs should have mentioned this earlier, but for context, he’s the Captain of the 501st and practically my Buir). He seems stressed all the time. Especially when I’m in the room. Funny that…

Otherwise, I didn’t really get up to much today other than renovating. The other kiddos are having fun. Obi-Taun Kenobz was sun baking with Echo when I last checked. They both refused to drink water when I offered and insisted on tea. Obi-Taun Kenobz went inside and rummaged through the cupboards and held a bunch of tea bags in his mouth. It was the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.

Ahsoka Tauntauno was bouncing around in our trampoline room. The floor, all the walls, and the ceiling are covered in trampolines. Jesse suggested the idea and I have to say he’s got a point. He’s an icon, he’s a legend, and he is the moment.

Tauntaunakin, oh Tauntaunakin.

Tsk tsk.

He was being super duper emo FOR NO REASON like what?! And he had the AUDACITY to destroy the sunflowers Tup planted in the garden. I’m sure he has some pent up rage and anger issues. He either needs a therapist or some headphones so he can listen to heavy metal music to get his feelings out. Ideally both.

Do Tauntaun therapists exist? (Note to self: ask Echo because he is a genius and practically knows everything).

And then for some reason Tup, my PRECIOUS TUP, got out his blasters and started chasing Tauntaunakin around the garden. I think Tauntaunakin cried. How can Tup be so pure yet so ruthless? But he is such a beautiful soul. And so gentle! The sweet murderous bean is a mystery to me, one that shall take fivesever to solve.

Needless to say, Tup’s not too happy about his sunflowers. But he’s taking a nap in his hammock. I made him put on a bucket hat which was a good idea because the UV index is insane. I never thought I’d ever think about such things, but fatherhood really changes a man.

I’ll have to stop writing soon so I can make them all some sleepy time tea before I read them a bedtime story (we are currently reading Macbeth). It is their favourite part of the day. It’s also mine. They make a wonderful audience. I think I see potential in them to perform tragic plays. Obi-Taun Kenobz, Tauntaunakin, and Ahsoka Tauntauno love playing the witches. Bob prefers to just watch. The others may be born for the stage, but his artistic talent is art itself. His portraits of the Corrie Guard are otherworldly. If you need proof, dear reader from the future who is reading my autobiography diary, interview Marshal Commander Fox. Please just do it anonymously because I don't want him feeling embarrassed.

Echo suggested I write a poem to commemorate buying my first home. He’s a genius. I’ve thought about branching out into limericks. This could be the perfect chance to get in some practice (not that I need any because poetry flows through my veins). I'll have to do it later tonight.

Love,

Fives

There once was a boy called Fives

Who suddenly broke out in hives

His face was so red

I hope it won’t spread

He should hide forever in the archives

LOVE ECHO

THE MOST IMPORTANT NOTE TO SELF: Tuck the children into bed. Strangle Echo. Order Pantoran takeout.

not dramatic at all. the correct reaction to Echo in fact.

Not to be dramatic or anything, but I would die for Echo.

tech just blabbering out I love you right in the middle of it??!? mhm. very delicious. very yummy. ate it right up

Hello! I was wondering if I could 36 NSFW with Tech x fem!reader? Maybe where he said that nobody really gave him a challenge at the game, and readers ego is too high to back down from that offer even though she loses horribly. Established relationship perhaps? Also, I love your writing it’s amazing! You deserve all the love and followers

Hiii I'm so happy you requested this!!! I've been addicted to playing Kessel Sabacc in SW Outlaws for the past few weeks, and I was just waiting for the opportunity to work my knowledge into a fic. Literally wrote this as soon as I saw it in my inbox.

I consider this reader the same as the one from On Impulse if anyone cares!

Strategy

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Words: 5,069

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, smut, established relationship, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, light dom Tech, rough (but affectionate) sex

Prompt: 36. “I don’t know why you’re complaining, you’re the one that wanted to play strip Sabacc.”

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"Pure sabacc," you announce, throwing down your cards and leaning back in your chair. A relieved grin spreads across your face at Tech's expression. His mouth is a thin line and his eyes are squinted, but there's an exasperated glint in them.

"Yes, I know," he grumbles, dropping his own cards on the table. Tech isn't a sore loser, but he is a competitive one. And the fact that this is the second hand you've won in a row is definitely irking him.

You snatch up his discarded cards and start to shuffle. "What was that about me never winning a round?"

"It is an anomaly," Tech states emotionlessly.

"And you've done the calculations to prove it, haven't you?"

He doesn't answer.

"Well, maybe I'm just lucky tonight." You cross your arms, reveling in his annoyance. "You know, I was beginning to think you were cheating with all the times you've been winning."

Tech rolls his eyes, but you can tell he's fighting off a smirk.

"I wouldn't cheat. Besides, I don't need to. My superior memory allows me to calculate the chances of each outcome with ease, making me naturally skilled at the game. Whereas you," he continues, leaning across the table and resting his elbows on it, "must rely on luck, because your memory is abysmal. It's no surprise you've been losing so often."

"Hey!" you protest, tossing a card at him. It flutters through the air, but he catches it before it hits his goggles.

Tech leans forward, the card trapped between his index and middle finger. "I am merely pointing out the facts, darling."

You snatch the card from him and return it to the deck, refusing to meet his smug gaze. He's trying to distract you, and he knows it's working.

"You can't always rely on the facts," you say, dealing the cards out once again.

"I don't. I also use strategy. Which you should try, seeing as it would certainly help you win."

"Strategy?"

"Yes, like—"

"Like how you're trying to distract me by insulting my memory?"

Tech huffs a breathy laugh and tilts his chin down. "Is it working?"

"Absolutely not." You glance down at your cards, trying your best not to smirk at your hand. Another sylop. The deck is stacked in your favor this round, and you have a perfect chance of beating Tech.

"What do you say we make this more interesting?" you propose, watching Tech's head tilt in curiosity.

He places a chip down and draws a card before his eyes dart back to yours. "I'm listening."

"Strip sabacc."

Tech's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and he almost drops the cards he's holding. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me," you tease, setting your cards down. "Whoever loses a round has to remove an item of clothing. If you lose all your clothes before I do, I win. If I lose mine first, you win. Deal?"

He takes a moment to contemplate the suggestion, a faint blush coloring his cheeks, and his eyes narrow, calculating the possibilities. When his lips curve into a smirk, you know he's made up his mind.

"Deal," he agrees, nodding once and adjusting his goggles. He lays down his cards face up—pair of ones. You frown at your own hand and drop them onto the table.

"Oh, come on! Again?"

Tech chuckles, leaning back in his seat. "I believe you're the one who suggested this game. Now, please, take off an item of clothing."

The cockiness in his tone sends a shiver down your spine, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Tech may be a terrible flirt, but his confidence in himself is incredibly sexy.

You slip your boots off and kick them under the table, then lean back in your chair and cross your arms. Tech's eyes are locked on you, a devious smile playing at his lips.

"Now who's distracted?" you taunt, winking at him.

"Hardly," he answers. But you can see the flush on his face and the way his chest is rising and falling just a little bit faster than usual. He's excited, and he's trying to hide it.

“You know, you’re wearing a lot more clothes than I am," you argue, leaning forward on the table and batting your eyelashes innocently. “You should take off an item, too, for fairness' sake."

"Fine." He pulls his boots off and drops them onto the floor. "Happy now?"

"Very."

Tech picks up the deck and shuffles the cards, the corners of his lips turning up.

"This was your plan, wasn't it?" he asks.

"My plan was to finally win a game of sabacc against you. And maybe see you with less clothes on, but that's an added bonus."

Tech chuckles and slides the cards toward you, his eyes burning into yours. "You are very devious. Now, deal the cards, darling."

You quickly learn that the stakes have made the game a lot more fun. Your heart races as the tension between the two of you rises, each of you sneaking glances at the other while pretending not to. And it doesn't take long for Tech to get the upper hand, much to your dismay.

"I told you," he teases, smirking at you over his cards, "my superior memory allows me to calculate the probability—"

"Yeah, yeah, you don't need to brag," you interrupt, rolling your eyes. You draw another card, cursing when it doesn't help you in the slightest.

“I don’t know why you’re complaining, you’re the one that wanted to play strip Sabacc," he says. You look up at Tech to see he's staring at his own cards, but the slight smile playing on his lips tells you he's aware of your annoyance.

You can't argue with that. You're the one that proposed the idea, and you're the one that can’t seem to stop losing, so now you're the one sitting on the ship with no shoes, socks, or a shirt, leaving only your pants and undergarments. Meanwhile, Tech has only removed his gloves and belt.

He places his cards face-up on the table, revealing another pure sabacc.

"Dammit," you sigh, throwing your own cards onto the table. "Again."

"Strip," Tech commands, and there's a huskiness to his voice that wasn't there before. His eyes are dark and intense as they follow your every move, and his mouth is curved in a devilish smile.

"Are you enjoying this?" you ask, unbuttoning your pants and standing from the chair.

"Immensely," he admits, his eyes not straying from you.

Heat spreads throughout your body at the intensity of his gaze. He watches with bated breath as you push the fabric down your legs, revealing the soft skin of your thighs, and he licks his lips subconsciously. The pants pool around your feet, and you kick them under the table before returning to your seat.

"Now who's the distracted one?"

"Not distracted," Tech replies, his eyes meeting yours. "Appreciating."

His words are heavy and sultry, and you can't stop the flush that colors your cheeks.

"You can appreciate me better if you lose another round," you tell him, shuffling the cards once again.

Tech's eyes narrow. "I think I'd prefer to watch you lose a few more."

The cockiness in his voice goes straight to your core, and a heat pools in your abdomen. Tech doesn't break eye contact, his stare intense and challenging, and a thrill shoots through you at the thought of what he could be thinking.

"I guess we'll see," you tell him, smirking.

You deal the cards, and Tech immediately throws a chip down, drawing his next card. A satisfied smile curves his lips. He's not even trying to hide his glee at your frustration, and it's infuriating.

You throw a chip onto your pile, drawing a card and praying that the Force will be on your side this round. You peek at the numbers and symbols on the card, and the disappointment is instant. It's the worst possible combination—a six and one. And you're out of chips.

When Tech sets his cards down, he does so slowly, drawing out the moment and relishing in your scowl.

You sigh, dropping your useless cards, and Tech's eyes brighten at the sight.

"Well, would you look at that?" he says, his voice filled with fake innocence. "I believe that's five in a row for me."

"No shit, really?" you mutter, rolling your eyes. "I had no idea."

He leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, his hands folded together and his chin resting on top. "Strip."

It's the way he says it, like a command. His voice is low and gravelly, and you feel yourself getting wetter at the tone. He's so sure of himself, so cocky, and it's driving you wild.

"Do I have to?" you ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

Tech's eyes narrow in on you. "Yes."

You stand and unclasp your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders and slipping it off your arms. The cold air makes your nipples harden instantly, and his eyes widen when he sees them. He stares for a moment, taking in the view, and then his tongue darts out and licks his lips.

"I must admit, I'm finding this game more enjoyable than I originally thought," he says, his voice thick.

"Only because you're winning."

He hums in agreement and deals the next hand, a sly smirk playing on his lips. Throughout the round, Tech's eyes keep flicking back and forth between the cards and your chest, and you have to bite back a smile. He's trying so hard to concentrate, and his obvious struggle is adorable.

Tech's confidence fades as the round progresses, and by the time he sets his cards down, he isn't wearing his usual cocky smile. His mouth is pressed into a thin line and his eyebrows are knitted together when he shows you his hand.

"What's wrong, Tech?" you tease, leaning back in your seat. "Disappointed that you lost?"

"Of course not," he scoffs. "I've already calculated the possibilities and I know how this will end. I have no doubt that I will win."

"Then why are you pouting?"

"I am not pouting."

"Uh-huh. Well, whatever the reason, it's time for you to remove some clothes."

Tech sighs and slips off his goggles. His warm eyes meet yours, and you notice that they're slightly glazed over.

"There," he grumbles, pushing the goggles across the table toward you. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," you reply, a wide smile on your face.

Your eyes rake over him, taking in his appearance. It’s rare that you get to see him this way, and you savor the moment. Tech has always been handsome, but the way he looks right now, with his hair mussed and a blush coloring his cheeks, is absolutely enticing.

You pick up the deck and shuffle it, and the sound of the cards sliding together is the only noise in the room. Tech's eyes are fixed on your bare chest, and his throat bobs when he swallows.

"Like what you see?" you ask, raising a brow.

"Always."

Your cheeks flush, and you deal the cards. The anticipation is killing you, and the smugness that Tech was showing before is long gone. He seems eager to get the game over with, and the impatience in his demeanor is refreshing.

His eyes flick back and forth between the cards and the pile, and his face gives nothing away. You're desperate to know what his hand is, and it's taking every ounce of willpower not to peek.

He reaches across the table and throws a chip down, his brow furrowing. It's such a subtle change in his expression, and most people would miss it. But you know Tech well enough to understand his emotions, and right now he's frustrated.

Your heartbeat quickens as you draw a card. Another three to match the one already in your hand. Not great, but it's enough to win if Tech doesn't have a better sabacc.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask him, watching as his eyes move from his cards to yours and back again.

"Strategy," he mutters.

"What kind of strategy?"

"The type of strategy that will guarantee my victory,” he says. His eyes are determined and his jaw is clenched. He glances up from his cards to meet your gaze, and the fire in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine.

"Show me your cards," he demands.

You do as he asks, laying the two twos face-up on the table. The look he gives you is nothing short of prideful, and your heart drops.

"You've got to be kidding me," you groan.

Tech reveals his own cards—a sylop and a one. You let out an exasperated huff, and he chuckles.

"Well," he starts, placing his cards on the table and leaning back in his chair. His gaze travels over your body, and his smirk widens. "Go on."

Your cheeks heat up under his scrutinizing stare, and a part of you wants to rebel and refuse to comply. But Tech looks so damn good right now, his eyes filled with mischief, and the excitement coursing through you is too much.

"You're having too much fun," you say, your voice low.

"I'd have more fun if you'd hurry up and finish this little game of ours," Tech retorts.

 You're about to give him a smart retort, but then you notice the way he shifts in his seat. It's subtle, and you doubt he even realizes it, but it's there. The tightening of his thighs, the slight twitch of his hands. He's just as turned on as you are.

And you decide to play into it.

"I'm in no rush." You stand, slowly, and let your hands travel down the expanse of your chest, cupping your breasts and running your thumbs over your nipples.

Tech's breath catches, and his eyes are dark as they watch your every move. You can see his fingers twitching, aching to touch you, but he's refraining. You run a hand down your stomach, over the hem of your panties, and he licks his lips again.

Then, without warning, you turn away from him, exposing your backside. Tech makes a sound of protest, but his objection quickly dies down when he sees you hook your thumbs into the waistband and slide your underwear down. You bend forward to push them down your legs, and you can hear the sharp intake of breath from Tech.

The moment you turn around, a mischievous glint in your eye, you're met with a new expression on Tech's face.

He looks hungry.

His pupils are blown wide and his lips are parted, and you can tell it's taking all his strength not to jump across the table and take you right then and there.

"Well?" you tease, raising an eyebrow at him. "What are you waiting for?"

He doesn't waste a second. With one swift motion, he tosses the cards aside, his eyes never leaving yours, and stands. Then, he's on the other side of the table and grabbing your waist, pulling you towards him until your chest is pressed against his.

"I win," he announces, his hands roaming over your body.

"Then take your prize."

He pulls you into a searing kiss, his lips pressing insistently against yours. His hands travel the expanse of your skin, squeezing and caressing. One settles at the base of your neck while the other moves lower, down the curve of your back and to your ass. He grabs it, hard, and pulls your hips towards his, pressing his already-hard erection into you. You moan into his mouth, and he swallows it up, his tongue delving deeper and dancing with yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer and pressing your bare chest against him. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, and his arousal is evident as he rocks his hips into yours, his hand squeezing and kneading your flesh.

When the two of you break away for air, his mouth moves lower, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck, sucking the sensitive skin at your pulse point. You tilt your head back, allowing him more access, and he takes full advantage. His tongue laves over the area, teeth nipping at the skin, and a breathy moan escapes your lips.

Tech's lips travel lower, across your collarbone and down your chest, stopping at the valley between your breasts. His breath fans over your skin, and his tongue darts out, licking a stripe along the underside of one breast. His fingers move up, brushing over the bud of your nipple, and you let out a whimper at the sensation.

He looks up at you, a satisfied smile playing at his lips, before bending and taking the other nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls around it, his lips sucking the sensitive flesh, and his hand pinches the other one. The feeling sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and your hands find their way into his hair, tangling themselves in the strands.

You gasp as his teeth gently graze over the hardened peak, and your knees nearly buckle beneath you. His other hand comes up and holds your hip, steadying you, and his mouth moves to the other side.

"Tech..." you breathe, your head falling back and your eyes fluttering shut. He's barely touched you, and already, you're a panting mess.

Tech's lips travel further down, past your navel and to your thighs. He drops to his knees in front of you, his hands trailing along the curves of your hips, and his lips press kisses into your skin.

"I've been wanting to taste you all day," he says, his voice a low rumble.

"You should've told me earlier," you breathe, looking down at him through hooded eyes. "We could've skipped the sabacc." 

"This was far more entertaining." He presses a kiss to your mound, and you shudder. His eyes are dark with lust, and the sight of him on his knees before you makes your core clench with anticipation.

Tech kisses your thigh, his tongue darting out to taste the skin. Your hands tighten in his hair, tugging and guiding him to where you need him most. He chuckles, and the warm breath fans over your sensitive flesh. 

His fingers dance across your skin, teasing the crease of your thighs, before one presses against your heat. A moan escapes your lips, and he presses harder, dragging his finger through your folds.

"You're already so wet," he murmurs, his eyes watching the way his finger moves. "Were you thinking about this while we were playing? About what would happen if you lost?"

"Yes," you answer truthfully, and the admission has him groaning.

He rubs circles into your clit, his touch sending sparks of pleasure throughout your body. Your legs begin to shake, and you place a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. He glances up at you, the corner of his mouth turning up in a devilish smirk, and he presses a finger against your entrance. You whimper at the contact, and Tech lets out a quiet moan, the sight of you falling apart before him clearly affecting him.

"Tech, please," you beg, rocking your hips into his hand.

"Patience, darling," he coos.

He pushes the digit into you, slowly, letting you adjust to the stretch, and then curls it upwards. You gasp, your hand gripping his shoulder tighter, and he begins to pump his finger in and out of you. His arm nudges your thigh, spreading your legs wider, and he leans in and presses his mouth to your clit. He licks a broad stripe up the sensitive bundle of nerves, his tongue swirling around it, and you cry out in pleasure.

His free hand grips your thigh, holding you steady, while the other continues its slow movements, pushing in and out of you. You feel the tension coiling inside of you, and you know it won't take long for him to push you over the edge. His tongue is skilled and insistent, and he knows you better than anyone.

Tech's eyes are locked on yours, watching every reaction, and you can see the pure delight written on his face. He loves knowing he's the one doing this to you, making you fall apart.

"Tech... I'm..." You can't finish the sentence. The tension is building inside you, threatening to snap at any moment, and your breathing is labored. Tech adds a second finger, pumping faster and curling them against the spongy spot within you. You whimper, your grip on his shoulder tightening, and he knows you're close.

"Come for me," he says, his words vibrating against your sensitive flesh. His palm slaps against your clit, his fingers curling deeper, and the coil inside you snaps.

"Fuck!" you gasp, your legs shaking as the orgasm crashes through you. Tech's arm wraps around your thigh, keeping you upright as your knees buckle. He continues pumping his fingers, drawing out the pleasure, his tongue flicking and swirling around your clit.

When the sensations become too much, you place a hand on his forehead and push him away, your body going slack. Tech pulls his fingers from you and places a gentle kiss on your inner thigh before standing, his eyes searching yours.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice husky.

"Mhmm," you hum, a blissful smile tugging at your lips.

Tech's hand moves to the back of your head, pulling you into a bruising kiss. He takes a step forward, guiding you backwards, and the backs of your legs hit the bunk.

"Tech, please," you beg, breaking the kiss and staring into his eyes. They're black with desire, and he's already reaching down, fumbling with the zipper of his pants.

He pushes them down his legs, kicking them away, and his cock springs free, already leaking. Your hand reaches for him, stroking him from base to tip, and he groans, his hips bucking into your touch.

You continue the slow movements, dragging your hand along his length and rubbing your thumb over the tip. Tech's breathing is heavy, and his head falls to your shoulder, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"Stop," he mutters, grabbing your wrist and halting the movement. "I want to last more than five seconds."

You chuckle and press a kiss to his jaw. "Well, let's go, then."

His eyes meet yours, and he nods. Then, in a swift motion, he spins you around and pushes you forward, bending you over the side of the bed.

He presses his body against yours, his cock grinding against your ass, and a soft moan escapes your lips. He's close, his breathing hot and heavy against your neck, and his hands are gripping your hips, pulling you towards him.

You feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance, and a shiver runs down your spine. You lean forward, resting your arms on the mattress and tilting your ass higher, and Tech lets out a deep moan at the sight.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers as one hand slides along the curve of your back.

“Hurry up," you urge, wiggling your hips against him.

His hand moves down your hip, across your ass, taking a moment to squeeze the flesh, and lower to the back of your thigh. His fingers dance along the skin, sending shivers down your spine, before coming to a stop at the back of your knee. He lifts it, propping it on the edge of the bunk, spreading your legs wider, and then his cock is lining up with your entrance.

He pushes in, slowly, letting you adjust to the stretch. You whimper as he fills you, and his hand comes up, rubbing soothing circles into your lower back.

Tech pauses when he's fully sheathed inside you, his hips flush with yours, and his hand comes around to rest on your lower stomach. The light pressure on the spot is just enough to have you squirming, and you push back into him, silently begging for more.

"Please, Tech," you whimper, and he huffs a laugh.

"Begging already?" he teases, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear. "I haven't even started yet."

He pulls out of you, and the drag of his cock has you whining, already missing the sensation. He pushes back in, slow and deep, and you let out a shaky breath.

"Fuck, Tech," you pant, and he groans, his nose brushing against the nape of your neck.

His pace is slow and methodical, and you can't help but admire the restraint he's showing. Usually, he's a mess by this point, but now, his fingers are digging into your hips, holding you steady, and his breathing is slow and controlled.

You turn your head, pressing your cheek against the sheets, and glance up at him. His eyes are shut tight, and his brow is furrowed in concentration. You're not sure what's gotten into him, but he seems determined not to lose control.

"Harder, Tech," you urge, pushing your hips back to meet his. He grunts and snaps his hips, the slap of skin on skin filling the room. You let out a moan, and Tech's pace quickens, his thrusts growing more forceful.

Your fingers dig into the sheets, trying to find purchase as he pounds into you. It's intoxicating, the feeling of his cock filling you, stretching you. And the sounds coming from his lips—the soft grunts and moans—are driving you wild. He's always quiet during sex, but the sounds he's making now are anything but.

Tech's grip on your hip tightens, and his hand on your stomach presses harder, holding you in place as his hips move faster. His thrusts are sharp and deep, and he hits that sweet spot inside you, sending tingling waves of pleasure through your body.

"Yes," you cry out, and you push back against him, meeting each thrust. "More, Tech."

"I don't want to hurt you," he says, his voice strained.

"You won't."

He lets out a strangled moan and slams his hips into yours, the movement nearly knocking the breath from your lungs. He continues his relentless pace, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hip, and your head falls forward, resting against the sheets.

Your legs are shaking, and the tension inside you is threatening to snap at any moment. You can feel the fire burning in your abdomen, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter, and the way Tech is panting against your neck isn't helping.

"That's it," he growls, his voice low and husky. "You're close, aren't you?"

"Yes," you breathe.

"I can feel you tightening around me." He groans, his pace never faltering. "You're going to come for me."

It's a demand, not a question. And you have no intention of disobeying him.

Tech's hand slides from your hip to your ass, squeezing the plump flesh. The possessiveness of the gesture has you keening, and you arch your back, presenting yourself to him. He growls at the sight, his hips slamming into yours.

"Stars, you're so fucking beautiful," he pants, his hand moving to your thigh and hiking your leg higher. The new angle allows him to slide deeper inside you, and you can feel the pressure building within you, the tears beginning to prick at your eyes.

"Tech, please," you beg, pushing your hips back to meet his.

"What do you need, darling?" he asks, his voice strained. "Tell me."

"Make me come, please," you whine, and his hips jerk forward.

His hand is quick, sliding between your legs and finding your clit. He presses two fingers against the swollen bud, rubbing slow circles, and the tension snaps. Your body goes rigid, and your vision blurs as the orgasm rips through you. You cry out, Tech's name falling from your lips, and your knees buckle, the only thing keeping you upright is his firm grip on your hips.

You bury your face in the sheets, muffling the sound of your moans, and Tech keeps pumping into you, his thrusts rocking you forward and sending your orgasm even higher.

He fucks you through the high, his pace never faltering, each thrust punching another gasp from you. Your hands grip the sheets, knuckles white and jaw clenched, and the pleasure is so intense that tears begin to roll down your cheeks. His cock twitches inside you, and you clench around him, desperate to push him over the edge.

"Fuck," he hisses, his thrusts becoming sloppy. He's babbling now, his voice hoarse and broken, and you can tell he's close. "You're perfect, darling. You're— fuck, I love you, I love you, I love—"

His words are cut off by a deep groan, and his hips stutter. He slams into you one final time before he spills into you, hot and thick, and the feeling is enough to make you see stars. His hands are gripping your waist, bruising the flesh, and he pulls you into his lap as he turns and collapses onto the bed.

You both sit there, panting, his chest pressed against your back. His forehead is resting against your shoulder, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. The two of you are covered in a sheen of sweat, and his hands are roaming your body, tracing gentle patterns across your skin.

"That was..." Tech trails off, unable to form the words.

"Yeah," you agree, leaning back against him. You take in a shaky breath and sigh. "I love you too, by the way."

"I know." He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his lips pressing a gentle kiss against the sensitive skin. "I can't believe you suggested strip sabacc."

"And I can't believe you agreed."

"Well, I wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to see you naked," he chuckles, his fingers tracing lazy circles across your abdomen.

You laugh, and the sound is bright and clear. You shift in his lap, turning around and straddling his hips. His eyes are soft as he stares up at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Maybe we should play it more often then," you joke, leaning down and capturing his lips in a tender kiss.

"We will, if this is how you plan to reward me every time I win."

"Deal."

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probably 5 months ago I saw an edit of plan 99 to 'o children' by nick cave and the bad seeds and I have not known peace since. I think about it everyday.

"Have you left a seat for me? Is that such a stretch of the imagination? Hey little train, wait for me, was held in chains, but now I'm free, I'm hanging in there, don't you see? in this process of elimination"

like omg when will the torment end

I have a question

is there actually some kinda sexual tension between the droid and the mc in sw outlaws? or are people just insane?

like I'm not gonna deny that I'm horrendously down bad for the droid but like..... what have I just seen....?