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hypnagogics · 6 months ago

Note

tloutopia co-president craves sub!ellie getting oral but reader has a tongue piercing.. yeah.

before you read!

☆: dearest co-president your brain…we shall display it in the most ornate jar encrusted with shimmering gems of the utmost quality our hard-working miners retrieved in tloutopia’s mines located in the outskirts of our nation, so every citizen shall look upon the genius it cooks up. sigh, i want a tongue piercing now. n this pic of her...AWOOOOOO anyway.

◇: SMUT!! (quite messy) oral, sub!ellie, vibrating tongue jewelry (heh), reader's kinda mean, a little overstim, squirting, multiple orgasms, reader’s a MUNCHHHH, all small text & lowercase for the aesthetic and for a change (apparently y'all prefer that n i will say it does slap…). feel this is kinda lackluster but eh. + 1.4k wc

“behave, ellie, or i'm not gonna touch you more.” the stern, yet mild order fell on deaf ears, your girlfriend squirming on top of the colorful sheets of her bed, stark bare as the day she was born.

you enjoyed making her wait, finding a sort of sick satisfaction in watching her discomfort, the wild need for release overtaking her entire being.

you relished her pained expression, copper eyebrows knitted together and emerald eyes screwed shut, cerise-pink lip taken tightly between her teeth, with a crimson blush covering her face, rendering her galaxy of freckles invisible.

what you loved even more, however, were the almost animalistic cues her body sent you, like her chest swelling and falling, akin to the ocean tides, adorned with her perky tits and rosy nipples, pebbled from the room's chilly air and erotic nature of your activities, just begging to be played with.

“please, c'mon, i'm tryin’. need you so bad, uhh.” she whined, voice thin and breathy. you stayed watching for a moment more, noticing the way her glossy folds spasmed with the need for contact.

you could just sit there by her splayed knees for years, just looking. but you never resisted giving her what she so desperately needs, you'd never leave her hanging without any sort of reward.

“patience, ‘kay? you look so pretty like this, i just wanna take it all in.” she pouted and sighed, “how hard d’you want me to beg, because i will. please. i just need you- ah!”

you decided she had waited plenty, and cut her plea off with the pad of your thumb to her pulsing clit, and two fingers inside her dripping pussy. they slid in embarrassingly easy, and in no time at all her back was arching off the mattress, knuckles turning a milky white from how hard she was gripping the sheets on either side of her.

“yesyesyes, fuckkk- mmm.” she was lost in the pleasure of a few simple motions, the pumping in and out and circling up above, already gushing around your digits and whining uncontrollably, but you didn't want this to stop just there. you had a very special surprise for her resting just behind your lips, some new jewelry to try.

it was common knowledge ellie loved your tongue piercing, she preached there was nothing better. whenever you ate her out, the chilly metal ball against her heated folds provided a sensation unlike any other, turning her mind to a fucked out mess after the lightest brush. and as a matter of fact, that was a win-win situation, considering buried between her thighs was your favorite place to be.

but she had no clue what was currently in your mouth would increase that exponentially, new vibrating jewelry you purchased in secret. you couldn't wait to see her reaction to it, so you felt alright with torturing her a bit beforehand.

you retracted your fingers from her pussy, almost feeling bad. “no, no, why'd you do that, come on. you're so mean…what the fuck.” she panted in desperation, her eyes filling with tears from your rudeness. “i was so close too…” she whimpered, looking genuinely defeated. “sorry ellie, but i got somethin’ even better for you.”

you stuck out your tongue, the large pill-shaped ball gleaming with your spit. “that's a new one.” she said without emotion, unimpressed. now you had to make it up to her.

leaning over her, you brought your lips to hers, kissing her deeply, intertwining your tongue with hers and swallowing every tiny pant that left her. then you moved down, kissing her neck, sucking the delicate skin in your mouth, leaving blooming raspberry marks to admire later. you then went to her chest, feeling her shudder whenever your teeth grazed her nipples. all while ever so often looking up at her through half-lidded eyes, you were relieved to see a blissful smile on her pretty face.

you kissed all the way down her stomach and wispy happy trail, then skipped down to her parted thighs, gently nipping at the soft, creamy flesh. she had hoisted herself up to rest on her elbows, eager to watch you work your magic, strands of hair falling in her eyes.

finally you moved in to lick a stripe up her slit, reinserting your fingers inside her pussy, curling upwards and sending strong waves of pleasure throughout her body.

she falls back off her elbows, breathing heavily while you're devouring her, drinking up her nectar. you make sure to run your piercing against her clit just how she likes it, causing her to jerk and hiss at every tap, the cold sensation a shock to her system, before sucking the bud into your mouth.

above, she's whining and moaning, incoherent noises slipping from her pouty lips, and pleas for more filling the air. “that's so good…please don't stop, please.” her hand flew to grab the back of your head, holding you close to her so you wouldn't move away. the way she was reacting, how her voice was breaking, and the way she let you push her legs even further apart to dive in as much as you could was heaven for you as is, you almost forgot something very important.

now it was time for the star of the show.

you paused to turn it on with a click, the buzzing louder than you had anticipated. she looked down at you with a cocked eyebrow, but then you attached the vibrating bit to her clit, causing her to squeal from the intensity.

you didn't move your tongue, letting your fingers do all the work below, prodding against her g-spot repeatedly, massaging the soft tissue. she was whining and writhing about, her thighs closing tightly around your head. it was like she was trying to suffocate you, but you would happily die that way.

a few cries of your name later, the orgasm hit her like a truck, the knot in her abdomen snapping forcefully, her grip on your head was so strong, it hurt. when the peak passed you continued working her through it, licking and sucking, the vibrations of the jewelry providing an incomprehensible amount of pleasure to her.

even when she was twitching and jolting from the sensations, you didn't let up just yet, too entranced by her taste, utterly pussy-drunk. your fingers slowed, but your tongue remained on her thumping clit, the buzzing of the device never faltering. “what the- oh my guhhh”. she slurred as the second orgasm overtook her, walls firmly clenching around your digits and her eyes rolling back in her skull from the all consuming pleasure.

she squirted all over your face too, the warm liquid trickling down your chin, filling your mouth with the taste. “so fuckin' sweet,” you murmured against her, the vibrations of your voice shooting up through her spine, her choked moans dancing though the air.

your grip on her hips got tighter as you continued through it all, lapping up every drop, and listening to the symphony of gasps falling from her lips. “too much, too much..” she whispered upon coming down from it, and it took great effort on your end to turn the ring off and separate yourself from her. she just had you hooked. you did so slowly, trailing wet, open mouthed kisses all over her still-tense thighs and waist.

she looked dazed, but satisfied beyond belief, a thin sheen of sweat making her glow like an angel, you thought, her chest rising and falling steadily as the relaxation and exertion set in. you climbed up to lay next to her, and hold her tightly against you.

happy murmurs fell from her lips as you cozied up right next to her, then she started chuckling, her face bright red. “that thing’s powerful, shit. never get rid of it.” you guffawed at her comment, you’re glad she had a good time, and mumbled praises to her temple, “you did so good, so good for me, els.” she grinned widely and squeezed you close to her, giggling as she said one last, mischievous thing. “i'm booking a tongue piercing appointment now, just you wait!” it seems you were in for a treat.

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sewersaga · 2 months ago

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YOUR TEETH IN MY NECK- aventurine x foxian! reader

bee's masterlist

9.6k words. sorry (not)

warnings: female bodied reader with she/her pronounce, v v suggestive, mentions of past abuse (aventurine), alcohol usage, sexual cotent BUT NO SMUT, miners dni

Now that you think about it, you can hardly remember the name of that planet.

You remember the rustic hotel bar, the foreign music thrumming in your veins as you savored your drink. The setting was far different from the last planet you’d been on, but the welcome change of scene and the alcohol settled in your veins, leaving you antsy to learn everything the place had to offer. The others were off who knows where, probably sticking their noses in business that didn’t concern them, although, wasn’t it the nature of the Trailblazers to always want to play the hero? And despite being one of them, and treasuring them like your own family, you preferred to get your kicks elsewhere. And who could blame a creature like you for craving a bit of chaos?

That night, chaos sidled up to you at the bar, ornately dressed and smooth as vermouth, gesturing for your drink to be put on his tab.

You don’t remember what you talked about initially, just that the conversation quickly devolved into one of barely veiled innuendo and mutual debauchery, although it was impossible to ignore the way he devoted his entire attention to you when you spoke. He fixed you with his stunning gaze beneath those rose tinted glasses, and you quickly began to wonder why he continued to wear them even inside the dimly lit room. The exchange felt like a masquerade of sorts, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him startlingly beautiful and even more intriguing.

Although, it could be said that those with the most gorgeously deceiving outward appearances are the most dangerous. Surely, he was no different. Everything about him screamed well-dressed danger, but luckily for the both of you, your body seemed to crave it.

After a few more drinks, you decided to take proceedings upstairs to your room to avoid drawing any curious eyes. After all, a pink haired foxian and an ostentatiously outfitted blond would surely not be overlooked in a situation like this, and considering his deeply refined appearance, the man likely had a status to uphold. Namely, one that didn’t involve getting overly familiar with a petite fox eared woman out in public. Although you fit right in with the other foxes on Xianzhou, your species was rather rare on other planets, quickly allowing their residents to recognize you as an outsider. The man that kissed you hungrily against the door to your hotel room was clearly not a local either, despite sharing some common features with the native people.

Now that you think about it, he mentioned his affiliation with the IPC quite early on in the discussion, and it piqued your interest because he decidedly did not reveal his awareness of your affiliation with the Astral Express. Of course, it was only your first encounter with the man, so he had no obligation to reveal anything to you. Hell, you hadn’t even exchanged names. Still, he didn’t seem like the type to not speak carefully, and every word exchanged between the two of you that night seemed to further the gamble you weren’t yet aware you had a hand in.

Until hours later when you had thoroughly reaped the rewards of your shared win, the heartbeat of this stranger insistent beneath your cheek. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret a thing.” You craned your neck up to look at him, the shell of your ear brushing his face. “But you don’t even know my name.”

You felt him hum, amused, his arm lazily draped over your body. “Do you know who I am?”

The pieces had long since arranged themselves in your mind. You’d done your due diligence as an Express crew member to research the top brass of the IPC, and only one person fit this description. “Of course, Aventurine.” Just your luck to end up in bed with one of the Stonehearts, although his position meant nothing in the end. Not unless he wanted something more from you, which they always seemed to do. But the man seemed different somehow from all the others who ended up as blocked numbers in your phone after one breathless night spent together. You decided to chalk it up to the fact that he was by far the most attractive man you’d slept with in a while.

He laughed, a hand trailing ghostlike up your spine and you shivered. “You could’ve said that earlier.” His fingers came to rest between your shoulder blades, and if you were a stupider woman, you’d almost think he was pulling you closer to him. “Now I feel like a fool for not asking your name.” Noticing your sudden fit of chills, he pulled the thin bed sheets to cover more of your bodies, seemingly not realizing your state had nothing to do with the room’s temperature.

“Maybe you don’t know my name, but you know who I am.” You were simply bluffing, but he seemed to take you seriously. His hand drifted back down your body, landing on your hip, the warmth bleeding through to the bone.

“Wouldn’t that defeat the point of being a Nameless?” He asked coyly, and you giggled, ultimately unsurprised, adjusting your position so that you were practically laying on top of him.

“You do know.” He squeezed the ample flesh of your hip beneath his hand as you shifted, and a breathy sound escaped you, one you quickly swallowed upon seeing his smug expression.

It was his turn to shrug as he smoothed the skin with his palm in an insincere apology. “I didn’t. It was a lucky guess.”

You snorted, somewhat incredulous. Still, you’d indeed heard stories of the unbelievable luck of Aventurine, and the various schemes in which he’d lay his life on the line and still come out on top. “Some luck you have.” How bold a person would have to be to bet the ultimate chip, knowing that if they lose, it’s all over. Such recklessness, such utter disregard. What went through his head in those moments? You looked deeper into his radiant eyes, but saw nothing behind them but flagrant amusement and mild enrapturement.

“It’s sort of my thing.” He blinked, offering you a self-assured smile, and you began to wonder how much of that pretty exterior was all for show.

“Sure.” You allowed your body to relax on top of him, unable to stop your own train of thought despite what they say about curiosity and the cat. Perhaps the fox will be the one to be eaten alive this time, although the idea didn’t sound at all unfavorable. Suddenly, struck by an unpleasant notion, you sat up, catching his attention. “Was this all a part of some scheme to wager for our compliance?” You pressed a palm to his bare chest teasingly, and he chuckled lowly, the sound rumbling beneath your hand. “You’ve already gotten everything you’re going to get from me.”

“If I wanted your compliance, I would already have it.” His wandering hand found its way to your chin, tipping your head down to meet his gaze as he looked at you with those dazzling eyes, the kaleidoscopic hue like that of a rare gemstone yet to be named. “And I don’t make wagers that I’ll lose.”

You wondered if he could ever be categorized like a mineral, easily decoded by his most notable traits and studied beneath your curious gaze. They’re usually so easy to read, those lucky souls who get to share your bed. But true to his occupation, this man didn’t get to where he is by being transparent, and his eyes were as showy and incomprehensible as diamonds.

Perhaps he was about to say more, but your little exchange was rudely interrupted by the bothersome ringing of his phone, which sat face down on the bedside table. He sighed, his annoyance palpable, as he allowed you to dismount him, untangling himself from your limbs to reach for the device. Now shamelessly bare and suddenly cold, you rose from the creaky bed to grab your robe from where it lay discarded upon the chair in the corner. Funnily enough, you hadn’t noticed how noisy the bed was earlier, although you were likely far too occupied with other things to pay it any mind. You made a silent apology to the neighbors as you crossed the room, praying your crewmates were still out trying to save the world.

You didn’t bother listening to his conversation as you draped the cheap pink fabric around yourself, securing it with the thin band around the middle before making your way back to the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight as he hung up the call. You weren’t here for more information about the IPC after all, and you’d both gotten what you came for, literally and figuratively. You’d be the last one to care about whatever pressing business he had to attend to at this hour, although you supposed corporations like his own never really slept. Such was the nature of business, and those boring topics were of little interest to you.

It was quite hard to ignore, however, the way he began to dress, recovering his clothes from where the two of you had carelessly discarded them at the bedside. “Already tired of me?” You stood on the bed, making your way over to drape your arms coquettishly around his neck. “And here I thought it would be more fun if we went again, this time using each other’s names.” You were only teasing, evidenced by the little sway of your tail behind you against the sheets, but if he agreed, that worn little robe of yours would be tossed back on the chair in an instant, and you’d be his for the rest of the night.

“It would be, wouldn’t it?” He laughed off your advances, but made no move to evade your loose hold on him. “But business calls, I’m afraid.” You figured this was likely routine for him, slipping out of strangers’ rooms in these ungodly hours to attend to whatever business he had to handle. Coming from any other man, it would almost certainly sound like an excuse, although you never let them stay long enough to brush you off. That wasn’t your style.

And thus, a desire to make him stay was ignited in you, an unfamiliar urge to be different from all the women he’d had before. “In the middle of the night?” Your voice was almost a purr, inching dangerously close to the shell of his ear. You were well versed in your craft, after all, and sure enough, you felt him tense momentarily beneath you, seemingly considering the idea before he relaxed, casting it away.

Unwilling to give up, your hand traveled across his chest, coming to rest in the spade shaped opening that revealed the bare skin of his chest. He sighed, seemingly reluctant to let you go, and you got the sense that this little victory was yours. “This job has its perks, but I’m on call at all hours.” He turned slightly to press a kiss to your jaw, and despite the hollowness of the gesture, you froze momentarily, coming to terms with the fact that you’d actually lost. “Where’s your phone?”

You removed your arms, sitting down on the edge of the bed, effectively defeated, and a little inexplicably shaken. “On the desk.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, picking it up and staring at the home screen for a moment. “Password?” You shot him a glance that hopefully conveyed how stupid the question was. He raised a hand in surrender, passing the device for you to unlock before pulling on his gloves with his now free hands. You handed it back to him, watching as he entered his phone number.

“Here’s my contact.” He pulled on that garish fur coat of his, throwing you a wink as he made for the door. “I look forward to our partnership.”

“Partnership?” You followed behind him, tail swishing with your movements as he lingered in the doorway. “Is that what this is?” How pathetic you probably looked then, a confused little vixen trying to convince a stranger to stay the night with her. This wasn’t how you usually operated, and the way he looked at you then made you realize that he could tell.

“It’s whatever you want it to be.” With that, he leaned down, kissing you chastely on the lips, lingering for a moment longer than a goodbye warranted. He pulled away, smiling almost fondly at your uncharacteristically stunned expression. “I’ll be in touch.” You didn’t have anything else witty to reply with, so you watched him go, suddenly dizzy and weak in the knees despite what you’d let him do to you just hours earlier.

Yes, dangerous was certainly the first word that came to mind as he threw you a wave halfway down the hallway. Perhaps you were unable to categorize him like the rare and beautiful stone he is, but that fact was certain. That, and if he didn’t call you up again, you would find him yourself and demand answers. And you’d never felt that way before. And ever persistent, fate had its own plan for the two of you, and his good luck might rub off on you soon enough.

Sure enough, fortune weaved its fickle design, and your clandestine, if not brief, meetings continued for some time, in various hotel rooms. Of course, there were a few instances over the phone as well, ones you would coyly and unconvincingly deny if brought up by a fellow crew member who heard something they’d rather they didn’t. But you were always known for being quite shameless, and you didn’t mind the reputation. People could think whatever they wanted to think about you, for you were the only one who truly knew who you were. It was always that way, you supposed. No one brought up your past, for it was never relevant to the various smaller disasters your crew handled on a daily basis.

And if anyone noticed your occasional disappearances while docked on a random planet, or the way you’d return smelling of expensive cologne, or even the time March 7th stumbled upon an untouched pristine gold watch in your room, they never said anything. Knowing you, they probably assumed you’d spill the dirty details if prompted. And they wouldn’t be entirely wrong, although these tokens ultimately meant nothing to you, and sometimes made you feel cheap. You couldn’t stop him from buying you things, though, and if you got rid of them, he’d just send you a replacement. You supposed it was a nice problem to have, but you were certainly the wrong person to have it.

And despite your experimentation on the various other planets you stopped on, no one else made you feel that sense of vertigo he provoked when he kissed you. So until you figured out what that was all about, he wasn’t going anywhere. And if his affections towards you were anything to go by, he didn’t want to. Rather risky, indeed, but you’d always loved playing with fire, or so a certain general told you a long, long time ago.

But the past didn’t matter, nor was your future set in stone, and luckily for you, that damned gambler had found his way back into your life. Seeing him among your crewmates in the hotel lobby as you checked in rather than in a dimly lit room was a bit jarring, considering the fact he hadn’t exactly made a favorable impression upon the group. “You know this guy, [Name]?” March had asked then, confusion knitting her brow.

“We’re old friends.” He had responded immediately and naturally, and who were you to deny him? Perhaps your future was indeed preordained, for you realized that rather than wanting nothing to do with him, you wanted to see him more and more.

The day Alisa went missing was one of the worst days of your life, and in a lifetime as long as yours, there were plenty to choose from. You were docked upon the Planet of Festivities, Penacony, a stop that you were particularly excited for because of the pure indulgence that awaited you upon it. When Alisa failed to join the rest of you in the lobby that day, alarm bells quickly rang, for that committed and devoted girl would never neglect her responsibilities, much less leave you all to worry in her absence.

Delicate, white ribboned, and naively beautiful, you couldn’t stop thinking about the possibilities of what Alisa was being subjected to. You couldn’t help but feel like the sweet dream of Penacony allowed for the most depraved minds to thrive undisturbed in the shadows, and an angel like her would be swallowed whole in the dark syrupy quicksand of immorality. A self-proclaimed sinner like yourself would know these things from personal experience, understanding how easily your past can lead you down the path of an unfavorable future.

The relentless worry wrought your mind to no end. The girl went through enough in her life, and the last thing she needed was to be taken by someone who didn’t have her best interests at heart. As much as you liked to tease the girl (really, she was so easy to get a rise out of) you’d grown very fond of her, and her disappearance weighed heavily upon you.

You confessed this to Aventurine at the hotel bar, the interaction a twisted mirror of the night you first met, although this time your unrelated unease was palpable. Your fear for your friend’s life made it impossible to keep the walls up that you typically reserved for your dalliances with strangers, although the man beside you could surely no longer be considered such considering the extent of your relationship. Nevertheless, you felt like the heart you typically kept so shielded was now stitched to your sleeve. He watched you while you spoke of your concerns, his expression unreadable as usual, brilliant eyes glimmering beneath his glasses. “I can help, if you like.”

“You can help?” You were unable to stop yourself from scoffing, for what reason did he have to offer his help? Any loyalty he had toward the Express was due to some sort of yet to be revealed shared interest, and his not so covert extracurriculars with you. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Aventurine, but what sort of command do you have over the Dreamscape that would allow you to find my colleague?”

He raised an eyebrow, adjusting his sunglasses. “Mr. Aventurine? Your friends aren’t around, so you don’t have to address me as such.”

You tilted your head, almost mockingly. The stress had seeped far into your bones, and his inability to speak directly, although alluring in the bedroom, was presently getting on your last nerve. “Why? Does it bother you?” He simply smirked handsomely, and you plucked his glasses from where they rested on the bridge of his nose, momentarily stunning him. “Answer my question, Aventurine.” You placed them on your own face, praying they conceal your true emotions like they did for him.

He raised an eyebrow at you, amused, but making no move to take them back from you. “None.” He shrugged, sipping his drink. “But I have my suspicions, and you know even my guesses are seldom incorrect.” How dare he be so cavalier when your friend’s life is on the line? You didn’t know if his reckless betting was a part of his true nature or a symptom of a far more concerning ailment, but you lacked the patience to investigate any further at the moment being. “How odd for Miss Alisa’s disappearance to coincide with the death of that man’s sister.”

“You’re awfully confident with that assumption, aren’t you, gambler?” You returned his grin with one of your own, although not without a bit of fang and venom. You tipped the sunglasses down to look at him properly, hoping he wouldn’t call your bluff. “And if you help us, what’s in it for you? I seem to recall you saying you never make deals where you’re on the losing end.”

“Your memory doesn’t fail you, sweetheart.” He spoke with a laugh, his voice dripping with something that made you squeeze your thighs together in remembrance of all the prior times you heard that sultry twinge in his tone in a far different setting. You raised an eyebrow at his audacity, ignoring the urge to take him upstairs to vent your frustrations when there are far more pressing matters at hand. “But don’t worry, I know where I’m not wanted. I’ll leave you and your friends to your own investigation, but don’t say I didn’t offer.”

Your ears lowered with mild displeasure, exposing your feelings about his statement despite your eyes being hidden behind his rose tinted shades. “The others won’t be too pleased if they found out you came to me. They don’t fully trust you as is.” The worst part of your foxian nature by far is your body’s propensity towards revealing your true emotions when it’s in your best interest to conceal them. Surely it would make you a horrible gambler, although it’s only one of many reasons why you would never try your hand at a game.

He cocked his head at you, that stupid lazy grin still at home on his face. “And you do?”

You sighed, a sound laced with self-hatred, because the way he was looking at you almost had you reeling. How weak of a woman had you become that all a man need do is look at you to get you worked up? “I didn’t say I did. But I’m far more familiar with you than they are, and I’m telling you to stay out of it.” Perhaps you could attribute your current state to the alcohol you consumed? More research was certainly needed in order to find a way to become immune to this man, for that’s all he is. He’s just a man.

“Fine, fine.” You’ve known so many men before, but this one infuriated you when he waved you off, and despite trying to maintain a calm facade, your ears lowered even further. He fixed you with a mirthful look in response reaching out to run a gloved hand through your hair, his fingers lingering at the base of your ear. You tried to remain outwardly impassive, but your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch as your ear twitched pleasantly in response. “Don’t let this put a damper on your stay. I’m sure she’ll turn up soon enough.” He raised himself from the barstool, heading off to who knows where, and leaving you sufficiently flustered. “Later.”

Your phone went off a few moments later, and of course the asshole had sent you the price of your drinks and a couple ten thousand credits more. Tip the bartender as much as you like, but I sent more than enough for you to have some extra spending money. You stared at the screen in confused distaste for a moment before another message came through. Oh, and keep the glasses. They look better on you. You didn’t need his charity, and you sent him a message letting him know in no uncertain terms, but he only sent you more money. He was impossible to reason with, and that’s why you found yourself resenting him, despite how undeniably alluring you found him.

And despite everything going on, you had half a mind to not text him back right now to meet you in your room in ten, if not just to return those stupid sunglasses. Although in all honesty, that would be the last thing on your mind were you to be alone with him.

But as sure as the prodigal son’s return, Alisa turned up, having been held gently as a dove in the bleeding palms of none other than Sunday himself. Despite her long absence, she showed no signs of physical or mental trauma, and on the contrary, she seemed just as gentle as before, draped in the finest silks Penacony had to offer. Something didn’t make sense, but of course, Aventurine’s suspicions regarding that man were entirely correct, leaving you to regret brushing off his help so readily. Perhaps if you hadn’t been so quick to cast him away, you would’ve found her quicker, although something told you she wouldn’t have been ready to leave. But despite the complicated logistics of the situation, one fact was certain in your mind: anything Sunday had been forced to let go of was left with claw marks from his controlling grip.

And perhaps control was a form of love? You wouldn’t know, but the notion was entirely ridiculous to you, that the thorns that bound Alisa to him could’ve been born of anything else but a desire to possess. Still, when you looked at Alisa, you saw no sign of claw marks, nor thorny brambles. She was just as unmarred as the day she left, and that confused you even further.

Before you left that hedonistic heaven of a planet, however, you found yourself knocking on Aventurine’s door for answers. After all that had happened, you’d learned far more about him than he was willing to tell you himself, and you became even more convinced that all of the smooth-talking and flaunting of wealth was overcompensation for a deep-seated sense of worthlessness. It upset you deeply, because as much as you told yourself you had no reason to care for this man, for this almost stranger who shared your bed, you still worried for him.

What made him different? Was it his dangerous beauty, his immense wealth, or his cavalier nature? Or perhaps, it was the way he touched you like you were worth every single treasure in the world? It didn’t matter, because that meddlesome little feeling in the pit of your chest wasn’t going away any time soon, not until you got the answers you sought.

Aventurine had really gone and done it now. Destroying a cornerstone was sure grounds to be demoted, if not fired completely, but a break wouldn’t necessarily be the worst thing to happen to him right now. Maybe he’d get lucky and they’d do away with him altogether. He could only hope as much.

Penacony was a disaster, sure, but the IPC had gotten what they wanted, and there were certain colleagues who would undeniably be on his side through this flaming pile of shit whether he wanted them to or not. And in all honesty, he hadn’t expected to be around long enough to see the aftermath. So how was he supposed to go about living when he never intended to continue in this twisted labyrinth in the first place? How was he to live in a world that took everyone he ever loved from him? If this was what it meant to be blessed, then he truly was given a shitty hand.

But then, there was you. He hadn’t seen much of you since your friend’s sudden disappearance, and he could tell the event had shaken you to your core. In fact, something told him you were even more torn up about it after her return. Of course, he made sure you were aware he’d be here to comfort you in any way you needed, but was that really what he wanted from you?

That was the tricky thing about being a gambler. You have to always know what you want out of the game, or else your efforts are pointless. And Aventurine could not remember a time that he ever knew what he truly desired. Even when he was younger, his focus was always on survival, on buying and selling, being bought and being sold.

Still, he could hardly consider whatever he exchanged with you pointless. In fact, some of the moments he spent with you were the only times he felt any semblance of meaning in a very long time. You made him feel like a person rather than a trading chip, and perhaps that was what he never knew he wanted.

He’d met up with you once more before the shit really hit the fan, sitting beside you on the couch in your hotel room as you apologized for being so harsh with him when you rejected his help. He wasn’t sure what happened to change your mind, but you seemed earnest, far more than someone like him deserved. He had certainly overstepped in your moment of vulnerability, but he really had wanted to help you for nothing in return, a fact that surprised him just as much as it did you.

Despite your shared proximity, his arm draped lazily around your waist, you hadn’t shared more than a few kisses. The situation felt far more intimate than the typical nature of your relationship, and before he left, you took his face in your palms tentatively. “Be safe, alright?”

The tender exchange was so unbefitting of the both of you that it took him off guard. There were always moments like these between the two of you— touches that lingered for a few moments too long, shared glances amongst a group. These instances threatened to thaw something within him that froze long ago, and it was scary. He had to disregard everything, to forget you, if he wanted to bring the grand mirage that was Penacony to its end by bargaining the most significant chip he had left.

In the Dreamscape, that twisted version of himself told him to die without regrets, and he thought he made his peace. He told himself that you would be better off without him, that you were simply two planets that orbited the same sun for a time, nothing more, nothing less. Of course he knew it was a fib, but in his world, lying was a form of survival, even if the one he was fooling in the end was himself.

Despite his fortunate foresight, however, he hadn’t expected you to seek him out before the Express left Penacony, considering the way things ended. However, as he sat contemplating what the future he never thought he’d see might bring, there was an insistent knock on the door of his room.

“Why do you do it?” You questioned him the moment he opened the door, his guard still somewhat down. He blinked, surprised, as you waltzed past him into the room, visibly agitated.

“Hm?” He quickly resumed that easygoing air of nonchalance that you were used to from him, watching as you approached the Dreampool, your gaze fixed upon its bubbling surface to avoid his gaze.

“Risk your life for the possibility of zero reward.” You hesitantly turned back to face him, the pool’s aquamarine glow lighting you in a way that made you look divine. “That’s not a very wise gamble.”

He chuckled softly, unable to conceal the fondness that crossed his face when he looked at you. “The phrase ‘wise gamble’ itself is an oxymoron, sweetheart. If we were wise, we wouldn’t be gambling.” He approached you, hoping his words would be enough to dispel the concern on your face. “In a game of chance, the one who comes out on top is the one who has the most to lose.” You really did have a horrible poker face, and as much as he would love to bring you along to a game or two, you’d probably accidentally reveal his entire game plan with a few poorly timed twitches of your ear.

And like clockwork, your ears lowered as your expression soured. He envied you for a fleeting moment, the way you couldn’t hide a single thing you felt. “That’s just stupid.” He wondered if he would ever be able to live like that, with his heart on his sleeve. But in his experience, being able to express one’s feelings was a death sentence. Better to swallow them down and gamble with his words, doing everything to hide that imperceptible twitch of his hand that threatened to betray his self doubt.

He shrugged, turning away from you so he wouldn’t have to see that expression of yours. “Maybe to you, but it’s my livelihood.” Any moment longer under your gaze and he’d ruin his game, he who never faltered. You were quiet for a moment and he took the opportunity to move to the couch, casually sitting down and patting the spot beside him for you to join him.

You did not move, remaining in front of the incandescent Dreampool like a goddess. “You have so much more to give. Information, money, power. Why resort to the ultimate sacrifice?”

“Those things are worth nothing to others. But my life?” He paused, and you raised an eyebrow. “Well, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” And despite the statement being disguised as a joke, it was probably the most honest he’d ever been with you.

He watched as you blinked at him in mild surprise, your fangs threatening to reveal themselves along with your mild annoyance. “You’re kidding me, right?” You moved purposefully towards the couch, before suddenly taking the opportunity to straddle his lap rather than sit beside him. “How can you look me in my eyes and tell me your life is worth nothing?” At his non-response, you leaned in so you were face to face, your noses almost touching. Your eyes were wide and watery, and he hesitated again, taken off guard by your sincerity. “Go on. Look at me and say it.”

And surely, it had to be you who was joking. There was no reason for you to care about him. There was no reason for him to hold any sort of value in your life, for if he did, he would have let you use him however you wanted long ago with zero question. He would do that for you, and perhaps he would even do anything for you. But he still could not, for the life of him, figure out why you were looking at him like your world would collapse if he disappeared.

He sighed, responding with a question of his own. “Why are you upset with me?”

You snarled, an expression he’d seen you direct so many times at others, but never him. “Why do you think?” You were visibly angry and hurt all at once, although he feared you hurt more for him than for yourself. And he felt it was so terribly unfair that you felt obligated to waste your time on a former slave with a raging inferiority complex despite having so much to offer yourself.

“I’m sorry, [Name].” He hadn’t expected those words to leave his mouth, and it seemed that you hadn’t either, for your eyes widened, and the tears that threatened to fall earlier began to spill down your cheeks.

Despite your tears, you scoffed bitterly. “Why are you apologizing to me? You’re only hurting yourself.”

He took your face in a gloved hand, wiping a stray tear with his thumb. “You’re the one crying.”

“I’m not—” You pulled back, looking at his finger, moistened with your teardrops. Your hand came up to touch your face, and you laughed bitterly, leaning back upon his thighs. “Maybe you’ll finally listen to me.”

“I want you to listen to me.” He spoke gently, afraid of upsetting you further, but still wanting to say his piece. If you continued to worry about him, you’d be the one ending up hurt, and didn’t he promise not to involve anyone else in his schemes, to keep them all concealed to protect the ones he loved? “What happens to me has nothing to do with you. I promise, everything will work out in the end. It always does.” He tried his best to sound jovial, reassuring, but you were a smart woman, and you weren’t buying this gamble. He sighed, thinking of the people who died because he failed to protect them, the lives he’d taken to prove his own worth. He couldn’t bear to add your name to the list.

“Is it so hard to believe that your life has value to someone?” The notion made him falter completely, and you had effectively called his bluff, beating him at his own game. Honestly, he would be kind of proud if the situation weren’t so grim. “Do you want to die, Aventurine? Do you?” You took it one step further, hitting terribly close to home.

When his future self confronted him in that dream, he essentially asked him the same question. Whenever he had to make a gamble, the thing that meant the most to others, and the least to himself, was his life. How was he supposed to think any differently when he’d always been seen as nothing more than something to buy or sell? He was free of those bloody shackles that enchained him, and he would never again be looked down upon like that. But he still wasn’t certain exactly what he planned to reap from life now that he was free.

So he told that man, the one who looked just like him, that he’d know the answer once he got to where he was going. And since that moment, he had been to death’s door and back, and you were still here waiting for him. You sat on his lap now, weeping for him. Perhaps it was a sign from the universe, an omen pointing him in the right direction. But Aventurine no longer believed in the power of the universe, the same one that had taken everything from him.

So what else was he supposed to do except leave you before he destroyed your life even further? His non-response was the only answer you needed, and your annoyed demeanor quickly deflated into one of sadness and defeat before you climbed off of him, smoothing your clothes. “Goodbye, Aventurine.”

Naturally, things didn’t end there when it came to the happenings on the Planet of Festivities. Everyone with skin in the game had their own agenda, and the Astral Express was not an exception. Luckily for you, though, the crew needed someone to stay back with Alisa as her impromptu jailkeeper to ensure she didn’t leave the Express. No one expected you to volunteer, for you had been the most excited to explore everything the planet had to offer. But you had admittedly less important matters on your mind that you had to think through.

And Alisa seemed to be taking her protective punishment quite well, for she still buzzed around the Express doing her daily tasks, and cooked all of your meals happily. She clearly sensed something was wrong, for you were unknowingly horrible at concealing your own sadness, and doted on you as a result, although you couldn’t help but think it should be the other way around. And despite her nature causing her to behave pleasantly, Alisa still wore her sadness upon her back like her own personal cross to bear.

Despite being such a typically talkative woman, you and Alisa often sat in silence those days while your crewmates wrapped up affairs on Penacony, curled into each other on the couch while she gently stroked your ears. It was the nature of a Foxian to enjoy a pet or two, and you lavished her attention, but not before explicitly warning her not to tell a soul.

And day after day, the jailbird still sang sadly, peering out between the bars of her cage with a melancholy look upon her delicate face. The girl was always prone to lovesick contemplation, but for you, this was all so very new, and every sensation was unfamiliar and raw. You found yourself deeply thankful, however, that you weren’t alone, and Alisa’s penchant toward pondering loves of the past and present began to wear off on you.

What made this situation different? You’d ended affairs before, both concisely and messily, but never had you cried over someone who you crossed paths with, and never had you walked alongside someone for so long that you’d grown to care for them. Never before had you tried to nullify someone else’s self destructive tendencies, because never before had you stuck around long enough to learn who they truly were. And despite what his actions had told you, there was still so much more you didn’t know about that man. As you sat beside Alisa, tears silently streaming down your face, you were embarrassed.

Every time you allowed your own heart to cloud your judgment, it led to your downfall. You forsook your own family back on the Yaoqing, and for what? A man who wouldn’t even look your way after he got what he wanted? And perhaps Aventurine had received what he desired from you, and was now willing to throw you to the wolves in favor of clawing his way down to hell, and that had nothing to do with you. Time heals all wounds, and soon enough, you’ll have forgotten all about him, and he will have ruined himself by his own hand. And if the notion made you sob a little harder in Alisa’s arms, it was entirely unrelated to him, nothing but a byproduct of your own stupidity.

As you let her brush through your tail with an antique jade comb, the soothing motion coaxing your deepest anxieties out into the open, a new fear came to mind. Before, maybe you were alone, but you never once felt lonely. But now that you were no longer in contact with the one person you thought you could connect with on a deeper level, you suddenly worried that you would never be able to feel that way about someone else. Once the words left your mouth, you regretted them, for Alisa’s ministrations with the comb halted. “Don’t speak as if he’s dead.”

You scoffed. “He wants to be.” You spoke bitterly through the thickness of tears lingering in your throat. Alisa hummed before continuing to brush your fur.

“He’ll be back.” She reached down to pat your head, and your ears twitched in a combination of annoyance and resigned enjoyment. You turned back to face her, your eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

“What makes you so sure?” She offered you a small, knowing smile, the expression right at home on her face. You envied her ability to be so hopeful on your behalf despite being in a state of bereavement herself. Despite your own jealousy, it endeared her to you further.

“I know a lot about these things. He won’t stay away from you for long.” She ran a lithe hand through your now smoothed tail, passing you the jade comb. “He can’t.” You wished you agreed with her, but a small part of you prayed she was right, and that much like the quickly escalating situation on Penacony, things between you and Aventurine wouldn’t end here.

And after tensions boiled over, and the rest of the crew had sufficiently resolved the volatile situation, Alisa’s predictions came to fruition. The first thought that crossed your mind just three days later, when you opened the door to your cabin and saw Aventurine standing there, examining the antique fox statue on your nightstand, was that the Astral Express really does welcome all passengers. “What, do you have a work assignment on the Express or something?” Trespassing was certainly frowned upon, although the sight of him amongst the trinkets of your room wasn’t necessarily unpleasant. All of that to say that someone had to have invited him aboard, and it certainly wasn’t you. “Gonna gamble us out of every last credit we’ve got?” There was a hint of mirth to your tone, but it did little to mask the unease that you felt in the moment.

He’d told you that day through his actions that he wanted nothing to do with you, content to throw himself down a spiral of self-hatred and despair. If that was what he desired, it was fine by you, for you refused to stand by while he destroyed himself even further. And when you found yourself sobbing into your pillows for days on end afterwards, you told yourself you were only angry with yourself for feeling this way, not the fact that you mourned his absence or anything like that.

The man standing in your room like a ghost from the past turned to face you, his eyes murky as if snapping out of some sort of trance. He threw you a lazy smile, clearly unable to read your demeanor. “Something like that.”

You sighed as the door shut behind you, making no move to venture any further into the room lest this be another dream. “Why are you here?”

He shrugged, laughing almost nervously as he tentatively approached you. “Well, the IPC did want my head on a platter for a minute there, but everything’s resolved now.” He looked down at his shoes then, biting his lip momentarily before meeting your gaze again with those brilliant eyes of his. “I figured it was high time for me to make some personal calls.”

And how difficult it was for you not to crumble before him right then and there.

You steeled yourself, although you were subconsciously inching closer to him when you spoke. “And this is the first stop on your victory tour?” He swallowed, looking down at you as you stopped just centimeters away from him, so much so that you could smell his expensive cologne from where you stood. “Congratulations, you got your job back, what does that have to do with me?”

He smiled once more at you, although the expression was absent of the usual venomous honey that typically accompanied it. “Those friends of yours called me. They were really worried about you, you know.” He gently placed a gloved hand on the side of your face, and like clockwork, your body leaned into his touch. “I owe you quite a few explanations.” He kept it there for a moment, feeling the heat of your cheek against his clothed palm, before bringing it back to his side hesitantly.

Effectively placated, you blinked up at him. “You don’t owe me anything, Aventurine.” Your tone was missing its usual bite. How many times had you imagined this moment before cursing yourself for being so pathetically hopeful? Whatever happened between you was brief, ending because you cared far too much for a man who couldn’t care for himself. But maybe, just maybe, something within him had changed, with you as the catalyst.

“On the contrary, I think I owe you everything.” He responded sincerely, and his tone was unlike anything you’d ever heard from him before, except in those quiet moments the two of you shared when the rest of the universe was fast asleep. Those multi-colored eyes glimmered at you like a kaleidoscope, and the feel of his hand against your face lingered upon your skin like a phantom sensation.

“What are you saying?” Despite your nature, you had come to accept that you were weak before him, even though he had never asked you to be. And like himself, something beneath your exterior, far behind all the walls you put up to protect your own heart, made itself known whenever he touched you, and stirred a fire in your chest that you thought died out long ago. You decided to give him a chance, taking his hand gently in your own and leading him to sit beside you on the window seat. Once you were comfortable, he didn’t let go of it, instead resolving to intertwine his fingers with yours.

“I’ve thought a lot about our conversation that day. It seems there’s a lot more I need to come to terms with about myself.” He paused then, and you sensed that he was preparing to give you everything he had to offer, this particular gamble oddly innocent. “I’m sorry that I hurt you by involving you with me. It wasn’t my intention.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his apology, but he squeezed your hand just as you were opening your mouth to object. “But I want you by my side. Every day.” His gaze bored into your own, intense and earnest, as his characteristic smile dissolved, emphasizing his sincerity. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You were silent for a moment, and he took the time to bring your hand to his lips, brushing them against the soft skin. You let out a breathy laugh, and he met your eye, smiling expectantly. “You’ve really got to stop apologizing to me for things that aren’t your fault”

“And your answer?” He lowered your hand, decidedly not unlacing his fingers from yours. He laughed in a self-deprecating manner. “You can say no. I won’t be offended.”

“Yes.” You answered with zero hesitation, for it was the response that resonated in your soul. He could’ve asked you anything in that moment, and you would’ve responded affirmatively because you knew you were too far gone. There was still a long way to go in terms of communication between the two of you, but you were willing to try for him, if only to preserve the way you felt when he looked at you like that. “I’ll stay by your side, if you stay by mine.”

“Of course.” He pulled you to him until you sat atop his lap. “I’d never dream of leaving you again.” A hand ran through your hair before he leaned in, his lips meeting yours sweetly. Despite how many times you’d been in this situation before, your entire body felt like jelly as you kissed in front of that window, his hands finding purchase at the base of your hips as yours wound around his neck.

You pulled away reluctantly, looking him in his eyes. “Do you promise?”

He leaned in, stealing one more kiss from you, ignoring your protests at his delayed response. “I promise.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “And when have I ever broken a promise?”

You giggled, a bit delirious from the way he kissed you. “You haven’t exactly made me many promises.”

“Then let this be the first. I’m not going anywhere.” He grabbed at the fat of your backside much like he did the night you first met, although this time there was a far more possessive undertone behind the action. “And neither are you.”

“I wouldn’t plan on it.” And perhaps you had a possessive nature of your own, for when you kissed him again, you had every intention of marking him as your own, of sinking your fangs into him until the only name he remembered was your own. Or, perhaps, you were getting a bit ahead of yourself, but the way he was moving beneath you told you he wasn’t at all opposed to the idea. “Shall we seal the deal?”

He nipped at your bottom lip as he reluctantly parted from you, that alluring grin of his cementing your intentions. “What did you have in mind?”

You threw him a teasing smile of your own, although the way your tail swayed behind you in anticipation betrayed your want far more than your words did. “I have some time to spare if you do.”

“You have my complete attention, darling,” He spoke smoothly, his honeyed words ghosting your lips. “What do you want from me?” You giggled. Was he really going to make you say it? Well, no matter. You told him in no uncertain terms exactly what you wanted him to do to you, and he did it, because he would happily do anything and everything for you. And afterwards, when his deft hand pressed against your spine amidst the formerly pristine sheets of your bed, you knew he wanted you even closer to him than was humanly possible, because you wanted the exact same thing.

And wasn’t that new? Knowing just what the other wanted, and doing everything to make that happen? Perhaps that was what love was all about. You weren’t sure, you thought it might be something like the way his fingers laced through yours as you pressed your forehead to his, your tail moving insistently and pleasantly against your bedsheets.

Aventurine could not decipher the looks on your crewmates faces as you sat beside him on the couch in the parlor car, fingers interlaced with his, as if you hadn’t just told them that he would be accompanying them to the next stop on their voyage. “So? Aren’t you guys going to say anything?” You smiled at them, although not without a hint of fang, as if daring them to object to your decision.

“Of course.” Himeko spoke, that blessed, caring woman. “The more the merrier.” Her response and the warm smile that came along with it seemed to placate you sufficiently, although Aventurine still felt horribly out of place. But he got the feeling that wherever you were, he’d fit in just fine. The others responded with varying degrees of welcoming affirmation, although it was very hard to ignore the way Stelle and Alisa were elbowing each other and giggling to themselves, and even harder to ignore the threatening looks you were sending them. He turned to you, smiling fondly, and as you looked back, squeezing his hand, he realized this was the most at home he’d felt in a long, long while.

“Well, where to, then?” You diverted your attention back to Himeko and the rest of the crew, subconsciously leaning further into Aventurine’s side.

The group all shared a look, and you raised an eyebrow as if to ask what the hell is that supposed to mean? Finally, Stelle, ever the menace, opened her mouth. “Well, while the two of you were occupied, General Jing Yuan invited us back to the Luofu to attend the Wardance Ceremony.”

A sharp, sudden laugh escaped you, presently ignoring Stelle’s pointed comment about what the two of you had been up to. You didn’t seem to care what the rest of the crew knew, so neither did Aventurine. It was a rather freeing mindset to have. “The Wardance Ceremony? Been a long time since I’ve heard about that. I suppose I’ve been traveling with you all for too long.”

Himeko chuckled good naturedly. “You don’t seem to have any complaints about that.”

You offered her that pretty grin of yours in return, fangs peeking out. “Oh, believe me, I have none. Are we going?” There was that shared look again, before March 7th nodded. “No way. You guys must be itching for a fight then. It’s mostly martial arts contests.”

Alisa smiled, coming to sit down beside you. The girl seemed to have recovered well from her stint with the Family, and Aventurine found it nice to see her up and about. So much so that he even let go of your hand to allow her to take it, although you settled further into him to compensate. “Have you ever competed?”

You snorted. “Nah. Do you think I’d stand a chance there? It should be fun though.” You shrugged, your tail beating with anticipation against his leg, and he exhaled mirthfully at the fact that you didn’t seem to notice.

“Mister Aventurine?” Alisa craned her neck to see around you, making eye contact with him. He hesitated, not expecting to be addressed so directly by any member of the crew. In fact, he’d been ready to be treated as just an extension of you for a while, something he really wouldn’t have minded much at all.

As such, he shrugged in a way he hoped came off as nonchalant. “Well, seeing as I’m the newest guest, my opinion shouldn’t mean too much in the grand scheme of things.” You scoffed, elbowing him. Right. Whenever he would say something that edged too close to the line of self deprecation, you would let him know in no uncertain terms.

“As long as you’re traveling with us, your input is important.” You turned back to him, taking both of his hands this time. You shot a pointed look at the rest of the group, a warning to comply hidden in your tone. “Right?”

The crew murmured in agreement, although they didn’t seem to harbor enough ill will towards him to ostracize him from the rest of the gang. He sighed inconspicuously, the sound edged with relief. “Well, it certainly sounds entertaining. I’m down.”

Stelle grinned deviously, and he prepared himself for the worst. “Good. Because we already decided to go while you guys were holed up in your room.” A slightly less direct reference to the hours he’d spent with you prior to making the decision to come along. He’ll take it.

You groaned, reaching out to swat at her legs, which she quickly avoided as if used to it. Knowing you, she probably was. “What was the point of asking us then?”

“Inclusivity.” She snickered, and Alisa jumped up off the couch to join her lest she too be within your radius of swatting.

Himeko smiled fondly at your antics, and Aventurine decided he could get used to being a part of this family, albeit an extended member. “Let’s set off then.” He’d made many gambles in his life, but staying by your side was by far the easiest and most advantageous decision he’d ever make.

#beeswax #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr aventurine

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ireadwithmyears · 7 months ago

Text

even if it’s handcuffed, I’m leaving here with you.

Pairing: Commander Fox/fem Reader

Word count: 4.7K

Tags/warnings, smut (18+: (miners DNI) dumb decisions, they turn out alright, slight exhibitionism (they fuck in the back of 79’s and Fox enjoys the idea of being overheard), oral (F receiving), fingering, light bondage, spanking, but like only one, unprotected P in V sex, dom/sub elements, biting/marking (it’s Fox, what do you expect)

Summary: Fox hasn’t been giving you the attention you’ve been craving. The way in which you go about fixing that is highly questionable, but ultimately, a resounding success.

Note: yes, this was 100% inspired by a specific lyric in I’mgonnagetyoubac by Taylor Swift, referred to in the title. I heard it, went Fox bby c’mere I need to do something with this, and this is the end result, which I hope is enjoyable. Also, do these characters have communication issues that they probably should acknowledge and talk through? Probably. Are we not going to acknowledge any of that here for the sake of✨minimal plot✨ yes.

“This, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, is one of the stupidest ideas you’ve ever had.”

To be fair, your best friend is saying this all while she downs a shot, barely containing her smirk behind the glass. She’s already given her rather enthusiastic consent to this idea that she has just declared is stupid

Because that’s what best friends do.

Look, you have to agree, the idea sounds completely outlandish and lacks any sound logic whatsoever, not to mention, there’s no guarantee that it’ll even work. But, lounging around a table at a bar on Coruscant’s Clubbing scene, and with your ride or die best friend perched across from you to egg on your delusions, it starts to sound not as crazy as it had initially sounded when you had first spoke the words aloud.

In theory, the idea is straightforward and simple enough.

Start a fight at the clone bar while Fox is on duty so that you can actually get him alone for more than two minutes.

You’re aware, somewhere in the back of your mind, that these are rather drastic measures for you to take just to get your boyfriend to notice you. But, with your rationalizing, alcohol emboldening you, and your friends immediate agreement to help without hesitation, this idea starts to seem not only reasonable, but solid.

Listen, if you were able to be a normal, sensible couple, and you could just do something like, you know, talk to Fox, you would.

The problem is, though, that Fox has been making that very difficult.

Being the marshal commander of the Coruscant guard carries a lot of weight and responsibilities, you get that. You really, really do. But, when he rarely makes it home most nights because he’s fallen asleep at his desk from overworking himself, and you can count the amount of times he’s touched you over the past two weeks on one hand, you’re starting to go a little bit insane.

Okay, so, you’re horny and so desperate for his attention that you’re willing to do something completely unreasonable, not to mention a little bit illegal, to get it. So what.

The plan, for all of its complete lack of sense and sound judgment, goes a little too perfectly.

The guard often sends some of their own out on patrols during 79’s busiest nights to keep order and ensure that there are no inter-battalion style brawls.

You have Fox’s schedule memorized. So, you wait until you know he’s set to make his rounds, pick a table that is clearly within his eyeline, and then, minutes after he shows up, give your friend the subtle signal.

It starts with raised voices, shouted accusations and glaring until you know you’ve peaked his interest. Even through the tint of his visor, you can practically feel his eyes on you from across the room.

Once you’re sure his eyes are securely glued on you, you allow high school drama and improv skills to take over, letting the fight escalate into something physical.

It’s hard, knowing that your friend is about to take the brunt of this for you, and your equal parts appreciative, and a little bit terrified, that she’s letting you launch yourself at her. But, you think to console yourself, you had practised this. How to make it look convincing, just good enough that it draws the attention of the cori’s, while also inflicting minimal damage because due to the fact that you don’t want your friend to get in heat for this too, making yourself the clear instigator, she’s only dodging, refusing to hit back.

When the thud of boots and the crackle of voices through helmet speakers come, barking gruff orders to break it up, you’re more than a little relieved.

Even with his bucket still on, it’s easy for you to identify that it’s him. Him who pulls you off of her, none too gently. Him, whose rough, gloved fingers enclose around your wrists, smoothly pinning them behind your back before you can even blink and fuck, why was that so hot? Him, who, for a brief moment, you feel the cold and unforgiving plastoid of his chest plate digging as he presses flush against you, voice a low, displeased rumble as he addresses you, voice too quiet for anyone else to hear.

“You know, princess,” he mutters darkly, giving your wrists a squeeze. “If you wanted tonight to end with me locking binders around those pretty wrists of yours, there was no need to go to all of this trouble.”

He knew.

Somehow, he’s figured out exactly what you were doing within seconds and for some reason, this only intensifies the thrill that runs through your body and causes your thighs to clench.

You’re not given time to ruminate on this, though, barely catch the subtle wink that your friend gives you before another member of the guard blocks your view of her as he kneels down to check on her. Fox, reflexes lightning fast, spins you around and immediately begins to usher you towards the back of the establishment, giving the other guard member on duty, you think it might be Thorn, a curt nod to acknowledge that he can handle this on his own.

Your led away to the sounds of low whistles, and many identical sets of brown eyes peering at you interestedly as Fox’s brothers stare at you when you pass by their tables.

Your face, at this point, has the decency to flush with oncoming embarrassment as they watch Fox leading you away.

No time for regrets now, you think to yourself as Fox reaches around you, still keeping your wrists firmly in one hand as he unlocks the door to an out-of-the-way office, frequently used to detain clones who start fights in the bar.

For better or for worse , you have captured his full, undivided attention for the night.

now, you think, it’s only a matter of what he’s going to do about it.

“You know,” he muses, arms expertly caging you in and crowding you against the office wall, “if you’re going to fake a fight to get my attention, you could at least have picked an accomplice who I haven’t already met, and who I am perfectly aware you are on good terms with.”

“How would you know?” You ask, still slightly breathless as his amber eyes catch yours in the dim light, levelling you with a look. “A lot could change in the two weeks that I’ve barely seen you.”

“Is that what this is about?” He asks, voice low and somehow too smooth and even, tilting his head to the side. “That explains why she made the effort to do this.”

He doesn’t back down, doesn’t even look away in any semblance of guilt, which is infuriating. You’re about to tell him so when you’re cut off abruptly, words dissolving into nothing but a short gasp as his head lowers, lips, followed by the sharp bite of his teeth along the much too exposed skin of one of your breasts.

You blink, looking down at yourself, startled. It appears that whilst your friend was engaged in skirmishing with you, she had managed to tactfully pull open a few buttons from your shirt, splitting it just so that one of your breasts is tantalizingly exposed, nipple barely covered by the remaining fabric.

It’s fabric that is quickly shoved to the side as Fox, eyes never leaving yours as he does, takes your nipple into his mouth, tongue rolling over the bud, encouraging it to harden between warm lips.

“It’s almost like this was... planned,” he muses, accentuating his words with a sharp pinch as he tweaks your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, smirking at the way you jolt with surprise. His breath ghosts along the column of your throat as he moves to whisper in your ear. “Wasn’t it, cyar’ika.”

You’re prevented from answering when his teeth nip at your earlobe, causing any words you had in your mind to fall away, giving way to a shiver as you arch into him. A thrill runs through your body, and a pleasant hum has replaced the void where your thoughts used to be. If you had the sense to be embarrassed about how easy it was for him to get you like this, you would be. But right now, pushed up against the wall with him looming over you, it takes all you have to reach for him, fingers trying to find perch’s between his armour plating.

“Fox,” you let out a whine, tilting your head up to look at him pleadingly as you press yourself against him.

“Uh uh,” he chides, quickly extricating your hands. “These stay here,” he orders, swiftly pinning your wrists above your head with one hand. “If you know what’s good for you,” he continues darkly.

“A and what if I don’t?” You try to challenge, but your voice comes out in more of a squeak, wobbling slightly, as his fingers trail down your sides, just teasing at the skin beneath your shirt.

He chuckles, the sound a husky, dangerous rumble in his throat. Abruptly, he drops to his knees in front of you, pulling both your skirt and panties down with him in one harsh tug. They pool around your feet on the floor.

“Oh, meshla,” he coos at you, voice dripping with mock sincerity as one gloved fingertip, tantalizingly featherlight, sweeps through your already wet folds, only grazing over your clit enough to make your hips stutter in surprise before he pulls away.

“Trust me, by the time I’m done with you, you will.”

Your ability to form a quick witted retort to that is greatly impeded, and ultimately foiled, probably intentionally, by Fox lifting one of your legs, manoeuvring it so it drapes over the curve of one of those broad, imposing shoulders of his.

Before you’re given time to react to this sudden shift of balance, he’s leaning forward, his impatience evident in the way he roughly holds your thighs apart as he does. Your clit is suckled into his mouth with an almost unadulterated greed as it’s pulled between his lips, tongue barely fluttering over it before your hips jolt, and the sound that manages to escape you, half in surprise, half a needy whine before you manage to check yourself, remembering where, exactly, he’s doing this to you, sounds just about as uncontrolled as his actions are.

He pulls back, only to give you a deceptively teasing smirk as he tugs off his gloves. “What’s the matter, cyar?” He almost purrs, a now gloveless finger slowly teasing at your entrance, eyes fixated on how you clench around nothing. “Got nothing to say now?”

He evidently finds his ability to have you this riled up with only a few touches amusing, because he’s again leaning forward before you can respond. A series of gentle kitten licks targeted at your clit, as his finger slowly presses into your heat has you forgetting about that fact quickly, the only sound escaping your lips being that of a strangled gasp-moan.

With the way his lips quirk and he lets out a small hum of satisfaction, the vibrations of which run through your body like a shockwave that leaves you breathless, it’s evident that this is exactly the way he wants you, squirming and desperate.

“Fox, I, we can’t do this here ohh.”

You lose track of the point you were trying to make with the smallest movement of his finger, almost gentle as it curls inside you, just brushing over your G spot, causing you to start stammering.

“Mm, why’s that, princess?” He asks, pulling out his finger only so that he can insistently begin to open you up with a second. “I don’t really think you’re in the position to be making demands like that, hm?”

Teeth nipping at that sensitive spot high on your inner thigh silences your retort. “So pretty,” he breathes, almost to himself as his tongue lazily soothes over the mark he’s made, before he’s back on your clit, lips, tongue, and fingers that curl and press and thrust all working to bring you up and straight to the edge.

And take you to the edge, he does. Within minutes that feel like seconds, he has you arching your back, pushing your hips to meet the delicious, constant thrust of his fingers and the targeted, precise teasing of his tongue and lips against your already sensitive clit, breathless begging and pleading because you’re just, you need, you’re almost.

There’s an audible clap as you desperately press your hand against your mouth, trying to silence the high-pitched, feverish whimper that’s fighting to escape your lips because there, right there, rightfuckingthereyoujust...

Then he’s pulling away, releasing your clit with an obscene sounding wet pop as he rises to his feet, calm and totally unfazed in the face of your obvious frustrated desperation, hips still vainly moving in an attempt to find something that’s no longer there. He looks down at you, watching with evident amusement in his eyes as you lose the high that he’s given you, languidly taking the time to idly suck on his fingers, still slick with your arousal as he waits.

He’s patient, simply staring down at your quivering form as he holds you within his scrutiny, deliberately drawing out the silence until the tension has grown thick, and it starts to make you feel disquieted, nervous, almost like you’ve done something you shouldn’t have and you’re now waiting for him to pronounce your punishment.

Only then, only once he sees the realization dawn on your face and your eyes widen slightly does he reach out, lightly tracing one finger over the back of your hand.

Your hand that he told you to stay above your head on the wall.

Your hand that is, right now, still pressed firmly against your half open mouth.

“I thought I told you,” he muses casually, fingers delicately wrapping around your wrist and pulling it away from your lips, “to keep these where I put them.”

You swallow, but look up at him with a falsely innocent expression because fuck it, you’re already out of the frying pan, might as well just jump headfirst into the fire.

“Well, technically you told me to do that only if I knew what was good for me, so... guess I don’t,” you say with a shrug, flashing him a smirk.

“Hm,” he huffs, pondering as he continues to hold your wrist, giving it a squeeze in warning. “So it appears you don’t.”

Within seconds, he’s smoothly spun you around, and pulled both of your wrists behind your back, with a speed that’s so succinct that you don’t even comprehend what’s happening until the heavy, cold weight of the binders settles against your skin, locking your wrists in place with a smooth, resounding click.

Oh.

A hand on your back gently nudges you forward and without question, you begin to walk, only pausing when he’s directed you to stand in front of a desk, the height of which reaches just above your waist. He urges you down, hand pressing in between your shoulder blades until you’re bent over, skin flush against the cool wood.

You jump when his voice appears, low and inches away from your ear as he leans over you, hands delicately scheming down your sides as he speaks.

“Oh, meshla, you misunderstand me,” he purrs, and he can’t resist gently nipping at your earlobe just to hear the small noise of surprise that escapes you and feel the way your body shivers beneath him.

You hear him settle behind you, armoured knees hitting the ground with a dull thump as his hands, warm and rough, ease your thighs apart, holding them wide.

Fingers lazily circle you’re already swollen clit as he continues. “You can cum, pretty girl. In fact, I want you to cum, and I want everyone outside to be able to hear all those pretty sounds you make when you do it.”

Outside, a muffled round of drunken cheering from several of his vode seems to punctuate his demand, causing your heart to quicken, and before you’re given time to really think about it, he’s opening you further, diving back in with his lips and tongue as his hands continue to hold your thighs apart.

For a moment, it’s just hot, heavy breaths, warm air tickling and brushing against your incredibly sensitive clit, the barest sensation and the heat enough to pull a breathless “mmm” from your lips, hips desperately pushing back against his waiting mouth.

You both know that you’re not going to last long, so Fox takes time to relish each moment he spends in between your thighs, every movement of his tongue and lips deliberate and controlled. The firm muscle of the flat of his tongue pressing against you is neither frantic nor fast, but it urges and demands with an almost maddening precision. The slightest role of his tongue over the bud as his lips pull you into his mouth nearly does you in, turning small, gasping whimpers into “oh please I fuck I please,” without any regard to the level of your voice.

Fox hums a response, and after that, you’re done, tipped over the edge by just the slightest nudge as if you had been clinging to it by your fingertips, and were now free falling.

You only come back to yourself when you feel fingernails raking up your trembling thighs, and Fox’s low, husky voice as he stares up at you.

“Mm, good,” he murmurs, running a finger through your sensitive folds just to watch you tremor.

He rises to his feet, and you’re not sure what you’re expecting him to do, if anything. Your mind is so addled by your orgasm that it comes completely unanticipated.

A quick, stinging swat lands against your ass, calloused fingers caressing over the skin as soon as it begins to heat beneath the palm of his hand. It makes you let out of rather undignified, surprised squeak, hands instinctively trying to move to cover yourself, but of course, they’re not going anywhere. The unforgiving metal of the binders cooley nipping at your skin as you strain being a good enough reminder of that.

“But I think you can do better.”

There’s the familiar sound of his codpiece being unclipped, a small clang as it hits the floor and is kicked away without consequence. Fox lets out a low groan, the only evidence to suggest that he’s nearly as affected as you are as he pulls himself free of his blacks, taking his hard length into his hand.

Your head drops to the desk, which is met with an immediate tsk of disapproval, Fox threading his fingers through your hair as he tugs it back up, pulling just enough to ensure that the tingle is painful, a reprimand as sharp as his words.

“Keep your head up, princess,” he orders sternly. “I want everyone to hear the sounds you make when I fuck you.”

He glides his cock through your wet folds, pausing to tease a few circles around your clit with the head as he continues. “And I want everyone to know how good I make you cum.”

The head of his cock lightly slaps against your clit, punctuating his words and causing the already overly sensitive nerves to spark and tingle. The whine that leaves your parted lips is a needy, pitiful thing.

You hear his low, throaty chuckle as he backs off, nudging the glistening head of his cock between your parted lips, smoothly lining himself up at your entrance. With one drawn out, controlled roll of his hips, he’s sinking into you, hands coming to grasp your hips as your tight, warm heat clenches around him.

Once he’s fully seated himself, feeling your walls fluttering around him, he moves, adjusting his angle in several quick, sharp snaps of his hips as he gages your response. When he finds the angle that has you crying out the loudest, and he’s satisfied that his cock insistently nudges against your G spot with every thrust, he begins to move in earnest.

Fox sets an even, measured pace, pulling back only to thrust back in with more power and intensity behind the insistent movement of his hips, cock pressing against all of those spots that need to be touched, caressed, and stretched for him.

Only when it starts to build inside you, because really, after you’ve already came from the talents of his skilled tongue, it really doesn’t take much to bring you back up, only once you start moaning and writhing beneath him does the rhythm change, not stopping, but slowing considerably as his fingers grasp at your hips, pulling you against him and keeping you still despite your squirming and protests.

You can feel his armour plates digging against your skin as he moves, the cold, unforgiving plastoid in combination with the hot slick of skin on skin as he firmly presses your hips against him is dizzying, and sends your head spinning with each gentle pulse of his throbbing cock.

He holds you there, keeping your ass pressed flush against his pelvis, only allowing small, controlled ruts of his hips that brush his cock against your walls, his form radiating patience and authority as he looms over you, watching as you mercilessly struggle for him to give you more than what he’s allowing.

Your hips try to push back, to do anything, but without being able to brace your hands, you’re not getting anywhere fast at all, and your struggle to gain any kind of leverage ends with you throwing your head back, letting out a high-pitched, frustrated whine as you look back at your tormentor, who watches with an almost impassive expression, eyes dark.

He sweeps your hair over your shoulder, littering a trail of hot kisses and sharp bites along the exposed column of your throat as he moves to your ear.

“Got something to say, meshla?” He coos condescendingly, nuzzling his nose against your neck and letting out a warm breath that sends goosebumps down your spine.

Under the full weight of his attention, he manages to scatter the few strings of coherent words that your brain was trying to piece together into something useful. All you can do is moan helplessly, feebly pushing back against him in an attempt to get him to move in vain.

“Hm,” he muses, and you feel the brief scraping of teeth as he runs them along your shoulder. “Guess not. Maybe I’ll just stay here, until you can figure out how to use your pretty mouth to tell me what you want.”

You know what he wants, and it only takes one small, barely there nudge of his hips for it to come spilling out of you, with minimal protest or fight.

“Please, sir, please,” you beg, both cheeks and eyes burning at how unsteady your voice sounds. “Please fuck me.”

“Ah,” he pretends to come to the understanding and that bastard, you don’t have to look at him to know that there’s a devilish smirk on his face as one of his hands leaves your hips, dipping to run along your inner thigh.

“Understood,” he says, voice as short and crisp as if he’s just barking an order to one of his troopers.

With that, he withdraws, unsheathing himself so slowly that every inch of him drags along your walls as he pulls out. Then, without warning, grasping your hip tightly, he slams back into you, pushing against your tightness and pulling you back onto him at the same time. His pace is now brisk, unyielding, and unwaveringly steady as he impales you on his cock, letting out low, breathy sounds, pausing to listen to the mules and moans that leave you in response.

As soon as he starts hitting someplace deep, quick and primal and constant, your back is arching, your ability to form any coherent words seemingly depleted.

Or at least, that’s what you think, until his hand, that had up until this point been squeezing and massaging the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, moves in between your legs, fingers expertly catching on your clit, circling, pressing, and the occasional tap against the overly sensitive bud that has you gasping and jolting in place.

“Fox,” you whimper desperately, hips wriggling even though there’s nowhere to go. “Please.”

Whether you’re saying please to beg him to stop because you can’t, it’s too much, or you’re saying please because you want, you need him to never stop, to keep going because the attention he’s lavishing on your clit combined with the delicious way he’s filling and stretching you on his cock feels so wonderfully good is unclear.

The decision is quickly taken out of your hands when Fox, evidently seeing how close you are, abruptly adjusts his angle, redirecting his focus yet again to your G spot, hips rolling against you as he targets it with small, precise and shallow thrusts.

“Be a good girl,” he murmurs, hand releasing your hip to rake his fingernails down your spine. “Cum,” he orders, giving your clit another tap before he continues his tantalizing circles. “Cum for me.”

You throw your head back, spine contorting as you arch, only vaguely aware of the desk digging into your ribs as you cum, eyes squeezing shut and walls clamping down on him as some sound that you don’t even begin to hear nor control is ripped from your throat.

Only then does his pace falter and does he pull you back onto him to bury himself to the hilt within you, cold armour plating firmly pressing against your ass and your thighs, as he lets out a long, low rumble as he stills within you, spilling his release within your warm, convulsing heat.

You’re aware of your head falling against the desk, finally too exhausted to keep it up as your body trembles with aftershocks. You’re aware of his hand, soothing as it strokes through your hair. You’re aware of him slowly easing himself out, you think you might make a small sound at the loss, judging by his low chuckle, but you’re not sure.

You only really begin to engage with the world again when you feel the rush of liquid leaving your core, causing you to let out a small gasp.

“Shh, little one, s’okay,” Fox murmurs, gathering the mix of his and your release that glistens on your folds with his fingers, slowly pushing it back inside, causing you to whimper.

He guides your legs back into your panties and skirt with tender hands, pulling you to your feet and reaching around you to button up your top.

It’s only when he’s about to steer you out of the room that you realize.

“Fox?” You say with a frown, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Aren’t you gonna, you know, undo the binders?”

He looks at you, hands occupied with snapping his codpiece back into place.

“No,” he responds shortly. “You still instigated a fight. I at least have to play off the charade that I’m taking you back to HQ.”

He sets his helmet back on his head, and even though you can no longer see his face, you know that there’s amusement in his eyes, because even though this was your plan, he still has the last laugh.

“This is still a punishment, and considering I’m letting you off the hook in terms of having to pay a fine, it’s a rather generous alternative, don’t you think, Meshla?” He reminds you lowly, voice clear even through his helmet modulator. “Get moving,” he orders, nudging you forward impatiently.

your mouth drops open as the noise from outside slowly filters into your ears.

He’s about to make you walk through the bar.

Your wrist still in binders as he escorts you out.

Past many of his vode.

With his cum still leaking out of you and the fresh bite marks that he scattered across your neck and shoulders like ornaments.

They’ll take one look at you, and even if they hadn’t managed to hear some of what was going on, which, judging by the dryness in your throat, would be a complete miracle of the force, they’ll know exactly what you did with the Marshall commander whom they all serve under and fuck, the burning twinge of humiliation should not effortlessly combine with some sort of excitement, but it does.

Your cheeks flush, and it takes all of your willpower to start shuffling your feet forward.

Well played, Commander. Well played indeed.

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