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dont-tell-anyone-im-here · 3 months ago

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Obsession

You may be attracted to your career counselor, but he was obsessed with you.

***TW: Power Imbalance; Stalking; Obsessive Behavior; Breaking and Entering; CNC; Choking; Dirty Talk; Rough Oral; Forced Penetration; Afton/Raglan are not good people so they're written as such***

Tags: Reader Has No Specific Genitalia; Oral M Receiving; Masturbation; Sex Toy; Pet Names (White Rabbit/Bunny); x Reader; Blowjob; Penetration; Cross-Posted AO3

It was hard looking for jobs on your own. Especially in this day and age with the classifieds drowning in ads that aren’t even job listings. You are known as a, “job-hopper”, and in the somewhat-small town that you lived in, it was starting to get difficult to find a position that you hadn’t already filled. Luckily, you were the ideal customer for Mr. Steve Raglan, “Career Counselor Extraordinaire”. (At least that’s what he introduced himself as when you had first met.) Other career counselors had given up on you, not seeing a reason to try to get someone employed if they’re just going to quit within a month. However, he saw dollar signs with you. Why would he push away someone who’s a repeat customer? He’d be more than happy to help you, as long as the checks cleared.

You sought help from this man to find work and it was unfortunate that things had to be professional. Steve Raglan wasn’t the usual type to be the object of your sexual desires. It was rare to find yourself fantasizing about older men that weren’t celebrities that littered magazines and the big screen. Silver foxes of the real world were few and far between, and most didn’t age as gracefully as your career counselor. You admit, you weren’t attracted to him when you had first met. He seemed to be like any other middle-aged man trying to get by with an office job that he hated. The second time you met, he was surprised to see you back, joking that he must be losing his touch if you were back so quick. You found that this dry sense of humor was something that you would look forward to hearing at your appointment by the fourth time you had met. It was during the fifth appointment that you noticed how intensely he looked at you from across the desk when you spoke. You noticed the veins in his forearms as he would hand you paperwork. He had strange, patterned scars burned into his skin that sparked curiosity within you, but you never dared to ask. You noticed how he studied every move you would make, like he was dissecting you in his mind, trying to figure out what exact muscles were used to make your body move like that. After you started to notice the little things, you couldn’t stop. Every time you’d come into his office, he’d shake your hand, and every time you’d try not to pay too much attention to how easily his hand enveloped yours. You’d try not to stare as he would look over his files, even though it gave you a moment to watch him when he wouldn’t notice. You’d try not to squirm in your seat when he’d stare you down from across his desk, tutting about only staying two weeks on the last job.

As much as you had a little crush on your counselor, you were also a little afraid. That intense stare sent shocks to your core but it always left a part of your stomach churning. Those scars made you worry about how strong he had to be to survive what caused them, strong enough to do something to you. Him studying your body as if for dissection could very possibly be the reality of what was going through his mind. His hands were a reminder of how much bigger he is than you. You weren’t sure if your infatuation gave you rose-tinted glasses to ignore those feelings of danger when with him, but it had seemed that way, because what you felt for your counselor was pure lust. It was becoming near impossible to be able to sit through those meetings, to be under his scrutiny and not beg for him to take you on his desk.

This was now the tenth time you’ve met with Steve Raglan. Or, it will be the moment he calls you back to his office. Your knee bounced as you waited, impatience starting to eat away at you as you looked around the waiting room, seeing that you were the only one in the lobby, the office secretary the only other body in the room. The secretary told you that your counselor would see you in ten minutes when you had arrived, and when you checked your wristwatch, you saw that a half hour had passed. You weren’t upset, moreso annoyed. Why have you show up at a certain time if he’s not even going to abide by it? You fidgeted in your seat, switching the bouncing knee to tapping your fingers on the armrest of your chair. The door to your crush’s office opened and the crush himself stood on the other side, extending an arm to hold the door open for you as you as he called your name. You tried not to look too eager as you jumped up from your chair. You quickly made your way into the office, trying to keep your eyes on your feet as you ducked under his arm to get past. You saw in your peripheral that he held out his free hand for a greeting and you expertly ignored it. There was a subtle frown when you passed him without a handshake, putting his hand into his pant’s pocket without a comment on how much he didn’t like that.

“Late for somethin’, white rabbit?” Mr. Raglan asked as he closed the door behind him, watching you take your seat in front of his desk. He went to his coffee maker, and began pouring himself a cup. He looked over his shoulder at you, raising the coffee pot with a quirked brow. You wave your hand, dismissing him as you got comfortable in your seat. Steve sniffed, putting the carafe back in its place then turning, a mug in hand. You shook your head, ‘tsk’ing as you pulled an exaggerated disappointed look.

“You’re the one that’s late. We were supposed to meet 20 minutes ago.” You chided, picking at your nails. A part of you liked being the one to tease him for once. He let out an, “Ah!” as he understood, taking a brief sip of his coffee before explaining himself.

“Last appointment was rough- desperate for a job and can’t even do nights? You’re makin’ me push a camel through a pinhole.”

Odd. You didn’t notice anyone walk out of the office when you were called back. Maybe you just hadn’t seen them- you were looking at the floor when walking in, they must’ve just slipped by. As rational as you found that explanation, something still seemed off. There was a slight unease in your stomach that you fended off with your rationalizations. You were so busy figuring out your thoughts that you didn’t notice your career counselor place himself between you and his desk, leaning back on it and sipping his coffee as he turned his torso to open your work file, angling it so he could read it better at the position he was in. You came back to reality when you felt his leg press against yours. You couldn’t help the wave of heat that rushed through you upon seeing how close he was. His desk was no longer an island keeping you away, he was right there, you could take him, right then. You wanted to, but kept your face to your lap, still picking at your nails. You didn’t want him to see the growing blush on your cheeks, feeling embarrassed at the thought of him seeing how much you worked yourself up over something so insignificant. He frowned. He didn’t like that you weren’t looking at him.

“So-“ He started, taking a quick glance back on his desk to read something on your file then turning back to you, “- serving drunks ‘til 3 am wasn’t the dream job?”

“More like a nightmare job.” You said as you inched your leg away from his. He didn’t like that either, but his quick flame of anger died out when your eyes finally met, able to look at him without a blush caused by his limited touch. He had raised a brow at your comments, waiting for you to elaborate as he took a sip from his mug.

“It would’ve been different if the drunks were at least cute.” You joked, when the counselor didn’t laugh, you sighed. “But the real answer is that I was tired of the bouncer walking me to my car- most nights he’d try to take me to his car instead.”

“Sounds like the perfect gentleman.” Mr. Raglan muttered, taking another sip of his coffee then setting it down on his desk. “So, cross ’bartender’ off future lists?”

You bobbed your head side to side, thinking, “… All the ones with creepy bouncers and customers.”

“That’s all bartending then.”

You slumped back in your seat, caught up in your own defeat as yet another job became unattainable to you. You slipped further in your chair as you thought of anything else you could possibly do as a career, your mind so preoccupied that you didn’t notice your legs interlock with his. But he did. You were advancing his touch, clearly you wanted him. Images and scenarios clipped through his brain of all the terrible things he wanted to do to you. Bend you in half over his desk, tie you to your chair with your legs spread, push your head into the coffee stained carpet and pound into you until your rug-burned cheeks bled. The things he wanted to do to you just in his office.

“Is there anything like stocking? I could put stuff on shelves.” You broke the quiet of the room. As Steve took a couple extra milliseconds to answer, blinking a few times to bring himself back to reality, you finally saw how your knees had pinned him to his spot.

“Sure- we’ll just trade in the pervy bouncer with a pervy grocer.” He said once he got the image of your crying, naked, marked body out of his imagination.

“I feel like a pervy grocer would be more mild-mannered.” You sat back up, freeing his legs from yours, trying to get rid of the sexual power you felt keeping him in his place. He really didn’t like that. You had somehow managed to piss him off for the third time and you’d only been in his office for five minutes. He was going to have to do something about that.

“Seriously though, do you have any stocking jobs? I can ignore whatever awful thing there is about the place- I just need a job.” You sounded desperate. Oh, that was what he was going to do about that, perfect.

“I don’t think I have anything like that.” Mr. Raglan said flatly, knowing damn well that he had about five different offers of exactly what you were asking for. He just wanted to see you beg, something that he could take home with him for the late hours when he can’t sleep.

“Could you check?” You asked, just as flat, annoyed that he seemed to not care. When he just brought his mug to his lips and drank the last few gulps of his coffee, you added a, “Please?”, as sweetly as you could. He sucked air through his teeth, holding a now empty mug, looking at the coffee remnants pool at the bottom, debating whether he wanted to get another cup or not.

“C’mon, for an old friend?” You joked, adding another “Please?” that dripped with melted sugar. He could listen to you say please like that for the rest of his life and not get enough. He hummed as he weighed the nonexistent options. You looked up at him with clasped hands and a slight pout. You were only being silly, you didn’t know that it was just what he wanted. He wanted to see you pout and beg, give him puppy-dog eyes and look up at him pathetically. It would’ve been picture perfect if you were on your knees. He hid his mischievous smile behind a hand as he pretended to rub his face in thought.

“Lemme take a look.” He ended his sentence by putting his mug behind him on his desk. As Mr. Raglan stepped away from his desk, he patted your knee as he passed. It was something subtle, but it was an action that you’d be thinking about for the rest of the week. The counselor went to one of his filing cabinets, flipping through the files until he found what he was looking for. He closed the cabinet then opened the file, glancing through to make sure it was the right one. It was full of blank applications for a grocery store in town, just what you had asked for, but he wouldn’t let you get them that easily.

“Looks like things are already full of hard-working employees.” He said, flipping the applications about in the file as if he was reading documents. You felt that the ‘hard-working’ bit was a jab at you.

“Is there anything you can do?” You asked, your hands still clasped, your pout a little more severe. He wished there was a way to get you on your knees without outting himself as the actual perv that you should be worried about.

“I may be able to pull a few strings.” He gave a small smile and he closed the file, moving to his desk and taking a seat behind it. He picked up his phone and he dialed the number on the applications.

“Let me make a call.” He winks at you as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs as he listened to the ringing line. No one would pick up though. The number he put in was nonsense, he just wanted you to think he was doing a huge favor for you.

“The number you’re trying to reach is unavailable-” The automated message began, but Steve carried on conversation as if someone was on the other line. You squirmed a bit in your seat, his gaze not leaving you as he began to talk into the blaring receiver.

“Yes, this is Steve Raglan, the career counselor? Yeah, how’re you doing today?”

As your career counselor spoke on the phone, convincing this imaginary person to hire you, you tried to look around his office. Your eyes went from each object in the room. The coffee maker, the little table it sat on, the little trash can under it. But his eyes felt like they were burning into you. Your gaze was magnetically drawn back to him whenever you tried to focus on something else, you felt like you couldn’t look anywhere else but at him. When you finally gave in, making eye contact, he grinned. A chill ran down your spine.

“I know- I know you said that you’re full of stockers over there but I got a very hard worker here that is in a bind.” Mr. Raglan sat back in his chair, uncrossing his legs to push back a bit from under the desk to make room for his long legs. You immediately looked at how his legs spread apart to get comfortable. You could fit perfectly between his thighs, hide under his desk and quietly suck him off as he tried to keep a straight face as he met with his clients. You looked back to his face and he was still staring at you, his grin growing. You looked down to your lap, embarrassed, beginning to feel like it was too hot in this office.

“They’re very experienced with dealing with authority, they take orders well.”

You couldn’t help but think that he meant more than what he was saying. You took a glance back up to see that his eyes never left you. You felt like you were sweating buckets at this point. You started to pick at your nails again, needing something to focus on besides his searing gaze that somehow still felt so dark and cold. Mr. Raglan’s voice picked up, your ears perking to his tone, yet you kept your gaze to your hands.

“I’m willing to put my reputation on the line here- if you can’t hire them, you can take me off your call list.”

There it was. He was putting his credentials on the line for you. He almost felt too prideful when he saw your eyes widen hearing him. You were convinced that he was willing to go so far for you. He watched you fiddle with your fingers, knowing you were trying not to look at him.

“Yeah, send a fax of the application and I’ll have them fill it out, and I’ll send it right back.”

Steve put the phone on “hold”, pushing a button and setting the phone back on the receiver. His elbows propped up on the arm rests of his chair and he raised hands up, giving the air of a humble brag for his technique of negotiation.

“Am I good, or what?” He said, flashing a smile before getting up, picking up the file of all the applications he had and leaving the room. He had to kill a few minutes to make it look like he was picking up the fax from the secretary. He walked back to the employee common area of the offices, going through the cupboards for the sake of doing something, saying a quick hello to the coworkers that passed him. He walked back out and went into the bathroom, the file still in hand. He felt too clever for this, feeling sinful for being so proud of himself for how smart he was. It was the little details that made the lie all the more believable. Taking out one of the applications, he tucked the file of remaining papers under his arm. He activated the hand drying machine, holding the paper underneath the fan that loudly roared hot air onto it. He ran each sheet of paper under the fan for the allotted time of the machine, getting off-looks from the other employees who had come in to use the restroom or were leaving, (who opted for drying their hands with the paper towels).

When your counselor handed you the application for your new job, it was still warm off the printer.

“Oh thank you, Mr. Raglan, thank you!” You said as you quickly filled the papers out, thanking the counselor over and over in a mantra of gratitude. He took in your thanks, wanting to remember you thanking him repeatedly for when he’s by himself with wandering hands. You have an excited grin when you hand back the papers, his smile felt so genuine as he took the application to fax back out to the employer. You still couldn’t believe that he had stuck his neck out like that for you. You watched as he got up and left the room once again. Your eyes wandered as you waited. You noticed the counselor’s desk phone, and that there wasn’t the usual blinking light of a call on hold. Odd. That unease in your stomach returned. It felt like a primal sense of dread. It disappeared when the door opened, Mr. Raglan smiling as he came in and sat back down at his chair, following your gaze when you glanced at the phone again.

“Ah, looks like they hung up on me.” He frowns, but his smile returns when he gives you his full attention.

“I’ll have to give him a call back.”He placed his hands on top of the files on his desk, folding them neatly as he looked you in the eyes. “I’ll let you know if you got the job or not when I can.”

“Thank you Mr. Raglan! You don’t realize how much this means to me.” You say, slightly bowing your head in gratitude. “Please, if there’s anything I could do for you to repay you- let me know.”

That chimed in his head like church bells. Oh, he could use that. You probably thought maybe a fruit basket or a cheap ticket to a game, but he had other ideas.

You got up from your seat, seeing that now was the right time to leave.

“I know you kinda put your reputation on the line for me, I’d really like to be able to show my gratitude somehow.” You add with a smile, making your way to his office door, him following you to it.

“Oh, I’ll be sure to let you know.” He smiles, opening the door and holding out a hand. You gladly took it, shaking it with a newfound giddiness that could only be from getting a chance that was undeserved. You didn’t know how much he would be thinking about this, going over every single second in his mind over and over, reading too deeply into how grateful you were. You were indebted to him now, and you were going to have to repay that debt, whether you wanted to or not. He watched you walk out of the office, and you could feel his hot gaze on your back as you did, you tried not to shiver.

When you had completely gone, Steve looked at the clock and pretended to debate in his mind, acting like he was trying to make a tough decision before telling the secretary that he’ll be in his office the rest of the day, so he’ll see them tomorrow. They bid their goodbye, giving a small smile and wave as he closed the door and locked it behind him. He reached to his neck and loosened his tie, unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, and stood in front of his desk, leaning back on it as he had done when you had first walked in. He stared at the empty chair in front of him, imagining you sitting there, naked, legs spread, and mouth open. He shuddered a breath as he couldn’t help himself undoing his belt buckle and reaching into his pants. God, he was rock hard. He replayed in his mind you begging for him to help you, hearing your pleads echo in his ears, only now asking him for help to make you cum. He didn’t realize he was so close until it was too late, cumming on the empty seat and imagining he had done so on your face, once again, your voice echoing in his head your repeated gratitude of before, now thanking him for his seed decorating your body. His grip on his desk was hard as he panted, your figure fading away as he came down from his high. He rubbed his face with his clean hand, taking a deep breath before finally calming down and out of sheer curiosity, he checked his wrist watch. You had only left his office 7 minutes ago.

As he cleaned up, the inner cogs and mechanisms of his brain began to turn and devise a plan. A plan on how he was going to get that payment out of you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was a beautiful day outside, perfect for a nice walk in the neighborhood with a dog on a leash and nothing but the sun and the birds to tag along. Yet Steve Raglan sat in his car, parked at the side of the street in a suburban neighborhood. He looked down at the file in front of him. Its papers were unorganized but he easily found what he searched for, as if he’s been studying the pages for months.

That was because he had been, and it was your file.

Since you’ve become a repeat client of his, he’d become more intrigued by you with each meeting. The intrigue became a dark obsession, and it has now come to a head. He was parked about a block away from your home, feeling that overwhelming self-pride at figuring out when your neighbors were usually out, leaving a suspicious car to go unnoticed in your neighborhood. (At least for the amount of time he predicted he would have with you.) He really was too clever.

As he glanced at the sidewalks around him, seeing how many people were around, he thought of how long it had been since he had last seen you, and how it was because of the absence of you that he was there. It’d been over five months. You’ve been excelling at your new job at the grocery store. The store manager had called him to say that “he had sent a great employee to him”, and that if “he had any others like you to send them right over!” He scoffed after he had hung up the phone. There wasn’t anyone else like you. That’s why he was obsessed with you.

He got out of his car, closing the door and locking it before pocketing the keys. He began a walk down the block, something he’s grown familiar with. This wasn’t the first time that he’s walked your streets. He preferred to do it at night, memorizing the walk to your house in the dark and taking peeks into your windows from the view of the sidewalk, not wanting to draw too much attention if anyone happened to be looking out the window. He wanted to stare into your windows desperately, to watch you, but he couldn’t hurt this good thing he had going. He could walk past your home at night and see you lounging in your living room, completely unaware he stared at you as he passed your home, it was bliss.

Today, however, was different. He was going to actually go into your home. He really was too smart, he knew everything about you and today he would finally get to execute on his plan. From the outside, it would look like he knocked on your door, and that you let him in. But he was actually going to pretend to knock on your door, and act out you letting him inside. He was going to overstay his welcome, whether you liked it or not, and he was going to get away with it. He knew that you would be home today, he had gotten your schedule from your employer, as an old favor for an old friend. He knew from small talk that you lived by yourself, and that you didn’t have a dog. He had even suggested that you should get a dog, you’re all alone, who knows what could happen.

Steve finally came to your street, holding back his urge to run the rest of the way to your house. As he approached your home he took a quick glance through the windows. You weren’t in the living room. Perfect. As he stood on your front porch, he took a deep breath, taking a final moment to prepare himself for what he was about to do. With the lightest touch, he knocked on the door, his knuckles barely registering on the wood. No response from inside the house. Perfect. He tried the door knob. He hadn’t expected for it to turn with a soft click- he had a screwdriver to jam into the doorframe if it wasn’t- yet the door was unlocked. Perfect. Swiftly he opened the door, peering inside carefully, no one in sight. Perfect. He stepped into your house, closing the door behind him, and locking it. He dropped to a crouch, untying his shoes and leaving them neatly by the entrance, carefully placing his keys in the shoe so as not to make any unnecessary noise. He crept further into your home, sticking to the walls to not creak your floorboards, taking every precaution to not let you know he was there. After checking the kitchen, which was empty, he made his way to the halls, starting to hear a sound he couldn’t quite place. It sounded sloppy, wet. A door in the hall was ajar, the sound coming from there. Another sound joined the wet slapping and he grinned. He realized he actually knew what that sound was. As gently as possible, he opened the door more, slinking inside and quietly closing the door, locking it before finally turning to what was in the room.

He could’ve fallen to his knees seeing the state you put yourself in. Your naked ass in the air, your face pressed into your mattress, unbeknownst to you, giving Steve Raglan full view of you masturbating. One of your hands clawed at the edge of the bed as the other worked between your legs, pumping a dildo in and out of you, desperately trying to get yourself off. Your muffled whimpers could still be heard through the blankets, pulling your head up only to breathe and plead to the open air to make yourself cum. Your arm ached, but your need to satisfy yourself overpowered what fatigue ailed your muscles. You found a compromise by slowly pulling the sex toy out, your moans drawn out like a song, before slamming it back into you with a guttural cry.

“Misterrr...” You drawled from deep in your throat. Steve’s ears perked. He was more than interested in knowing who you were imagining as you fucked yourself, jealous bile rising in his throat at the thought of you thinking of someone else. He could easily walk forward, spread your ass apart and have his way with you, teach you a lesson for thinking someone else could make you like this. His envy quickly changed to pure hunger when you continued your lustful ramblings.

“Mr. Raglan, please…” You begged into the bed, repeatedly pulling the dildo then bottoming out, each squelch punctuated with your helpless whimpers. His mouth went dry when his name left your lips, your words going straight to his cock. He was already erect seeing you in this position, but now knowing that you were in the throes of ecstasy because of the mere thought of him? He couldn’t take his dick out fast enough. His grip was hard on the metal of his belt, not wanting to alarm you of his presence. He didn’t want you to know he was here, not yet. This was a surprise for him, and he wanted to return the favor with a surprise of his own. He felt he could already burst watching you lose yourself over him. He wanted to make you never forget him, no matter how hard you tried to fuck yourself, it could never be him. He was more than happy to remind you. He carefully took off his belt and set it aside, rarely taking his eyes off you, especially when your pace began to quicken. His hand wrapped around his hard cock, swiftly pulling it over the waistband of his boxers and matching your pace, watching intently how tightly you wrapped around the sex toy. He bit back his own moans as he imagined it was his cock you were rocking back into, his teeth scraping his bottom lip to hold himself back.

Your hand became erratic, your rhythm lost to the coil in your stomach tightening to a point you felt sore. You planted your face into the blankets as you pushed your arm through the last bit of energy it had, you cried out. A warm liquid coats your legs as you finally came, your back arching as you rode out your euphoria, panting as if you haven’t breathed in hours. Your hand fell to the bed, leaving the dildo to slowly fall out of you and thump to the mattress. Steve could’ve screamed watching your relaxed muscles push the toy out of you, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer, and with a long stride, he was directly behind you. The hair on the back of your neck prickled, finally out of your stupor enough to feel like you were being watched.

But it was too late.

A cold hand slapped across your mouth and you felt a weight on your back as someone leaned onto you. You could feel something hard rubbing against your ass and you whimpered against the strong hand, feeling tears begin to prick your eyes as the situation settled in. Who is this? How’d they get in? What were they going to do to you? Were you going to die before or after they were done with you? Your nose stung as the tears pooled in your eyes, you felt so vulnerable, so scared, starting to feel sobs build in your chest as you found yourself begin to pray to whatever higher power existed to save you from this. You felt there was no other option. You were cornered and you were alone with someone who had intentions that you didn’t even want to fathom.

“Aww, what’s wrong, white rabbit? I thought this was what you were fantasizing about.” A voice cooed into your ear. Your eyes went wide, your tears sliding down your cheeks as you recognized the voice. You knew who was behind you, and you were sure you didn’t find that comforting. You looked over your shoulder to see Mr. Steve Raglan. He was so close to you, your lips could’ve met if it wasn’t for his rough hand muzzling your lips. There was something in his eyes, something that made fear shoot down your spine to the bottoms of your feet. You felt disgusted with yourself as a tinge of excitement pooled in your groin as you saw he was naked from the waist down. Of course this would turn you on.

But, he wasn’t wrong. You were fantasizing about him, wanting him behind you in this exact position, fucking you. It could become a reality now and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. As much as you wanted to fight against this, a part of you knew he didn’t have to take you by force. You wanted to say something, to tell him all he had to do was ask and you would’ve let him have his way with you, but his hand was firm on your lips, muffling what little noises you could make. You watched him as his other hand started trailing up your thigh to your ass, spreading one of your cheeks apart for his dick to slide right in between.

“Perfect fit.” He grunts, leaning back for a brief moment so he could take in how neatly your ass wrapped around his cock. You couldn’t stop your hips from pushing back into him, an animalistic instinct wanting him to be pressed against you once more. A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned back down, it felt degrading.

“So quick for your next fix.” His teeth ran along the side of your neck before placing a chaste kiss behind your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “But you want the real thing, don’t you?”

You nodded, whining against his hand as your ass ground his hips. He let out a breathy moan, desperate, wanton. He was as needy as you were, his free hand beginning to roam your naked body as if he couldn’t feel enough of your skin. It was as if he was starving, a crazed man who couldn’t be satisfied. Your fear, though still very present, ebbed away at the edges, feeling a wave of authority surge through you as you realized just how desperate Mr. Raglan was.

You could control this situation if you wanted to.

But right now, even though you knew how fucked this was, what you really wanted was for him to do whatever he wanted with you. His free hand came back up your hips, slowly reaching around, calloused fingertips tickling your skin as he teased you, only touching your pelvis, somehow scraping past without actually touching you. You felt his dick pulsing between your ass cheeks and you moaned against his hand. He let go of your mouth, moving down your jaw, down your neck, gripping your shoulder tightly as a new way to keep you in place underneath him.

“Mr. Raglan, please-” you breathed, pulling your hips away from him to allow his dick to slide right against your entrance, getting onto your elbows to ready yourself. You heard him laugh aloud at how ready you were to have him in you. “I want you to-”

You didn’t even finish your request. He grabbed himself and was pushing into you. You gasped. It was burning. It was burning inside of you and you loved it. Fuck, you wanted this burn to overtake you, to completely consume you. As you caught your breath, Steve groaned, blinking hard as he gathered himself. His plan was going perfectly. This was everything he wanted and more. (Well, he kind of wanted more of a fight, but beggars can’t be choosers.)

He was the perfect size for you, fuck, his dick felt exactly like you had imagined it would, if not more amazing. He filled you completely and you couldn’t ask for anything better. His fingers drummed once before gripping your hips, finally back in his own body after the thrilling experience of just entering you. You felt better than he had imagined, if not more amazing. He had been dreaming about this, obsessing about this for months on end, never leaving his train of thought, and he finally had it. He leaned forward against your arched back, one hand moving slowly up your body from your hips, and wrapping lightly around your throat, his lips by your ear, breathing lowly. You felt his fingers begin to squeeze your neck, your breathing hitched into a moan.

“This is what you get for teasing me with that body of yours.” He says into your ear, his hold on your hip growing tighter. “You come into my office, sat there with your legs spread- god, you wanted me to fuck you right then and there, didn’t you? You’re such a slut.”

Steve began to move his hips.

He wasn’t slow or gentle and it didn’t matter if you weren’t ready, he did as he pleased and you were meant to just go along for the ride. His grip was tight around your throat and you could feel your face growing hot with blood gathering in your head. You felt amazing. Your eyes rolled back as you wasted what little air you had on uncontrollably moaning. You choked out a whiny, “Please,” that he rewarded by releasing his vice, allowing you to take a few deep breaths before his grasp tightened once again, earning a moan that he found particularly delicious.

“Listen to you whine- it’s pathetic.” He grunts under his breath, slowing down for a moment so that you can actually hear him over the sound of your skin slapping together with each thrust.

“I knew you wanted me to destroy you the moment your skin touched mine- that first handshake was enough to tell me just how desperate you were for someone to show you how it’s done.”

You can’t respond with words, only able to whimper and groan the more he choked and fucked you. He released his grip around your throat and as you gasped for air, his fingers massaging the sides of your throat. It was almost a nice feeling, especially coupled with the quick pecks he left at the corner of your jaw. But then his hand moved up under your chin, his fingers digging into your cheeks to force your mouth open.

“I want to hear you. I want to fucking hear you tell me how desperate you are for me.” He demands, his pace picking up again, throwing you into moans. Your jaw hurt from being pried open, his nails stabbing into your skin, but you still couldn’t give an answer. Not getting what he wanted, you felt his hand on your hip let go, then his arm wrap around your waist. You felt yourself being lifted off your elbows to an upright position on your knees, his dick reaching a new spot inside of you. The moan that escaped you was almost unnecessarily loud. You felt a chuckle rumble against your back, he was laughing at you, though it was between his own quiet, breathless moans.

“That’s not what I told you to do.” He hisses, though he didn’t let up, knowing you’d struggle to get anything out other than sounds of ecstasy.

“Hng- I was- fuck- so des- ah!- ‘perate,” You’re finally able to spit out. He slowed, allowing you to speak more. “I wanted you- fucking christ, I want you so bad-“

Steve took a hefty bite into your neck, sucking and grinding his teeth with your skin between, your groan mixed with the sound of his pelvis hitting your ass over and over in an unrelenting fuck that made you feel as if your body would soon give out. When he pulled away, it was already beginning to bruise. He thought the hue of red looked wonderful on you.

“If you want my dick so bad-” Without warning he pulled completely out of you, making you cry out upon feeling an emptiness you’ve never experienced before. He let go of you, your body collapsing onto the bed, you hadn’t realized he was the only thing holding you upright. As you collect yourself, whining about how close you were to cumming, you looked up and found him standing at the edge of the bed, hovering over you. You licked your lips at the sight of his treasure trail to his erect cock, glistening from being inside you, now inches away from your mouth.

“Why don’t you choke on it.” He finishes, grabbing the back of your head and forcing your gasping mouth around him. For the first time you heard him moan. Really moan. It was intoxicating, you instantly wanted to make him do that again, you needed to hear him make that noise again. Maybe if you were good, you would. His dick tasted like you and you hated how much you loved it, living up to being a so-called “slut”. You opened the back of your throat, doing everything you could to take him in entirely. You let him hold your head in place as he fucked your mouth, more moans escaping him that you rewarded by taking him even deeper. Your teeth dragged along his shaft and you heard him hiss- the sharp sting of his hand slaps your cheek.

It wasn’t hard enough to leave a mark, but it was hard enough to tell you to, “Knock that shit off.” The sudden slap did, however, cause you to lose focus on keeping your airway open, and you were now choking on the dick that was halfway down your throat. Your chest seized, but he didn’t let you move, still deep in your mouth. It seemed your struggling only made him more excited, his grunts increasing the more you gagged. You were able to wiggle your arms out from under your body and reach for his legs, tapping one of his thighs twice as if asking for a tap out in a wrestling match.

Surprisingly, Steve listened, pulling out of your mouth, letting you cough and catch your breath. You could feel tears streak your face as you looked up at him with bleary eyes, and he grinned. The very same grin you saw when he had gotten you the job at the grocery store. That familiar feeling of unease churned in your stomach, if it was anymore intense you would be nauseous. It was then the fog of hormones cleared and the reality of what was currently happening came upon you.

Finally, it registered to you that he had been planning this.

What was happening right now, at this moment, was all part of a scheme he designed. Him getting you the job, him breaking into your home, him fucking you. You weren’t sure what the outcome of the plan would be. You hoped it wasn’t with your dead, naked body in bed.

But you’d be damned if he murdered you because you were a bad lay.

Not knowing if you were doing this out of your own will to survive, (or if you were just so horny you couldn’t help yourself,) you looked him in the eye, and took his cock into your mouth to the hilt. You saw his eyes roll back, and the moan that emitted from him was enough to tell you that you would not be dying tonight.

“Oooh, white rabbit,” He purred, his eyes returning to yours, watching as you drew back and pressed the flat of your tongue to the underside of his dick, allowing him to easily slip in and out of your throat.

“You’re everything I’ve dreamed,” He continues, holding the sides of your head as he gently rocked into your mouth.

“Keep doin’ that an’ I might just keep you with me forever.” He managed to wink at you. You weren’t sure if he meant that as a life partner or as a prisoner.

Your spit collected in his pubes, your chin now coated with a mix of your spit and his pre-cum, not breaking your eye contact with him. Your tongue wrapped around his dick, enjoying the sweet noises he was making. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him more, the grunt he made was almost primal. His grip on your head grew and his pace quickened, you knew he was going to cum, and this time he wouldn’t be able to hold back. Your lips pressed tightly around his cock, keeping it in your mouth when he finally came down your throat. You took it completely and compliantly, gratefully swallowing all of his cum. You licked your lips and upon realizing that some had dribbled out of the corner of your mouth, your tongue darted out to finish your meal. But Steve’s strong hand grabbed your jaw, stopping you. He leaned down, pulling you up to meet him and the flat of his tongue licked away the cum before you could, continuing its stripe onto your lips, and into your open maw. You moaned into his mouth as your tongues curled around each other and he sucked yours as he pulled away. He finished with a quick peck on your pouting lips, still keeping you a centimeter away, his words brushing you as he muttered,

“You’re such a good bunny-” He kisses you again, this time leaving you dizzy- “Swallowing without even asking-“ He kisses you a third time- “Oh, you’re everything to me.”

You weren’t sure you were just playing along with his plan anymore. All the things he was doing, all the things he was saying to you were only making you hornier and hornier. Your core felt like it was on fire, begging to be touched by him, wanting to be fucked, wanting to finally cum because of him. You didn’t care that he had set all of this up, you didn’t care that he had broken into your home, you didn’t care that he was taking advantage of you. You just wanted him to make you cum. So you begged for it.

“Mr. Raglan…” You breathed against his lips, letting him kiss you between your statements, “Please- I need you to make me cum-“ Another kiss, lingering longer, his harsh lips making yours feel pillowed when he pulled away.

“Please make me cum.” You pleaded. The grin on his face looked maniacal.

“White rabbit, you only had to ask.” He drops you back down to the bed, pushing your shoulders down, your back flat against the mattress. The air hitched in your lungs when Steve harshly grabbed your legs and pushed your knees damn-near either side of your head, bending you in half as he leaned on top of you, pinning you in the position.

“I’ve been wanting to hear you beg for me to make you cum for so long.” He sighs. “Oh bunny, you look so good under me like that.”

You hissed as he bit into the backs of thighs as one of his hands left your knees, skimming down your body until it fell off, leaving your mind to race as to what it was doing. You were quickly distracted by his sharp teeth in your flesh again.

“It’s too bad that gorgeous mouth of yours sucked me dry.” He tutted. You felt his hand return, along with a familiar feeling of silicone.

“I’ve been dreamin’ of cummin’ in you,” The dildo you were masturbating with when he arrived was in his hand, the tip playing at your entrance, making you whimper.

“Ya know, I should punish you for taking away that pleasure.” He pulled the toy away completely, your whine choked back when his other hand grabbed your throat swiftly and squeezed. Fear pumped your blood, unfortunately only making you want him more. You lifted your chin as much as you could in the position you were in, giving him more access to your neck, your eyes half-lidded and watching him, waiting for him to do what he saw fit. He chuckled, knowing that he had you wrapped around his finger, that you would do anything for him now, just as he had planned.

“But I think makin’ you wait this long is punishment enough.”

The dildo was slammed into you and the noise you let out was garbled between a cry and some noise an animal would make. In the position you were currently in, the toy reached a new spot in you that you’ve never felt before, and each pump drew a whiny moan out of you, you windpipe still being squeezed by his strong hand.

“Those noises you make- I could get hard again just hearin’ ‘em.” His hand let go of your throat, his fingers now playing at your hairline at the nape of your neck, his thumb on your bottom lip, playing with how swollen it was. He bit into your thighs again, leaving behind dark marks that made you cry out in pain that sank down into groans of pleasure the more he fucked you with your toy.

“Oh, make those noises for me, white rabbit.” He says against your skin, his hand moving the dildo faster and harder into you. You had found the more you heard it, the more you loved the pet name he had given you. You didn’t know why he called you ‘white rabbit’ or ’bunny,’ but you didn’t want to bother asking. You loved that it was yours and it was something that you could always be for him. What you loved the most about it was how he always said it so adoringly, bordering on obsessively- and you realized what this was all about.

Obsession.

Steve Raglan was obsessed with you and he wouldn’t be able to rest until he had marked you, until he had claimed you, needing you to only be for himself. No one else will be able to fuck you again. Not only because you knew that he would never let it happen, but also because you knew that you would only be thinking about him. Considering everything, that wasn’t a shock. How could you ever be with someone else after this?

His thumb on your lip dared to enter your mouth, marveling how warm and wet it was and how soft your tongue was as it lapped the calloused pad of his thumb, the ridges of your teeth biting into it. He sighed dreamily as you sucked on his thumb, a whine in your throat when you felt like your body might give out.

“Are ya gonna cum for me? So soon?” His voice was in a mocking tone yet you still answered with a whimpered, “yes,” and screwed your eyes shut to focus on the knot in your stomach growing so tight it genuinely hurt.

He thought that your head might explode from how red it was getting. From the position he forced you in, the blood collecting in your head was enough to make your face glow and grow hot to the touch. The current image he was seeing of you was something he would take with him for the rest of life. He knew he would be thinking of this encounter on his deathbed, feeling nothing but bliss at the memory of taking advantage of you. (Though, with the way you were moaning, he didn’t really think this could be considered taking advantage.)

“Look at me, bunny. I wanna see you come undone.” He demands. You’re able to roll your eyes open and lock your gaze with his. His eyes bore into your very being and it felt like it was setting your very soul on fire, finally sending you over, the knot releasing. His grip was hard on your face, making sure you kept your eyes on him as your orgasm took over your whole body. Your groan was long and drawn out with a mumbled version of his name, your eyes struggling to keep open from how hard the waves of pleasure hit you.

As you struggled to catch your breath, he pulled you towards him and kissed your forehead tenderly, then allowed you to lay back on the bed, letting your eyes close. His body slowly got off yours, allowing your legs to drop unceremoniously onto the mattress with a slight bounce of the springs. The dildo was still inside you, and Steve watched with a hungry eye as your relaxed muscles pushed it out for the second time today. Fuck, he could never get used to that.

Your breathing finally slowed, your body sore from holding positions for him despite lack of flexibility. You felt him get off the bed and upon hearing the jangling of a belt you lazily opened your eyes. He rolled his shoulders and neck as he tucked his shirt into his pants. He looked back over his shoulder at you, and he broke into a grin seeing you still a sweaty mess on the bed. He came over to the bed, sitting on the edge and leaning back to capture your lips with his in a breathtaking, passionate kiss. He pulled away with a soft groan, feeling a raising anger that he couldn’t stay longer, but unfortunately he had business at a certain abandoned pizzeria to take care of, (the new security guard was getting too comfortable to his liking,) and he knew if he left his car any longer it would look more suspicious than it already does.

He looked at you and put a hand on your cheek, kissing you again, more softly this time, as if that was a sufficient enough goodbye for what you just endured. His hand taps your cheek before it slips off your face and he stands, heading for your bedroom door. You watched, dumbstruck that he was just going to leave without saying a word, without saying anything about what just happened.

“Will you come back?” Your voice is so soft you thought he wouldn’t hear it, but he does, stopping briefly to answer you before closing the door behind him.

“Oh, white rabbit,” Mr. Raglan smirks over his shoulder, “I always come back.”

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florenceafternoon · 6 months ago

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━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

These fics are set in the wizarding world but aren’t necessarily canon complaints.

A while ago I posted about how one of my favourite part of reading canon jily is when they're a bit older and Lily is looking back in retrospect. The part where James shows her how he gets that this war that's looming over them, it's bigger, older, than they are and even though the world feels like it's ending his top priority is that they remember to enjoy the happy moments. To live in those moments.

Jily has always been a hot cup of tea on a cold and rainy day for me. I hope these fics give you a short break from life, even if it's just for a moment.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries.

These first few fics are all by @gigglesandfreckles-hp. Abi's characterisation of Lily and James as individuals are so special to me. How she writes jily is perfect - I mean the banter, the tension, the overall dynamic between them is just on point!

basic maths

Euphemia cuts Sirius off sharply. “I was simply verifying whether this is indeed the same Lily Evans whose name is written under my dining room table with a heart around it.”

or: Lily meets the parents and James tries not to hyperventilate. over and over and over again.

we suffer in silence

"It's fine, Evans," James interrupts, waving off her apology and offering a reassuring smile. "You've always been an exception to the rule." A hint of warmth spreads through Lily at his words. "You've never liked rules." He chuckles softly, his lips quirking up in a lopsided grin. "Which is why I never had a difficult time liking you."

or: James has had a bad day and Lily gives her best go at cheering him up

I've already made a whole post about how much I love this fic with my favourite quotes and everything, but god please if you read anything today let it be Abi's jily fics because they are legendary.

star light, star bright

It's seventh year, somehow, that clinches the case, claiming the grand prize in the annals of Lily Evans's misfortunes. Because, as it turns out, harbouring feelings for James Potter while also navigating the precarious terrain of friendship with him is a fate crueller than death.

or: James keeps accidentally touching Lily and she's about to lose her mind

amenable parameters

“Truth or dare, Lil?” “Dare,” she replies without hesitation, leaning back into the worn leather booth. “Obviously.” Hestia’s eyes gleam. “Go snog Potter.”

or: lily gets brave and james's patience is rewarded

here lies

James can't hold his drink, or his affections

the start of (something) new

“Oh, really?” Petunia crosses her arms. “What’s his name then?”

Lily pauses here, but only for a moment as her mind flashes back to the field at Jubilee Gardens. “James,” she says confidently. “James Potter.”

TW: this fic does depict a slightly descriptive panic attack.

Lily you are so valid for looking. For those of you who've seen the AU rec list I just posted, please know that this fic is the reason why I added all those footballer!james fics (well this fic and the euros).

common ground

Lily pauses, suddenly aware of James’s intense gaze. “What? Why are you…” Heat rushes to her cheeks, and she hates it. “Why are you looking at me like that?” “Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s just…it’s a good look on you, Evans.” “What is?” she asks, self-consciously. His grin widens. “Mischief.”

sidewalk chalk, covered in snow

She didn’t mean to get used to any of them.

or: Lily Evans is strictly anti-Marauders…until she isn't. one by one.

waiting for the light to take us in

James removes his glasses again. “Evans…” He searches for something to say and settles on, “You don’t even like flying.”

“I could like flying,” Lily says, shrugging. “I like you.”

He doesn’t take that bait in the way she wants, and her heart sinks just a bit more. Instead, he chews at his lip, considering and considering and considering some more. Lily wants to scream.

A reminder that even though it seems like others may have it harder, you deserve a break too.

Questions and Answers by lizardcookie (on ao3)

The simple question of whether or not they're dating doesn't exactly have a simple answer. Seventh Year Jily.

A Very Sick Dear by Nostalgicdragonfly (on ao3)

It's a very rare disease, but James gets it anyway and he has to endure the pain of having the favorite flower of the person he loves growing in his chest. He's been hiding his struggles. Lily loves roses yet James is the one getting cut by their thorns. But when a new healer arrives and things get out of hand, a lot would depend on whether or not James accepts his only treatment.

or James has hanahaki disease

Thank You For The Music by @thelighthousestale

Lily Evans is homesick during her first year of Hogwarts. Then she hears a familiar tune.

Erasmus Lovegoods’s Guide to Brewing Love Potions also by @ /thelighthousetale

At the start of every school year, the Ministry of Magic distributed leaflets to all students taking potions classes regarding the regulations and legality of highly controlled potions.

Lily Evans thought the Ministry would probably have more success in decreasing illegal potions brewing on the castle grounds if they didn’t give such detailed instructions about the potions in its published propaganda literature.

Of course, every year's most popular leaflet was the one warning about the dangers of brewing love potions.

Or how an accidental explosion in NEWT-level potions finally forced Lily and James to confront their feelings.

falling into place by @charmingwillow

Lily overhears something that maybe she shouldn't have.. things sort of happen from there.

Limbo by Random-Musings (on ff.net)

Lily's sour Hogsmeade weekend takes an unexpected turn.

The next few fics are all from it's about the Gazing collection by @firefeufuego. I recommend this collection to my friend who doesn’t read jily and the first fic alone had her texting me "I get why you love them so much and I also get why you want James Potter"

(get on out of your seat) all eyes on me

As James stops to catch his breath, he also catches Lily’s eye, already fixed on him in the blatant, unblinking way he hasn’t seen since she used to verbally eviscerate him for minutes on end. It hits with the same mortifying heat as it always did then, when he used to stand there watching her yell at him and imagine her mouth doing everything else. He’s ridiculously grateful for whoever throws the ball straight towards his face for saving him from the fate of just standing there, watching her watch him with his dry mouth open for the rest of eternity.

In a movement of pure reflex, he grabs the ball out of the air and starts back towards the end of the pitch before Orie comes out of nowhere and takes his legs out from under him. Winded and disoriented, James sighs at the universe’s rather unsubtle visual metaphor. Is it even worth getting up again when he just keeps falling and falling and falling for her?

(soft spoken in the dead of night) all eyes on you

Lily has watched him do this multiple times before and it’s just tea and it’s just James and there should be nothing special about this particular moment, except that the sight of him, the fact of him, is suddenly earth-shattering.

Something like nostalgia fills her in a flood, only it’s the future she’s longing for, a future she can see with absolute clarity. The features James inherited from his parents are so faithfully recreated on him that it’s easy to imagine him at their age, with a shock of white, still unfairly thick hair framing a face lined by a lifetime of laughter, making her a cup of tea exactly the way she likes it and smiling as she teases him.

Don't be fooled by the summery, this is pure self indulgent smut. I complain a lot about pretentious people but the Austen and Keats reference had me swooning. The myth of Eros and Psyche is probably one of my favorites so…

in the morning when i wake or the morning after

With trembling hands, James brings the smaller piece of parchment closer to his face and starts to read.

To the love of my life,

You idiot. Get back here.I’ll be in your room.

Lily.

Surface Pressure by @eastwindmlk

Lily dealing with the weight of her own expectations in 7th year

no, i could never give you peace by @kay-elle-cee

James blinks. “Are you breaking up with me, Evans?” he jokes softly, resting his hand on hers. It’s a joke, but her body tenses and it immediately puts him on edge. The silence that follows is excruciating.

“I’m not doing anything.” Her nails begin to tap on the mug again—a nervous habit that James spots immediately. “I just think we should have a conversation.”

Trust Kels to serve Order!jily angst and pair it with one of my favourite songs of all time

bury it and rise above by @startanewdream

"James? Do you believe in magic?"

Or Lily is a Witch. James is a Muggle. It's not easier.

When It's You by idreamofjily (on ao3)

James is naturally affectionate and Lily really isn't. But maybe she can make an exception, if the way her stomach drops every time James touches her is any indication.

desiderium by @missgryffin

Sometimes all it takes is champagne and a slow dance, and then there's no going back.

The Vow also by @ /missgryffin

When he was thirteen-going-on-fourteen, James Potter did something truly, unbelievably stupid. Now that he’s seventeen-going-on-eighteen, he has to deal with the consequences.

Accidental Magic also by @ /missgryffin

What else is there to do after confessing feelings in the middle of the night than spend a lazy Saturday in bed?

Are You Experienced? by @annabtg

James Potter decides to ask Lily Evans to a Muggle live music show. This noble mission, however, requires a series of steps he is entirely clueless about: from procuring the tickets to finding the correct outfit, and most importantly, to spending an evening with Lily Evans without making an absolute fool of himself.

Also including the gorgeous cover art by @constancezin

by the lake by @possessingtheproperspirit

james finds lily by the lake.

not in need of a knight by @thejilyship

“If they start something, I’m going to finish it.” James said, crossing his arms over his chest. “And if it ends with you in the hospital wing?” “What do you care?” “Do you really think I’d bother to argue with you so much if I didn’t care?” Lily said, breathing sharply through her teeth.

#lily evans #james potter #jily #lames #jple #jily fic rec list

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karlachismylife · 3 months ago

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My linear algebra class got moved to tomorrow and I have the terrible urge to post, so here are some speedrun headcanons (yes I'm aware that it's been done a few times, and I agree with the takes I've seen, but lemme just have my fun). It's something along the lines of favourite body part, I guess? But not quite.

I wouldn't say they're explicit, but there are suggestive parts.

Also these aren't strictly x reader, cuz I feel these can be applied to character x character relationships too, but I won't tag them cuz there's a lot of them and I don't wanna get yelled at by people who hate seeing even hints of x reader content. But I have very much been thinking GhostPrice, NikPrice, Ghoap, SoapGaz and a fuckton of others in the process. Just something cozy and loving to start the week since it's snowing (no they are not snow-related).

Price is a tits man. First of all, research shows that older men prefer boobs over ass (I KNOW that he's not actually an old man, it's a joke), but second - he just gives off vibes of someone who can spend hours holding his partner in his lap and just groping and kneading them breasts - doesn't matter the size, doesn't matter whether those are real breasts, implanted, just pecs; whether you have big areolas. mastectomy scars, absolute flatness, doesn't matter in the slightest: John will latch onto them, mouthing all over the skin, sucking hickeys and lovebites dangerously close to the area usually visible under their clothes. If there's not enough flesh to fill out his palms, he'll just hold what he gets while he sucks on those nipples eagerly, beard prickling sensitive, wet skin. John is also a tits man outside sex: his partner's chest is his favourite pillow, so he rests his head there or nuzzles between for a nap regularly. It's about the intimacy, the heartbeat and the sensual symbolism, not tits in particular.

Ghost is a lap/belly nuzzler. Nothing feels safer than being able to rest his troubled head on them soft thighs and hide in the softness of one's stomach from the world. He might be so much bigger than his partner's lap, or they might not have that much meat on their bones, but Simon still feels the safest when he's cradled like a baby and surrounded by the warmth of one of the most vulnerable parts of a human body. Hug his shoulders, shield him, push him into the folding between your belly and thighs - that keeps his demons away. And gives him a nice opportunity to tickle/blow raspberries when you least expect it. Probably finds delight in those occasions when yout stomach grumbles right above his chipped ear - you can feel his scarred lips stretch into a wide smile against your skin and you can rest assured he will let some little joke slip. But even more probably he will ask to stay for five more minutes before you can grab a bite to eat.

Soap is an ass man and he also has been ashamed 1,5 times in his life, so he will put his grabby paws on his partner's butt in all circumstances, beware. Sneaks a squeeze every time he passes by, slides his hands down during kisses, holds a posessive handful when he has his partner in his lap. It's just nice to look at and also very fidgety for his restless hands - so good for squeezing, kneading and pinching! Is a menace and will slap that arse - with a palm or, after he almost injured himself with the change/keys stuffed in your back pocket, a towel. Will be a coward and run away from revenge, but actually can take a rough spanking and give one too if you're into that. Absolutely uses your ass as a pillow, good luck shaking him off if you need to move - he somehow gets heavier when he's relaxed, but keeps a steel grip on your hips. If you wake him up by trying to escape, he'll just drag you back and bite. Oh yeah, he bites. He'll do anything with your ass, really, make out with it, take it out to candlelit dinner, tie a knot... are those sex metaphors? Yes. But also if he could marry someone's butt, he probably would.

Gaz feels like he would be into thighs, but also into hands. Like, every one of them isn't a straightforward character, but Kyle's duality strikes me the most for some reason. Probably because it's so trixter-y in its nature, he's such a romantic, moral man, very much focused on doing the right thing and serving as a compass for everyone around him, even if his views and principles evolve with time, but he's also such a little shit at heart - a real prankster and chaos agent. Incredibly clever and sly. So it feels right that while he loves just holding hands, be it out on the street or while lounging at home in a cuddle heap, tracing patterns on the back of his partner's palm and brushing his thumb over your knuckles, he is also a feral fox, gripping, biting and kissing those thighs, ogling the way they move when you walk, leaving marks and tracing those with his tongue... he's also a big lap napper, but he prefers his face stuck in the lap itself, arms wrapped around your thighs tightly. Or even better - one arm hugging your thighs like a comfy pillow, and the other resting peacefully with your hand clutched in his, fingers intertwined tenderly.

Nikolai is a waist grabber. He probably prefers tits over ass, yeah, but he's more focused on keeping his arm wrapped around his partner's waist - or at least pressing his big palm on the small of their back. Is a big tease and likes to keep everyone around him on their toes, so expect sudden pinches of tickle attacks on your sides. Comes up from behind to hug you and lock his huge paws on your stomach, probably interrupting whatever you were doing, but he just wants to hold what's his properly, arms full and securely tightened. Also he likes to kiss those spots behind his partner's ears (and tickle those too). He's not overly possessive since he very well knows only the dumbest of the dumb will try to steal from him (and also he's pretty sure he's doing enough to keep his partner with him willingly), but he just likes the feeling of having something he likes so much. Might stem from his strict upbringing, soviet scarcity of everything or maybe he's just a lil' bit greedy by nature. Either way, his preferred sex poses usually include him holding you by the waist a lot.

König is there to be the little spoon. Not only is it safe since he trusts his partner more than anyone, it also frees him from the necessity to hold eye contact - it's just tiring and a little anxiety-inducing for him, even if you say you're okay with him avoiding it. He feels like he's just expected to do it, but when his back is turned to you, he kinda isn't. And finally, it's just fun: he has quite a sense of humor, actually, and he won't deny that him being the "little" spoon with a partner who's smaller (doesn't matter if your size difference is comicly huge or you're actually not that far, you're definitely smaller than him). He also very much enjoys taking his partner's palm and placing it over his heartbeat - it's soothing and romantic, and also will help you notice if his anxiety spikes before he has some upsetting reaction. Never happened while you two cuddle, actually, but knowing you're there to just be with him and keep him safe is enough for this big boy. Will repay the favour by seating you between his legs, chest pressed to your back, and cuddling you like that - but only when seated for some reason. Might be spine problems, I dunno.

Valeria is a throat grabber, squeezer, biter, kisser and everything else you can imagine. She likes power, she's not ashamed of that, and she can handle having it. Marks her partner up with bitemarks and hickeys, and maybe even knife scratches and her name carved into the soft, vulnerable place between their collarbones. Likes to just run her fingers over your throat, feeling the pulse, stretching her grip to accomodate as much of your lifeline as she can into her threatening palm. But it's not always such obvious powerplay, she also enjoys kissing the soft skin gently and innocently, simply because it's sensitive and intimate. Her fingertips dance around your nape and throat while you're cuddling, sometimes they stop to feel your voice vibrating as you're telling her something, sometimes she flicks your earlobe plafully or scratches that nice place at the base of your skull. It's possessive and warm, and she would never actually threaten your life (probably), but the thrill gets both of you.

That's my random character speedrun for now, might add someone with a part two (feel free to request), and now back to my other things to do.

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undercover-stories · 1 month ago

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Please hualian modern au fic. I want a 32 year old Xie Lian who's just gotten his life together (after a violently abusive relationship with his step father) even though he's living in studio apartment that's barely bigger than his second hand car that has had the 'check engine' light flashing for the past month but he hasn't had the time to actually do anything about it so it will keep flashing for now. He's rekindled his friendship with his two life long best friends that he'd parted ways with in college and they're both trying to help him in their own way but the status quo that used to exist among them has changed so much that the duo have lost their footing. Mu Qing in his effort to push Xie Lian to just live with him in his 2 bedroom apartment keeps making passive aggressive backhanded comments about Xie Lians living situation that he scolds himself for the moment he's alone. Whilst Feng Xin becomes an overprotective mother hen everytime Xie Lian so much as coughs but also keeps talking about how it's his cars fault, or his apartments fault, or it's about how his job as a janitor (best job he could find as a college drop out) is making him sick because of all the fumes from the cleaning supplies even though he knows Xie Lian of all people would be careful about that sort of thing.

But Xie Lian, for the first time in so many years, is so genuinely content with what he has. He has his fluffy cat waiting for him at home. He has an actual stove to cook his food instead of just cup noodles, and a working refrigerator which is all so amazing compared to the 6 years he spent homeless while trying to run away from his abuser.

Then he meets San Lang who asks him out on a date but instead of some fancy place he makes a picnic with homemade sandwiches and sparkling water and they would eat and play games and then look at the stars when it got late. Every date they go on always has San Lang doing something special but inexpensive because he knows tossing money at something isn't going to be what Xie Lian cares about.

It's revealed, of course, that San Lang was actually the 12 year old boy that 16 year old Xie Lian had saved from committing suicide by grasping his hand just before the little boy could let go. As San Lang got older, he craved to find Xie Lian again to tell him how much his help and words had meant to him. But when he stumbled on Xie Lian working as part of the clean-up crew at one of his events, suddenly the long forgotten crush he'd felt for his savior suddenly revealed itself after a very long time

And Xie Lian would realize that he wasn't just content. He was... actually.... happy.

He didn't wake up every morning with hope that it would be a good day. He knew it would be the second he opened the morning text San Lang sent to him every day. He doesn't eat alone anymore. San Lang always joins him on his meals, and if San Lang could persuade him, he would even take him out to eat somewhere he thinks Xie Lian would like. San Lang doesn't try to persuade Xie Lian to quit his job though, because he knows Xie Lian loves his work and the kids at the school. But he always makes it a point to drop him off and pick him up and if anyone's jaw drops to see the school janitor popping out of a sleek, dark red Ferrari, Xie Lian doesn't notice. Too busy giving his boyfriend his goodbye kiss.

#xie lian #hualian #hua cheng #san lang #au #fic #tgcf #mxtx #mine #tian guan ci fu

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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 27 days ago

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Wrapped In Red [Commander Fox x Fem!Reader]

Warnings and Information: When a long-time friend of yours in the Galactic Senate invited you to one of the upcoming galas, you envisioned a night of lavish apparel, drinking, dancing, and dodging the attempts of too-friendly senators. Added security had not been a part of it, but it’s non-negotiable following an attempt on your friend’s life. Fortunately, you can make the best of a bad situation by making friends with your bodyguards — Clone troopers of the Coruscant Guard, including Marshal Commander Fox himself. Second Person POV, undescribed Fem!Reader, save for the color of her dress and accessories. Reader is the friend of an unspecified senator nicknamed “Aspen”. Political assassination attempt [off-screen, more focus is on the aftermath]. Brief reference of a riot and (civilian) violence against Clones. Elements of the ‘Lady/Knight’ or ‘Bodyguard Crush’ dynamics. Forced proximity. Reference and allusion to alcohol. Narrative and stylistic use of italics. Star Wars and real-world swearing. Some use of Mando'a. Prompt is highlighted in red. Requested by @returnofthepineapple from her previous account.

Word Count: 10,817

For the past couple of years, you’ve been living a quiet life on one of Coruscant’s neighboring planets. Though you were born there, the hustle and bustle of Coruscant proved more than you could handle as you grew older. You longed for some place less choked by pollution, politics and power-mad bastards.

So, just before the outbreak of the Clone Wars, you spread your wings and left the labyrinth-like nest.

People dear to your heart still lived there, so you never left Coruscant completely behind you.

One such person—a childhood friend—you’ve managed to remain quite close with in spite of your relocation, and their involvement in the Galactic Senate. Rising through the upper echelons in the political scene to make it into a senatorial position had taken time, but the friend you knew best as Aspen had never been the type who could be easily swayed from their goals, or their sense in doing the right thing.

Thinking of you often, Aspen liked to send you invitations to some of the millions of events taking place on Coruscant at any given time. Mostly small things, like seasonal markets or something related to various hobbies and interests.

“A certain someone I know would love the concert they're holding in the entertainment district this coming Zhellday!”

“Blast… I’m going to be busy that day! But you’re the best, Aspen.”

On rare occasions, the invitations Aspen gave you were to much bigger things than crafting workshops or concerts.

The most recent of these larger invitations is to an upcoming gala being held at the very end of the month, meant to cap off the long proposal period of very important—yet divisive—bills and other legislation to the Republic. You knew from past experience this would be a very, very long month for Aspen with no shortage of headaches. They were probably ready to beg you to attend the gala if it came down to it.

It took only a short moment of thought before coming to a decision upon receiving the electronic invite; hoping to surprise them with good news, a message was left with a member of their senatorial staff.

Hey, Aspen, just thought I’d let you know I got your invitation to the upcoming gala. I know you’re busy, so you don’t need to convince me to attend. I’d be happy to come and see you. The gala sounds like fun. Already looking forward to it!

You’ve attended a few parties with Aspen in the past, but you can’t recall one of this scale or importance. There were the small fundraisers where you ate so many jogan fruit tarts together you were nearly sick. Promotional campaigns where bets were made on how many flutes of champagne Aspen’s competitors would end up sucking back before the end of the night. Public appearances where you stood beside (or in place of) your childhood friend’s family to support and celebrate the hard work they’ve put into the planet you called home for a long, long time.

Making the kind of differences Aspen hoped for in the galaxy would often be an uphill battle. You’ve regularly joked it was a good thing that they’ve always been a fan of climbing in all the time you knew them.

By the time you made it to Coruscant, less than a week before the gala, you were faced with the horrible discovery of just how close Aspen had come to falling from those lofty heights.

You’re planet-side for all of five minutes—busy wrestling your things together in the spaceport terminal—before you find yourself face-to-helmet with a pair of white-armored men. By the way they had begun marching in the direction of the baggage claim from the moment you got there and the deliberateness of their stride, you had the feeling they were not simply on patrol.

These soldiers—Clones—part of the Coruscant Guard, judging by the red paintwork, had been waiting for you.

The rest of your luggage continued to sit on the revolving conveyor belt as you spoke with the shocktroopers for the next few minutes, trying to figure out what was going on in spite of the travel-fatigue. Anyone who’s spent a significant amount of time on Coruscant has seen more than their fair share of regular commuters and far-away travelers getting stopped by terminal security forces, so that in itself is not out of the ordinary.

Getting stopped by members of the Guard, those who dealt with riots and political escorts… That was more unusual. It meant whatever was going on was pretty karkin’ serious. (You’re not in trouble, are you?) Comply. Be polite. They don’t sound angry yet when they start asking basic questions to confirm your identity.

Starting with your name and date of birth, one of the troopers brings up his datapad clipped to his utility belt to verify your answers against information in their database. The other silently gathers the rest of your baggage from the carousel the next time it comes around, preventing some petty criminal from getting their hands on whatever's inside. Between giving the troopers the requested information, a million thoughts race all at once while wondering whether or not you’ll be asked to come with them soon enough. Unless the Corries are hurting for work so badly that they’re now working spaceport security, whatever this is about is undoubtedly serious.

In a shaken voice, you try to find answers once there is a suitable lull in the questioning.

“Can I ask what this is about…? Am I in trouble?”

The trooper with the datapad in his hand turns to the other, saying nothing, but raises his shoulders and gestures with his free hand as if to say “How much do you think we can tell her?” to his partner. You grow all the more nervous as the silent exchange continues, the partner shaking his head at the first.

“Not here.” the second trooper says, his head wagging sharply to suggest it isn’t a good idea.

The first makes a hurried promise before he’s interrupted by the second. “You’re not in trouble-”

“But you’re not safe, either. We can explain more once you’re about the gunship. We need to ask you to come with us.” (Gunship? Safe? Oh fuck.) The same trooper, nodding to a bag by your feet now says “Sayber, take the duffle bag. I’ve got the suitcase.” before instructing you to follow them.

Struggling to match their militant stride, you want to do little more than shrink out of discomfort feeling hundreds of eyes trained on you as you march back the way the shocktroopers came through the crowded spaceport. Doing your best to ignore all the many faces glittering with curiosity, you instead focus on the LAAT/i emblazoned with the crest of the Guard lazily bobbing in place as it hovers over a part of the terminal’s platform.

Aside from the pilot, there are three more soldiers. Two are waiting in the craft itself; another waits on the ground, hands planted firmly on each hip.

He must be who Sayber and the second, nameless Clone now walking beside you report to, judging by the stance and differences in his armor. On his helmet, you see stylized wings painted above a black visor guard, framing the visor itself. Two ‘capes’ of flexible armor hung from his utility belt, swaying in the downdraft of the ship just behind him, and the left shoulder armor has an antenna of some kind.

If you had to guess his rank, he’s either a captain or commander. “That didn’t take long at all.” he calls to his soldiers, tone neither impressed or surprised. “Have you and Naran verified she’s who we were sent to retrieve?”

“Yes, Commander Thorn. She matches the descriptions we were given.” Sayber, the trooper on your right, replies confidently.

All the same, he and Naran show their superior the datapad, allowing him to look at the information for himself. Confirmed with the commander, you’re given the go-ahead to board. Naran and Sayber board first, one securing your luggage while the other helps you into the gunship.

As soon as you’re aboard, the commander orders the blast shields closed. The sound of which makes you wince, but being so on-edge, you’re grateful for the feeling of extra security it brings soon after. As you’re being shown an overhead handrail to use in case the inertial compensator isn’t enough to keep you from being wobblier than a newborn bantha, you’re advised not to lock your knees once the military repulsorcraft takes off.

“Flight shouldn’t be too long, but, because even the most routine escorts have surprises we have to ask: do you get airsick, ma’am?” Having met them just a short time ago, you can’t yet tell Naran and Sayber apart, but you’re pretty sure this is Naran who’s rooting through the on-board medical kit for something.

“O-oh, I-”

Your hesitation and the commander’s interruption is enough for one of them to toss an airsick bag your way, just in case. “Nothing routine about this escort, boys. We’re gonna be wrapped in red tape for a while, so we should start getting used to it.” The pilot is signaled to take off from the spaceport and begin making his way to a coded location a few moments later.

The word ‘escort’ is nothing unfamiliar to you, having gone through this song and dance one of the last times you came to support Aspen’s senatorial workings. But red tape creates enough dread to ice over your veins before it begins pooling hot and sour in your guts.

“C-can I ask what’s going on now?”

What’s happened that’s made all of this a necessity?

Naran, remembering the promise he made back at the terminal, begins to carefully explain the situation with a slight halt in his voice. Each word is chosen carefully, like perhaps he’s unsure just how much he can say, or how you might react.

“Someone—we’re not sure who—tried to end your friend Senator Aspen’s life shortly before you got to Coruscant… They’re shaken, but ultimately unharmed. We were asked to bring you to the same secure location by one of the other commanders.”

The remainder of your flight aboard the gunship goes by without another word. The troopers know this is difficult information to process, and you can’t think of a single thing to say about any of it. It’s hard to be afforded a moment of silence to reflect on any of this with the guttural drone of the engine eating up any sound below a stage whisper, but the soldiers around you do their best. It’s a small act of kindness to you.

Until you step off the gunship, this will be your last opportunity to have any kind of time to yourself before you’ll be so caught up in red tape you would practically be wearing the stuff.

Upon arrival, Sayber and Naran once again wrangle your luggage for you to speed up the process of disembarking.

The less hindrances you had the better. You needed to see Aspen. And Aspen needed to see you. Having a friendly face by your side made confronting calamity a little more bearable, someone wise once told you. (Or, maybe you read that somewhere on the holonet…) In this state of heightened adrenaline, thoughts become muddled and disjointed as Commander Thorn ushers you past several armed security guards down a long hall.

You can only imagine your friend will be in a far worse state.

“Senator Aspen is in here,” Commander Thorn explains, stopping in front of a modified blastdoor. “The two of you will be kept here until a security detail has been finalized.”

“That’s fine… Thank you, Commander Thorn.”

Commander Thorn wastes no time, waving you in ahead of him once he’s completed keying in the clearance code. Inside, you find your friend crumpled into a low multi-seater, face in their hands as the person seated on the other end of the couch appears to be explaining something either to them, or to the other armed guards posted in the corners of the panic room.

From the armor kit, you know the man is another Clone like Sayber, Naran and Commander Thorn with a singular glance. But you’re less concerned with who he is right at this moment, never having been more relieved to see your friend than you are right now.

“Once she’s here, I would like everyone to-”

“Aspen!”

The other Clone immediately falls silent as Aspen gets on their feet in a flash, all but vaulting over the caf-table in order to meet you half-way. Mutually crushing the air out of the other’s lungs in the strength of your embrace, neither of you can properly express just how grateful you are to see the other. Jumbled, rapid words give way to tears seeping into one another’s shoulders before long, so occupied with comforting each other that no attention is paid to the troopers being swapped out with Naran and Sayber once they have brought in your belongings.

In a tight, choked voice your friend begins apologizing to you once they’re calm enough to speak. “I’m so sorry that we had to meet like… like this… but it’s so, so good to see you.” Pulling away, you get a better look at their face for the first time and your heart clenches painfully. They look so scared. So deeply shaken. Yet here they are, apologizing to you for something that’s hardly their fault.

“Had to be the longest hour of my life, waiting here with the Commander for you to get to Coruscant…” Aspen continues, taking your hand to guide you to sit beside them on the multi-seater where it would be more comfortable than standing. “I wanted to talk to you. So badly. Just to hear your voice and find a little solace after- After everything.”

“I’m guessing you couldn’t?”

Your friend shakes their head no. “Not exactly. We weren’t sure if it would be safe to. I’m sor-”

It’s you who shakes their head this time before explaining why a second apology is not necessary. “Hey. I understand. The important thing was trying to keep you safe after you were almost… hurt. Or worse.” The simple fact your friend was unharmed—still living and breathing in front of you—was an incredible blessing.

“Your friend sounds like a smart woman, Senator Aspen.”

Reminded of his presence after you’ve been paid a compliment, your friend quickly begins the process of trying to compose themself in order to begin proper introductions. “Y-yes, she very much is… Commander, this is my very dear friend I was trying to tell you about earlier when explaining who your men needed to find.” The second Commander nods in polite greeting, refraining from saying anything until introductions have been finished.

“And this, my dear friend,” Aspen says in a well-practiced this-is-important tone of voice, “is Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard. I believe he’s been tasked with security after what nearly happened.”

At this point, Commander Fox has gotten to his feet and taken a look at something on Commander Thorn’s datapad before consulting his own. “That would be correct, Senator.” Holding himself with purpose, this second commander standing beside Thorn differs from him in more ways than just the color-inversion of his chest armor, and the additional Corrie Crimson on his armor alone. “I am here by order of the Chancellor to create a strong security detail for you, and your friend, in light of the attempt on your life almost an hour ago.” His voice, while not too different from the Clones you’ve met today thus far, had strong tonal qualities of duty and seriousness that commanded a great deal of attention from everyone in the room.

You’ll ask about “that” detail in just a moment. Right now, you’re more surprised there’s no fear or unease when he says he’s here to enact the Chancellor’s will. This comes naturally to him.

“Sorry, I just want to make sure I heard you correctly: you said by order of the Chancellor?”

Nodding stiffly, Commander Fox confirms his orders. “Yes ma’am. As the Marshal Commander, I’ve been asked by Chancellor Palpatine to personally ensure your safety at all times until it is no longer deemed necessary. While he understands the upcoming gala expects to see many high-profile guests, he was rather disturbed to hear what had nearly happened to Senator Aspen, and insisted upon a constant security presence.”

“I may or may not have tried politely refusing the Chancellor’s offer.” Aspen explains to you, chuckling somewhat shamefully. “And he was right to insist upon my refusal; it was fifteen minutes after the attack and I certainly wasn’t thinking clearly… I… Well, I think Commander Fox or Thorn has the pictures.”

Nodding less stiffly than before, Commander Fox takes one of the datapads and shows you a collection of the holo-stills and frames taken from nearby security feeds of the destruction left by the attack. While you look at the horrible state of Aspen’s senatorial office, the main window broken with thick shards of transparisteel strewn across the floor, your friend explains that they managed to escape the attack unharmed by sheer, dumb luck.

“I survived because I tripped, if you can believe it.”

Blaster marks have burned the back of Aspen’s chair and several spots in the floor. The main desk, made from a much heavier, more-solid material, is riddled with blaster burn in comparison. While you’re not an expert by any means, the window pane’s shatter pattern suggests that the weapon used by the would-be assassin was likely high-powered, or of uncommon caliber.

“It was just a split second before the first shot. After that, I hid in front of the desk as best as I could until members of the Coruscant Guard showed up. All that Corrie Crimson surging into my office must have scared them off because the firing stopped almost as soon as the Guard got there.”

Dumb luck. Dumb luck saved your friend before the Corries came to protect them.

Facing the whole emotional gamut as you view these stills, Commander Fox puts the datapad away the very second you cannot stand to see more, shaking your head no, no, no.

Outrage and disgust blooms in your chest, acidic and bitter-hot. You had too many questions to ask all at once. Crime scene analysts had cordoned off Aspen’s office, currently combing over everything for the most minute of clues. Would they be able to figure out who could have possibly wanted to kill your friend? Did anyone see who it was before they got away?

What was the motivation?

Uncertain of the answers to the other questions, Aspen could only offer partial answers as to ‘why’ someone might have tried to kill them with much hand-wringing.

On one of the planets the Republic has been hoping to change the neutrality status of, there had been a riot almost a month ago now that’s still so tightly wrapped up in red tape largely in efforts to keep details away from the press while investigations are still on-going. Because of that, Aspen can’t say who they believe started the riot, or for what reason. But they can tell you that several Clones were nearly beaten to death as a result, and the rioters responsible have been charged with destruction of government property for the time being.

Aspen was spearheading an effort to re-file those charges under a different crime that they believe more accurately reflects the rioters’ intentions that day. Attempted murder. While the effort has seen a lot of support in the Chambers, there are a fair number of senators still dragging their feet on making a decision.

A small handful of influential senators have had a far less positive reception to this effort the longer Aspen has encouraged these changes. Matters that were becoming complicated when some of them were beginning to react in ways that suggested hostility have now become even more complicated with the introduction of a botched assassination.

Planning for the gala has gotten a whole lot more complicated as well. If it’s even going to happen at all…

“Did the Chancellor say anything about cancelling the gala at the end of the week?”

“Too many high-profile guests coming from across the galaxy to change anything at this point, I imagine. Some of them have been making preparations for half a year, or more.” Aspen explains, fruitlessly massaging their temples over the thought of it. “Great galaxies, I do not envy whoever is in charge of organizing security for that mess…”

Commander Thorn politely clears his throat. “Will likely be me, now that Commander Fox is overseeing your security, Senator.” He quickly adds, “Or, it could be Commander Thire. We’ll get it sorted.” after sharing a fleeting glance with his fellow commander.

Aspen winces sympathetically.

“I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be, Senator.” Commander Thorn says. When he speaks again, his voice is a little softer than before, careful sympathy lacing every spoken word. “We’re sorry that your plans to get ready for the gala are going to have to be changed.”

“How soon will that be?” Aspen wonders.

“Once Commander Fox has your security detail finalized.”

Your friend makes a low sound in their throat, smiling grimly. “Very soon then, I imagine… May I ask what we can expect, Commander Fox?”

In a calm and deliberate voice, Commander Fox explains that as investigations are being conducted, he and other members of the Guard are going to be accompanying the two of you everywhere leading up to the gala. They’ll be your security as well as your escort force; you’re going to be spending a lot of time under their watchful eyes and ready hands.

So if there are any reservations, now is the time to say something.

You look to your friend and make a quiet offer after considering the Commander’s words. “You’re the one who invited me here, so I’ll follow your lead, Aspen.” You’ve known each other long enough to trust their judgement. If it was decided it would be safest for you to go home, then you would take a rain check on this visit and come back to Coruscant another time.

While you’re prepared not to create more trouble for everyone, Aspen’s selfless nature rears its sweet head even in the wake of an attack. Turning to Commander Fox, who stands straight-backed as he is patiently awaiting a verdict before the two of you, your friend asks one final question of him.

“I know plans will change, but will the security detail mean I can still help my friend prepare for the gala, Commander?”

Commander Fox takes less than a moment to think before deciding that would be a reasonable use of the service. “If that’s what you wish, Senator.” He nods politely not only to Aspen, but to you as well, you notice. A small gesture of professionalism, as well as respect.

“Then we accept.” Aspen says, sealing your shared fate for the rest of the week leading up to the gala.

Though the two of you have only just met, the feeling that you’ll come to like this man has already begun to spark.

From the moment Commander Fox put the security detail into action, you decided for yourself that you would make the most of this situation and make conscientious efforts to get to know everyone making up this task force better going forward. Not only would it be polite, but it would make it easier to remain in close-quarters with these men for a long period of time when they were no longer strangers.

The full team consisted of two parts: Clones who had been hand-picked to be stationed with Commander Fox full-time, and those who would be rotating through the force on an as-needed basis. That meant there would likely be more than a few soldiers you would get to know very well by the end of the team’s lifespan.

Maybe even become friends.

Already, you and your friend were making great progress getting to know Naran and Sayber in particular. These two soldiers—who were part of the permanent assignment—are not merely patrol partners like you had initially assumed when you first met them. They explained they were batchmates, meaning they had been created and trained together at the same time on the world known as Kamino, out in Wild Space.

Naran and Sayber completed their training six months ago; stationed on Coruscant for five. It explains why their armor looks so new, and why the paint lacks much chipping, fading or transferring. They’re young, and have only begun breaking it in. There’s a term Clones like to use that pretty much means the same thing as “rookie”.

“We’re not exactly a couple of ‘Shinies’ anymore, but we’re still fairly inexperienced compared to other brothers in the Guard… I’m not exactly sure why Commander Fox assigned us permanently.” Sayber confesses to you in a moment of quiet.

Commanders Fox and Thorn are busy, following protocol to secure the room where you and Aspen will be sleeping; the batchmates are supposed to be focused on keeping their eyes on the two of you in the meantime, but Sayber’s curiosity is stronger than his worry over being “caught” bothering you by his superiors.

Something that Naran quietly fumes with frustration about. (“You’re going to get yourself in trouble, di’kut…”) He much prefers to stay on task and engage only when addressed. It might take more time before he opens up to the two of you compared to his brother and patrol partner, who happily does more than enough talking for the two of them.

You can expect to meet more of the Guard starting tomorrow; the rest of the day will likely be focused on getting the two of you settled in before any of the pre-gala preparations and errands can be conducted. Some will have to be done separately. Others can be done together, such as the shopping for a dress (on Aspen’s insistence), given that they are performed during set hours.

And they will always involve an escort of no less than two troopers.

You will not be permitted to wander around Coruscant, alone, at any given time.

“Dammit. Sounds like getting some Hyellian musical noodles around two in the morning is out of the question, then.” you remark softly in jest during the first review of the safety plan once the Commanders have completed their protocol, shrugging animatedly in an oh well fashion. Won’t be the end of the galaxy.

His review disrupted, Commander Fox’s dark T-shaped visor lifts from the screen and fixes itself upon you, quietly regarding you over the top of the datapad in his free hand.

The thought that you just karked up strikes you in an instant.

Thinking you’re being serious, Fox speaks seriously in turn. “I was unaware this was something I needed to account for. Forgive me, ma’am.” Your hammering heart skips a beat rather uncomfortably as he begins to pull up the keyboard on the device’s HUD, and your face grows hot with embarrassment.

“No, I-! I was only making a joke. I’m sorry, Commander, I shouldn’t have.”

Asking him to accommodate a silly little tradition of yours every time you made the trip to Triple Zero would create more work for everyone. Taking unnecessary risks. It would be selfish.

Fortunately, you won’t have to worry about making fewer jokes just because Commander Fox has a stronger no-nonsense personality than you might be accustomed to for very long. Members of his own Guard have a way of softening the tension to keep things from getting quite so abrasive.

“Grizzer and I could always make that run for you, ma’am.” There to listen in on the review, the ARF trooper that was assigned to guard the perimeter of the ‘safe house’ by the name of Sergeant Hound drops the lead to the massiff in question after issuing a command word. “Su!” The quadrupedal reptilian settles on their hindquarters, long tongue lolling between dagger-sharp teeth.

“It’ll help her earn a turbodog once this is all said and done. Tradition of ours, for the big jobs.”

Maker: it will take some getting used to being called or considered part of a “big job” like this.

After a long moment, you decide to accept. “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.” Since he was kind enough to offer, you make sure to give Hound an especially grateful nod.

Commander Fox adds the offer to the approved actions he’s compiled once the exchange has finished, and moves swiftly on. There has been a lot of ground covered, and he intends to cover more before someone will be sent to collect that night’s dinner order. It’s evident enough that he’s a serious and hard-working man. He would have to be, seeing as he’s the Marshal Commander appointed to lead the Coruscant Guard. so…

So it comes as little surprise that any offer or invitation for a breather, a single moment off his feet has been turned down time and time again as the afternoon bleeds into the evening. Even in the securest of spaces, Commander Fox turns down reprieve and refreshment with the same four words.

“No thank you,” either followed by Senator or ma’am.

Your kindness refuses to falter in the face of his stoicism, but you’re smart enough to recognize when to let it go at the same time.

“Okay. May I offer it to Naran and Sayber instead, then?”

Dinner had been sourced from 79’s in the entertainment district; largely finger foods made in outrageous portion sizes, meant to be shared between large groups. Aspen had ordered a slider for each of you, and a basket of protato wedges to share. There had been a slight mix-up, and the two of you ended up with a third slider and more than double the wedges that you could possibly hope to eat by yourselves. Trying to sort out the error was met with the offer to go ahead and keep the food as they were pretty slammed tonight.

“If you wish, ma’am.” Fox replies, voice as politely disinterested as before. “I’m certain they won’t object.”

True to form, the batchmates eagerly unseal their helmets before gratefully accepting the offered food, granted unspoken permission by their commander. It’s the first time you see any of the Clones’ faces since the start of all this unfortunate excitement. “Thank you, sir. And thank you ma’am!” Sayber exclaims. His broad grin brings out a dimple in the tanned left cheek, adding to how he looks far, far too young for this armor.

He and Naran carry the food to the only other table in the room in order to eat, wasting no time in coming up with a way to halve the slider and wedges between them. While his men eat, Commander Fox discreetly consults the datapad he has clipped to the utility belt from which his dark kama hangs. What he’s reading is a mystery, but you could probably assume it had to do with either you, Aspen, or his shocktroopers. Maybe it was the safety plan and security detail for tomorrow. Maybe it was unrelated.

Regardless, this seems to be the only sort of reprieve he allows himself. Once he’s finished, the tablet returns to the Commander’s hip and he reassumes position.

His posture is meticulous, yet somehow almost elegant. Hands folded behind his back and chest high, the crimson commander does not budge so much as an inch from his post in the time it takes Naran and Sayber to put everything away. Only once they clean up and reseal their helmets will Commander Fox drop this extra rigidity.

Fox’s earlier refusal now appears more purposeful than before when this time it is Naran who thanks you and his superior for the food. The shocktrooper’s words are met with a “Don’t mention it.” so softly spoken, it would be hard (but perhaps not impossible) to mistake it for a command.

From this singular display of momentary tenderness, Fox has told you more about himself that he might realize: if you hope to have a better chance of befriending the commander, how his men are taken care of will likely be very important over the coming days.

Following that first night on Coruscant, you fell into a routine within a short couple of days.

Waking up an hour (sometimes more) before Commander Fox arrived with the day’s security detail, you would quietly prepare for the day ahead of you just to have a small bit of time to yourself. Just you and Aspen. Together, you’d take this opportunity to have more intimate conversations without your second shadows in red and white armor present; to reflect on the days behind you.

And puzzle out a curious pattern beginning to develop…

It was hardly surprising that there would be the most to say of Commander Fox out of all the Corries. You spent the most time with him. Not only was Fox the lynchpin to your collective safety, but the only time he was ever away from your side (save for using the ‘fresher) was to allow each of you to sleep for the night.

He was by far the most reserved member of the Corries you’ve had the pleasure of meeting; the most aloof and strictly professional, all for good reason. Not only was he dealing with the Chancellor’s orders for a very serious situation, there was so much red tape for him to navigate through on a daily basis. It wouldn’t feel right to either of you to ask Commander Fox to behave in a more-friendly manner for the sake of protecting your own feelings.

But more recently he was starting to become more warm with you, no longer just his soldiers.

You’ve seen how he is with the younger soldiers in particular, like Naran and Sayber. Reminding them again and again to not tense their shoulders quite so much. Answering their many what-if questions. Encouraging the two of them to play a bit of holochess against you or the senator in his stead.

Now Commander Fox was thanking you for your offers when turning down the invitation to take a short break or have something to eat. He was no longer passively listening to conversations you would have with the other Clones, but joining in on the rare occasion. You were no longer just ‘Senator Aspen’s friend’ or simply ‘ma’am’ when speaking of you, or being addressed.

When Commander Fox began to use your name, that’s when things became a little more interesting.

Aspen started to gently tease you after that, suspecting you were becoming somewhat charmed by the crimson commander. The gala was in two days. Your friend had promised to help you buy a formal dress here on Coruscant in order to save you luggage space. Neither of you certainly expected to have an audience, and Aspen wanted to make sure that you’d be okay with potentially being seen by Fox and a dozen or more Clones in a fancy dress or two.

Yes, the Guard was always, always very respectful of you both, but perhaps it might be a bit embarrassing. Or feel strange. Maybe you would feel self-conscious in front of Fox in particular… Something they promised was perfectly normal while you were busy getting ready together this morning as you waited for Fox and the Guard to arrive.

“You’re saying that you think I have a crush on the commander?”

You take a brief pause from tidying things on your side of the room, wondering whether or not you’d heard your friend correctly. Commander Fox was by and large what you might consider a “strong and silent” type of man, slow to let someone into their comfort zone, teasing the other person along inch by inch. Did Aspen really think that’s what was going on with you? That you were intrigued by some kind of thrilling mystery in interacting with someone like that?

“Well… Sort of.” Aspen admits with a soft laugh. “This kind of thing happens a lot.”

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s Baby’s First Bodyguard, or you’re a seasoned professional when it comes to dealing with armed escorts. A lot of senators and diplomats tend to form some kind of feeling for the people who are there to protect them.”

You try to mask your doubt with a joking accusation. “Are you trying to feed me banthashit right now?” Is this truly as common as Aspen says it is, or are they trying to help you feel better in their typical selfless fashion?

Sensing your doubt, Aspen promises they are telling the truth. “It really does happen all the time, sweetheart. It’s happened to me too! You know I wouldn’t lie about that. And you know I’m not going to judge you for feeling things for the commander, or possibly having a crush, either, right?” Before you can answer, you hear the sound of a distant LAAT/i, followed by several soldiers speaking at once.

You’re going to have to wrap this up, quick. “Of course. I’ve known you for a long time, Aspen. I trust you.” They’ve always been a good friend to you; there’s never been a reason for doubt or distrust.

Briskly getting up, Aspen helps you tidy and put away the last of your things not a moment too soon. Just as everything has been put away, Commander Fox makes himself known with four firm raps on the other side of the door. Here forty-five minutes exactly before the first of the boutiques is set to open, as discussed.

The usual pleasantries are exchanged after Aspen has gone to answer the door. The ‘good morning’s and asking if the two of you slept well. Asking if there was anything either of you needed before joining the others back at the gunship and getting on your way.

“That won’t be necessary, but thank you. Nice to see you, Commander.”

Perhaps surprised by your choice of greeting, Commander Fox has a brief moment of pause before he’s able to reply. “You as well, ma’am. Very well. No need to inform our pilot of anything, then. We can be on our way.” Nearly positive you’re not imagining it, while still rather factual, there seems to be more warmth in Fox’s voice this morning.

He’s still all-business, encouraging everyone not to waste any time getting to the gunship, but now his tone is less stern and terse compared to the days before. He almost sounds… friendlier. Maybe Fox just needed three days to thaw out before warming up to you. Could be that he’s in a good mood because his men are in a great one this morning, most of them comfortable enough around you by now to talk about last night’s boloball victory in whispers.

Whatever the case may be, it makes you a little less nervous about the prospect of going shopping with such a large security detail.

Commander Fox’s brightened demeanor hardly changes for anything.

Even Sayber can’t ruin it by forgetting his training and speaking out with excitement while you and Aspen steadily shop around the first of the formal boutiques for a suitable dress. His reason for doing so was more than forgivable: right around the time you began reaching for a gown in a sort of pomegranate red, the young shocktrooper cried out “HAH! Eat your heart out, Police Inspector Dan Tivo! I knew the Corries would find a lead in the investigation before him!”, much to the disturbance of the other patrons.

There would be much apologizing to do—Sayber for breaking protocol and to the shop for causing any additional inconveniences—before this would start to become the point where things really began looking up.

The red tape would not yet loosen itself from you, but with any luck it should soon begin to lift.

Whether you believed it was a curious coincidence or not, you decided to go with the red gown you had been reaching for around the time news broke of the lead in the investigation. By cleverly pairing it with a few ivory accessories, you curated an overall image that would come close to matching with much of the Coruscant Guard.

This way, you could quietly sort of “mark” the time spent in their company in the week leading up the gala without outright wearing any one Clone’s personal markings, or the iconography that belonged to both the Guard and the Senate.

You also can’t pretend it was no small relief to have so many of these big decisions taken care of so quickly, or all at the same shop in a busy fashion district. What had been planned to take nearly all day was completed in the span of less than two hours.

And the next two days went by in a feverish blur with Commander Fox working harder than ever to truly make sure your security at the formal event would be nothing less than ironclad.

His men even claimed he was aiming to be better than beskar: creating plans for every possible situation and even going so far as to form redundancies. Mapping out where and when you would arrive at the gala venue. Choosing who would be watching over you and Aspen separately, and who would be watching both of you. How he can continue to take care of your needs. Until the time comes and the suspect behind the botched killing has been caught, Commander Fox has sworn to remain at your service, no matter how trivial the request.

Or how foolish you feel to ask.

With hours to go and anxieties rising, there are times that involving him in the hustle-and-bustle process of getting dressed up becomes simply unavoidable. With every instance, your gratitude for this man only continues to grow stronger than before.

Dropped an earring under the dresser and it’s too far for you to reach? Naran and Sayber will need to lend him a hand, lifting the furniture aside so he can search for it on his hands and knees.

Hands shaking too much, and the clasp on your necklace giving you trouble? He’ll help you put it on - he only asks that you hold your hair out of the way for him.

Turning over the string of delicate Castilon pearls, you move to stand in front of the commander. The most straight-forward way to secure the necklace will be to turn your back to Fox and allow him to fit it from behind. “Thank you, Commander. I can’t seem to get my nerves under control at the moment...” you explain, grateful he won’t see the soft flush breaking across your face as his dexterous fingers latch and unlatch the tiny set of claw clasps with relative ease.

In his voice you hear the very same tenderness he imparts to the youngest of his brothers as he softly encourages you to relax. By the time you take a deep breath and count to five ‘battleship’s, he’ll have this taken care of. You’re going to be just fine. Ordinarily you would be, were it not for the electric ripple in your skin every time you feel the smooth material of his raven-dark gloves brush against you.

Understanding the tensing under each feather-light touch is only a reflex, the Marshal Commander casually remarks that you’ll be hard-pressed to find a senator, dignitary or diplomat that isn’t a bit on edge or nervous about the gala. Fox says it in hopes of it serving to soothe you, rather than make you more nervous.

“There you are,” he concludes once he’s finished securing the three-strand necklace. You allow him to check the matching earrings to make certain they won’t come loose for good measure. “I admit I may not be the best man when it comes to these kinds of things, but I give it my best effort.”

Fetching your ivory clutch, you can at last turn to thank him once Commander Fox reports the ivory accessories are both secure. “Thank you, Commander. Fortunately I’m not looking for the very best, only a bit of help. I would say that it’s hardly a contest that you’ve been among the very best in providing an immense amount of help this week.” Your favorite pair of shocktroopers share in Aspen’s giggling amusement as Commander Fox maintains his professionalism rather than fully internalizing the compliment you’ve tried to pay him.

“Thank you, ma’am: but I don’t believe I can take all the credit. My men have shown around-the-clock commitment to this assignment that I couldn’t be more proud of.”

With a boisterous laugh, Sayber bravely advises his superior officer on what to say. “Now’s not the time to be all modest and humble, sir! No buts – just tell her thank you!” He’s close enough to still being considered a Shiny that Sayber can get away with speaking to a brother of higher ranking in a semi-teasing manner, and he knows it.

Commander Fox knows it too. “You’re right, you’re right…” he relents, beginning to fix parts of his armor in a bid to stall for more time. Starting with the vambraces, he straightens them out like he’s adjusting a pair of cufflinks. “Thank you, ma’am. It is my hope that both you and Senator Aspen have felt nothing less than complete assurance in the security force I have tirelessly maintained.”

Finding it satisfactory, Sayber quickly concludes with “That’s better, sir!” after you and your friend confirm there have been no concerns in your armed escorts at any given point.

There isn’t much time you can afford to waste, having to take alternative transport that would be kinder on any formalwear than a gunship. While helping you board the other transport, Naran politely comments on the care you’ve put into your appearance for tonight and offers his hope that you have a nice time. Doing so now just in case he doesn’t get a chance later. The same sentiment is then offered to Aspen as they are helped aboard after you.

Fuck. You’re really gonna miss these guys when all of this is over.

You’ll miss Naran and Sayber’s playful bickering, the way they shout “Ulyc, di’kut!” at each other when the other does something foolish. You’ll miss the pilots who have flown you over the more beautiful parts of the upper-city when there’s been time to kill; like Umate and Monument Plaza, even some of your old haunts from before.

Miss the games of fetch with Grizzer to reward her for a good job, the meals that have been shared, and the stories of how these boys got their names.

But most of all, you’ll miss the crimson commander.

It didn’t matter that he was rather aloof and distant. How he kept things almost strictly business. That he’s never once taken off his helmet in front of you. Only ever nodding, never showing you if his smile dimpled his left cheek like most of his brothers. Or that he never told you how he came by “Fox” for his name. Whether it had been one he claimed, or something he earned.

Because that wouldn’t be what you’d miss Commander Fox for.

You’d miss him for never drawing more attention to himself than he had to, shying from such spotlights in the interest of giving them to his brothers instead. Miss him for the unwavering politeness he’s had for you, treating you no differently than he would for another galactic senator, or even the Chancellor.

All this security, all this red, had been the most reassuring feeling you’ve had all week. And it won’t be easy to say goodbye, to any of it.

Or to Commander Fox.

Between the sound of spirited chatter, ceaseless pop-and-chop of photographers’ camera shutters and lively, swelling music, entering the formal venue before the official start of the celebration proves easily-overwhelming near-instantaneously.

Getting here early offers you time to acclimate. Elation and excitement should eventually find you, but there will be time to find somewhere to cool off, if necessary. It also serves as a chance for the Chancellor to visit with Aspen, hoping to speak and hear how they’ve been since Commander Fox had been appointed for protection, as well as to ask about his performance.

The visit is kept brief, but your friend stresses the shared satisfaction you have in all Fox—and the rest of the Guard for that matter—has done for you before agreeing to speak more privately and at-length the following morning. The Chancellor is not here to detract from the hopeful enjoyment of the occasion for either of you; soon enough you are left free to enjoy the entertainment and pursue the available catering.

It became apparent most of the music played tonight came from Naboo, much like the Chancellor - written by some of her people’s most respected and well-known composers. And much of the food was extravagant, tables showcasing what your own credits could never hope to see with plate after plate of hors d’oeuvres beyond your ability to even name. Same went for the drinks when you were unable to locate any cards or signage.

The Commander quickly proves rather knowledgeable when you blindly select a sparkling crystal flute, scrutinizing the bubbling contents with a puzzling expression after it fails recognition by smell alone.

“What’s this…?”

“Prized champagne provided by Pantora, ma’am. It’s recently proved rather popular.” Fox explains, hands moving from carefully held at his side to folded neatly behind his back as he approaches closer to the table.

“And what about the tall and skinny glass, or the one with a short stem and large bowl?”

An erroneously-named Mantell mixer in the highball glass, supplied from a different planet in the Mid Rim. The snifter is a robust brandy reportedly of Wayyl origin. Commander Fox can only tell you what he’s heard when it comes to if they are any good, refraining from making any kind of decision for you or presuming what you would like. There are other drinks reported to be stationed throughout the venue, if none of them appear to be to your liking. If you would prefer something non-alcoholic, he knows where the sparkling cider can be found.

You decide you’ll be starting off safe with the cider, for the time being. Less decision fatigue than coming up with an unfamiliar, strong drink to try. He again helps with identifying the human-suitable foods for you and Aspen to sample. That’s when you realize Fox is utilizing sensors and scanners built into his ‘bucket’ rather than strictly being knowledgeable upon a sharp pause in his explanation.

“The cured meat is supposed to pair best with… no, wait. Damn artificial intelligence pulled up a recipe blog.”

And rather than pressuring you to engage every instance, Aspen encourages you to go explore the venue instead of listening to them catch up with many of their fellow senators. Knowing who you’ll likely prefer for company (but might be too bashful to openly say), they give you their “blessing” to take Fox as your escort in the meantime.

“Why don’t you go exploring for a while, dear friend? Just so I don’t bore you; I promise I’ll let you know if Senator Amidala or Chuchi are able to stop by before I catch up with you so you can decide if you want to say hello. I’ll ask Naran and Sayber to stay with me in the meantime. Perhaps the Marshal Commander can go with you… If he doesn’t mind?”

The commander offers a cordial nod prior to replying. “Not at all, Senator Aspen.” He would be happy to, in fact. And though he will not be leading you, Fox is even offering to take you by the arm.

You can attribute it to his work ethic and find it applicable etiquette for such a grand event. Considering there is both a chivalrous and protective tone to such a gesture, this is not a measure of control through the imbalance of a power dynamic. He is not here to dictate where you are permitted to go.

Simply put, he’s here with no other intentions but to accompany you no matter where you go, and to comment as necessary as he listens to whatever you have to say. So when Commander Fox finds you quiet after some time, he surprises you by asking what’s on your mind.

“Thought you would be making a small amount of commentary, ma’am. Something weighing on your thoughts?”

Blinking in surprise, you chew over the thought of how honest you should be. “Well… there is something.” Unable to see through that impassible visor and faceplate, the hope of seeing this particular Clone’s face flickers anew.

“S-someone…” comes the clarification.

“Senator Aspen?”

It’s less of a risk for him to hazard this guess, but it doesn’t make the mark.

“No. No, not my friend.”

After a pregnant pause, you confess that it’s him that weighs on your thoughts when he does not ask. “I can’t… I can’t get you out of my mind.” Your reasons are innumerable, and strange even to yourself. You’re not sure what explanation you can give Commander Fox that would likely not be found comforting, innocent or even sane.

So you expect him to politely pull away. To put up walls of professionalism stronger than before. To kindly but firmly establish some boundaries. (Hell: it would hurt, but you could understand if he didn’t do it so kindly.) If you were slowly stoking the fires to a potential friendship, you might’ve just gone and done the one thing to completely stomp it out.

And by hearing yourself say it, it sounds far more romantic than you might have intended it to. “Wait, sorry- I… I meant that very generally.” Attempting to clarify this now feels like a weak excuse to cover up that you’re backpedaling, but it’ll keep you up at night far longer if you don’t at least try.

Commander Fox, surprisingly, does not suggest he is the least bit perturbed. Not by your admission. Not by your apology. Not even by the way you try to create distance from him yourself and begin to anxiously attempt to pull your arm free.

An earnest “I believe you.” is all that is needed to stop you in your tracks. The gala, now well in full-swing, feels as though it is slowing down around the two of you as you feel very foolish – just staring at the red-armored commander. “I know what that sounded like. But I believe you.” he continues, now with insistence.

“You-? You do?”

Starting with the soft use of your name, he again promises that he does - even going on to say why.

“I’ve spent all week watching how you treat and interact with my brothers. Hearing how you speak to my men. And you’re always kind. You make honest efforts to remember their names and have a friendly word to say. Always expressing appropriate gratitude. All of it shows that you care about them, that you’re a good person.

“And good people are often honest people.”

The work Commander Fox does for the Chancellor, the Senate, all of Coruscant… it’s thankless. What work he is thanked for is done with insincerity, often disingenuous and callous and empty. Senators like Aspen are a rarity. Ordinary people, people like you, are the most likely to thank him for his work outside of his bonds within the GAR.

But you’re different even among ordinary people. You have truly meant your thanks each and every time he’s done what’s been asked of him. And you wouldn’t yet know it, but it has led to Commander Fox becoming so hopelessly wrapped around your little finger in the reddest thread in hopes of tasting such genuine kindness. Such a response couldn’t be conditioned or trained out of him.

He may be a Clone, but he was not a perfect copy. Not of Jango Fett. Not of any of his brothers. It was part of that Factor H as described by Fett more than a decade ago to the Kaminoan cloners, likely before the commander’s own creation.

‘H’ for ‘Human’. And humans… they have a base, instinctual need for forming connections with the people around them. It’s why isolation proves so detrimental. As a soldier, it was an unspoken expectation to simply not acknowledge those kinds of consequences to his formative years.

Created in a high-tech petri dish. Decanted from a tube. Together forged by fire with a living sea of brothers. Getting planted on the singular-most crowded planet in this entire kriffing galaxy, where his failure to protect the heart of the Republic meant having to listen to more reports of dying vode.

But tonight, he’s here, thinking of asking to dance in all of his blood-red armor with one of the most beautiful women at the gala. Having lost a complete sense of elapsing time, the two of you had been standing just on the inside to a respectably-sized dance floor when the venue appeared to be cueing up for either the first, or another of the largest shared dances.

There’s no time to be coy about asking if you want to join your friend waiting off to the side, now that they and his shocktroopers have found the two of you. It appeared Aspen intended to have joined you, but it was now too late to step into the designated floorspace. There would still be time to step out.

“Would you like to join your friend?” Fox politely offers.

Historically, you and Aspen had platonically partaken in these duo-dances together owing to your closeness and long-stand friendship. Usually at some point during the night if Aspen was preoccupied with other senatorial attendees, but often at the first available opportunity. Dare you ask for another of their blessings to break a long-standing tradition?

“Aspen, I think I-”

“Go. There’ll be other dances!” Aspen urges, interrupting. They’re smiling, a promising sign you had worried for nothing.

Hopeful, Commander Fox extends his hand out to you. A quiet offering. An implied invitation. If you’re going to accept, it has to be soon. “Another dance, then.” you promise to your friend, carefully trading off items like the ivory clutch in order to free up your hands.

Naran suggests a crucial change before you can take the commander’s outstretched hand and join him further into the showfloor.

“Sir! Your helmet!”

“Right, right.”

This song with a famously long lead-in allows for the ordinarily simple unsealing and removal of the commander’s headgear to transform into something a bit more preformative, if rather hurried. With a polite doffing befitting of the high-class nature of the event, Fox removes the recently-polished helmet and allows you to see his face for the very first time since meeting earlier that week. It is then directly taken by Naran away from the dance floor, surrendered to his care and subsequently forgotten not long after.

Following Fox, he leads you slightly deeper into the dancing crowd with a rhetorical “Shall we, ma’am?” where the two of you assume the appropriate starting position just before the lead-in concludes, and the dance number finally commences.

As a ballroom piece common to the Core Worlds, you’re given more than enough time to study the charming face of your dance partner as the two of you step through the poised and elegant choreography.

While there is perhaps some truth to the erroneous adage “If you see one Clone’s face, you’ve seen them all!”, you are wholly committed to determining what little traits set him apart from his brothers while you have the chance. And kindly, the commander allows you to do so, encourages you to do so.

“Do I look like you imagined?”

Mostly yes. But also, no.

While he had the same round ala to his nose, there was faint scarring across the bridge you hadn’t yet seen in any of his brothers. (You would find others; one cutting into the arch of his right brow, and a freshly-pinked nick that tucked under his jaw on the left.) Fox’s eyes were the same, soulful brown; with an additional intensity that was hard to completely identify. A soft five-o-clock shadow along his jaw, now that you hadn’t expected. Or the touches of gray blending out in the dark waves and tight curls of his hair.

You admit you’re starting to wish he’d taken off his helmet sooner, even though he was only doing his job… A long-suffering job that allowed you to even be here to begin with. If it wasn’t for him, your long visit home just to see Aspen would never have happened. Not the way it did. Without him, without the Guard, your friend would have asked you to take the first shuttle returning to your new home.

You can’t even begin to fathom how you could possibly thank him enough for everything they’ve done to protect Aspen and get you to this point.

“That won’t be necessary,” Fox pledges, both his voice and his smile tender. The dimpling in his left cheek is the most pronounced amongst any of the Guardsmen. A golden warmth that softens the watchful depths in his eyes. All of it brightens your heart with euphoria, pulse already keeping time to the soaring peaks of the strings’ music.

When the song calls for those assuming the position of the dance’s “gentlemen” to pull their partner close, the Marshal Commander fits you so perfectly against his armor in order to make himself heard.

His voice becomes softer—fonder—in the delicate shell of your ear.

“But I know you’ll probably try...”

As the music begins the winding-down, Fox’s vambrace begins to squeal - an abrupt, demanding tone disrupting the pleasant, vulnerable moment between you. Needing to answer it, you assist him by depressing the instructed buttons after lowering the volume per his instructions.

“CC-4477 to Commander Fox! We have the suspect behind Senator Aspen’s attempted assassination in our custody!”

Fox does not reply right away, but rather he eyes the open comlink with a degree of great pride. But there is also great reluctance. After everything you’ve told him, after everything he’s told you, the long-shot he’s taken in asking to dance with you amidst all this formality and decorum, he has to leave now?

“Well done, Thire. Tell Commander Thorn-”

No.

No, maybe just this once, he can get away with not answering a summons instantaneously. His duty may be to the Republic, but man of his honor his duty is also still to you. As of now, he is still charged with protecting you and the senator. It becomes socially acceptable to leave the gala without staining one’s reputation fifteen minutes from now, after these large, shared dances. His men can handle the suspect until then.

Fox will not allow your standing to suffer now simply because of him.

“Sir?”

“Tell Thorn I’m still wrapped up pretty tight here. Might take fifteen minutes to disentangle her and Senator Aspen from the gala. Maybe more.” Fox’s focused expression changes to one of warmth when the word “her” parts his lips, while his voice retains its authoritative tone.

There’s a long silence on the other end of the comm before Thire comes up with a reply.

“Understood, Commander. Thire out.”

Breathless and head light, you’re reeling with relief and elation that they’ve captured their suspect. This is the beginning of the end of Aspen’s nightmare. Your nightmare. But where there is joy, there too comes sorrow, knowing your time in Commander Fox’s company is coming to an end. Maybe not tonight, maybe not in the morning. But soon enough, you will part ways and return to your regular lives…

“I can’t believe they got the guy… Thank the stars, it’s finally over. If we need to leave so you can-”

“No, mesh’la,” Commander Fox interrupts you before his voice turns almost pleading. The song may now be over, but there is still music that can be danced to. Still time that he can spend with you. “Let me be a selfish man for once… Fifteen minutes is all I ask.”

Maybe fifteen minutes… can be a good place to start.

Everything will still be there after fifteen minutes. The suspect, his men, the senator… but the clock will start to run out with you after fifteen minutes. And he’s not ready for that.

“Okay. Fifteen minutes. We’ll… work out what comes after that.��

When you’ve spent most of your service dealing with red tape, it’s going to take more than fifteen minutes to unwrap all of it.

So you’ll make those minutes a very good place to start…

Thank you for making a request for my 200 follower event, Pina! Ended up longer than I initially anticipated even after everything I cut out of it, but I hope you enjoyed it! I apologize for the unexpected delays, so I hope this was well worth the extra time it took me to write it in order for you to read it! And in case anyone is curious why I chose the name "Aspen" for the name of our senator friend here, I took inspiration from the Greek word for shield, 'aspis'. I thought it felt fitting for a story focused around Fox working hard to protect even a complete stranger, being the dutiful and brave man he is. ❤️

Taglist: @callsign-denmark @dreamie411 @dystopicjumpsuit

@dukeoftheblackstar @msmeredithrose @lonely-day3636

[Masterlist] [TCW Masterlist] [Taglist] [Requests: CLOSED]

#frostfics #Wrapped In Red #frosts 200 terrific followers event #request fic #thepineapplereturns #star wars #tcw #the clone wars #tcw fanfic #the clone wars fanfic #clone wars fanfiction #commander fox #commander fox x reader #commander fox x fem!reader #fox x reader #fox x fem!reader #x reader #clone oc: naran #clone oc: sayber

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rikashmoonsword · 4 months ago

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what makes me like Jonathan and Alanna's relationship/friendship so much is just the fact that they're peers.

There's a lot to be said about our beloved Tammy and her penchant for deeply questionable age gaps, but I won't say them because despite everything my ideal of love remains daine/numair and thus I can't criticise them to save my life. but to Alanna, all of her loves are older than her. George is 17 to Alanna'a 10, Liam is 34 to Alanna's 19/20, Jon is 18 when Alanna is 14.

George is a teacher as much as a friend, he teaches her to pick locks, wrestle, use a knife, pick pockets, how to walk among thieves and keep her purse on her and how to know who to trust and who not to. He shows her unselfish love, he shows her how gentlemen treat their ladies, he treats her like a friend and like the most beautiful woman alive. George is a Teacher.

Liam teaches her how to hold her own without a weapon in her hands, shows her how nice it is to flirt and flit without sneaking about. He also teaches her to never sever a part of herself to suit a man, and that love is important but if the love isn't for all of you it isn't love at all.

and then she's home with Jon. Jon who she couldn't look into the eyes of as a page but who she would chase him to the realm of the black god if she had to, Jon who fought Gary to get her as a squire, Jon who held her when she was afraid and who was the first one to show her love.

Jon who acts like a child when things don't go his way, who would flirt with a crazy girl to get on her bad side, who has a temper that can rival her own.

When Alanna is with Jon, she isn't with a teacher, he isn't older and smarter, he's as young and foolish as her. he rages and throws fits and apologises sloppily and he loves her just as much as she loves him.

Jon is never truly something bigger than himself with Alanna, because she was the one who saved his life from his cousin, because he is the one who dragged her into a death trap of old gods and survived, because she is the one he disregarded direct orders to save from tusaine, because they're best friends more than anything else in this world and not even screaming matches and world ending spats can break them.

That's why i love them so much, because they're peers, and that friendship makes them stronger than any other champion and king in history.

#dan.txt #slightly incomprehensible but i hope i got my point across #george is still superior as a lover but jon is forever her best friend #alanna the lioness #jonathan of conte #tortall

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alcorianight · 9 months ago

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I did not realize this got so long, so rambly word vomit under the cut

I do think more attention should be paid to the absolute horror Jason must have felt after coming out of the Lazarus pit like a foot taller and built like a damn fridge.

Like he died at 15, tiny, still small due to malnutrition and then the leading theory is that the Lazarus pit cures that and beefed him up. For one, that's gotta mess with his motor control a ton, especially when you consider that normal growth spurts cause a period of clumsiness (think jarring steps, toe stubbing, knocking your elbow on doorknobs or whatever), so a total body overhaul -Lazarus Edition™ - might be enough to keep him from even walking properly, let alone fight skillfully and gracefully.

Even if you say he got his coordination back from training or comic book science meant the pits didn't fuck that up, being small was probably a major part of his identity. Consider Jason before Bruce. He was tiny, but still resourceful and strong enough to jack tires. But being tiny was useful. Being tiny meant more hiding spaces were available. It meant he was unassuming. It meant people's eyes skipped over him. It meant avoiding attention. It meant safety.

And sure, Jason probably complained about being small when he was Robin. Probably even dreamed of being big as a street kid because being big meant having power, but being big on the streets meant being noticed and he knew that. It was something to dream about when he was older but not what he needed then.

I've also seen people headcanon that Jason is claustrophobic from the coffin, and I kinda vibe with that, and being bigger also screws with that because things feel so much bigger when you're small. If you think about it, elevators and the like probably felt a lot more spacious when you were a kid. So not only has his body been drastically changed without his consent (and I haven't really touched on that here, but also consider how it has to affect Jason Todd (who champions consent and autonomy and personal safety of the little guy) to have experienced nonconsensual body modification first hand like that) but it can actively cause him more mental distress.

And I think, coming out of the pit, the memory of his death still fresh in his mind, and stuck in the League of Assassins, maybe being small would have been comforting. He could still access all the same hiding places he would immediately clock. And while the image of a big man hiding somewhere clearly too small for him might be funny, it's also heart wrenching because he's lost so many safe places in a single moment.

Of course when Jason does go back to Gotham he's learned to use his new body and the fact that it makes him intimidating as hell, but I think there's another negative there as well. Because as Robin he comforted people. No Robin is ever soft but they are all almost definitely better at comforting victims than Batman (maybe not Damian, but he's a baby which is simultaneously more and less comforting) and a big part of that is because they're kids. Kids just aren't as intimidating as giant ass adults and I can imagine that this probably messed with Jason when he first got back to Gotham and tried to talk to the street kids or the working girls because those are groups of people who are going to be suspicious of men built like a goddamn fridge. He can't come up to them like he did as Robin, and I'm sure over time he's won their trust and they find him a symbol of safety, but the first few interactions have to hit hard because it feels like he doesn't belong in a place that's been his first home. That somehow he no longer fits right where he always did before.

I also can't imagine how disconcerting it must be to not recognize your reflection for like every part of yourself. Like, this one time I had makeup done for an event (not my idea) and it was so heavy that I didn't recognize myself and I felt so uncomfortable with that and that was just my face. My hair, my height, my build - all of that was still familiar, comfortable, but can you imagine being unable to recognize even that? And if he avoids mirrors to avoid seeing his reflection, he might not even be able to recognize himself in pictures and videos. (There's a fanfic with this idea and it definitely inspires this post because I honestly never considered this before and I thought it was so well written and such a good point that we don't pay enough attention to. You should totally check it out if you got this far.)

The last point I have for this post has to do with his relationship with Bruce. So typical timeline (I think) for Jason is he dies at 15, crawls out of his grave about 6 months later, is catatonic for 3 years, and then spends a year mentally present training with the League of Assassins on his world tour or whatever. I am fuzzy on the details here but basically from his birthday, Jason can't be older than 19-20 when he comes back to Gotham (I think 19 is the accepted age) but mentally he's 16 and for some fucking reason DC artists like to draw him like he's over 30. THIS IS A PROBLEM! Like this is an extremely fucked up 16 year old kid that should be trapped in a 19 year old's body but instead it's so much worse because (and I've seen someone describe him like this before) he's actually trapped inside the body of a 35 year old divorcee AND THAT IS NOT OKAY! Like even if we're gonna say that the Lazarus pit alters the body to peak physical health that would be like 22 or some shit. Past 30 is not a physical prime. You can be fit for sure at 30 but that doesn't change the fact that your ability to build muscle and heal and whatever else are probably better in your early to mid 20s and hey guess what that's still younger than Dick's accepted age (or maybe about the same (I have stayed up too late writing this to keep proper track of numbers)). But Jason looks older than Dick more often than not (the Gotham Knights game will never be forgiven for whatever the fuck happened to Jay's character design).

Okay sorry for the sidetrack, but Jason looking older is gonna fuck with Bruce because Bruce is gonna have a real hard time seeing his tiny, malnourished, never gonna top 5'4 Jaylad in this giant hulk of a figure, especially when the age is so off. Like imagine you have a kid who goes to college and does a ton of internships or research so you don't really see them for 4 years, you're still gonna expect your kid to look like they're 22-23. If they look like they're 35 you sure as hell are not gonna pinpoint that as your kid. So Bruce sees Jason and it makes sense that he doesn't think that's his kid BECAUSE THAT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE HIS KID! (I'm ignoring the moral differences in this post) So Bruce doesn't see a kid when he looks at Jason but Jason is mentally 16 and, despite everything he says to the contrary, he sees his dad when he looks at Bruce. Jason doesn't see an equal, someone who is just another adult. This is his dad, an authority figure in his life, someone whos opinions and words hold power over him whether he wants them to or not. But Bruce can't see that. Because Bruce doesn't see a kid. He doesn't see his son. He sees an equal and that's tragic because you're always supposed to be your parents' baby. Even when you're 50 with your own family and nearly adult kids, you're still gonna be your parents little baby. Because parents see their kids at all the ages they've ever been and it's the fact that Jason doesn't have someone who looks at him and sees him how he was when he was 2 and 7 and 10 and 13 and 15 when he still feels 16 that makes this so sad. Because no one's been his parent for long enough to really build that and Bruce can't see Robin!Jason in the Jason that came back.

Wow, uh, I'm really sorry to anyone who reads this. This really got away from me and it's super unorganized and I just kinda word vomitted all over this. This was just supposed to be about how his body was different. How did Bruce end up in this?

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miladydewintcr · 11 days ago

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Your addition about Tevinter fashion was so interesting that I can't help but ask (and my apologies if it was something you spoke about before but I missed) — what are your favorite bits of fashion details in Veilguard? Doesn't have to be just Tevinter :)

This is so sweet?? Thank you!! I'm honestly always about 0.5 seconds from rambling about this stuff at any given moment, but I rein it in mostly.

I've talked about Neve a little on here, mostly in the tags on other posts. This post by @icescrabblerjerky talks about Neve's fascinators and how they're inspired by old noir detectives, and I talked a bit in the tags about how her collar in that same outfit mimics the upturned trench-coat collar also associated with old-timey detectives (Sherlock is the most famous example I can think of). The outfit we first meet her in is also very much trench-coat-adjacent imo.

I will try not to go overboard here but !! Some of my fave other little details!

The Viper's hat! It's a tricorn-- always fun! BUT it works really well here, especially, because actual vipers have triangular-shaped heads? (I am not a snake expert and I believe there are exceptions? But generally) Also-- the little diamonds on the sides of the hat look like snake eyes? And the arrow-sort-of shape in the centre seems like it could be a nod to adders- which are a kind of viper. They have an arrow-like shape on the top of their head! Essentially, this man not only gave himself a cool nickname, but he is literally wearing the Thedas equivalent of a Batman outfit. He fully committed to the aesthetic, and I love him for that tbh.

Emmrich's coat is designed to mimic a ribcage! And not just here- this motif pops up in both of his Hero of the Veilguard armour sets, as well! I also noticed in his cosplay guide that this first outfit we see him in has a sort of waist-chain (more on that in a sec!!) with a gold tailbone that sits above where his real one would be?

And of course there are little skulls all over him, too. It's very reminiscent of the memento mori movement- 'remember you must die'. Historically, this was a way of coping with the inevitability of death in a world without a lot of the scientific advancement we have today. Death was a part of everyday life, even more so than it is for most of us today, but it was still scary. So people made art about it! And jewellery! And songs! As a way to cope with it all, and also sometimes as a way to remember lost loved ones. To have Emmrich, who is afraid of death, embrace this idea in his fashion is just... chef's kiss, honestly. Because it was always a way of trying to face death head-on? And acknowledge it, and make it hopefully feel a bit less terrifying.

Although Emmrich's overall style is very Victorian-inspired (the silhouette, the waistcoat, the chains etc.) a lot of his jewellery actually seems reminiscent of older memento mori pieces? There are some examples held by the V&A Museum that date back as far as the 16th Century that I could see him wearing. It's a really nice touch if that is indeed the inspo, because the Mourn Watch pride themselves as keepers of history. So to wear jewellery like this every day, an eclectic mix of time periods, all tied together by this single thread of remember you must die? It's so incredibly fitting for them!!

Also re. the waist-chain. I'm referring to it as that instead of a belt because to me it looks like the kind of thing you'd hang a pocket-watch on? The looping style is very similar. It's of course a lot bigger, but I think it might've influenced it?

This has gotten really long so I'll stop now, but please know there are a hundred little things I haven't even touched on! So much care was clearly put into each and every character's design, and it brings me so much joy!

#thank you so much for this !!! It's not often I get to mash 2 of my loves (video games & fashion history) together like this!!!#(and also Batman is in there too ig?)#I had fun with it :')#emmrich volkarin #the viper #veilguard spoilers #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #da:tv spoilers

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reesespeanutbutterfuck · 1 year ago

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(im)perfectionist

vinny hong x jo!reader

jay jo's imperfectionist sister meets the flawful vinny hong.

part 5

part 4 | part 6

part warnings: fem!reader, cursing, mentions of blood, stab wounds & h*rassment (NOT FROM VINNY), jo!reader (jay is reader's 1 year older brother, but they're in the same class), second person's pov (you, you're, your), reader is NOT yumi. wb main story SPOILERS, nothing much happening in here wait for future chs

—

Suki, your roommate-slash-basketball-teammate, didn't let time pass not knowing what really happened to you. She went hysterical after she found your bloodied clothes soaked in the basin in your shared bathroom. You should have tossed it in the trash bin without washing.

She didn't let you live it down. Curse you for having someone with an inquisitive nature for a friend.

“What happened?!” You carefully took a turn to set foot in the living room, since Suki, after coming to your shared room straight from the airport, decided to go to the bathroom first thing after she entered. You forgot she was coming home.

“Those weren't splatters of dried blood, Suki. It's paint. You must be having jet lag, you should rest.”

“Even someone who's not a medical rookie will know dried blood when they see one.”

You sighed. You tried to fight her suspicious stare off, until you gave up and opened your mouth, “Got stabbed. In a closed alley.”

“What?! Why?! So that's why I can't contact you! Where's your phone?” Of course she would freak out. Anyone with a troublesome friend would.

“Don't tell my mom. I got harassed on my way here. It was self-defense. It happened quickly.”

Her brows furrowed with mixed emotions until she sighed, “How is your wound now? Can I see?” She held your arms lightly in an attempt to turn you to the other way to see your back, but you refused to.

You swatted her hands away. “You don't need to. It's a small one, just a tad bit deep.”

“I don't believe you. Why are you moving around now? Isn't the wound open? You shouldn't even be standing up right now! What if the stitches loosen?!” Suki was losing her mind at how lightly you take the situation for.

“I'm not stupid to walk around places with my back opened like a fucking wallet.”

“Wait, don't tell me you stitched it up by yourself?” her eyes worriedly widened, wondering how it was possible for you to reach your back. “We all have faith in your suturing skills, but we're not doctors! You should have it checked!”

“I–”

“We should go to a hospital—not where your parents work. Some other hospital, anywhere else. I can book a ride, or wait for me to get my car from home and I'll drive us there–”

She picked up her cardigan and keys and was ready to exit the door, uncaring about her own fatigue from her flight. You quickly held her by the shoulders to stop her.

“Hey, hey! It's fine, I'm fine. You're tired from your flight, Suki. You should rest. Besides, someone saw me and already brought me to the hospital.”

“Why did you even come home, you should've stayed in the hospital! Which one?”

“My parents' workplace.” You let go of her shoulders and turned the other way.

She gave you a meaningful look. “Must be someone with a death wish. Who was it?”

You side-eyed her and squinted your eyes.

“What?”

“You don't even agree to be brought to that hospital by me, or anyone. And you probably would have refused help if it meant you being brought there injured. So who was this person who had all the guts to bring you there?”

"Well, I met someone–”

“Someone?” her eyes twinkled in eagerness, as if you mentioning this someone stimulated something in her. And you knew that look too well. This girl. “'Met someone' as in...?”

“Suki.” you gave her a warning look. “He's just… someone. Somewhat interesting at first sight, but no more than that.”

You thought that would stop her, but how wrong you were. Her smile grew even bigger. “So it's a ‘he’? And here I always thought you weren't into men. Are you seeing someone without telling me?”

You rolled your eyes. “No.”

“Do tell me more.”

“Remember that red-haired grouch I stitched temporarily after duty that I told you about?”

You then told her about everything. Why, where, and how.

“My, what a coincidence! Hadn't I known you well, I would've said you were being brought together by destiny.”

“Get your head off your damn romance novels. It's the only way to push Jay to pursue what he’s really passionate about. If I don't push the grouch, I can't push Jay too. He'll be stuck in a loop of finding his purpose and quite possibly even suffer from an existential crisis forever.”

“You have a point.” Her eyes flicked to the side as she nodded her head in agreement. “So about the guy who brought you to the hospital, what is this grouch to you? You like him?”

“I already told you, No. He's insufferable, and his hair's like a tomato.” You recalled what he looked like. Yeah. Red hair and an attitude. A tomato.

“Tomato, huh? Odd, but okay.” She made a face and tried her best to contain a laugh. “What's his name? Do you have a picture of him?”

You turned to your bedroom, being extra careful while walking to not rip the stitches. The anesthesia was wearing off and you were starting to feel the pain off of your lower back. “I'll tell you some other time. I’m tired.”

Suki quickly noticed how you struggled to walk so she rushed beside you in an instant and held you. “I'll see him at some point. Not now, but I'll surely, finally see your newest obsession.”

You sighed. “Obsession, ha.”

“Stop being indenial. I know how obsessed you get with people.” You rolled your eyes for the nth time. You were not thinking of him that way. Never, even. He's just someone who needs the crew, and is needed by the crew.

Right?

——

The weekends passed, you isolated yourself inside your apartment. With Suki only unloading her things inside your shared apartment before coming home to her family home here in Korea, you pretty much spent the rest of the weekend only by yourself.

Not to mention how the stitches fucking hurt when the anesthesia's effect subsided. You skipped classes for weeks while faking a flu—having Suki cover up for you, to give your discreet wound time to heal before you resumed class. Suki helped you clean it up since you legally cannot reach your back. Thankfully the stab wasn't that big enough to give you difficulties while cleaning, that's why you didn't need to go back to the hospital anymore.

Which leads you, one time when Suki was attending to your fresh stitches, you wondered how Vinny endured the pain while his wound was healing. Since his, it was actually more deep than yours and bigger from the outside. It must've pained him like shit. You wonder if it left a visible scar.

Oh, speaking of him, You asked Jay about the arrangement of the crew, and you found out… that surprisingly Vinny showed up to their first gathering and first practice as a team. As Hummingbird crew.

You felt blank. You didn't know what to feel. You didn't expect him to agree but at the same time you were hoping for him to join. You hugged your phone to your chest while staring at Jay's message the night you found out. He made his choice and decided to show himself.

Good for him. His bespectacled friend's efforts weren't put to waste.

The following Monday morning, your plate was immediately bombarded with council work when you went to the meeting room early to catch up. As the Vice President, there really isn't a single minute to spare. Especially when the new president—Jay's replacement only knows how to parade his title but fails horribly to fulfill his duties. The duties Jay used to manage efficiently during his reign.

The early stress made you yawn while marching through the hallway to make your way through the Principal's office to deliver paperworks for him to sign. When you arrived in front of the office, you were shocked to find a rare sight. Students were making a commotion outside the Principal's office.

What the hell is going on?

You pushed yourself forward past the students and knocked, earning a muffled "Come in!" from the Principal himself from inside the room. When you twisted the doorknob to step inside, you were once again welcomed by a sight you weren't expecting to see.

Would you look at that, The Hummingbird crew members all stood affront the Principal and Mr. Nam. You wondered why they're here? Jay hasn't told you anything.

“Sister-in-law! Perfect timing!” Shelly's face lightened up at the sight of your bored face.

Now everyone's attention and eyes were all on you. Your eyes accidentally looked for Vinny the first thing. And there he was, breaking his usual poker-face gaping his mouth and slightly widening his eyes at the surprise of seeing you.

***

screaming in pain and pleasure cz why does vinny have to join snek crew but at the same time i kinda want to see him and joker team up ffff

#vinny hong #vinny hong x reader #jay jo x reader #jay jo #windbreaker #imperfectionist

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lyramundana · 1 year ago

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lyra lyra lyra because we talked about omegaverse –

wild, angry, possessive rut/heat sex between alpha!minho, alpha!reader/vivi and omega!jisung

i wanna see the two alphas fucking each other stupid and jisung getting off majorly on watching and being dragged in between them 😵‍💫

Lucky for you, I already imagined an omegaverse au with Vivi, so I have plenty to share~

My girl can only be an alpha, sorry but that's how it is. It's her nature, and that gives an extra reason of why she and Minho clash so much. They're both territorial, stubborn and pride themselves in their authority over others. Minho doesn't take it kindly when people try to touch what's his, and when Vivi wants something, she gets it at any cost. And in this case, Jisung is what she wants.

(this got way longer than anticipated, so beware)

ANGRY WOLVES

Warnings: Established polyamorous relationship, omegaverse, 2 alphas and 1 omega, angry sex, penetration, unprotected sex (no hat, no party), voyeurism, subtle PDA, third pov perspective, not entirely reliable narrator, spit, nipple stimulation (f! receiving) switch minho, switch oc! (they both try to dominate the other), sub! jisung, boy x boy action, some verbal degradation

It's not easy at first and it's obvious to everyone the two alphas only co-exist for Jisung's sake, since he claimed them both as his mates and they're way too possessive to let go of him. But they're not friends, Hell, they can barely spend five minutes in the same room without insulting and attacking each other. The tension is always thick with them around and people unconsciously drift away from them in fear for turning into "collateral damage".

It's all a competition with the two of them, specially when it comes to their beloved Omega. When heat/rut comes, that time of the year they spent weeks locked in a room and fucking Hannie until he faints, they push each other, trying to overdo the other in terms of hickeys and orgasms, seizing their bite marks so they're bigger than the other. At the end, Jisung's body is just a canvas covered in red, purple and yellowish bruises, with two big bite marks on his neck, proudly displayed. Luckily, this rivalry means Jisung is always twice as spoiled and cared for than anyone, and overall treated like a prince, provoking the envy from some Omegas.

At first sight, one would think the love only goes for Jisung and the other two hate each other. And to some extent, it is true. Even Jisung believed this, much to his sadness.

Until that night.

They were hanging out with their friends in their regular club. Dressed for the occasion, a couple of disagreements before leaving the house (guess from who), spicy compliments that definitely held a second meaning and sitting in their own corner with a table full of drinks and snacks. It was enjoyable.

They were mostly Jisung and Minho's friends, although Vivi got along with them just fine and was seemingly having fun chatting. Of course, her and Minho couldn't stay five minutes without bickering about something, but at least they weren't beating each other into pulps (Jisung already witnessed that, and as hot as it was, he didn't like them injured). Minho had one arm wrapped around his shoulders and Vivi at his other side, hand comfortable placed in his thigh.

Then, someone complained about a few empty bottles and Vivi offered to go and refill them herself. She stood up the table, "accidentally" kicking Minho out of her way, which earned a low growl from the older and a mocking chuckle from her part. While the rest kept talking, Jisung couldn't help but admire her backside as she retreated, the delicious skin exposed with the open cut in the damn back dress, ending right before her ass started.

He felt Minho's fingers twitching in his shoulders, and when he turned to look at him, he found something...weird to say the least. The alpha's eyes were fixed on Vivi's figure as she walked, eyes dark and focused with a feeling akin to anger, which wasn't surprising. But as Jisung looked closer, he also noticed a predatory glint in them. It reminded him of how Minho looked at him during his rut. A wolf watching his chosen prey, calculating the best moment to sink his fangs into helpless creature.

It was the first time Jisung saw that glance directed at someone else, and the last person he expected. That's what convinced him that he was just overanalyzing things. There was no way Minho looked at Vivi with anything remotely positive, at least as far as he knew. Yeah, he was most likely imagining things, but well, one could hope, right?

He doesn't recall how much timed passed, probably some minutes, but he was already light-headed when talking to Felix, both of them discussing the complexity of pigeons' lives and how fascinating they were. Minho had dissapeared to the bathroom for a moment, leaving him unsupervised, so really it was his fault. When he returned, he stared at the table with a frown.

-She hasn't returned yet? -he looked at his watch, then at Jisung's empty sides.

The boys looked around too.

-I don't think so.

-There's a shit ton of people, maybe she's struggling to get through. - Felix shrugged his shoulders. - And it's harder while carrying drinks.

Jisung worried a bit, but quickly recomposed. Knowing Vivi, she would growl at anyone that got in her way and step over them if necessary. She would be fine.

But for some reason, Minho only frowned deeper. He turned his head on all directions, looking almost frantically for something. Jisung noticed how his eyes got lighter and his sharp fangs started to grow.

He was activating his hunting senses. He usually did it when they were in big crowds and one of them accidentally strayed too far from the group, so he could find them quickly. But why would he activate them now? They were all okay, and Vivi would come back soon. Weird...

Then Changbin called their attention.

-Hold on, I see her. She's right there..oh, and she got my favourite! I love her!

Jisung turned at the direction and there she was, a tray filled with drinks in her hand and the other fixing her collar. She was talking to the bartender, who was casually leaning against the counter and explaining something. They were both smiling, acting like they knew each other.

Jisung could sense the guy was an alpha too, his pheromones were pretty damn recognizable. He exuded confidence and strenght, but unlike Minho, his aura felt softer and more aproachable at first sight.

He felt something churn in his chest at the sight of Vivi giggling at his comments and clearly in no hurry to return. He knew it was stupid. He carried her mark his neck, imprinted in his skin for the world to see. There should be no doubt who she wanted.

Before he could say anything, he heard Felix gasping quietly besides him and grab his arm. Then Jisung felt it too. A thick, low growl sounded next to him and made him want to hide under the table.

Minho had his fists clenched on his pants, eyes darker than ever and fixed on the bartender. He clicked his tongue with a humourless smile and walked towards them with long steps.

-Uh oh, that doesn't look good - Changbin muttered.

Jisung stared at his boyfriend, wary and confused. He had the exact same face when someone flirted with Jisung, or he flirted with them, or when he was in danger. A gaze that promised a very uncomfortable time to whoever poor soul was involved.

He didn't knew if it was for Vivi or the bartender this time, but one thing was clear: He needed to hear it himself, so he stood up quickly and aproached them, just enough to listen without being seen.

-Having fun, I see. - Minho stopped right in front of them. Vivi muttered some curses while the other alpha looked at him curiously.

-What do you want? -she barely concealed her annoyment.

He scoffed, crossing his arms at her with a forced grin.

-Seriously? So this is why you offered to refill the drinks, to flirt with a random guy? You're really something else.

-For fuck's sake, Minho, we're just having a normal conversation. Can't I do anything without your input?

-Normal converstation? You look ready to throw yourself at him. What is it? You stop being the centre of attention for five minutes and start acting like a whore? -he let out an humourless chuckle.

Jisung wanted to bang his head against the counter. What the hell? Couldn't he speak without putting his foot in his mouth? That was too much even for him.

Vivi clenched the tray, eyes darker too and full of murderous intent. Suddenly, the other alpha growled at him and pushed him back with a hand on his chest.

-Hey, back the fuck off, dude. We were just chatting, no need to be an asshole. - he shook his head. - No wonder she prefers my company tho, if this is what awaits her back there.

Vivi threw him an intense glare, making him confused, and Minho turned his head at him slowly. The tension turned so thick out of a sudden that Jisung felt he couldn't breathe. It seemed to be the same for the rest, since people started to move further from the three.

-The fuck did you say, dipshit? -his voice sounded scarily calm.

-Minho, that's enough. Leave. -she grabbed his arm anxiously, and he didn't pull back. Jisung didn't recall them touching each other unless it was to fight or accidental.

-I said that I understand she preferred to stay here, given your psycopathic attitude. Guys like you don't know how to treat alpha women like they deserve.

Minho laughed mockingly.

-Oh, let me guess, you do?

-Better than you, definitely. I would be more than glad to prove it. - he gave her a knowing look. Her eyes widened.

Everything happened in a flash, but Jisung remembers how Minho growled loudly and how he held the other alpha by the throat, pressing him against the very same counter. There were gasps and whispers around them.

His face was distorted to show his true side, the wolf side. Eyes twinkling in black, covering the entire pupil, and fangs fully out, showing them in a snarl. The other boy mirroring his stance, both glaring at each other and struggling. Their pheromones were so strong it got everyone who wasn't an alpha move away in fear, even Jisung felt the need to escape.

-Say that again, you son of a bitch. I dare you.

-Go fuck yourself. You barged here, acting like a dick, and expect me to bow down to you? She should give you the boot and be with someone at her level.

-She doesn't need anyone else. She knows better, so shut your mouth before I break it.

-Why? Because it hurts your ego?

-Because I'll fucking kill anyone she dares to leave me for.

Jisung can't hear anything after.

There's...so much he has to process. So much signals in just a few seconds.

"Leave me". Not him, or us. "Me".

Like she's actually his, not just a third-party or the "homewrecker". He speaks of the possibility of her leaving like it'll affect him too, beyond what Jisung would feel.

Then a sudden realization hits him: This isn't a first time thing.

Just how long has this been going on under his nose? How could he not see it?

And most importantly, what is this warm feeling growing inside his chest?

Vivi finally intervenes, stepping between them and yanking Minho backwards with harsh force. She bares her own fangs and flashing eyes the moment they try to growl at her, asserting her dominance too.

-I said enough. You're embarrassing yourselves. -she glares at Minho. - You just don't know when to stop, don't you? I can't so much breathe without you ruining it.

She walks away from them, towards the bathrooms hall, leaving the drinks behind. Minho doesn't waste a second before following her hurriedly, annoyed. Jisung does the same, if only to get them alone and ask them what the fuck was that.

There was a problem, however: Their legs were longer than his and he soon lost sight of them. He guided himself through the smells, until he found them again, both standing strangely close and speaking in angry voices. Minho's agressive pheromones were still coming off waves from his body, but Vivi didn't even blink, holding his piercing eyes with her usual defiance.

-I just can't believe you pulled that shit, Lee. God, how can you be so inmature?

-I'm sorry for interrupting your eye-fucking session with the guy.

-For fuck's sake, Minho, there wasn't any "fucking"! I just had him refill the bottles and then he started to talk to me. I wasn't going to be a rude bitch and push him off, like you do. -she scoffed. - Besides, he was being ten times nicer than you've ever been. It's rare to find such chemistry with another alpha male, you know? So forgive me for indulging him.

Minho doesn't like that comment, which it's obvious when he pushes her against a wall with a low growl. She stumbles at the shove but quickly recomposes herself, laying her weight against the wall with her arms crossed. Like having Minho caging her like that, faces inches away from hers, is completely normal. Jisung never understood her nonchalantly in these cases (he always crumbled when Minho acted like that) but her indifference was very hot too.

-Shut the fuck up. We both know that whiny bitch wouldn't have met your high standards. - he relaxes a bit.- And you're utterly incapable of looking at anyone but Jisung, which I respect.

-If you know that already, what was that about? I'll never betray him, so why-

-And me? What about me, uh? Would it be easier for you to betray me, then?

She looks bewildered at first, then wary, with some kind of understanding in her eyes.

-Minho...-she sighs.

-He was devouring you with his filthy eyes, like he had any right to do so. -he gritted his teeth, his fists clenching next to both sides of her head. - And you were letting him-shit, i can still smell him.

-I don't care if he wants me. I know where my place is, as you so kindly told him. -she replies acidly. - I'm not interested in fucking someone else. It's just, well, it felt nice to get along so well with a male alpha for once. To not be constantly "faring my teeth", expecting an attack or an insult to defend myself from. -she sighs, sounding more tired. - Simply talking to someone that understands me in ways others can't, with no violence.

Silence reigns in the hall, and Jisung feels his chest constrict at her words. He's so used to see her fighting Minho back, see her so confident and allmighty...he never considered she might felt a bit lonely. That ,maybe, she craved that sense of comradery with other alphas, that mutual understanding that only comes from those who are like you. Who share your same instincts and body functions.

Something Jisung couldn't give her, and Minho never tried to.

The older male seems thoughtful for a bit, his frown even softening a little. He breathes on her mouth.

-You don't need others for that, specially not men. -his voice is low, almost a whisper, and his eyes don't move from hers. - I'm right here.

His fingers move to brush a strand of hair from her face. Her shoulders tense.

-And you know -his nose brushes her ear as his fingers trace the veins of her neck. - how well we understand each other. -She doesn't move, just blinks at him.

Jisung can't.fucking.breathe.

What the fuck is this?!

He feels his skin getting warmer and warmer, his palms sweaty and his throat dry. It's like the world is spinning around him, deadly fast, and he can't keep up. He's receiving too many signals, too many messages in a too short time, and his half-drunk ass brain can't process them all.

"and you know how well understand each other"

It could've been sarcastic, that would've been Jisung's assumption, considering their relationship. But that was before he saw Minho's reaction to that bartender, before seeing Vivi touching him in a comforting gesture and Minho accepting it.

Before seeing this scene in front of him. This...whatever it's happening right now.

Jisung has seen those gazes in their eyes a handful of times, and it's always directed at him. The hunger and the heavy breathing, usually as they both wreck him to tears. In his most secret fantasies, he can pretend they look at each other like that too.

Maybe he's in a dream right now?

His eyes are fixed in them, barely blinking, in case he mixes a crucial second. The two dominant beasts keep staring into each other's eyes, enganging in a silent battle for who's weaker. However, the way their mouths brush, Minho's slow fingers and Vivi's mid-open lips, it feels less like an argument and more like..a prelude for something else.

Jisung feels the blood rush to his dick at a worrying speed. His pants get tighter and uncomfy as they continue to seize each other with that fucking bedroom eyes. He has no other definition.

He's faint when he sees Vivi's arm sliding up to Minho's neck, hugging him by the shoulders, as the other grabs his belt.

-Min..-she whispers, her lips brushing his as she speaks, and both men take deep, shaky breaths. She looks at him in wonder.

Then her mouth moves next to his ear, teeth nibbling the skin.

-A whore, you said?

And her knee collides against Minho's very delicate zone, inmediatly making him jump away from her. Even Jisung flinches in ghost pain, shocked.

Holy shit, what was that about?!

While Minho groans in the floor, face all scrunched up and furrowed eyebrows, Vivi crouchs next to him and snarls.

-Call me a whore again and I'll kick them all the way to your guts -she spits out.- Fucking asshole.

She stood up and left the hall hurriedly with angry steps, the clicking of her heels resonating in the now quiet, unmoving hall.

Jisung stood in the dark, his croch now completely soft again, and frozen. Minho muttering curses as he stood up caught his attention and he eventually ran to him, pretending he didn't witness anything.

-Hyung, what happened? I lost you guys in the crowd, and when I finally find you I see her leaving with smoke coming out her nose and you here. What the hell? -he grabs him by his arms, pushing him up and worriedly checking between his legs. He hopes there's not an irremedable damage...

Minho growls at her mention and hastily brushes Jisung off, now cursing loudly.

-Fucking bitch -he readjusted his shirt. - She and her twisted little games. Ohh, when I get my hands on her again, she better pray..

-The only one who's going to pray it's you. -Minho stared at him, confused. -What? You think I didn't see what you did to that poor man? I'm pissed, Lee Minho. You ruined our night with your shit again, so pray that the couch is specially comfy and warm tonight.

The alpha's eyes widen almost comically. Almost, because Jisung can't find it in himself to see anything comically now.

Before he tries to explain himself, Jisung leaves to follow Vivi's trail. Definitely not thinking about that weird, intense display from earlier. Yep, definitely not remembering. It was probably a misunderstanding from the alcohol, yeah.

That said, he couldn't help but pay a bit more attention to his partners since that night.

Initially nothing seemed different. The usual bickering, the backhanded compliments, the pranks aimed to hurt rather than laugh, the shattered furniture from their fights, the noise complaints from neighbours. There was nothing about them that could lead anyone to think they felt anything other than hatred for each other. Jisung started to assume he imagined everything back in the club, that the alcohol messed up with this senses.

But there were these tiny details, rare and hard to notice unless you were looking closely, that triggered his observational skills. Like when he caught them once in the kitchen, heatily arguing about what they should eat that day. It wasn't anything strange...except for Minho's slender fingers playing with the belt loop of her jeans as she spoke, and her own hands grasping the front of his sweater.

Or how insistent was Minho about undoing her bra strings with her shirts on, as another antic to annoy her. It wasn't weird for him to use all the tricks in his book to piss her off, but Jisung finally realized how often he relied on that particular one. And most curiously, how Vivi's reactions seemed more amused than irritated. Or the way she always picked on when Minho's shirt collar was off and took it upon herself to fix it, even if grumpily and still commenting how horrible he looked.

When they had sex, everything was a competition and Jisung the playground. They focused mostly on driving his mind to new limits with pleasure and leave him shaking in the bed, trying to outdo the other in who could pull more orgasms out of the omega, or who got the best reactions from him. This tended to include attacking each other in the duration of it, which meant biting and scratching the other until the skin was covered in bruises and even blood sometimes. In the haze of his overstimulated mind, Jisung struggled to remember the exact moments when this happened, and it's not like he didn't leave his own share of marks on them too, so he couldn't be sure which was his and theirs.

Regardless, he couldn't help but question their fixation for always bruising each other, one way or another. In and outside the bedroom.

Truly, it was only a matter of time that the truth was exposed for Jisung. And in a quite interesting way.

He was out for some emergency shopping for his partners' upcoming rut, leaving them at home fighting for the TV remote control. Just when he was paying for the stuff, he got a message for one of his neighbours and sighed tiredly. They only had each other's numbers to talk about important matters about the apartment building...or to complain to Jisung about the noise from his flat, usually caused by his partners.

"Mr Han, I understand that, as young people, you tend to have certain physical needs and enjoy satiating them with your lovers, but could you please do it a bit more quietly? My ears would very much appreciate it. Please and thank you"

Jisung could perfectly imagine her passive agressive voice as she said that. He chuckled at it, shaking his head and closing the phone.

But wait, what? What "intimate activities" she was talking about? He was out of the house and as far he was concerned, Minho and Vivi were the only ones there.

"They must be breaking stuff again. Jeez" It happened more often that he'd like. They never held back on their "disagreements" and they ended up ruining furniture more than once. Broken glass, thrown down chairs, cracks in the walls, etc.

He told them he'll take longer to go back home, since he also wanted to get some coffee first, but he decided to return inmediatly this time, leaving the drinks behind. He was sick of replacing his stuff because of their lack of self-control, and he also refused to suffer another embarrasing lecture from the landlord.

As Jisung went up the stairs to his apartment, he distinguished the noises of bodies repeteadly colliding against the wall and things falling down the ground, either dragged or kicked out of the way. He wouldn't be susprised they were actually throwing stuff at each other.

When he got to the door, however, he had a strange feeling in his chest. He looked back at all those small details he picked on between them for the past weeks, and that very particular interaction in the club that he still wasn't totally sure it happened.

His hand moved the doorknob slowly, finding what appeared the aftermath of a battle inside, and he felt his body pressure go down abruptly. Chairs thrown to the floor, furniture moved out of place, collisions on the wall, the usual...along with a pair of shorts and a crumpled shirt. Both clothes seemingly tore open, like they were ripped off crudely.

But that wasn't the only reason his heart suddenly stopped, choking him. No. It was the loud, angry growls coming from the bedroom, followed by some occasional moans.

With trembling legs, he walked in that direction, slowly and quietly to not be detected. On the way, he found a belt, Minho's pants and the crop top Vivi had been wearing before he Jisung left. Or what was left of them, now turned into shreds of cloth.

A familiar angry voice sounded from the bedroom.

-Watch it, asshole, this is one of my favourite p-ah! -she stopped halfway to moan.

-Shut it. You shouldn't be wearing anything, then I wouldn't have to tear it off. - Minho. He sounded breathless, urgent even, but Jisung knew every note of his voice to feel his smirk as he talked.

They spoke in rushed tones, clashing against something as they did. She chuckled.

-Please, still with excuses? You're a fucking animal. Even if I walked around naked, you'll lunge at me to sink your-

Minho growled and Jisung distinctively heard another thud, harder than the previous one.

-You really can't keep your mouth shut, right? -his voice sounds muffled by something. - Not even now.

She let out a pained moan, making Jisung's jeans even tighter around his dick.

-Mhm, if only there was something to occupy my mouth with~ -she giggled breathlessly. This time it was Minho who laughed, with that raspy voice of his from when he's very turned on.

-You're a fucking slut, I always knew. -he sighed, followed by a serie of wet, smooching sounds.

Jisung felt his head bobbling to the side and his feet melting on the floor. His fingers twitched as his member pulsed inside his boxers, fighting the urge of grasp it in his hand and aliviate himself.

He still wasn't 100% sure his brain wasn't making this up, after all.

-And yet your dick is throbbing inside this slut. -her voice becomes a sultry whisper.

Minho groaned, and Jisung's hand pushed the door slowly before he could think.

And what he saw made his knees almost give up on him.

Vivi's sweaty, bruised body pressed against the wall, the dresser digging into her lower back. She had fingerprints on her hips, dark and purple and painfully looking. Her bra was ripped from one side, exposing her right boob, while the other remained half-covered by the part that wasn't obviously mistreated. Her panties, or what was left of them, hanging from her thigh. Cuts and teeth marks painted her skin, some even bleeding a bit, but she didn't seem the slighest of bothered by it, smirking down at the equally sweaty and bruised male holding her up as he mouthed down at her neck hungrily.

Minho had his own skin decorated with red, angry lines on his back left by her sharp nails and bite marks all over his body. A hand keeping a vice grip under her knee as the other grabbed her by the waist, leaving his fingertips imprinted on her in dark, purple lines by how harshly he was grabbing her. His hips were trapped between her legs, grinding against her with slow but strong movements, as he trapped her against him tightly, almost strongly enough to cut her breath.

Jisung feels his throat go dry at the visual confirmation that, indeed, Minho's thick cock is throbbing inside Vivi's cunt. He watches as it pushes in and all the way out of her wet, inviting hole, her delicious essence dripping to the floor and enveloping Minho's hard member in a slippery sheen. Jisung licked his lips instinctively at the image, eager and craving to taste both of his favourite treats together.

Then it dawns him, within the fog of horniness and desire, that holy shit they're actually doing it, they're fucking each other what the hell-

Vivi lets out a gasp and pulls Minho's head back from her neck by grabbing his hair. He groans in protest, but has a satisfied grin on his face.

-You son of a bitch, you seriously tried to mark me?? -she seethes, her worlds trembling in anger and desire, her lips brushing his.

His grin grows more sinister.

-Like you wouldn't like me doing it, you slut. -he nuzzles her collarbone, letting his sharp teeth caress her skin.

She growls and pushes herself off the wall, making Minho's stumbling backwards and towards the bed. He quickly grabs her thighs to keep her up, before breathing sharply when she nibbles her earlobe, licking it after.

-God, I'm going to fucking destroy you. -he groans, and his voice sounds so deep and raspy it makes Jisung's painfully hard cock start leaking in his pants. Whenever that voice comes out of Minho, it means Jisung is going to get fucked mercilessly for the alpha's sole pleasure, and his body has the reminders of it impregnated in his cells.

In a swipe movement, Minho turned her around and fell into the bed with her still in his arms, caging her body against the matress and devouring her mouth, ripping off the rest of her already destroyed underwear. A messy fight for dominance begins, like everything that goes on between them, with tongues and spit and wet sounds along with the skin colliding against each other. She finishes getting rid of his boxers, and Jisung knew he couldn't get any harder.

His hand was squeezing the head of his cock before his brain could process it was happening, pants undone and boxers right on his knees, hastly discarded just enought to let his hand in. His eyes rolled back white at the so needed relief, biting his lip painfully to keep a high-pitched moan inside his mouth, along with his growing drool.

A loud slap echoed in the room, followed by a whine and some thrashing in the sheets.

-Aw, there she is. Are you going to make those adorable sounds I like so much? -he grinned against her lips, a string of saliva connecting them. He traced her mouth with enraptured attention as the other travelled slowly from her ass to her inner thighs. She groaned with a pout, hitting him with her knee to push him, making him tsk and sigh dramatically. -I guess not now.

-Stop talking and fuck me already. It's all you're good for. -her tone was exactly the same kind of annoyed as when she spoke to him usually, but there was also this underlayed impatience and desesperation in it that told a different story. That, and the way her legs wrapped around his waist to lock him in place.

He chuckled, almost delighted.

-So you admit my dick is good enough? -he nibbled her lips. -Looks like we're progressing.

She groaned and tried to slap him. He caught her wrist mid-air, his cheeky smile fading off and replaced by a furious scowl. He grabbed both of her hands and pressed them to both sides of her head.

-Ungrateful, insolent bitch. You don't deserve my dick inside you. I should've-

She shifted her weight to her legs and switched positions, trapping him underneath her with his waist still between her knees. Before he could verbalize his surprise, she grabbed his throat.

-Minho -she sighed as her nails drew some blood in his neck. He groaned.- Shut the fuck for once, would you?

And she proceeds to ride him at an inhuman speed.

He started to let raspy ah's as she picked up her pace, throwing his head back as a a sheen of sweat became visible on his forehead and broad chest, which was also covered in bloody scratches. She moaned in pure satisfaction, burying her head on his shoulders and biting. She continued to fuck herself on him, keeping him inmovilized from his hips and down.

-Look at you now, so c-compliant and cute. This is-fuck!-is how you should be everyday.

-I swear to God, Vivi, let me-oh shit-let me move or else.

-Or what?

That was it. Jisung knew at that moment that porn was ruined for him forever. Nothing, not even his most recurrent fantasies, would ever compare to this absolute wonder his eyes were witnessing. He tried to match the tempo of his own strokes to that of Vivi's hips as Minho's dick kept dissapearing inside her, his pre-cum already falling in drops to the floor and staining his jeans. He bite back a moan at the image, eyes growing wet at the overwhelming emotions and pleasure.

Then, Minho growled and wrapped an arm around her back, while the other sneaked in between their bodies. She whined in protest, fighting to break off his grip, until her eyes widened and she let out a sinful mewl. He chuckled darkly, and Jisung held his breath when he realized the older alpha's fingers rubbing her clit.

-Oh? Where did all that bravery go, kitty? You were so high up there..

-Oh my god, finally! Don't stop, Minho. Don't you fucking dare to stop, or I'll rip out your throa-ah!

Her head fell on the pillows beside his head, gripping his shoulders as she turned into a moaning mess, but Minho wasn't much better, letting out a series of curses and groans himself. Vivi threw a choked scream as her legs trembled, her wetness dripping unto Minho's hand and his cock. He followed shortly after, biting her neck hard and closing his eyes shut, while his release leaked from her cunt and got mixed with her own essence. Jisung came seconds later, gagging himself with his shirt to not be heard and even letting a single tear run down his cheek.

In the process, the vice grip of her legs softened and allowed Minho to move, which he didn't waste a second for as he wrapped his arms around her and switched positions again, this time with her underneath. He grabbed her wrists with one hand, the other still occupied with her reddened clit.

Jisung couldn't fucking believe it. Already? Didn't they have any refraction period or something? There was no way they recovered that fast!

But apparently they were. She hugged his hips with her legs, fixing her posture while pushing him closer to her, until their fronts were glued together. The realization that they never let Minho's dick separate from her pussy not even few inches made Jisung's head burn.

Worse? He could see the outline of the alpha's still hard cock in her fucking belly, as he rocked into her again.

She sleazed her right leg towards his shoulder and he rushed to held it in place. His other han gripped her hips viciously, leaving more fingerprints shaped bruises in her skin, but she didn't seem to notice. He slowed down his thrusts to shift his posture and the new angle brought another delicious mewl out of her.

-Fuck yeah, t-there it is. Am I-ah!-hitting it right, princess?

-Holy shit, yes! Rig-hnng-right there, Min. Keep going!

The bed started to move wildly with them, the wood creaking getting louder and louder, and the constant banging of the frame against the wall almost mutting their own noises. Jisung didn't dare to think what the neighbour might be thinking now. Maybe she was punching the door to complain and they didn't hear it.

Unfortunately, Jisung couldn't bring himself to give a single fuck about her comfortability or her poor, conservative ears at the moment.

He was already spent, still half-floating in his post-nut haze. His dick couldn't get hard again, not that quick at least, so he remained watching them, memorizing every single angle and sound they made together.

They stopped talking altogether, not even to argue. They fucked each other like they were fighting, trying to get the upper hand over the other, a race for dominance and authority that left nothing but chaos behind. Jisung loved the show, but he knew his Omega body wouldn't resist the agressive, blood-thirsty handling they had going on.

The female alpha's sharp nails got entangled on Minho's hair and pulled viciously, her other hand scratching his lower back, getting near his butt. Suddenly, she slapped them.

Minho gasped at the sting, slowing down his movements for a bit, only to let out a deep growl and squeeze her even harder against his body, not even a wheeze of air fitting between them. His fangs made contact with her shoulders and sunk them in, making her whine and fidget in his hold. His hands begin to play with her nipples, which Jisung just noticed had teeth mark around it (when did that happen??), twisting them and even mouthing them, letting his spit fall into the skin.

-I hate you so much -she panted.

-Yeah? You do? -he was just as breathless,

-You can't even imagine. -she bite his neck, sucking a big bruise in it, along with the many others she left.

-Aw, princess. -their lips brushed. -I hate you more.

Their lips collided with hunger, and Jisung's cock started to grow interested again. Tongues sucking on each other and joining the cacophony of wet sounds filling the bedroom.

Of course, she wouldn't be the alpha Jisung adored if she gave up without a fight. She sunk her nails right on Minho's buttcheeks, using them as leverage to seize his thrusts, and licked his ear. He panted, biting her nipples harder and breathing sharply through the nose. Then she pushed both of them, until they were both sitting with her on top of his lap. Her hands grasped his wrists, pressing them behind him as she took control over the situation again. He tried to argue, but his voice died quickly when her own fangs caught the skin of his neck again, right where his pulse was.

Her hips kept rutting against his, too fast for Jisung to even think, making Minho moan and sigh in delight.

-W-wait, Vivi, shit, slow d-down for fuck's sake! I'm...

His whole body freezed suddenly, his back going all rigid and his eyes closed shut. He buried his nose into her chest, breathing in deeply, as his hips began to shook violently and spurts of white started to drip down to the sheets. Again.

He panted heavily, blinking to focus again. But she didn't stop. She wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders and let out a high-pitched moan.

-A little more, please, I-oh my god- I'm almost-

She screamed, her body trembling too as she cames, a gush of wetness soaking Minho's pelvis and the sheets underneath. He held her firmly against him, their foreheads pressed together. They had drops of sweat running down their skin, hair plastered on their faces, lips all wet and mistreated. Minho's hand traced imaginary lines on her waist, and she lazily counted the hickeys around his skin.

They looked like an erotic painting, one Jisung could have only imagined before today, and that he wanted to capture in his brain for the rest of his life.

They laid back on the bed, facing each other, and their sexes still connected because obviously.

Out of sudden, Vivi started to giggle.

-What now, brat? -Minho asked annoyed, his voice raspy with post-orgasm exhaustion. Curiously, his face didn't seem as bothered as he sounded.

-Nothing~ -he raised his eyebrows at her, and she relented. - Just remembering how you actually ended up ruining my clothes, so now you'll have to buy me everything new.

He scoffed.

-Please, I was joking. Like hell I'll spend my money on you. -he rubbed his eyes.- I don't owe you shit.

-Oh, screw you, Minho. -she attempted to move away, his cock slipping out of her, but he grabbed her quickly and groaned.

-What are you doing? Stay right the fuck here. -he said almost petulantly, hugging her by the waist and adjusting her posture so his softening (it better be softening) member didn't get out.

-Are we sure Jisung is the clingy one here? Jeez -she had a small smile that Minho couldn't see from his angle.

The room reeked of sex, sweat and intense alpha pheromones. In short, the kind of domestic smell Jisung would gladly get home to every single day for the rest of his life.

-Well, ignoring the few accidentally broken stuff, we didn't do so bad this time, right? -she said, playing with Minho's fingers mindlessly.

-Yeah, I think-

He was interrupted by a loud noise: The bed frame collapsing beneath them and the posts shattering completely.

Jisung felt his eye twitch, arousal slowly fading in favour of anger.

Silence reigned in the room for a moment.

-You better drop that fucking grin off before I slap it, Lee Minho.

-What? I am not!

-I literally feel your mouth in my neck, I know what you're doing!

-Just say you're obsessed with my mouth and be done with it.

She let out a loud, exasperated sigh, making him chuckle more. He kissed the back of her earlobe, the softest gesture Jisung saw of him directed to someone else. She leaned back into it, like it was normal.

-This is nice. -she whispered to herself, but both men heard.

-What do you mean? -he asked in the same tone, his lips tracing the back of her throat. She looked startled.

-Nothing, forget it.

-Princess...

She looked away, dropping his fingers to fidget with the sheets instead.

-This, what we're doing now, it feels nice. -she traced imaginary lines in the matress. -It feels like you don't hate me that much, and I like it.

Now the anger moves to let the heartbreak in. Jisung has the urge to run to her and smooch her face all over, anything to not hear that sad voice from her ever again.

He looks at Minho, and his heart clenches when he sees the same sadness in his eyes, focused on her.

-You idiot -he muttered, shaking his head. -You big, incredible idiot. -he caged her with his body and kissed the bite mark on her neck, one Jisung hadn't seen before.- Can you not see it?

-I'm yours already.

Taglist (my fellow minsung girlies): @skzms @2chopsticks2eyes @linlinaert @queenmea604 @hanjisunglover @hanjibug @hyunsvngs @minsungisvreal @k-krissten @roseykat @mal-lunar-28 @thightswideforhanin (please tell me if i forgot someone, i'm really bad at tagging)

#mutual asks #minsung x reader #poly minsung #requests #skz scenarios #skz omegaverse #lee know/han jisung x reader #alpha! lee know #omega! han jisung #female alpha! reader

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