#Commander fox x fem!reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anxiouspineapple99 · 6 months

Text

Queen of Hearts

Vampire!Fox x Fem!Reader

Summary: On your way home from work one early morning, you catch Fox drinking a man's blood in a back alley, and it changes your life forever.

Pairing: Vampire!Fox x Fem!Reader

Characters: Fox, Thorn, clone OCs

Tags & Warnings: 18+, NSFW, MonsterClone!AU, clone discrimination, clone rights, minor injuries, violence, murder, blood, angst, domestic fluff, mild sexual themes, non-sexual intimacy, erotic blood drinking, enemies to friends to lovers, reader can be considered demisexual, stalking

Word Count: 14.5k

Author's Note: This fic is dedicated to my beloved @starrrgazingbunny! She gave me the clone, the monster, and the prompt, which inspired this monstrosity of a fic. Haha, get it? Monstrosity? Monster? I'm hilarious. Anyway, I love you darling and I hope you like the fic 😘 As always, please enjoy 💚

@clonexreaderbingo Square: "Your eyes sparkle."

MonsterClone!AU Prompt: "I know what you did."

Fox’s boots rhythmically clack against the sterile tile floor of the GAR clinic as he strolls through the bright halls with his hands clasped neatly behind his back. It’s late, and he was sorting through an endless stack of data-pads when he received the comm that one of his Corrie Guards was injured on duty and undergoing medical treatment at the clinic. After the comm, he tossed his data-pad to the side and downed the rest of his cold caf before making his way to the clinic.

Fox hates receiving these comms because it’s always the same story. The natborns, who he swears are born with only one brain cell each, are cruel to his corries. Their apathetic dismissal of a clone's mere existence boils his blood. The clones never asked to be created and they surely never expected to be used, abused, and thrown out with the evening’s trash. They are flesh and blood men, his men, and he considers each one of their lives as his responsibility.

Fox lets his frustrating thoughts dissipate when he stops in front of the exam room door. The medic on duty, whose fingers are rapidly tapping on a data-pad medical chart, deviates from his rounds when he sees Fox with his arms crossed. Fox stays silent as he approaches, so the medic continues his data entry as he waits. Fox glances through the window of the door to get a small glimpse at the situation, then turns to address the medic. “What happened?”

The medic looks up from his data-pad and frowns. “He was breaking up a street fight on the lower levels when a natborn busted his nose and broke his arm.” The medic shakes his head. “Poor kid. It was his first night on patrol too.”

Fox sighs, thanks the medic, and dismisses him with a silent nod.

As the medic leaves, Fox opens the door and quietly slips into the exam room, hoping to go unnoticed. He leans back against the wall and crosses his arms as he observes another medic carefully tending to the corrie’s injuries. Fox slumps his shoulders and releases a heavy sigh as he assesses the bruises on the clone’s face. This is the fifth corrie he’s gone through this week and the trend is only getting worse. It’s mind-numbing to him, just how cruel the natborns are.

After watching for a few more seconds, Fox pushes himself off of the wall. He pulls his bucket off and sets it down on the counter, his loose curls cascading down to just above his eyes. He walks over to the exam table, taps the medic on the shoulder, and asks him to take a break. The medic nods and hands Fox the bandages and adhesive before exiting the room. Fox flicks his hair to the side and away from his eyes as he takes a seat on the stool in front of the injured clone.

“C-Commander,” the corrie stammers in surprise while scrambling to stand to attention.

Fox reaches up and places two firm hands on the clone’s shoulders to gently push him back down onto the exam table. “At ease, vod,” his voice soothes. “No need to get up. You’re hurt.”

“Y-Yes sir,” the corrie says, nervousness escaping his voice. It’s not every day a shiny gets a visit from their commander, let alone have them bandage their wounds.

Fox lets a small smile creep onto his lips. He always finds it endearing the way the shinies act around him. They think he’s some sort of celebrity being the Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guard, but in reality, he’s just an overworked, sleep-deprived, and overly-caffeinated bag of meat. There’s nothing about his existence that makes him feel worthy of their praise, at least, not when his men sit in the clinic wounded while he sits behind a desk doing data-work.

“What’s your name, kid?” Fox asks, his fingers working deftly to continue wrapping the bandage where the medic left off.

“Slapstick, sir,” the corrie says.

Fox chuckles at the name and tightens the side of the bandage.

Slapstick winces at the pain. “Apparently, I’m good at comedy, sir,” he jokes.

Fox grins. “You’ll have to tell me a joke when you’re better.”

“Will do, sir,” Slapstick smiles.

Fox makes quick work of wrapping the broken arm and gently gives it back. He grabs a cloth sling and fits it over Slapstick’s shoulder, making sure the elevation is correct for his arm to rest comfortably. Fox then grabs a few cotton pads and dabs them with alcohol to clean the blood off the corrie’s face and applies a bandage across his nose. When finished, Fox sits back in the chair and watches as Slapstick nurses his broken arm, a flash of emotion crossing his bruised face.

Fox frowns, rises from the chair, and places a firm hand on the younger clone’s shoulder. He peers into the shiny’s innocent, yet fearful eyes, and silently reassures him. “Do what the medics tell you, and you’ll be fine. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” Slapstick nods. “Thank you, Commander.”

Fox smiles with sad eyes. “You’re welcome, kih’vod.”

Fox turns away, grabs his bucket off the counter, replaces it on his head, and then exits the exam room. He softly shuts the door behind him and stands in the hallway for a moment to compose himself. He closes his eyes and exhales slowly to release the tension built up in his shoulders. They’re so young. He laments. The new shinies come in looking so full of life and eager to please their superiors. It catches him off guard every time he sees one of their youthful faces.

Being part of one of the earliest batches of clones, Fox feels old. The gray streaks running through the sides of his dark curly hair only serve to prove it. It’s ironic to him since his batchmates haven’t grayed yet, so it must be the stress. He and the shinies are only a few years apart in manufacture date, but the accelerated aging makes him feel as if he’s lived a lifetime. He wishes he could relive the days when he was a shiny. Back then, they didn’t even have names.

Fox still remembers being a fresh young clone and ready to serve the Republic. He was created as part of a batch of commanders bred to be leaders, with superior intelligence and bolstered strength. Little did he know what true horrors he and those under his command would endure. The constant ridicule by every lifeform walking the streets of Coruscant, the discrimination and litany of ‘no clones allowed’ signs on business storefronts, and the lack of human decency was, and still is, repulsive.

He didn’t ask for this post, one so far from the war. Yet, here he is, visiting the broken men under his command and taking every bit of their suffering personally. Each one who is spat on, belittled, cursed at, and dehumanized weighs deeply on his soul. At least on the battlefield they’d receive the respect they deserve. At one point, Wolffe warned him of being overly attached to his men, and Fox knew Wolffe had every right to speak about loss, but he still didn’t listen.

He internalizes all of their pain and lets it steep deep within him. His anger for the natborns burns white hot in the pit of his stomach. He decided long ago that there’s nothing good about a natborn. They’re all useless beings that sit on pious ideals and build their peace on the dead bodies of his brothers, stacking them like cheap bricks and using their blood as mortar. But now, he’s done letting the atrocities slide. He’s done watching his brothers suffer at their hands.

Fox straightens himself as his resolve settles within him. Purpose driven, he marches back to headquarters. He doesn’t bother turning the lights on in his dark office, the blue glow from his data-pad illuminates his face as he sifts through the new reports to find the one about Slapstick. He pulls up a holo-recording of the events and watches it with intent. He notes the location, and when he sees the natborn’s face, he tosses the data-pad onto his desk and leaves his office.

He knows what he needs to do, and he’s finally ready to act on his intentions. The guilt that has crept into him, knowing that he could have done something sooner, only propels him forward in his mission. As he nears the exit of the headquarters’ building, Thorn is waiting for him. Fox curses under his breath. He knows Thorn will try to stop him, try to talk some sense into him, but he doesn’t care. He’s done playing around, and if he has to go through his brother, he will.

Thorn crosses into Fox’s path and folds his arms. "And where are you going?"

"Out,” Fox answers as he steps to the side to go around him.

Thorn follows his movements, preventing him from advancing. "What? You've got a hot date or something?"

"Something like that," Fox mutters, trying to side-step him again.

"I know what you’re gonna do," Thorn says, blocking his brother again. “I can smell it. The lust.”

Fox grunts in frustration and forcefully pushes past his brother. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Thorn turns and catches Fox’s arm, his grip tight. "Whatever you think you're going to accomplish out there is only going to come back to bite you,” he warns. “You're gonna get caught!"

Fox smirks under his helmet. "Not if I bite first."

A small gasp escapes Thorn’s throat. He didn’t want to be right. He knew Fox was up to something malicious when he first caught a whiff of his altered scent, a shift so strong he could smell it from two klicks away. He refused to believe that his brother would go this far and intentionally put all of the commanders at risk by going rogue, but he was wrong. Fox is going through with it. In his brief shock, Thorn’s grip slacks enough for Fox to yank his arm out.

Fox, finally free of his brother’s blockade attempt, stalks off into the night to find his prey.

“Fox!” Thorn calls, desperate to get him to reconsider, but Fox doesn’t respond, and Thorn, powerless to stop him, watches as he slips into the shadows of Coruscant.

You let out an exhausted sigh as you finish up your shift at the diner. It’s been a long night, and you glance at the chronometer on the wall while stretching out your back. It’s 02:00 hours and almost time for you to go home. You don’t mind working the second shift, in fact, you enjoy being a night owl and sleeping during the day. The initial adjustment to your schedule was difficult, but now that you have a routine set, your body works just as well as it did in the daylight.

After bringing the remainder of the plates to the kitchen, you grab a to-go container and pile all of the leftover scraps into it, then pour what’s left from the caf carafe into a to-go cup. Your manager is a good person, and she lets you take food home at the end of your shift for dinner. It isn’t much, just what customers didn’t finish, but you’re always grateful. Once you have all of your things gathered and your leftover dinner, you wave goodbye to the rest of the staff and leave.

As you walk along the diner front, you frown at the bright circular neon sign. It has an image of a clone’s helmet in the center and a large red slash running through it. You don’t understand what people have against the clones because they seem human enough to you. Sometimes it bothers you to be working in such a discriminatory business, but you don’t have much of a choice. Most places of business are anti-clone, and it’s hard getting a job with one that’s clone-friendly.

You sigh, and continue along the darkly lit street towards home. As you approach the next alleyway, you see two Coruscant Guardsmen leaning against the wall. You smile and wave at them and they eagerly wave back. One of the perks of working the second shift at the diner is that you get the pleasure of running into your two favorite Corrie Guards, Traipse and Chris, on their patrol route. They’re wonderful friends, with big hearts, and even bigger stomachs.

“Watcha got for us today, mesh’la?” Traipse asks as he slips his bucket off.

“The usual,” you smile and hand the to-go container to him. “A couple half-eaten sandwiches and some cold fries, but this time there’s a little ketchup stuck to them.”

“Sweet!” Chris rips his bucket off as he eyes the food in the container, practically salivating at the prospect of cold, soggy fries.

It breaks your heart to see them so excited over scraps from another patrons table, but you know that anything you give them is better than what the GAR feeds them. It’s the least you can do for them, and they truly appreciate the meal. You still remember the first day you met them when you began working at the diner. They were new and on patrol when they stopped in for a hot cup of caf, which was a big mistake. The owner was livid, cursed at them, and almost shot them.

The scene that unfolded in front of you was just as frightening as it was disturbing. The two corries only wanted a cup of caf to keep them awake during their patrol, and they were nearly killed over it. That was the night your heart broke and truly softened for the clones. You felt so bad for them that at the end of your shift, you scraped together all the leftover food and caf you could get a hold of, and searched the streets looking for them. You’ve been friends ever since.

“And,” you sing while holding up the to-go cup, “some caf to wash it down.”

Their eyes light up like it’s Christmas. “No way! You got us caf too?”

You laugh and hand the cup to Chris. “It’s not very hot, and it's a bit stale, but it should be enough for the both of you to share.”

Chris takes the first sip of the lukewarm, slightly stale caf, and you can see the tension slip from his shoulders. It’s like he’s tasting caf for the very first time, and it’s not even good caf. You smile, but on the inside, you’re hurting. All of the caf shops on their patrol route are anti-clone, so they can’t stop for a simple cup of caf or even grab something to eat. They have to wait until their patrol is over and return back to the GAR headquarters. You wish you could do more.

“Thank you, mesh’la,” Traipse says, then gives you a big hug. “You’re so good to us.”

“It’s my pleasure,” you smile as you squeeze him back. “You know, someday I’m going to open my own diner, just for clones.”

Chris grins. “We’ll be your first customers!”

You laugh at his exuberance, and tap your foot on the ground. “I wish I could stay and chat, but I really need to get home.”

Chris hands the cup of caf to Traipse who takes a small sip. “You want us to escort you home?”

“Nah,” you say with a dismissive wave of your hand. “I’ll be fine. I walk this route every night, you know.”

“Be safe, okay?” Traipse says. “And if you need us, you know where to find us.”

“Thanks boys,” you give them each a farewell hug and set out towards home, turning around to wave goodbye one more time.

You really did want to stay and chat with your friends like you do every night, but this particular shift was exhausting and now you only want to sleep. You barely had any breaks in between your tables being filled and emptied, so your feet ache painfully. Just the distance to walk home is enough to make you want to scream in agony. You didn’t want to tell your friends that your feet hurt, because you know that one of them, if not both, would have tried to carry you home.

It’s not that you wouldn’t mind being carried home by a big, strong, and handsome clone, but they have a job to do. They're on patrol, and you’re already putting them into jeopardy by chatting away with them when they’re supposed to be walking about the streets of Coruscant. They’re allowed to take breaks, but to have them deviate from their course so severely just to take you home because your feet hurt, is way too big of an ask. It would not be right..

As you continue to walk the dark streets, illuminated only by neon signs, your thoughts are interrupted by a noise coming from one of the side alleys. It almost sounds like a scuffle. They say curiosity killed the tooka, but it hasn’t killed you yet. So, you cautiously peer down the alley and see two men standing by the wall. One looks like a clone, but you can’t tell what color his armor is, and the other man looks wasted. You tip-toe closer and crouch behind a crate to get a better listen.

“I know what you did,” Fox says as he backs the drunken man against the wall.

“Get lost clone,” the man slurs.

"You hurt my kih’vod," Fox says.

"Your what?" the man asks, clearly confused with the term.

"My kih’vod," Fox repeats. "You broke his arm, and for what? Fun?"

The man pauses as he tries to understand what the clone is talking about through his drunken haze. Once it finally registers, the man sneers and becomes angry. "He deserved it!" the man yells. "All of them! They're all freaks of nature!"

"Freaks of nature?" Fox mocks and cocks his head to the side, feigning confusion at the accusation. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Disgusting meat droids," the man scoffs.

Fox chuckles darkly and gets in the man’s face. "You don't understand anything."

"What’s that?" the man slurs.

Fox pulls his bucket off and whispers in the man’s ear. "I'm the freak of nature." He grabs the man by the throat and lifts him up against the wall.

"Let go!" the man yells as he struggles in Fox’s grasp.

"You're not in a place to bargain," Fox says, purposefully baring his fangs in a show of intimidation. The neon lights bounce off the fangs, making them glow bright, a stark contrast to the dark alley.

You startle at the sight of the fangs and your grip loosens on the side of the crate, causing you to fall into the alleyway, making a thud noise when you hit the ground. You scramble back to your hiding place behind the crate and clamp a hand over your mouth, hoping he didn’t hear or notice you. You close your eyes as your mind races a mile a minute, wondering just what in the stars you just saw.

Fox snaps his head to the side when he hears the sound and he catches a small glimpse of you scurrying behind the crate. Tucking that away to deal with later, he turns his attention back to his prey. “Looks like we have an audience,” Fox sighs. “I just hate it when guests show up uninvited to dinner, don’t you?”

The man wriggles helplessly in the Fox’s grasp, fear washing over him as he realizes the mistake he’s made.

"Confess your sins," Fox says.

"I… I'm sorry, please," the man pleads, tears streaming down his face.

"Oh, not to me," Fox explains. "I'm not your Maker."

The man whimpers, haphazardly kicking and fighting to get free, but he’s too weak under the influence of alcohol.

"I am your death," Fox sinks his fangs into the man's neck and sucks every last bit of blood out of his worthless body. Eventually, the man stops wriggling, and his body slumps in Fox’s grasp.

Fox grimaces at the bitter taste of the man’s blood, but it’d be a shame to waste it. He finally pulls away from the man’s neck, panting for breath, then spits the last bit of the bitter blood out of his mouth as he staggers back. The alcohol in the man’s blood begins to make him feel light-headed and woozy. He turns to where you’re hiding behind the crate and starts walking towards you. His bucket sways in his left hand, while his right hand drags the man’s limp body alongside him.

Fox stops in front of you and drops the lifeless body beside you. The man’s cold, dead eyes meet your live ones, and you feel sick to your stomach. You look up at the clone with wide eyes as fear and dread wash over you like a heavy blanket. You can see now that his armor is red, red like the Coruscant Guard and red like blood smeared on his face. Your breath quickens when you notice the elongated fangs made visible as he pants from his fresh kill.

“You’re a… a…” you stammer out as you slowly inch away from his looming presence.

“A vampire?” Fox finishes your sentence with a roll of his head, still feeling tipsy from the alcohol invading his system.

“That’s… impossible,” you say. You’re at a loss for words as your brain flips between fight, flight, and freeze. Sure, you’ve read the stories about vampires, but they were just stories, right? Vampires don’t exist in real life, do they? You’re not sure what to think, but you don’t have time to work through figuring out an answer. You dart your eyes to the left and to the right, looking desperately for an escape route.

Fox kneels down in front of you and grabs your chin, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. “This is our little secret. Do you understand?”

You nod your head, too shocked to give a verbal response.

Fox searches your face for a moment, unsure of what he’s looking for, but eventually he releases you. “Run along little one,” he whispers, “or the fox might catch you.”

At his words, you scramble backwards, awkwardly trying to get up off the ground. He’s not coming after you, but the fear and adrenaline that’s raging inside your body tells you to run away. You get to your feet and you run. You run as fast as you can. You look back to make sure he’s not following you, and you see him, standing where he left you, watching you as you make your escape. You turn forward and continue running, ignoring the pain in your already tired feet.

You’re not sure which direction you're running in, just that it’s away from him. You wonder what he meant by ‘the fox’. Who is ‘the fox’? Is he a fox? No. He’s a vampire. Is his name Fox? You’re not sure of anything at the moment, and you decide to figure it out later. You keep up your stiff pace, dashing through the streets, turning down corners that look familiar until you come to an abrupt stop when you crash into Traipse. A small yelp escaping your lips as you fall backwards.

“Mesh’la?” Traipse asks in surprise.

Chris stoops down to pull you to your feet. “Are you alright? That was quite the hit.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Traipse adds as he looks you over to make sure you’re not hurt.

“I’m okay,” you pant.

Traipse and Chris trade bewildered glances and briefly look around to see what you might have been running from.

“What happened?” Chris asks. “We thought you went home.”

“I…” you want to tell them what happened. You want to tell them what you saw, but you quickly remember that you were sworn to secrecy, so instead, you feed them a lie. “I just got spooked. That’s all.”

Traipse doesn’t believe your explanation for one second. He narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you insist with a shaky breath, trying to sound convincing. You pause for a moment, then make a simple request, hoping that they’ll stop asking questions. “Would you walk me home now? Please?”

“Of course,” Traipse answers. He’s still not happy with the lack of explanation, but he doesn’t want to push it any further. “It would be our pleasure.”

The two corries walk on either side of you as you make the journey home. You feel a sense of safety with them at your side, so you try to let yourself relax a little. Many people fear or even hate the Coruscant Guard, but you’ve always enjoyed having them around. They make the lower levels more bearable and safe to live in, and your late nights aren’t so lonely. But now, can you really trust them? Are they really who you think they are? You’re not so sure anymore.

As you approach your apartment, you once again think about the corrie you encountered in the alley. You know that he’s a corrie based on the color of his armor, but you’ve never seen him around the lower levels before, or at least not on your route home. Perhaps he lives on the upper levels and comes down to the lower levels to feed. Your skin bristles at the thought. A vampire amongst the clones. A vampire amongst the Coruscant Guard. What if there are more?

You glance at your companions and briefly wonder if they’re vampires too. You quickly throw the idea out of your mind. If they were vampires, wouldn’t they have drank your blood by now? You shake your head to remove the swirling thoughts. The sun will be rising soon, and you just want to go to bed at this point. When you arrive home, you thank your two escorts as they leave you outside of your apartment, but they stay long enough to make sure you get inside safely, and for that you’re grateful.

Once inside, you lock your door and check every window to make sure they’re locked as well, and then pull the room darkening curtains across them. The fear that has crept inside of you from the words of the mysterious corrie in the alley has not left you. You shiver and slink down beside your bed, clutching your knees to your chest. You wonder if he’ll find you or if he’ll try to hurt you. You know not all clones are good, but you’ve always tried not to judge them on the outside.

As your adrenaline winds down, you decide to skip dinner, throw on your pajamas, and curl up under your duvet, covering your head with the thick material like a child afraid of the monsters under their bed. You keep a light on beside your bed, just in case, then slowly drift off to sleep as your exhaustion overrides your fear and forces you to sleep. Surprisingly, you sleep well, and are only awoken by your preset alarm at 17:00 hours, reminding you to get up for another day.

You barely remember the events of the night before in your waking haze, but as your senses return, the fear and anxiety creeps back in. You now wish you had asked Traipse and Chris to walk you to work as well. You know they would have if you asked. Sighing heavily, you take a quick shower, get dressed, and throw some food together for a hasty breakfast before heading out the door. Fortunately, your route to work is uneventful, which you’re thankful for.

Your day at work is the same as usual. With the hustle and bustle of the diner, you rarely have a moment to even think about the corrie in the alley. Between waiting tables, refilling caf, and chatting with the patrons, you almost forgot. However, there’s a nagging feeling in the back of your mind. The feeling that you're being observed. You don’t let it bother you too much, but you know it has to be him, watching your every move, making sure you don’t spill his secret.

At the end of your shift, you bring the remaining plates to the kitchen, gather up another to-go container of scraps and pour the last of the night's caf into a to-go cup for Traipse and Chris. You bid farewell to your co-workers and meet up with your two corrie friends by the next alley. They’re leaning against the wall, waiting for you to show up, but with stern looks on their faces. They must be worried about you. However, their demeanor perks up when they see you coming.

Across from the diner and in the shadows, Fox watches you. He keeps his distance, but he decided to keep an eye on you after the events of the previous morning. The words from Thorn rotate in his mind about getting caught and they churn in his stomach, because knows what will happen if the GAR finds out he’s a vampire, and he knows he put the rest of the commanders at risk. Which he mentally kicks himself for; the stubborn stupidity and lack of rational thinking.

Thus, he watches you, making sure you keep your mouth shut. He really doesn’t want to have to shut it for you, so he’s saving that drastic option for last. The keeping of his secret is vital to his entire batch’s survival. Only a few people outside of the commander batch know what happened during that unfortunate training mission, and that’s how he wants to keep it. It’s not safe for any of them. They’re not monsters and they’re not animals, but they aren’t normal.

It was a routine training mission for the batch of commanders. A get in, complete the objective, and then get out type of mission. Their Mandalorian instructor was a proud and harsh man, but he knew how to train strong leaders. However, something went wrong when they stumbled upon an unknown creature in the bowels of the world. An otherworldly looking being that struck fear in all of them, even their instructor. Every man on that training mission left that world changed.

They left that world infected. Each one gained a heightened sense of smell, sharper ears, and an unusual taste for human blood. They could hear heartbeats as people passed by and smell fear on their men. The change was difficult, being acutely aware of others around them, and they didn’t drink blood often. It wasn’t needed for survival, so why risk it. Most of them didn’t like talking about it either. So, their fangs remained hidden and their attraction to blood was stifled.

Fox snaps back from his memories when his eye catches the blinking neon sign affixed to the diner’s transparisteel front which bars his brethren from entering. He scowls at the offending sign and writes you off just like he does everyone else. A worthless natborn that can’t see past their own biased ideals. He huffs, thinking that maybe it would be worth the trouble to just get rid of you after your shift, but his better judgment, that he was missing last night, tells him not to.

He continues to watch you throughout your shift, unamused as you bustle around waiting tables, refilling caf, and pocketing tips. He finds you rather boring, actually, and continues to weigh your existence in his mind as to whether he wants to keep you alive or not. As you exit the diner at the end of your shift, he straightens his back and stretches. He quickly furrows his brows at the smile plastered on your face and wonders what you could possibly be smiling about.

Fox becomes curious about your odd happiness, so he follows you, maintaining his distance and keeping to the shadows where he can. Luckily, that isn’t a difficult thing to do in the lower levels. When he sees you approaching two Corrie Guards standing by an alley, he stiffens, worrying that you might harm his brothers. He watches intently as you get closer, his muscles tensing as he rolls the notion of ousting himself. He takes a single step forward, then stops.

Laughter. He hears laughter. His brothers are laughing with a natborn. They’re laughing with you. Fox’s mouth falls open in shock, and he takes a step backwards, caught completely off guard by what he’s seeing. He watches, dumbstruck, as you hand them the to-go container of food and the to-go cup of caf. To think that a natborn could be kind to a clone was unfathomable for Fox, but here you are, giving them food, giving them caf, and making them laugh.

The look of pure joy and happiness on their faces melts something deep within Fox. He can’t quite place the feeling, but it’s warm and soft and inviting. His anger and fear starts to crumble as his features soften. Could he be wrong about you? Is there such a thing as a good natborn? His skepticism and apprehension are replaced with intrigue and curiosity, and he decides that he needs to know more about you. So, he watches you more, but now because he wants to.

You fidget with your fingers and shift your weight between your two feet. “Hey, can I ask you guys a question?”

“Sure,” Traipse says as he tosses a few potato wedges in his mouth.

You hesitate for a second, piecing together the words carefully so that you don’t say too much, but you need to know the answer. “Is there a ‘fox’ in the Coruscant Guard?”

“Is there a ‘fox’?” Chris repeats with a slight laugh. “Yeah, there’s a Fox, but he’s not in the Coruscant Guard.”

“Oh…” you knit your brows together in confusion. You swear that the colors on that clone’s armor belong to the Corrie Guard.

Traipse chuckles at your confusion and needles Chris. “What this di’kut is trying to say is that Fox is the Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guard, so technically he’s not in it, he’s over it.”

Your mouth opens in shock. “Fox is a Commander?!”

“The Commander,” Chris corrects with a pointed finger.

Your brain continues to recalculate like a GPS that has lost its signal. You can’t believe that the corrie you ran into in that dark alley, the one that killed that man, the one that is a vampire, is also the Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guard. You feel sick. You’re not sure what question to ask next. You don’t want them catching on and you don’t want to release too much information, so you go with something simple. “Do you like Commander Fox?”

“Of course!” Traipse exclaims. “He’s the best!”

“He visits his men when they’re in the GAR clinic,” Chris adds. “Even the shinies get a visit from him. He really cares about us. Kinda like you do.”

“Oh,” you trail off, not sure what to say.

Traipse and Chris continue to gloat about their amazing commander, which confuses you even more. The image they paint of Fox is nothing like the man you saw in the alley last night. There’s no way they’re the same man. It’s not possible. The man they’re speaking of is kind, brave, and smart, but the man you saw in the alley was terrifying, violent, and spiteful. The two images clash inside your mind as you struggle to decide if they really are the same man.

“Why do you want to know about our Commander?” Chris interrupts your thoughts.

You stiffen and come up with something quick. “Oh, no reason,” you dismiss. “I just heard the name is all.” You hope that explanation is convincing enough for them, and you let out a little sigh of relief when they shrug and change the subject.

Fox continues to watch you from the shadows as you interact with the two corries. He becomes nervous when you bring him up in the conversation, because if you’re as smart as he thinks you are, you’ll figure out his identity. With that information, you could easily go to the nearest general and get him arrested, court-martialed, or worse, decommissioned. He listens intently to his men’s praise, but his shoulders finally relax when they change the subject to something else.

After that encounter, Fox decides to watch you more, fully intrigued by the way you treat clones. He still has some doubts, and wonders if it’s only for show or if you really do care. However, night after night, he watches you clean tables, pack scraps together, and leave the diner. Like clock-work, you meet up with your two Corrie Guard friends to offer them a half-eaten meal, talk about your day, and listen as they regale you with harrowing stories of their nightly patrols.

Slowly, Fox finds himself wanting to see you more. Every night he leaves his office, whether his work is finished or not, to come and watch you at the diner. The way you dance around the tables in your apron, smile at patrons as you refill their mugs, and the sound of your laugh have become a part of his routine. He doesn’t want to miss a single second of you. He watches you with every intention to reveal himself, but he knows he can’t. Not after what you saw him do.

While Fox is back at headquarters, Thorn catches him lost in thought while sitting at his desk, mindlessly twirling his stylus around his fingers as his stack of data-pads grow. Thorn leans against the door jam and folds his arms. “You look busy.”

Fox continues to twirl his stylus while staring blankly at Thorn, unamused by his sarcastic tone. “Yeah, I am. So, why don’t you leave me to it.”

Thorn huffs. “You’ve always been a bad liar, vod.”

Fox wonders if Thorn is getting suspicious of him, and his question is answered quickly.

“You gonna tell me where you keep sneak’en off to at night?” Thorn asks.

Fox stops twirling his stylus and lowers his eyes to scan the data-pad on his desk. “It’s none of your business.”

“It’s my business if you’re gett’en us all in trouble,” Thorn retorts.

“It’s not like that,” Fox says without looking up from his data-pad.

Thorn approaches Fox’s desk and places both hands down flat onto the surface. “Then why don’t you tell me what it is like?”

Fox looks up from his data-pad and meets Thorn’s eyes with a scrunch of his nose. He emphasizes his words and says them slowly. “It’s none of your business.”

Fox and Thorn stare at each other with intensity. Thorn trying to read Fox’s intentions and Fox trying to ward off Thorn’s intrusion. As Thorn continues to search Fox’s face, he picks up on a faint scent emanating from hum. Thorn’s mouth slowly opens into a toothy grin as a singular thought pops into his mind. Thorn laughs and shakes his head, straightening himself up and moving away from the desk. He drags a hand across his chin. “You’re in love, aren’t you?”

Fox’s body tenses at Thorn’s acute awareness. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he dismisses, but his body betrays him. Heat slowly rises up his face and to the tips of his ears as his heartbeat quickens, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Thorn.

“You are!” Thorn exclaims with a knowing smile.

“I am not!” Fox retorts loudly, but then hushes himself to make sure no one hears. “I am not.”

“Don’t worry, vod, your secret is safe with me,” Thorn says playfully. “This is kinda unexpected though… I thought you hated natborns?”

Fox groans and leans back in his chair, running his hands down his face. “I do.”

Thorn throws him a devilish grin. “I guess not all of them.”

Fox leans forward and points his stylus at Thorn. “Get out.”

Thorn laughs and turns to leave Fox’s office, but not before giving him one more parting piece of brotherly advice. “Let me know if you need any date-night ideas.”

“Out!” Fox yells as he throws his stylus at his brother.

Once Thorn is out of sight, Fox plants his face onto his desk and groans. He never understood how Thorn could be so perceptive all of the time. He reads him like a book, but then again, he’s never been good at hiding his body’s reactions. Fox picks his head up from the desk and places it in his hands, fingers sliding through his mess of curls. He hates to admit it, but Thorn is right. He is in love, but he refuses to admit it because you’re a natborn. It goes against everything he knows.

It’s too late though, Fox can’t help himself from falling in love with you. He doesn’t get many glimpses of happiness in his life, but when he sees you. Maker, when he sees you smile, and your eyes sparkle, and you laugh, it’s enough happiness for him. He wants you to bring him table scraps and cold caf, to tell him about your day, and laugh with him. He wants to escort you home, to make sure you’re safe, and to be the reason that you smile, but he doesn’t know how.

Fox once again finds himself sitting in the shadows just outside of the diner and staring into the transparisteel window. He’s completely transfixed on you as you go about your shift. Something about your warm smile has captured his cold and calloused heart, and tonight is no different. He feels the urge again, the urge to confront you, to make himself known so he can get to know you. He kicks himself over and over for making you scared of him, but he wants to make it right.

He decides to approach you tonight, and steels himself to prepare, but as you open the door of the diner to leave, Fox catches a whiff of something intoxicatingly sweet. His heart skips a beat, his breath quickens, and his fangs become aroused at the scent. Even with his bucket on, it’s not enough to block out the decadent aroma. He pulls his bucket off and places a hand over his mouth and nose to try and stifle it, but it’s no use, the scent wafts around as you walk.

Through his growing arousal, Fox searches your body, looking for the source, and then he sees it. A bandage on your arm covering a cut. He tries to block the lustful thoughts out of his mind and remain focused, but Maker does he want a taste of you. His fangs throb out of need. The fragrance of your blood is like nothing he’s ever smelled before. Male blood is bitter and female blood is sweet, but your blood is overwhelmingly sweet. Sweeter than anything the universe could ever provide him.

Although he had plans to finally confront you tonight, he decides he needs to leave. The urge to drink your blood is too strong. If he made his move now, it would only frighten you, and that’s not what he wants to do. He doesn’t want you to be scared of him anymore. He doesn’t want you to look at him in fear like you did the night you met. He wants to make his intentions clear to you so there’s no mistake. He’ll show you that like your two corrie friends, he is also worthy of your affection.

It’s been three weeks since your terrifying encounter with Commander Fox, and you’ve finally put him and the ordeal out of your mind. You did what he asked and kept his secret, so there was no reason for him to come for you. However, you never quite lost the feeling of being watched, but you decided that it was just the paranoia getting the better of you. Besides, with Traipse and Chris walking you home every morning, you always felt safe.

Tonight is no different. You finish up your shift at the diner like usual, scrape together the best looking leftovers, and pour a to-go cup of the remaining stale caf. You clock out, say goodbye to your co-workers, and meet up with your corrie friends at the next alley over to give them their dinner. The look of excitement on their faces never fails to make you smile. It’s sad that something so simple, like table scraps and old caf, could make their night something special.

You chat with them about your day at work, and all the latest gossip from your co-workers, while they devour the diner food. A few well-timed jokes and laughs are exchanged, and when they’ve finished eating, they walk you home like they do every night since the scary incident. On the way, they fill you in on all of the juicy details of the Coruscant underworld. Some of it is so ridiculous you wonder if it can possibly be true, but you laugh and enjoy their musings.

Once you arrive at your apartment, you bid your friends farewell and swipe your keycard to enter your home. The inside of your apartment is dark, and only illuminated by a couple strings of battery powered fairy lights that are much more cost-effective on your energy bill than keeping your lights on. You lock the door behind you, toss your bag on the couch, and check all of the windows, before pulling the room darkening curtains closed as the sun threatens to rise.

You then enter the kitchen and wash the day of work off of your hands, then do a couple of the dishes that you’ve neglected for the past week. You place them neatly in the drying rack, then dry your hands as you mull over what you want to eat for dinner. You don’t feel like cooking, so leftovers are your only option. You pull open the conservator door and stare at your dismal choices. Finally, you pull out a small container of something you know isn’t bad and reheat it.

Sitting at your kitchen table, you mindlessly scroll through your data-pad and look at the current events while you munch on your dinner. You sigh as you read reports of the increased crime rate, violent anti-clone protests, and higher taxes for the lower levels. You toss your data-pad down, and grumble about there never being anything happy in the news to look at. When you finish dinner, you place your used dish in the sink, stretch, then head to your bedroom.

As you enter your bedroom, you flip the switch on the side wall to turn the lights on and nearly jump out of your skin as your soul almost leaves your body. There’s a clone lying on your bed. Of all the things you thought you’d come home to, maybe a stray tooka or something, you definitely never in your wildest imagination thought you’d find a whole clone in your apartment. You freeze and throw a hand over your mouth to stifle any noise but the clone doesn’t stir.

After the initial shock wears off, you notice that the clone’s armor looks awfully familiar to you. Your eyes widen with realization. It’s Fox. The Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guard, a vampire, is on your bed. He’s lying on his stomach, armor still adorning his body, bucket perched on the nightstand, his face buried in one of your pillows, with both arms wrapped around it. Every single human emotion runs through your body, and you’re not sure which one to pick.

“Fox!” you yell. “What are you doing in my bed?”

Fox doesn’t move, but mumbles into the pillow. “Sleeping.”

“Why are you sleeping in my bed?” you demand.

Fox nuzzles the pillow gently. “It’s comfy.”

Your mouth falls open at his answer, but you really aren’t sure what you were expecting. “How did you even get in here?”

“The door,” he murmurs sleepily.

“I– You–” you're at a loss for words. You’re stunned. You rush over to him and grab his left leg to try and pull him off your bed, but he’s too heavy and you can’t get him to budge. You step back and groan in frustration that he’s not moving. Suddenly, something clicks in your brain and you become very afraid. “You’re…” you back away from the bed. “You’re not going to kill me are you? I kept your secret! I promise!”

Fox sighs at the fear he hears in your voice, and he mentally kicks himself for being the cause of it. He thought that confronting you in a safe place, such as your home, in a very calm and non-threatening way would make this easier on you. Clearly, he was wrong. Perhaps he should have asked for Thorn’s help after all. In an attempt to de-escalate the situation Fox remains still and speaks calmly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

His soft spoken words almost sound sincere, but you can still see his bloody face in your memories and hear those cynical words spoken to you. You feel conflicted about the situation. He hasn’t bothered you since that night and he hasn’t moved an inch since you got home. If he really wanted to kill you, wouldn’t he have done so already? It would be way too easy. Your physical prowess is nothing compared to a clone, let alone a commander. He could easily kill you.

“I promise,” he adds when you remain quiet.

You can hear a level of vulnerability in his words that strangely sets your heart at ease. Maybe the Fox that your corrie friends spoke of is the real Fox, and the Fox that you met in the alley isn’t. You might be rationalizing away his behavior that night, but everyone has a breaking point. Ultimately, you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. You're still not okay with him breaking into your apartment or sleeping on your bed, but maybe he just needs a place to crash.

“Can you at least take your armor off?” you sigh. “You’re getting my duvet dirty.”

Fox doesn’t move a muscle.

“Whatever,” you let out another sigh, too exhausted to argue. “I’m going to take a shower, and I’m locking the door. So don’t try anything funny.”

Fox remains silent and unmoving.

You narrow your eyes, still wary of the commander. You know who he is. You know what he is. And you know what he’s capable of. As a precautionary measure, you grab your mace from your purse on the couch, gather a change of clothes, and lock yourself in the refresher. You should feel scared, more scared than you are, but something about him feels disarming and almost safe. It’s a stark contrast to what you saw the night you met, but maybe that’s his plan.

You finish your shower and exit the refresher, feeling clean and ready for bed. When you walk back into your bedroom, you startle for a moment. Fox is still lying on his stomach on your bed, but his armor is stacked neatly next to your dresser, leaving him clothed only in his black bodysuit. You look at him for a moment, cocking your head to the side, and wonder why he waited to take his armor off. Perhaps he didn’t want to scare you by making any sudden movements.

Whatever the reason, his intentions of not harming you are made clearer every second. He’s leaving his entire body vulnerable to you. You could easily grab one of the steak knives from the kitchen and stab him in the back with it, but you won’t. He hasn’t given you a reason to, and you hope he doesn’t. You haven’t been known as the smartest person in the world, and you trust way too easily, but you honestly don’t feel any malicious intent from him as he lies in your bed.

You cautiously come around to the empty side of the bed and look at his face nestled in your pillow. His dark curly hair lines the sides of his face, coming to rest just above his closed eyes, his lips are slightly parted as he breathes slowly. You have to admit, he looks peaceful, like this is the first bed he’s ever slept on in his whole life, and your heart softens a bit for him. He’s still a vampire, you remind yourself, but he doesn’t look scary, at least not like this.

Since Fox is sleeping on top of your duvet, instead of in it, you grab a blanket from the chair on the other side of the room and carefully drape it over him. He remains still and doesn’t say a word. You still wonder why you’re doing any of this, but something deep inside tells you that he won’t hurt you. You grab another blanket for yourself and stand at the edge of the bed. He’s still a little too close for comfort, and for caution's sake, you decide to sleep with your mace in your hand.

“Can you scoot over, please?” you ask.

Without opening his eyes, Fox wiggles himself to the edge of the bed, taking the pillow with him. You stifle a snort at how funny he looks, but the smile that crosses your face cannot be hidden. He’s like a child. Acting just like the rest of the clones when they encounter such small creature comforts. You take a lot of things for granted as a human, as a natborn, but you try your best to pay it forward to the clones when you can, even if that means letting one sleep in your bed.

You crawl onto the empty side of the bed and snuggle under the blanket you pulled off of the chair. You rest your head on your pillow and look over at Fox. His eyes are still closed and he seems to be asleep. Your mind on the other hand is racing with so many questions that you’re having trouble sleeping. It keeps going back to the night you met, and makes you wonder why he’s so different today than he was then. You fidget with your fingers, then decide to finally ask.

“Fox?” you whisper.

“Hmm?” he hums.

You hesitate for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm,” he mumbles against the pillow.

“What would happen if they found out?” you ask.

Without opening his eyes he answers. “I’d be decommissioned.”

You chuckle. “Is that some type of early retirement?”

Fox opens his eyes slowly and looks at you. “I wish,” he sighs. “I’m defective. Defective clones are either reconditioned or decommissioned.”

You stare into his deep brown eyes. They look sad. “What’s the difference?”

“Reconditioning makes you a blank slate,” he explains. “Like a memory wipe. Then you’re put back in the general clone population to start over from scratch.”

“That’s… terrible,” you say. You don’t know too much about a clone’s life other than what your clone friends have told you, but to think that their lives can be ripped from them in an instant is sickening.

“That’s life,” Fox laments.

You pause before asking your next question, unsure if you really want to know the answer. “What about decommissioning?”

Fox rolls onto his back and leans his arm over his forehead, pushing his curls up and out of his face. He doesn’t want to tell you the truth, but if he ever wants you to understand the reason he needs you to keep his secret, then he has to tell you. “It’s just a fancy term for euthanasia.”

You sit up and your mouth gapes open in shock. “Euthanasia? Like what they do with animals?”

“Yeah,” he whispers.

“But you're not animals,” you retort.

“You’re right,” he says. “But we’re not people either. We’re products. Goods bought and sold. Some can be fixed, others need to be disposed of.”

You stifle back tears. “I don’t think of you as products.”

“I know,” Fox smiles sadly, remembering the way you treat your Corrie Guard friends. “But a memory wipe can’t fix what I am, so the only option is disposal. It used to be very common back when I was manufactured. I almost lost one of my batch brothers because he had blonde hair.” Fox chuckles at the memory.

“I’m so sorry,” you offer, unsure of what words of comfort you can even give him. The way he talks about himself, as a product makes you sick to your stomach. The reality of the clones hits you like never before and your resolve to help the clones grows even stronger. “I’ll keep your secret, I promise. I won’t let them decommission you. Any of you.”

Fox smiles at your kind words, even if they are naive. He knows you can’t save all of them, but he also knows you will try. He finds your affection for him and his brothers endearing, and it makes his heart flutter with warmth and happiness. He knows he is safe with you, that he can be vulnerable with you, and that you won’t cast him aside like so many other natborns have. You’re different, so much different than anyone else, and he never wants to lose that.

“Go to sleep, mesh’la,” Fox says. “You can save all of the clones tomorrow.” Without another word, Fox flops himself back onto his stomach and buries his face into the pillow, slowly drifting off to sleep.

You lie awake for a little while longer as the sun peeks through the top of your room darkening curtains, and think about his words, about the fate of the clones, and about his fate as a vampire. You’re not even sure how he became a vampire, or if there are more vampires amongst the clones. All you know is that this clone, this commander, Fox, is sleeping peacefully in your bed, and dreaming of a life that is more than what he was created for.

The next evening, you wake up as usual to your alarm going off, telling you to get up for another night at work. You sit up and stretch towards the ceiling, then rub the sleep from your eyes. You look over and see Fox still sleeping in the same position he started in. You wonder if sleeping on his stomach is out of habit, or if he really enjoys it. To you, it looks uncomfortable, but you let the thought go. You sneak out of bed, trying not to wake him, and start your morning routine.

Since it’s the two of you this evening, you decide to make breakfast for once, instead of just tossing whatever you find in your mouth and flying out the door. You start the caf machine and pull two mugs out from the top of your cupboard. It’s been a long time since you’ve had a guest for breakfast, so you’re glad you kept the extra mugs. As the caf percolates in the machine, you set your small kitchen table for two, with plates, forks, napkins, and cups.

You pull four eggs from the basket, but you pause when you realize that you’re not sure how he likes his eggs. To be honest, you’re not sure if he’s ever eaten an egg. You decide to play it safe by making them all scrambled. Everyone loves scrambled eggs. Then you toss several strips of bacon in a different frying pan. As you work on cooking the eggs and bacon, you pop a few slices of bread in the toaster and grab the orange juice from the conservator.

When you close the door, you’re startled to see Fox standing there. His face is still covered in sleep and his curls are all flattened on one side. He has one hand under the top half of his blacks, scratching at his stomach, and he releases a small yawn. The smell of food must have roused him from his sleep. You give him a small smile and pull out one of the table chairs for him to sit. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes light up when you place a mug of hot caf in front of him.

He looks between you and the caf several times, almost asking for your permission to drink it. You chuckle and nod your head for him to take it. He grabs the sides of the mug, cradling it like it’s the most precious gift he’s ever received. He brings it to his lips, inhaling the beautiful aroma before giving it a small taste. The hot liquid bites his tongue, but it doesn’t bother him, not when the taste of the caf is this divine. He lets out a languid sigh and practically melts into the mug.

You smile grows bigger at his childlike innocence and you place a plate of steaming food in front of him. His face is still in his mug, but when he pulls it away and sees the food, his eyes blow wide open. Once again he’s shocked that you’re providing him with such delicacies to enjoy. He starts to feel guilty that he gets to eat like a king while his brothers are starving on rations, but he doesn’t want to be rude, so he eats what you give him and enjoys it.

Whether it was your home cooked meals or your comfortable bed, your new routine now contains Fox. Every morning, when you come home from work, you find Fox lying in your bed, exhausted from his night. You let him shower now, and even bought him his own towel, soap, and shampoo to use. Sometimes he spends a while in the shower, but you don’t bug him about it. You can only imagine how good it feels for him, after never having a proper shower in his life.

You also make dinner for the two of you as well. You have to admit, ever since Fox came into your life, your eating habits have gotten better. After dinner and dishes, you both curl up into your bed and sleep. When you first explained to him that the duvet was for sleeping under and not on, Fox got very excited. The weight of the duvet made him sleep better than he’s ever slept before. Then, in the evening when you get up, you make caf and breakfast, and you both leave for work.

It’s been several months now, and you’re completely used to cohabitating with Fox. You now expect him to be there whenever you come home. You find it fun to have a roommate. You have someone to talk to and watch sappy holo-dramas with. There’s nothing you enjoy more than curling up on the couch and eating popcorn together. He doesn’t bring in any income, but you don’t mind. The joy on his face when he drinks his first mug of caf in the evening is payment enough.

This early morning is no different than any other. You come home from work and find Fox lying in your bed, and you jostle him awake so you can make dinner together. Once you taught Fox how to cook, he became invaluable for meal prep and dinner time. Making dinner with Fox is now one of your favorite things to do. You both find it fun and a great bonding time. You talk about your days, smile, and laugh about dumb things each other says. You’ve never been happier in your whole life.

This morning, you’re making stew for dinner. It’s a new recipe and you’re really looking forward to sharing it with Fox. The days on Coruscant have grown cold and blustery, so it’s the perfect time of the cycle to be making warm food for the soul. You both set to work, peeling and chopping vegetables to throw in the pot. You're chatting about your day, when in a split second, your knife slips and you cut your finger. You wince at the pain and drop your knife on the cutting board.

Fox immediately smells your blood, that sweet sweet blood of yours that he almost forgot about. His heart skips a beat and his fangs twitch to life in his mouth. He fights it, the urge to take you right here in the kitchen and drink that precious blood of yours, and he staggers backwards until his back is resting against the conservator, covering his nose from your alluring scent. You sigh at your clumsiness and walk over to the sink to rinse your finger off, but Fox catches your arm and grips it tightly.

You snap your neck to look over at him and you see his blown pupils threatening to overtake his dark brown irises as his fangs begin to grow in his mouth. His grip on your arm is tight and for the first time in a long time, you feel fear when you look at Fox. Your life together has been so normal, you almost forgot he’s a vampire, and here you are bleeding in front of him. Your breath quickens, and your arm trembles. When Fox smells your fear, he releases your arm and steps away from you.

“I… I’m sorry,” he apologizes through a shaky breath. “It just smells so good. I couldn’t help myself.”

You rub your arm where he gripped you and knit your brows with worry. You can tell he’s struggling against the urge, and you feel bad for being afraid of him when his reaction seems automatic and not even close to malicious. He’s desperately trying to respect your boundaries, fighting the arousal in him as his fangs throb, desperate to release the building pressure. You have to get rid of it, the blood that’s causing him so much pain, so you turn the water faucet on.

“Please!” Fox pleads between pants. He reaches with his arm again, but stops himself as he poorly tries to contain his need. “Don’t waste it.”

“Do… Do you want it?” You ask hesitantly. The words feel foreign as they cross your lips.

Fox clenches his teeth and nods.

You fidget nervously. "Will I become a vampire if you drink my blood?"

Fox chuckles as he strains through his desire. "Doesn't work… Like that.”

“Fox, I’m scared,” you admit.

“Won’t… Hurt you,” Fox says through gritted teeth. “Promise.”

You hesitate for a moment, then tentatively stretch out your finger. He looks at your blood, lust overtakes his eyes, the pupils now blown wide. He wants it. He craves it. The sweetest smelling blood. He parts his lips and you can see his fangs protruding past the rest of his teeth. A fresh wave of fear hits you and you recoil your finger. Fox can smell your fear, so he takes your wounded hand gently in his and caresses the side of his face with the back of it, trying to calm you down.

He slowly slides your hand down his cheek and to his lips and darts out his tongue, flicking it across your bloody finger. He closes his eyes and he releases a sultry moan at the taste. Your blood is intoxicating and he wants more. He wraps his lips around your finger, his hot tongue swirling around it, lapping up every last drop that has spilled from it. You shudder when he starts sucking on it, pulling fresh blood from the open wound, the sensation odd and unfamiliar.

As much as Fox wants more, your finger won’t give it. The cut begins to clot without further penetration and the sweet taste slowly dissipates. He reluctantly releases your finger, a soft whine escaping from his throat at the loss of your blood. You take your finger back and inspect it, the wound already scabbing over and healing. You look at him in shock, and he stares back at you, panting as he comes down from his high. His fangs retract and his brown irises return.

“How did you do that?” you ask.

Fox sits down at the kitchen table and exhales deeply as his senses come back to him. “The secretion of my fangs.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“How much do you know about vampires?” he asks.

“Just what I’ve read in books,” you answer as you sit down at the table across from him.

“Well, all those books are wrong,” Fox explains. “First, I can’t turn you into a vampire. Second, we’re not immortal. Third, my fangs are only present when they’re aroused. And fourth, my fangs secrete both dopamine and serotonin.”

You blink at him a couple of times as you take in all the new information. You open your mouth to ask another question, but he answers that one too.

“And no, I don't turn into a bat at night or become dust in the sunlight,” he adds with a small laugh.

“So, then you don’t need blood to survive?” you ask.

Fox shakes his head. “Nope. It’s more like a craving.”

“What about the man?” As soon as the words are released, you instantly regret the question. You didn’t mean to bring that night up, but it fell out of your mouth too quickly.

Fox pauses at the question, knowing it was going to be asked sooner or later. “I drink blood for two reasons,” Fox begins and puts up two fingers. “For revenge and for pleasure.” Fox pauses again and looks to the side. “That man… He hurt one of my men. I was angry and bitter, and out for revenge.”

“Oh, I see...” You think about his words for a moment, wondering if you should ask more about that night or if you should just change the subject and move on. It’s already a sore spot between you two, but Fox has apologized about it multiple times since you’ve been living together. You ultimately decide on the latter of the options. “Does it taste good?”

Fox chuckles at the question. “Depends. Male blood is more bitter and female blood is more sweet, but those scales can tip depending on a lot of things.”

“What does my blood taste like?” You ask.

Fox traces absentminded shapes on the table with his finger and smiles as he remembers your taste. “Sweet, very sweet.”

You fidget with your wounded finger before asking your next question. “Was it… pleasurable?”

Fox purses his lips and thinks for a moment, trying to form his words carefully so as to not cause you an alarm. “Yeah, it was pleasurable, but it’s more pleasurable when I use my fangs.”

You wonder what the taste of your blood has to do with his fangs. “Why?”

“The secretions,” he says as he taps the side of his lip. “If my fangs are inside you, then you get it too. It’s supposed to keep the prey from struggling too much, but it also feels really good.” Fox rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. He’s never had to explain this to anyone before, especially to someone he cares about. “It can make for an awkward revenge kill, but also an erotic pleasurable drink.”

A warm heat creeps across your face. You remember the way he looked when he was drinking the small amount of blood you gave him and he was clearly having a good time sucking on your little finger. Perhaps getting your blood drunk by a vampire is a pleasurable experience. Your mind begins to wander and you think about Fox sinking his fangs into the side of your neck and it sends sparks of excitement through your body. You quickly lose yourself in your daydream.

“Mesh’la,” Fox says, trying to pull you from your thoughts.

You blink back to reality. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” Fox asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh, yeah,” you let out a nervous laugh. “I’m fine. Just a lot of information.”

Fox gets up from his chair and places a small kiss on the top of your head. “I’ll finish dinner tonight. Why don’t you go shower. It'll be done by the time you're out.”

You lean your head back against his stomach, close your eyes, and sigh. “Okay.”

Fox gives you another chaste kiss and helps you to your feet. A shower does sound really nice right about now. It’ll give you some time to clear your head and think about everything that has happened. You leave Fox to dinner and head to the refresher to take a shower. You run the water for a minute before getting in, then step under the stream of hot water. The water flows across the curves of your body as the gentle massage of the droplets soothes your muscles.

You wash your hair and give it a good conditioning, then wash your body. You lather up your washcloth and run it across your arms, legs, stomach, and down the side of your neck. You stop and do it again, only slower, rubbing the soft cloth against the thin sensitive skin. You start to think about Fox, about his fangs inside you, and what it would feel like. You close your eyes and imagine it, an erotic encounter with someone you trust and love that doesn’t involve sex.

You’ve had the conversation with Fox before, about sex. You’ve been living together for a while now, and what started as a mutual living arrangement turned into a relationship before you could blink your eyes. He shared his feelings with you. How much he loves you, cares for you, and what you mean to him. The feelings are mutual. However, you always feel bad about denying him such an intimate encounter, but you aren’t ready, and you’re not sure when you will be.

Fox never pushes the issue, and he never brings it up. He only ever discusses it if you are the one who initiates the conversation. You love that about Fox. He respects every boundary you give him. Even when he was overcome with lust at the scent of your blood, he still let you make the choice. He was in pain, and he chose you over himself. He always chooses you, over and over again. This time though, you want to choose him. You want to give him what he craves.

Once out of the shower, you dry yourself off with your towel and hang it next to Fox’s. You quickly towel dry your hair, moisturize your body, throw on your pajamas, and leave the warmth of the refresher. The transition to your chilly apartment isn’t bad, because Fox grabs you from behind and pulls you against his warm chest. You squeal and then smile when he wraps his arms around your stomach. He buries his nose in your freshly washed hair and lets out a contented sigh.

“You smell good,” Fox mumbles against your scalp.

You giggle. “Really? All I smell is that stew you’re making.”

Fox chuckles. “It does smell good, doesn’t it?”

You escape his embrace and spin around on your heels. “I think it’s dinner time.”

“I think you’re right,” Fox agrees and you both head to the kitchen.

The two of you sit at the kitchen table and enjoy your dinner together. Regardless of your small chopping mishap earlier, the stew came out wonderful. Fox did an amazing job and you can see him beam with pride as you groan from the warm earthy goodness. He also made a small batch of biscuits, which surprised you. You forgot you had those in the conservator, so you're happy they finally got put to good use. After dinner, you clean up the kitchen and Fox takes his shower.

It’s just about bedtime as you see the sun peeking through your curtains. You’re already in your pajamas, so you crawl into bed. The cool sheets cause you to shiver slightly as you wait for the bed to get warmer. Fox returns from his shower, his curls still a little damp from toweling them. He removes his t-shirt and tosses it onto the chair, leaving him in only his gray sweatpants, both of which you bought him a couple months ago, then settles in on the other side of the bed.

With Fox under the duvet, you know the bed will get warm soon, but you’re still cold, so you scoot over to him to leech off of his warmth. His body radiates heat, which is why he can sleep without a shirt and not freeze to death, unlike you, who needs ten different layers, plus extra blankets to keep warm. Without opening his eyes, Fox lifts up his arm to give you access, and you eagerly take the invitation and snuggle closer to him, instantly feeling warmer.

You close your eyes and try to fall asleep, but your thoughts from earlier are nagging at the back of your mind. You start thinking about Fox drinking your blood again, and how pleasurable it might be for you. The thoughts are only compounded by being so close to him, the warmth emanating from his body, the musky scent of his skin and hair, and the feeling of his toned back muscles beneath your fingers. It’s almost too much to bear, and once again your curiosity is getting the better of you.

“Fox?” you whisper into his shoulder.

“Hmm?” he mumbles into his pillow.

“Do you want to drink my blood?” you ask, a twinge of nervousness escaping through your question.

Fox opens his eyes as a jolt of lightning goes straight from his stomach and into his fangs. The thought of drinking your blood arouses them, and they quickly become engorged and primed for penetration. He curses to himself at just how fast they were ready when you asked. Almost, embarrassingly fast. The familiar pressure begins to build and Fox shifts his body in discomfort. He doesn’t know if you’re just curious or if this is an invitation, but he prepares himself for either.

“Yeah,” Fox admits as he rotates from his stomach to his side so he can see you better. “But not unless you want me to.”

“What if I do want you to?” you ask.

Fox stifles a groan as his fangs throb in his mouth, desperate to pierce your beautiful skin. “Are you sure?” he asks.

You hesitate for a second. “Will it hurt?”

Fox picks his head up and props it up on the palm of his hand, elbow bent and leaning on the pillow. He looks into your eyes, glides his hand from your covered waist to your exposed neck, and brushes his knuckles against the soft flesh. The skin there is so supple and inviting. His fangs throb harder as he envisions himself drinking your sugary sweet blood. Fox leans closer, as he continues to caress the side of your neck, and rests his forehead against yours to reassure you.

“You’ll feel a sharp pain as they sink in,” he explains with a gentle whisper, “and they’ll throb under your skin, but the pleasure will take over soon after.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you say softly.

Fox smiles, then continues. “It’ll drip a little when I pull them out, but I’ll clean it up. You might be drowsy afterwards and a bit cold. It might ache for a day, since it's your first time, and form a small bruise.”

Your heartbeat quickens at all the information and Fox can smell your growing fears.

Fox cups the sides of your face in both of his hands and looks deeply into your sparkling eyes. “You don’t have to be afraid, cyare,” he soothes. “I won't hurt you.”

You nod your head in acknowledgment.

“Tell me that you want it, cyare,” he whispers, his hands moving from your face to your shoulders.

“I want it Fox,” you answer.

“How do you want it?” he asks, nuzzling the side of your cheek with his own. “Do you want to lay down or sit on my lap? Whatever is more comfortable for you.”

You think for a moment, and if you’re going to be drowsy, then you’ll want to be laying down, so you pull back from his touch and lie back against your pillow. “Just like this.”

Fox leans over to give your forehead a small kiss, then rips the duvet off the both of you. A slight shiver runs down your body at the loss of your warm covers, but it’s soon replaced with a new warmth. Fox straddles his legs overtop yours, hovering over your prone body as his hands plant themselves at the sides of your head. Your anticipation grows as he stares down at you with lustful eyes, and a knot forms in your stomach as you wonder what his fangs will feel like as they penetrate your soft skin.

Fox can hear your heart racing and he gently places his left hand on your chest. "Relax for me, mesh’la. Your heart is beating too fast. I don't want this to hurt."

You nod your head and work to get your breathing under control to slow your heart rate. You take deep, slow breaths as Fox guides your breathing to be in sync with his. His brown irises have been replaced by blown pupils and his fangs protrude from their hiding spot, dripping with their pleasure inducing secretions. His dark curls drape around his face, accentuating his hooded eyes and parted lips. You stare into his eyes, letting your breath match his, as you finally calm down.

"Good girl," Fox praises.

He tilts his head to the right and ghosts his lips across your supple neck as he searches for the perfect spot to penetrate your flesh. It has to be just right. Too far to either side, and he might hurt you. He takes him time, even as you whimper impatiently beneath him, because he needs this to be perfect. You’re putting all of your trust in him, that he won’t hurt you, and he refuses to break that trust. He continues to nose around your neck, before he finds his mark.

"Right there," Fox breathes against your neck, causing the little hairs to stand on end. “That’s where you’ll feel me.” He nuzzles the side of your face for reassurance. "Are you ready, mesh’la?” he whispers against your skin. “To feel ecstasy?”

You release an involuntary moan at the sultry words. "Please, Fox. I want you to– Ah!"

Your words turn into a whimper when you feel a sharp pain in the side of your neck. You instinctively raise your left hand to touch the pained area, but it instead finds purchase in Fox’s hair. You clench your fist around his curls, your other hand digging into his back, as you wince at the stinging sensation. It’s just as he described, but as soon as the pain came, it went. Now all you feel is the throbbing of his engorged fangs under your skin as he drinks your blood.

Fox pulls away from your neck to catch his breath. His head rises to meet your wanton gaze and you can see your blood on his fangs and lips as he pants above you. Your own breath becomes rapid as the endorphins released from his fangs invade your system, reaching every corner of your body, causing you to elicit the most salacious moan. The feeling is euphoric and your eyes roll back in your head. He’s not even touching you, and your body feels like it’s on fire.

"How do I taste?" you ask between labored breaths.

"Intoxicating," Fox moans. "So sweet. So perfect."

Fox reinserts his fangs into your delicate skin, desperately needing to taste more of you as he becomes drunk on your sugary blood. It’s delectable, addicting, and too good to part with. A pure delicacy that he wants to drown in. His own pleasure is only magnified as you fall apart beneath him, moaning his name in the most obscene ways while taking chunks of flesh out his back. If anyone were to overhear you right now, they’d never once think that you’re being devoured by a vampire.

The flood of endorphins overpower your body. You dig your nails further into Fox’s back as you curl your toes into the sheets, trying not to scream from the tension building and releasing in your body. You understand now, what he meant earlier when he said it would be pleasurable, and you wholly underestimated just how pleasurable it would be. You’ve never felt like this before, like you're floating in a cloud of weightlessness, and you never want it to end.

Fox knows he has to stop before he drinks you dry. The urge to stay here forever, tasting you and lapping up every drop of blood you have to offer, is overwhelming. He wants to indulge in your sweet nectar and get drunk on your blood for hours, but he can't. He can feel your skin growing chilled as your blood recedes your vital organs. He’s out of time and he needs to let you go. It won’t be forever though. He has a feeling that he’ll get to drink your blood again.

With a soft whine, he releases you, panting heavily from the long drink. He looks at the two holes in the side of your neck, little pools of blood forming at the surface. He licks the droplets until they begin to clot and close, and kisses the spot for good measure before picking his head up to look at you. He licks the remaining blood off his lips and smiles down at your disheveled state. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes half open, and mouth parted. It must have been a wonderful ride.

“Fox,” you moan as your body continues to ride out the last of the endorphins.

“Cyare,” Fox purrs as he nuzzles the side of your cheek.

You look up at him with hooded eyes. “How was it?”

Fox chuckles. “I should be asking you that.”

“It was really really good,” you groan.

Fox smirks. “I’m glad.”

You groan at your body’s response. With Fox’s fangs gone, the euphoric feeling in your body slowly begins to dissipate and your senses return to you, as well as the side effects. You roll your head to the side and close your eyes. “I’m so tired.”

Fox carefully gets off of you, stretches out beside you, and strokes your hair. “That’s normal.”

“I’m cold, too,” you add with an involuntary shiver as you try to curl into a ball.

Fox frowns and pulls his fingers away. He moves toward the edge of the bed and grabs the duvet that he flung off earlier. He rolls you over so you’re facing him and gently presses you against his chest. He then wraps the duvet snuggly around you both, making sure that you are completely covered, with just enough of an opening so you can breathe. He runs his hands up and down you back as you bury your face into his neck and cling to him for warmth. “Better?”

“Mhm,” you mumble against his skin.

Fox places a soft kiss on your forehead. “Rest now.”

“Fox?” you whisper.

“Yes, mesh’la?” Fox answers.

You look into his eyes and smile. “You caught me.”

Fox chuckles and holds you tighter. “So I did.”

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somedaylazysomeday · 2 months

Text

Tied Up in You - Part Three

When edging doesn't work out for you, Fox decides to test your limits in a different way.

Commander Fox x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 5,800

Warnings: Dom/sub elements, attempted edging, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, accidental orgasm, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, elements of forced orgasms (but not really), safeword discussion and use, unprotected sex, creampie.

Previous | Masterlist

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“Come on, pretty girl.”

Fox’s low voice, velvety with the rough edge of his arousal, made you thrash your head back and forth. “I th-thought that’s what you di- ah! - didn’t want me to do?”

“Just because I don’t want you going over the edge doesn’t mean I don’t want you on the cliff,” he told you. You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear the smile in his tone. It made you want to simultaneously smack him and kiss him.

Your relationship with Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard was easily the best part of your life at that particular moment. Actually, you couldn’t remember anything better in your past and you couldn’t picture anything better for your future. Fox was everything to you, and he was very clear that you were everything to him.

Even when he was relentlessly tormenting you.

At that particular moment, Fox had buried his face between your legs. He was teasing you with his mouth, pushing you closer and closer to orgasm without allowing the pleasure to overtake you. Normally, your relationship was all about chasing pleasure with every bit of energy either of you could muster, so this turn of events was deliciously frustrating.

“Be my good girl and tell me when you get close,” Fox pulled away to say. It wasn’t the first time he had said it, and every time seemed to coincide with a time when your body was starting to lock down to come. “Don’t come until I say so.”

“I’m close right now, Fox!” you wailed.

A sharp sensation in your inner thigh made you gasp and you looked down to find Fox in the middle of delivering a bite there. When he had finished, he moved enough to warn, “Watch that tone. Don’t forget that I’m in charge of deciding when you come.”

“Maybe you’re depriving me,” you countered, cutting yourself off with a sharp gasp as he started tormenting you with lips and tongue once more.

“Fine,” Fox said, and you could almost cry at how cold and empty you felt as he sat back on his heels. “You want to come so badly? Beg.”

“Fox,” you complained.

“C’mon, princess,” he urged. “Beg for me. Tell me what you want me to do and how, and I’ll have you screaming my name just as soon as you want. But you’re going to have to beg first.”

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. Fox gave you a dark smile and heat rose in your face and chest. You were comfortable with Fox - clearly - but begging had never been part of your skill set. Something about the humiliation of it, the desperation… you couldn’t figure out whether you loved the idea or hated it, but you’d never managed to work up enough nerve to find out for yourself. Not when you weren’t being overly-dramatic or doing it as a joke.

Fox used his fingers to keep you on-edge as you tried to work up the courage to plead with him. “Don’t come without permission or I’ll come up with a punishment for you.”

Despite the warning, you could feel the way your body started to tighten. “Fox, I-”

His hand pulled away a millisecond before your thighs snapped together. You and Fox stared at each other in wide-eyed shock even as the muscles of your core spasmed and squeezed. You had come without his permission. And worse, you hadn’t even been able to enjoy it!

“What did I tell you to do?”

The urge to be sarcastic was strong in the face of Fox’s deadpan question, but you bit it back. He looked stern and foreboding - a combination that had proven to be lethal to your self-control in the past.

So you ducked your head. “I’m sorry, Fox.”

“Did I ask for an apology?” He shook his head before you could answer the question. “What did I tell you to do?”

“You told me not to come.”

“That’s right,” he agreed with a nod. “And what did you do?”

“I came,” you muttered, face burning again.

“Yes you did.” Fox seemed thoughtful, which was potentially a worse development for you. “The question now is: what should I do about that?”

Your breath caught and Fox gave you a sharp look. It hadn’t been an unhappy noise, and you hoped he knew that. But subtlety didn’t seem worth the risk. “You said you were going to punish me.”

Fox sat back further, sitting on the bed so he could watch you from a more comfortable position. His expression was still one of consideration, like he was trying to figure out just how far you wanted to push this particular game. He was hesitant, you could see it in every muscle of his body. He wanted to go as far as you did, but never to cross the line.

Eventually, he leaned forward, studying you intently. “What do you think should happen?”

Ah, yes, leaving the decision up to you. Perfect.

With a great deal of effort, you kept your smirk internal and offered him a look of wide-eyed guilt and scarcely disguised interest. “I think I’ll never learn to obey you if you threaten to punish me and don’t follow through. Sir.”

Fox looked softly entertained at that, especially at the title you’d hastily tacked on at the end. But he managed to keep a straight face, with only the warmth in his eyes betraying his amusement. He nodded gravely. “If your future behavior is at stake, I don’t believe we have a choice.”

“If you think that’s best,” you agreed, biting the inside of your lip to fight the smile trying to emerge.

And then Fox was utterly serious once more. “Okay, sweetheart. What are your hard limits for this?”

“Same as always,” you told him. It may have sounded like a rote assurance to anyone else, but Fox gave a firm nod. He knew your limits backward and forward, but he liked to check that nothing had changed, especially if a situation was new or different.

“And can you tell me the safeword?”

You couldn’t help but smile, the way you always did when asked about the safeword you and Fox had come up with: “Palpatine.”

He shook his head in fond exasperation, rolling his eyes slightly at the reminder. “Yes. Give me a minute to set up. If you need to grab a drink or use the refresher, now would be the time.”

That was a new warning, and you decided to do both of those things before you got started. When you got back, Fox had retrieved your bottle of lube, set a collection of toys on the bedside table, and was holding his binders.

“What did you decide on?” you asked, crossing to the bed.

Fox turned and your spine reflexively straightened. His posture was straight and his jaw was firm - clear signs that he had switched into dom mode. “You haven’t behaved well enough to ask questions. You aren’t entitled to the answers. Now, get on the bed and make yourself comfortable. You’re gonna be there a while.”

You complied, your body already tightening with interest. It was unusual for you to be ready so soon after an orgasm, but there was something about the way Fox bossed you around…

“Yes, Commander,” you murmured as you slipped past him. Fox’s hand stroked over the curve of your hip as you went, and the feeling of that touch buzzed through you.

This was going to be good.

As soon as you were comfortably on the bed, Fox nodded at you. “Arms out.”

You put your hands out toward him and Fox attached the now-familiar set of binders on your wrists. They had seen a lot of activity between you and Fox, but the sight of the dull, utilitarian material wrapped around your limbs still made you shiver with anticipation.

Fox pulled your bound hands upward, pressing a single button to magnetize them to the headboard. His motions were brusque and businesslike, but his eyes burned at you every time he caught your gaze.

He didn’t seem able to resist the last time, and ducked down for a long, searching kiss. You hadn’t even noticed the way you were leaning forward to accept and return that kiss until Fox’s fingers parted your folds. You gasped at the touch, still sensitive from your earlier activities, leaning back and back and back until you were finally sitting against the headboard.

Fox was undeterred, his fingers toying with you. They weren’t entering you, not yet, but they stroked your folds and brushed over your clit. He took long breaks to run his hands over the smooth skin of your inner thighs, and you eagerly spread your legs wider for him.

When he finally decided to touch your core, his motions were slow at first. He dipped a fingertip into you and pulled back out immediately, studying the way your body had left a prominent shine on his skin. He licked his finger clean and you moaned for him. Fox’s eyes glimmered wickedly at you, then he was pressing two fingers deep inside of you.

Your breath caught audibly at the intrusion of it. Fox’s fingers were broad and he didn’t seem worried about the fact that they were spread slightly as they pressed into you. If you hadn’t already had one orgasm, the sensation probably would have been painful rather than just intensely pleasurable. But from the knowing look on Fox’s face as he pumped those spread fingers in and out of your body, he had already taken that into account.

All of a sudden, your hands jolted. With the binders locking you to the bedframe, the motion was ineffective but loud. Fox’s eyes pulled upward to your face. Dimly, you recognized that they had been focused between your legs for the past few minutes.

“Fox- Sir,” you hastily corrected. “I’m close.”

The hint of tension dissolved from Fox’s expression and he started pumping his fingers once more. “Good. This is your punishment, sweetheart. If you want to come so badly, I’ll make sure you have the chance to. After all, I wouldn’t want you to feel like you’re being deprived.”

The wicked drawl in his last sentence - clearly mocking what you had said earlier - made you burn. Whether that burn was lust or irritation or your impending orgasm, you couldn’t tell for sure. You were tempted to lean toward that last explanation, though, since your body tightened further and further until it snapped, releasing that tension in a flood of endorphins and bright colors bursting behind your closed eyelids.

Fox worked you through all of it, milking every bit of pleasure from your system until you were squirming. “What do you say after someone gives you something you’ve asked for?”

When you turned to look at him, your head lulled to the side in a lazy sweep. You grinned at him. “Thank you, Commander.”

He gave an unimpressed little grunt. “If you’re gonna act like a brat, I’d better not give you any time to recover.”

“Recover?” you asked, but Fox was already pushing himself down on the bed, forcing your thighs wide around the broad sweep of his shoulders.

“Recover,” he repeated, a sweet darkness in his tone as his head lowered toward the junction of your thighs.

In a smooth motion, Fox spread you wide for himself, holding your folds apart to make room for his lips and tongue. You had thought his actions had been intense before, but they had been nothing compared to what he was doing now. You could scarcely feel each touch as an individual sensation, let alone process any of it. The result was pleasure that managed to be overwhelmingly strong and breathtakingly intense.

Fox had teased pleasure from you before. He had coaxed it from your body, stoked it like a fire. He had played your nerve endings like a melodium and, at times, he had withheld pleasure to keep you desperately balanced on the edge for an eternity.

But this was different from anything you’d ever shared. It felt like he was pushing the pleasure at you, forcing you to take everything he gave you… and he was giving you everything.

Your toes were curling, your legs wrapping around as much of Fox’s torso as you could manage without fear of suffocating him. Your head thrashed back and forth, hands straining uselessly in the cold grip of the binders. “Fox, I- ah! That’s… ohhhh…”

The flat of Fox’s tongue worked expertly against your clit, pressing and ribbing, letting you revel in the rough slickness of the muscle against you. At the same time, he sank a finger deep into your core, moving unerringly to that place against the front of your channel that made you fall apart for him every time.

You arced up off the bed, for all the world like he had electrocuted you rather than press against a hidden collection of nerves deep in your body. “Fox!”

It was half a scream and you worried that Fox was going to stop. You stared down at him with wild eyes only to find him looking back at you. While your gazes were linked, he closed one eye in a slow, deliberate wink.

Your head tipped back, connecting solidly with the headboard as your breath whooshed out in a sharp exhale. That was followed by an equally sharp inhale and then you were gone. Your body danced and shook under Fox’s careful attention, squeezing and working his fingers like it could trap him there forever.

At last, the rough slide of his tongue against you seemed like more of a punishment than a mercy and you groaned. Fox stopped immediately, patting your thigh and sitting back, careful not to jostle you.

“Something you want to say?” he prodded.

Your head lolled to one side, resting on your own bicep as you flexed your fingers in the binders. “Thank you, Commander.”

“You did beautifully for me, pretty girl,” Fox congratulated lowly. Just that little bit of praise made you warm for him. “You were so sensitive and you let me hear you. For that, I’m going to let you have a minute to settle before we go again.”

“We aren’t done?” you asked, bewildered. That speech had certainly sounded like the end of your punishment rather than the middle of it. Or worse, the beginning.

Fox laughed. “You’ve come twice. Are you saying that was enough for you?”

“It was three times,” you countered stubbornly.

He tilted his head at you. “If you can’t handle any more, use your safe word.”

It was hard not to pout at him, but you knew what would happen if you did. And since you were already in the middle of one punishment, you really didn’t think it was wise to start on another. You bit your lip, looking studiously at your own knee.

“That’s what I thought,” Fox said, clearly satisfied with himself. “Take a minute. Do you need a drink?”

All of that panting and moaning had left you feeling distinctly parched, so you nodded. Fox was unmoved. “Let me hear that voice. I asked, do you need a drink?”

“Yes, sir,” you affirmed, face heating. That hadn’t even been begging, but it was subservient in a way that you had always made a point of avoiding.

“Good,” Fox praised, erasing the burn in your cheeks. It returned in full force when he lifted a glass of water to your lips so you could take a series of sips.

When you had finished, Fox set the glass down on a dresser across the room. He had to - the surface of your bedside table was covered in an army of vibrators, plugs, and other assorted toys. The largest bottle - holding your preferred lube - loomed over the rest like a king.

Fox had apparently noticed where your gaze went, since he gave a sweeping gesture to indicate the table. “Pick one.”

You frowned at him, searching for the trap in his words. Fox smiled, shaking his head a little. “No trick, little one. I know your favorite changes and I want to make sure this feels good for you.”

“It always does, Fox,” you assured him, quickly biting your lip. “I mean, Commander.”

“Pick,” Fox repeated, durasteel in his tone at the reminder of the power games you were playing. “If I have to pick, you won’t like my choice.”

That threat was laughably empty, especially given the conversation you had just finished, but you pretended to be concerned anyway. It was what you needed to keep things moving, and you desperately wanted to see where Fox went with this.

“The white and gold,” you decided. Fox quirked one dark brow, but reached for it anyway, grabbing the lube at the same time.

You studied your chosen toy as he began to stroke a thick layer of sheen over it. It was a rabbit vibrator, a lovely white silicone with gold embellishments. Both colors set off Fox’s rich skin tone as he prepared it for you, creating one of the most appealing images you had ever seen.

Despite the shine of the gold and the velvety matte white, the sophisticated-looking toy was simple to use and had the strongest vibrations of any toy you owned. It didn’t nudge you inexorably toward the edge of pleasure - it loaded you into a cannon and sent you there in an irresistible explosion.

Was it an overambitious choice for this particular occasion? Yeah, probably. But you wanted to throw Fox off his game, make him feel even partially as unbalanced as he made you. Besides, it really was your favorite toy at the moment.

True to his gentle nature, Fox started slow. He pressed his lips to yours in a gentle kiss, one you eagerly returned. When he was sure you were interested, he slowly deepened it, his mouth growing firmer and more dominant until you were opening and submitting to him.

You hadn’t consciously parted your legs, but you must have at some point, probably in an attempt to make room for Fox. You hated the idea of him stooping awkwardly over the bed to kiss you in the range of your binder-clad hands when he could simply kneel on the bed in front of you.

That helpfulness made it extraordinarily easy for Fox to lower the vibrator between your legs, teasing the head of it up and down your slit. You shuddered for him, and he swallowed down the tiny moan you gave.

He turned on the vibrations, alternating between almost breaching your channel and concentrating the head of it - and the strongest buzzing - directly against your clit. The noises you made were inhuman, and only the binders looped through the headboard kept you from pushing your way down the bed and forcing Fox to touch you the way you needed.

“So impatient,” Fox tutted, as if he could read your mind. He pulled the vibrator away slightly. It was still in contact with your folds, but not nearly strong enough or where you needed it to be.

“But you said I did good,” you pled, giving Fox your biggest, saddest eyes.

“Hmm…” You wanted to call him out. There was no way he could really be considering your point while he pulsed the vibrator between your legs like that. “You’re right.”

And then the whole beautiful, buzzing, well-lubricated toy was sinking into you. Your body parted eagerly around it and you made a sound that seemed to stem from your chest. Even with three orgasms in your recent past, the toy still brought on a stretching sensation, though it was noticeably less intense than usual.

“Fox!” you called, your fingers curling uselessly in the air. You wanted to dig them into Fox’s shoulders and back, the way you always did when you were consumed with pleasure, but the binders were strong enough to keep that from happening.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the side of your neck and nuzzling lightly. “I wouldn’t miss a second of this.”

You couldn’t respond to his sweet words - you were too busy experiencing everything that was going on with the toy. The attention you had focused on the sensations between your legs only grew sharper as Fox began to pulse the toy gently in and out of you. The result was a tantalizing feeling of thrusting without removing the bulk of the vibrator from your core.

The main benefit of this particular toy were the ‘ears’. With the vibrating shaft buried in you, they were touching your clit. And when Fox pressed it deeper, the resulting contact was firm and bright and breathtaking.

It was strange, you mused. Your thoughts were coming far more slowly than usual, but their stream was still enough to pull you from the pleasure for a millisecond. You would have expected that reaching orgasm would take longer with each successive one you experienced. After all, you were no stranger to overstimulation. But you weren’t simply eager for Fox’s touches - your body was already starting to tighten in preparation for another orgasm.

“Fox-” you started, cutting yourself off with a whine as Fox pressed the toy as far into your body as he could manage.

Fox’s hands lightened against the vibrator’s silicone base. “You remember how to signal your safeword if you can’t speak, right?”

You nodded, but didn’t tap the headboard three times. You didn’t want things to stop; you just didn’t want to be punished for coming without a warning. With every ounce of brainpower that hadn’t leeched down between your legs, you managed: “Close.”

“Not good enough,” Fox decreed, increasing the speed of the toy’s vibrations.

A choked scream clawed its way from your throat, almost painful in its intensity. The headboard clattered against the wall with the force of your hands against the binders. It wasn’t on purpose; your spine had arched so sharply that you couldn’t have prevented it if you had tried.

And you definitely didn’t have the mental capacity to try.

This orgasm came over you like a flood, drowning you in pleasure until it was all you had ever known and all you would ever know. Every one of your senses was taken over by the sheer amount of information being fed into your nerve endings, and it robbed you of everything that wasn’t the overwhelming tide of sensations.

When you finally came down from that high, the vibrations had stopped, but Fox was holding the now-still toy thrust fully into you. The intrusion wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable. Especially with the way your inner muscles played over and gripped the toy, though you weren’t sure if they were trying to push it out or hold it in place.

The slow slide of the toy leaving your body was strange, especially after having it settled firmly inside of you for that stretch of time. You shuddered as it finally pulled free, leaving you feeling oddly empty.

“Thank you,” you murmured unprompted.

Fox’s smile was immediate, flashing bright. “You’re welcome, pretty girl. Let’s keep this going, hmm?”

Your eyebrows scrunched together as you tried to decide how you felt about that. You were exhausted and more than a little sore. More importantly, Fox hadn’t been inside of you yet, and you definitely wanted to fix that before you were done for the night.

“Are you ready?” Fox asked. The question wasn’t pointed or demanding, but he was watching you as he waited patiently for an answer.

“I… I don’t know how much longer I can last,” you admitted reluctantly. It had been a wonderful night, if a little more intense than you had expected, but you were starting to hit your limit.

Fox was unbothered, clearly not disappointed in your lackluster answer. “Thank you for telling me, sweetheart. I’m going to keep going until you safeword. That’s the goal of this particular session. Use the word any time you need to, but I’m not stopping until then. Do you understand?”

You nodded, relieved that Fox wouldn’t be disappointed if you used your safeword. In fact, the revelation that you were not only encouraged, but expected to use your safeword was… freeing, somehow. Counterintuitively, it made you feel like you could keep going.

Fox’s hands reached for you, and you were thoroughly relieved when they moved past the tender throbbing between your legs. Instead, he stroked your thighs, then your hips, working his way further and further in a massaging path up your torso. Fox was strong enough to reach behind you, supporting your weight as his fingertips trailed down your spine and back up again.

He slowly began moving back down the front half of your body, and he took a lengthy pause at your chest. The weight of your breasts was hefted, cradled in a gentle palm as his thumbs teased lightly over your nipples.

When Fox’s lips wrapped around the sensitive peaks of your flesh, you weren’t surprised. You cried out anyway for him as he licked and sucked, every motion careful with the knowledge that you were close to the breaking point. As his mouth worked against your nipples, Fox’s hands strayed over the soft, ticklish flesh of your ribs, stroking the skin that always suffered the worst in the confines of your bra.

You made an inarticulate noise as you felt the barest hint of Fox’s teeth - only an edge of them, there for a millisecond and gone again, but the idea of it had you squirming with excitement. Fox slipped further and further down, the weight of him between your legs trapping your thighs splayed wide enough for him to fit between them.

He didn’t use his mouth on you. You had actually expected that from the way he had been tormenting you this time around, but he didn’t touch your core at all. Instead, he folded an arm under his head and rested it on your inner thigh. It gave him a very intimate vantage point for observation and you felt a flash of embarrassment. That was gone as quickly as it had come on when he reached to draw a feather-light fingertip over your folds.

The effects of that light touch were profound in your sensitive state. Chills broke out over your skin and something low in your belly quivered. It felt like your entire body took an anticipatory breath.

Fox either didn’t notice your sudden focus or he was pretending not to. Instead, he kept tracing an incomprehensible pattern across your sensitive flesh. The folds of your sex were decorated with designs you couldn’t see and couldn’t begin to visualize. But your body was thoroughly enjoying it anyway, and you started to feel sharp interest growing in you once more.

The torment was slow, savoring. Having had almost no time to recover between sessions, you were already keyed-up, and pleasure came quickly even with the lightness of Fox’s touches. When you reached your peak, the pulsing of endorphins came so languorously that you weren’t quite sure you had come at all. You just knew you felt wonderful and that the galaxy seemed so, so distant and your problems didn’t quite feel real anymore.

Since it was difficult to tell when the pleasure had started, it was equally difficult to tell when it had ended. Your muscles still trembled with an occasional spasm and your walls flexed and grasped around nothing. The room seemed hazy, not quite solid, and sounds were muted until you heard someone say your name.

You blinked, and the weight of your eyelids was intense. Fox had sat up, staring into your face from only inches away. You half-expected him to kiss you, but the concern in his expression was odd.

He said your name again, and you focused on his familiar face instead of your own tumbling stream of thoughts. “Are you okay? Thought I lost you for a second there.”

That brought a hint of a smile to your face. “You’re good, Fox, but no, you didn’t kill me.”

“Not dead, sweet girl,” he said, clearly relieved by the joke. “But I was worried you were gone for a while.”

The way he flicked his fingers beside his ear communicated that he thought you had passed out. You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

He looked deeply skeptical at that. “Something you want to say to me?”

“Thank you, Commander.”

The words were rote, fully automatic, but you couldn’t help a laugh when Fox’s expression turned to a wry sort of grimace. “Not what I meant. I think it’s about time you use that safeword.”

You paused for a moment to consider that. You couldn’t keep this going indefinitely, but you had some things you still wanted from this session. “No.”

The smile that appeared on your face made Fox scowl. “Not a question. You didn’t answer me the first few times I called your name. I think it’s time for this to stop.”

“You said you wouldn’t stop until I used my safeword,” you reminded him. “And I haven’t used it yet. If you want to stop, you use your safeword. But if not, I want to keep going. I do have a request, though.”

“Brat,” Fox sighed, staring at the ceiling like it could help him tame your attitude. “What is your request? I’m not saying I’ll agree to it.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you said, gaze level. “I need to feel you inside of me. Please, Commander.”

There was an internal battle being waged within Fox; you could almost see it happening. At last, he sighed again. “I feel like I have to agree to that request.”

“It seems to be in your best interests,” you said, letting your gaze drift obviously down to his hips. He was hard, and had been for quite some time. After all, he hadn’t come a single time yet, and you were starting to worry for his health.

Fox shook his head, but you could see his eagerness in the way he moved over your body. As he settled on top of you, he still took a moment to stroke down your arms. “Does this hurt yet?”

Until that question, you had actually forgotten that your arms had been raised over your head for such a long time. As soon as he mentioned it, the tingling running from your fingertips down to your shoulders intensified into something you struggled to ignore. “Not hurt, but it’s starting to feel… not great.”

Fox immediately released the binders from the headboard, catching your arms when they fell heavily toward the surface of the bed. He massaged the muscles of your arms, easing the tingling. “Better?”

You nodded, and he quickly magnetized the binders once more. This time, your wrists were connected to each other instead of the headboard. You had a lot more movement this time, but Fox solved that problem by tossing your bound wrists over his head, using himself as your anchor.

He lined himself up at your entrance without looking away from you, and the eye contact made your tired muscles eager for him. When he started pushing into you, he felt incredibly, impossibly big and you made a helpless little noise.

At the same moment, your inner muscles clenched, fighting to pull him inside faster and Fox choked out a breath. Your body rippled again and his fragile control snapped. He slammed inside of you.

The sudden invasion was a shock to your system, utterly overwhelming, and it threw you directly into another orgasm.

Thankfully, it was a small one and you were soon aware once more. Fox was watching you, brows raised as you shrugged. “Sorry, you caught me off guard. I’m ready for you to keep going.”

Your breathless explanation clearly didn’t satisfy him, but Fox slowly withdrew from you and pushed back in once more. Once, then again, then once more as you made appreciative sounds. If you could still remember how to speak, you would have expressed that appreciation in words, but you were a little short on brain power at the moment.

“You’re tight,” Fox grunted, thrusting a little harder. “How are you still tight? We’ve been doing this for hours.”

“I-” You broke off, gasping a little at the rhythm he had taken up. “You feel so good, Fox.”

Fox’s eyes darkened and he sped up even more. It hadn’t been an idle attempt to flatter him, either. Of all the things you had done up to that point, this was easily the best one. You had barely started and you had already come once. Even still, your toes were curling and your bound hands clutched at Fox’s back and shoulders for support.

There was a crease between Fox’s brows. “Not sure how much longer I’ll last, sweetheart.”

“Now you sound like me,” you murmured, earning a radiant smile from him. He followed it up immediately with a kiss and you were gone.

As soon as you started squeezing around him, Fox lost what was left of his composure. He speared himself deep inside of you, spilling heat in your core as you shuddered together through the overwhelming tide of pleasure.

When the orgasm ebbed away, you were exhausted, more tired than you could remember having been. Fox gently turned you both onto your sides. He kept one of your thighs pinned over his hip, holding himself inside of you and keeping the worst of the mess under control until you could go clean up.

Fox’s hand rose, and he stroked gentle fingertips down the curve of your cheek. “So good for me. Perfect girl.”

You smiled, snuggling into his hand. “Palpatine.”

Fox blinked at you, uncomprehending for a long moment before he gave a warm chuckle. “Good. I was starting to think I really was depriving you.”

“Never,” you assured, pressing a kiss to the base of his thumb.

---

Author's Note - Here's another fic I'm not sure I'll continue. I love this couple and their sweet and spicy dynamic. I'm just not sure what else I have to say, if anything. If I do end up writing more, I'll be sure to link it here.

For now, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

#fanfic february #fanfic february 2024 #star wars #star wars the clone wars #commander fox #fox #commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #fem!reader #reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert fanfic #reader insert fic #spicy #lemon #not suitable for minors #minors dni

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samspenandsword · 1 year

Text

The Coffee House: Commander Fox/Reader (Fem) — Part 6

Summary: You and your friend Aayla Secura decide to have a night out at the popular clone bar, 79's. And of course, both of you meet your marshal commanders there. Pairing: Commander Fox/Reader; fem!reader with no mentions of her appearance other than outfit color. Rating: MA, 18+ (Younglings, foundlings, and cadets BEGONE) Warnings: Mature content, no smut, allusions to sex, mature/adult themes, mild horniness, kissing in public — language, alcohol, adults having fun, lots of banter and friendship antics, flirting, mentions of Blyla. Word Count: 5.2k

Part 5

Part 7

I need to apologize for the absolutely horrendous amount of time it took for me to update this story. Please, everyone, forgive me, I hope this makes up for it!

Also, think of Corellian Cream as the Star Wars equivalent of Irish Cream liqueur.

ATTENTION: After posting this piece, I will be throwing out my current taglist. So if anyone wants to continue being tagged in my works, please proceed to this new form.

When was the last time I washed this blanket? you idly thought to yourself, lying facedown on the couch, face firmly planted in the soft fabric of the blanket in question. You sniffed again, making a mental note to toss it in with the next load.

Laughter echoed out from the open door to the fresher. An accented voice said, "Beanie, you're so dramatic."

"It's a gift."

There was more laughter. The figure of Aayla Secura emerged from the fresher, makeup half-applied. You and the Twi'lek Jedi Knight had become good friends in the time of the war. Aayla had always liked coming in to your coffee house before the war, for caf and some time away from The temple. Now she came in for some time away from the chaos of the war overtaking her life and home. You eventually started offering her the second bedroom and fresher in your apartment. At first, she had only accepted when she really needed a place to crash away from the hubbub of the Temple and barracks. By now, she had sort of become your unofficial roommate.

Along with a certain commander of hers.

You pushed yourself up, groaning.

"Come on, Beanie, time to get ready."

"I am ready."

"For 79's? I don't think so."

You smirked a bit. "For a night in."

"No." Aayla emerged from the fresher. "No, no, no. You're going out tonight."

"Don't want to."

"Too bad. I want to do your makeup, and you've got a brand new outfit to wear."

You frowned with confusion. "No, I don't?"

Aayla wore a smirk on her plump lips. "Yes, you do. Check your closet."

"Aayla, what did you do?"

She simply turned and strode back into the fresher. "Oh, nothing, really."

"Liar." But you were grinning. Going to your closet, you found, front and center, a new clubbing outfit in a perfect coffee brown. You beamed.

"I knew you'd like it," Aayla preened, a happy, yet subtly bragging sort of pride in the tone of her voice. You wondered, every time you heard it, if she'd picked up the tone from Master Vos. Aayla looked like a goddess. Her lashes were long and dark, and every time they fluttered, her eyeliner shimmered. Her lips were plump and a nice dark purple that matched the color of her dress. It was a stark difference to her usual brown Jedi leathers.

"Come on, time to get ready," Aayla ushered. The silver jewelry circling her arms and lekku jingled lightly as she shoved you towards your fresher.

"Not too much, Aayla," you said, accepting your fate with only a small measure of false resignation, and a lot of hidden excitement. "I still want to look like myself."

Aayla smiled.

One hour later, you stood in front of your mirror, and you looked good.

"I'll be staying at a hotel tonight," Aayla's accented voice cut through your thoughts. You frowned a little.

"You sure? The room is yours whenever you want it."

Aayla smiled. "I'm sure. I've got a full week of mandatory leave, after all."

She winked. You understood and jokingly gagged.

"Oh, gross. I didn't need to know that."

Aayla snorted lightly at the look on your face.

"How is Bly?" you asked. "I haven't seen him in a while."

"He's good," Aayla said, unable to help the smile that grew at the thought of him. You were the only one she had ever confided in about the true nature of their relationship. "Oh, and before I forget, he asked me to give you something."

Aayla held up a new mug with a flourish, and you burst out laughing. The mug was stupidly big, large enough to hold an entire pot of coffee, and had Bly's smiling face printed on it.

"His pretty mug on a mug," you said, giggling. "It's perfect, I love it!"

You gave it a quick rinse in your sink, knowing you'd use it first thing tomorrow morning.

"Now," Aayla said, grabbing her bag, "you need to drink something other than coffee and whiskey tonight, otherwise it won't be a real night out."

That was fine. You could just drink coffee and Corellian Cream.

"No coffee and Corellian Cream, either."

You huffed petulantly at the woman.

"Tall order, Aayla."

"And you can't just drink beer, either. It has to be a proper cocktail."

"Any other orders, General?"

Aayla shot you a look, but quickly smirked. "Yes. You must flirt with at least three different people tonight."

"Ah." You pretended to think about it. "What constitutes 'flirting,' exactly?" You did air quotes.

"Letting one buy you a drink, dancing with another, and going home with a third," Aayla listed.

You burst out laughing again. "I don't know, Aayla," you said, giggling. "I'm not much one for flirting."

Aayla snorted. "Beanie, you are one of the flirtiest people I've ever met."

"Friendly, Aayla. I am friendly."

"Whatever you say."

You rolled your eyes. "Are we gonna go or not? You said you'd buy me a cocktail."

"I did not say that."

"Yes you did."

"I said you had to drink a cocktail, not that I'd buy it."

"Yeah, pretty sure you said you'd buy it."

Aayla rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched. "Fine. Whatever. Now let's go already. We look hot and we're way too sober."

You giggled. "Let's go."

The club 79's was always fun, and always hopping any time you went. And you knew it was going to be an... interesting night when you saw Rex's boys, Cody's boys, the Wolfpack, and Aayla's boys all piled into the place.

"General!" Several of Aayla's boys waved from where they were at the bar or on the dance floor.

"Hi, Beanie!" There were several choruses of your name as well, and you grinned and winked at the boys crowding the dance floor.

Aayla leaned in close to murmur, sarcastically, "Friendly."

You winked at her, too. "You know it."

You and Aayla had only taken a few steps toward the bar when your attention was stolen by an arm sliding smoothly around your shoulders.

"Hello, beautiful."

"Jesse, what a surprise."

You looked into the smiling, tattooed face of one of Rex's boys.

"Beanie, beautiful as always," he said, nose crinkling with his wide grin. "Might I buy you your first drink?"

"Ooh," you said, sucking in a light breath through your teeth and clicking your tongue a little. "I would like that, really, but unfortunately," you winked over at Aayla again, who looked entirely amused, "I'm spoken for."

Jesse chuckled, opening his mouth to respond, but a loud voice cut him off.

"Jesse! You were supposed to bring her over, not keep her to yourself!"

"Fuck off, Fives!"

But all the same, Jesse escorted you and Aayla over to a large booth where several of Rex's boys, including Rex, sat drinking. A round of shot glasses sat turned over on the table and each of them were either sucking down beer or sipping something harder.

"Beanie, Beanie, Beanie," Fives greeted, his smile so quintessentially Fives. "You are a vision."

"And you, Fives, are a pain in the ass."

The 501st roared with laughter.

"Beanie!" Fives put a hand to his chest. "That's just cold. Why must you hurt me like this?"

"Because you deserve it."

Jesse squeezed you tight with the arm still slung around your shoulders while Hardcase's loud guffaws drew gazes to the group. Kix and Tup did nothing to hide their laughter either.

"What did I do?" Fives said, trying and failing to look and sound innocent.

"You know what you did," you sniffed, nose curled in a dramatic sneer."

"What did he do?" Jesse butt in, sliding into the seat Fives had vacated and smirking shittily when Fives gave him a small glower.

"He broke one of my mugs."

There was a stunned beat of silence.

"Di'kut."

"Dude, you're fucked."

"Vod, you know better."

"How do you live with yourself?"

Rex side-eyed Fives a little, but addressed you. "He broke a mug and you let him live?"

Fives laughed, but there was a nervous tinge to it. His eyes widened just the smallest bit when he realized you were still staring at him, nose curled. It took all you had not to crack.

"Need to make sure the body won't be found."

Jesse barked a laugh while Hardcase cackled. "We can help with that!"

You broke into a grin as Fives smacked his brothers.

"Beanie loves me," Fives whinged, before throwing you a garish wink.

You puffed your cheeks in a little gag. Jesse and Hardcase just about fell over laughing again.

Tup, who wore a wide, amused grin of his own, called to Fives, "I think Kix has some bacta if you want to nurse that burn."

Kix didn't even look up as he knocked back the rest of his drink. "I'm off duty."

Everyone laughed, and you winked at Fives in between giggles. Rex merely chuckled, smiling pleasantly and swirling a glass of whiskey. His smile widened when you looked over at him.

"Hey, Beanie," he said, in a proper greeting. He kissed your cheek. "You look good. You, too, General Secura."

Aayla had been laughing quietly during the entire encounter. "Thank you, Captain. Are you boys having a good time tonight?"

"Sure are, General!"

"Good. I hope you'll make sure Beanie has a good time as well, but I believe I owe her a drink, so please, excuse me."

You continued to catch up with the boys in blue, feeling Fives' eyes on you all the while. Finally, you quirked a brow at him.

"All right, spit it out, Fives."

He grinned. "I heard a rumor."

"Oh?"

"Beanie's been gettin' some lovin'."

"What??" Jesse, Hardcase, Kix, and Tup's heads all instantly snapped up, eyes wide and fixed on you.

You feigned surprise. "Now where'd you hear a thing like that?"

Hardcase smacked Fives and Jesse. "She didn't deny it. You didn't deny it!"

You glanced sideways at Rex, who smothered a smirk lightly behind his glass.

"Is it true?" Jesse waggled his eyebrows salaciously. "You been gettin' some lovin', Beanie?"

"Are they here?" Hardcase gasped, straightening and looking around frantically. "Are they here?"

"Don't feel like you have to answer, Beanie," Kix cut in, rolling his eyes at his brothers. "I'm happy for you."

"Thank you, Kix." You smiled, genuinely at first, before allowing a tinge of mischief to color it. "Next visit to my coffee house is free."

The others groaned and Kix grinned.

"Looks like I missed something." Aayla materialized beside you, holding two drinks. Yours was a swirling purple and tasted like berries, a subtle tartness lingering on your tongue.

"Beanie's seeing someone, General Secure," Fives tattled, without remorse and smiling like a little shit. "And she was just about to tell us who it is."

"I was not."

An absolutely predatory smile spread across Aayla's face. "Is she now?"

"No, I'm not."

"And here I thought you had agreed to flirt with at least three people tonight."

You fluttered your lashes at her. "I let you buy me a drink, didn't I?"

Aayla's lip twitched. "Well played. And who were you planning on dancing with?"

You tapped your chin with thought, a devious look flashing across your face. "I was thinking Commander Wolffe."

"I would pay to see you drag him onto the dance floor," Rex said. You all looked over at another booth, where Boost, Sinker, and Comet were laughing uproariously at something and Wolffe was sighing and rolling his eyes.

You smirked at Rex. "The night is young."

"Is it him?" Hardcase said, trying and failing to keep the excitement in his voice to a minimum.

You smiled, amused. "No."

"Oh, come on!"

"Well, who is it, then?" Jesse demanded.

"Not telling."

"Please?" Fives pleaded.

"No."

"Ah, come on, Beanie —" Hardcase suddenly cut himself off. "The Coruscant Guard is here!"

You felt yourself tense with the effort to not whirl around.

"Aah, man! They always out-drink us."

"Hound gets all the girls on the dance floor."

"Commander Thorn, too."

Rex looked at you out of the corner of his eye, smirking. You knew from that look alone that Fox was there. You tightened your grip on your glass, physically stopping yourself from wheeling around and jumping him in the middle of the club.

"Nevermind the Corries," Fives dismissed. "I still want to know who snagged Beanie."

"Not telling."

"I'll buy you your next drink?"

"No. And, uh, I think it's time to make the rounds, so I'll see you boys later."

"Ahh, Beanie!"

"Oh, come on!"

"Bye, Beanie!"

As you and Aayla strode away, you heard Fives say, "Okay, Rex, who is it?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Fives."

You made a mental note to give Rex free coffee for life."

"So when were you going to tell me?"

You were brought back to the present by Aayla's question.

"Soon."

"Uh-huh, and who is it?"

"It's, uh, a guy. A clone. And before you ask, yes, he is here tonight."

Aayla looked at you. "It's not actually Wolffe, is it?"

You laughed. "No, it's not."

"And the captain?"

"Who, Rex? I almost wish it were, that gorgeous man, but alas, my heart is held by another."

Aayla rolled her eyes fondly at your dramatics. "And the ARC trooper? Fives?"

You made a face, genuinely horrified at the idea. "That would be like dating my stinky younger brother."

Aayla snorted.

"Now, I think it's time for me to let you go, because I see Bly, and I think I've kept you from your commander long enough."

It was a blatant, blatant evasion tactic. One that Aayla didn't go for.

"At least give me a hint."

You thought of Fox, unable to help the giddy smile on your face. Aayla lit up at the sight of it.

"Let's just say you're not the only one who's snagged a marshal commander."

Aayla's jaw dropped, then she burst into happy laughter. "You're telling me everything later. And I do mean everything."

"Bye, Aayla."

And she sashayed her way towards Bly, who had hearts in his eyes. They were so perfect.

You sipped your drink, happily basking in the atmosphere, but you weren't alone for more than thirty seconds before more clones came up to you, greeting you with smiles and the occasional hug. Waxer and Boil came up, Waxer giving you a warm hug while Boil squeezed you with one arm. Waxer was quick to launch into stories of his and Boil's latest missions, complete with waving arms and lots of eyebrow expression. Boil was sure to downplay and correct all of Waxer's exaggerations, his mustache twitching with irritation and amusement.

Waxer ignored him the whole time, smiling.

Cody raised his tumbler glass at you from down the bar. You toasted him back and drained what was left in your glass. You swiftly ordered another, committing the cocktail name to memory. You quite liked it.

Boost and Sinker were the next ones you saw. Boost looked like he had refreshed the red color of his hair, and Sinker's was so pale you knew he had recently toned it. Sinker had the usual joke about Boost's hygiene on his lips and Boost's eye roll looked impressively like Wolffe's.

"Got a new mug for you, Beanie," Boost said, scars on his face stretching with his casual smile.

You beamed at him.

"Really?"

"I'll be by tomorrow to drop it off."

"You mean we'll be by -"

"Hey, Beanie!"

Comet, who had cut Sinker off, didn't stay longer than to down the shot in his hand, slam the glass down, and disappear towards the freshers.

"Drop by anytime, Boost. But you're on leave. Sleep in some for me."

"It's your own fault you're up at the very ass crack of dawn every day."

"Please don't remind me. I'm trying to have fun here."

Sinker smirked towards Boost. "Yeah, Boost, she's trying to have fun. She can't very well do that with you around."

"Asshole."

You shook your head fondly at them. Never had you met two brothers who gave each other more shit than these two.

Except maybe Jesse and Fives.

Or Hunter and Crosshair.

Or Cody and Fox.

Okay, so brothers would be brothers.

The next hour or so passed with you bouncing from trooper to trooper, filled with genuine joy to see them all again, happiness at meeting ones you never had before, and the start of a buzz through your system. You chatted with Bly and Galle, Hawk and Broadside, Ridge and Appo and Vaughn. It was about two hours after arriving when you finally excused yourself from where you were talking with Crys and Wooley to get another drink.

Sliding up to the bar, empty glass disappearing onto the tray of a serving droid, you found yourself next to Fives once more.

"Well, well," he said. "Long time no see."

You quirked an eyebrow. "Not long enough."

"You are just piling it on tonight."

You giggled. "Oh, I'm just teasing, Fives. You know that."

The bartender came over and you ordered an espresso martini. It was not on Aayla's list of banned drinks.

"You and your coffee," Fives said, shaking his head fondly. "Hope your paramour knows they're competing with coffee for your heart."

You grinned. "He knows."

Fives nodded, sagely. "Good. I would hate for you to be leading the poor guy on."

You snorted. Fives sobered suddenly.

"I hope you know that even though I was poking at you earler, I don't want you to feel pressured to tell me who you're seeing."

Your smile softened. Oh, Fives...

"I know." You squeezed his arm. "And I hope you know I'm not actually mad at you for breaking a mug."

Fives chuckled, but it sounded a little relieved. "I know. He squeezed you to his side in a hug.

There was a beat.

"Rex knows who it is though, doesn't he?"

You huffed a small laugh. You should've known better than to think Fives had believed Rex earlier. Rex had the single worst poker face in the galaxy.

"Yes."

"It's a vod?"

"Yes."

Fives looked at you, in a rare moment of profound sincerity. "You're happy?"

Your expression softened even more, before widening into the smile that you could never seem to hold back when thinking of Fox. Fives pulled away to peer at you when you didn't answer right away, and froze at the sight of the smile.

He'd never seen you smile like that before.

"Completely."

"I can see that." Fives finally relaxed, chuckling. "Well, then I'm happy for you, Beanie. And if he hurts you, I get to be first in line to beat his ass."

You laughed, loud and bright. This wasn't the first time you'd heard someone threaten Fox if he hurt you. You'd been the recipient of a few shovel talks, too, but you couldn't help laughing at the idea of Fives, even with all his ARC trooper training and armor, squaring up against Fox. Like a scrappy baby brother defending your honor.

"He would've been happy for you, too, you know."

Your laughter quieted, and your smile wobbled at the thought of who Fives was referring to.

Echo.

"I miss him." Your voice was quiet, and you wondered if Fives even heard you over the music and din of the club.

The way he squeezed you back into his side said he did.

"Me too."

You couldn't help but shiver at the empty feeling on your other side, where the other Domino Twin had usually stood, squeezing you between him and Fives.

You missed Echo so much. You missed his hugs, his smile, his exasperation with Fives, his helping hand, his bad jokes, his own penchant for chaos. You missed him so bad.

You couldn't even imagine what it was like for Fives.

You turned towards the bar, never leaving Fives' grip, and ordered a pair of shots. Spotchka. A distinctly bitter alcohol with a sharp, sour aftertaste. A sharp electric blue in color. Echo's favorite.

Neither of you said anything as you clinked glasses in a toast and drank.

And immediately gagged afterward.

"Shit!"

"Fuck, that is awful!"

"How did he drink this!"

Even you, who drank strong coffee all day, every day, could not stand the sour bitterness of spotchka.

You and Fives quickly burst out laughing.

Fives squeezed you one last time before letting go.

"Thanks, Beanie. Now, excuse me while I order something to wash the vile taste from my mouth."

Your laughter was bright as Fives strode down the bar. You picked up your drink, dark and a little foamy on top, and took a sip. The sweetness from the coffee liqueur and simple syrup made you hum with happiness. You were glad Aayla had convinced you to come out tonight. You were having a lot of fun.

"Beanie!!"

A pair of arms swept around you, lifting you from the ground, squeezing you tight and ignoring you as you shrieked, "Careful!"

Hound grinned as he set you down. His long curls were unruly and tousled around his face, and his eyes were glassy with the effects of alcohol.

"It's so good to see you, Beanie!"

Your lips twitched. He had seen you yesterday morning. "You're lucky you didn't spill my drink, Hound."

He flapped his hand. "I'd get you a new one."

"Yes, you would."

"Maker, Hound, she's here to have fun, not deal with your drunk ass."

"I'm not drunk!"

You smiled, amused, into your drink. Hound very much was drunk, and Thire knew it, too.

"Sorry, Beanie."

"It's fine, guys. Honestly. You're here to have fun, too. So have fun."

"Let's dance, Beanie!"

And before you could say anything, to either accept or refuse, Hound had thrust your drink into Thire's hands and dragged you into the throngs. You could just barely hear Thire's yell as the beat of the bass began to rumble in your ears and chest.

Dancing with Hound was always fun. Dancing with a drunk Hound was a straight-up riot. The man was a good dancer even sober, but with the alcohol in his system, he seemed to lose all inhibitions. No move was too silly. No song was undanceable. No twist or turn was too wild and no one off-limits as a dance partner. One moment you found yourself being twirled around and another saw Hound shimmying towards a giggling Togruta with body chains across his chest.

To say Hound lost interest in you after that was an understatement.

You mentally chuckled. A hound, indeed.

After that, you were quick to weave your way off the dance floor. You spotted Thire over at a table with other members of the Coruscant Guard.

Including Fox.

"He ditch you?" Thire asked as you settled on Fox's side, eyes alight with amusement. He passed you your glass.

"Thoroughly." You sipped the martini, it being less foamy now, but no less delicious.

"Who was it?"

"A Togruta who is, and I say this with love, way out of his league."

Thire snorted.

"Good for him," Stone commented. "Better feel good tonight, cause he's not gonna feel good tomorrow."

"Him?? We're not gonna feel good tomorrow," Thorn groused, only half-joking. "We're the ones who have to listen to him bitch about the hangover."

You giggled lightly. Hound could be quite colorful and dramatic when suffering hangovers. You made a note to expect him tomorrow right at open, ready for a caffeine infusion.

Fox quietly chuckled as his brothers continued to wax poetic about how Hound could wax poetic about his hangovers. He wrapped an arm around your waist, leaning in to kiss your temple.

"Decided on a night out?"

"Aayla did. Dragged me along. I was only semi-unwilling."

"General Secura's here? Explains why I haven't seen Bly."

You smiled. It made sense that Fox knew about them. Fox usually seemed to know, but you also knew that he and Bly were close.

"He's that way if you wanted to see him," you said, gesturing towards the other side of the dance floor.

Fox swallowed the sip of wine he'd taken before leaning down, lips brushing your jaw.

"And why would I go see him when you're standing right here?"

You shivered minutely. You could hardly believe just how much this man affected you. With just the smallest touch and quietly murmured, coy question, he'd made warmth bloom in your core. You took a swallow of your drink.

"I see your point."

Fox huffed a tiny laugh against your skin before kissing your cheek. His arm held you tighter.

"Would you stop?" a whine sounded. You and Fox looked at Thorn. "It's really demoralizing for us single folks."

Fox simply raised his wine glass back up. "So go away."

"Oh, Maker, they're not gonna kiss are they? I'm not drunk enough for this."

You'd think Thire was your child, the way he said it.

"If they do, I'm not sticking around to see it."

And that was Stone, slamming back his beer and making a swift getaway towards the bar. Thire was right behind him.

You and Fox stifled grins and laughter. His hand rubbed small circles on your waist.

"You gonna be able to open tomorrow?" Thorn asked, nodding towards your drink.

"Yeah, I'll be good," you said. "Tomorrow's reduced hours."

Even though you were open every day, two days a week were reduced hours at your coffee house. It allowed you to sleep in past dawn on occasion. And have the occasional afternoon off to run normal errands.

Or binge the most recent holoseries.

"She better be, we're planning on coming by tomorrow."

You grinned up at Wolffe, who sauntered towards the table. His facial expressions were looser and more relaxed than usual, and his grin was more openly teasing than when he was sober.

"Boost apparently has a new mug for me," you commented idly. The smile dropped right off of Wolffe's face. He remembered very well the other mug Boost had given you.

Fox didn't even bother to smother his smirk at the memory of it either.

Wolffe shot him the stink eye.

"I think Bly and his boys are going to be in tomorrow, too," you said, stifling your amusement. If only for Wolffe's sake.

"Cody said he was planning on being there in the afternoon. Knowing him, he'll drag Rex'ika in with him."

You visibly brightened at the possibility of seeing them all again so soon.

"Fox was going to give us a long lunch break tomorrow," Thorn said, happily ignoring his brother and commander's gaze.

"I'll consider it."

"Meaning he's already decided to do it," Wolffe said, smirking.

"Looks like I'll have a full house tomorrow," you mused. "Might close earlier. Make a private party out of it."

The boys all looked happy at the idea of that. Fox's hand lowered to squeeze your hip affectionately.

Wolffe and Thorn soon started talking about Wolffe's latest missions. You listened quietly, but contentedly. Fox was quiet too. You leaned more fully into his side as he kissed your temple.

"Don't be gross," Wolffe groused. The sparkle in his eye told you he was teasing.

You and Fox were nothing if not willing to give him shit back.

So Fox instantly turned you to him and kissed you fully.

He tasted of the wine he'd been drinking earlier. His tongue laved across your own, savoring the remnants of espresso and vodka. You could feel a hint of stubble against your cheek, and the strong weight of his arm around you. His kiss was like putting on noise-cancelling headphones. Blocking out your surroundings and amplifying the sensation of Fox. Just Fox. And the way he kissed you like he would never have enough.

"Oh, great."

You could practically hear Wolffe’s eye roll, mentally laughing. But Fox didn’t seem to care, hand pressing tighter to your hip to keep you in place. And you forgot all about Wolffe.

“Really?!”

Fox’s lips left yours, only to attach to the curve of your neck. You gasped a little and clenched your fingers where they'd gripped into his armor.

“Yeah, they’re disgusting aren’t they?”

“How do you put up with it?”

“Screaming and throwing up, mostly.”

Wolffe and Thorn’s voices faded as they left, Wolffe likely going to bleach his eyeballs with Thorn as moral support.

Fox’s lips curled into the barest smirk against your skin.

“Jackass,” you said, fondly.

Fox’s smirk widened, but he didn’t respond. He simply reconnected your lips.

And you forgot about everything else.

___

You and Fox made your way back to your apartment not long after that, whistles and gags coming from the Wolfpack and Corries. You fluttered your lashes at them all while Fox flipped a rude finger their way.

Laughter, the thrum of the music, and the comfortable buzz of alcohol followed you out.

Fox was quick to kiss you when the door to your apartment closed, fingers cupping your neck tenderly enough to contrast with the heat of his lips. He hummed against you, other hand massaging your lower back.

"Remind me to thank General Secura for getting you to come out," he murmured against you. "You looked fantastic."

You hummed back, enjoying the simultaneous passion and languidness of the kiss.

"She got me the outfit, too."

"I owe her a gift."

Your giggles were muffled as he kissed you again.

And again.

But soon, he pulled back, nuzzling to your cheek, eyes closed and a small, content smile lingering on his lips.

"Bed?"

"Bed."

You and Fox went about your routines in comfortable silence. Fox removed his armor with practiced ease, despite his increasing tiredness. The armor was then placed, along with his body glove, in the trunk in your closet. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and climbed into bed. You smiled softly at the sight as you came out of the fresher. He was sprawled out, his curls flopped in a glorious mess over his face, which looked loose and sleepy.

He looked comfortable. Safe. At home.

"Can feel you staring, cyar'ika," he mumbled.

You went to the side of the bed and leaned down, smoothing back his hair. He cracked an eye open, humming when you kissed his forehead.

Maker, you loved this man.

"Coming?" Fox asked, voice rumbling with tiredness.

"Mhmm, lemme just change real quick."

You padded back into the fresher to finish your bedtime routine. You were done only a couple minutes later and went back into the bedroom to hear your pad ping quietly.

>Got yourself quite the fox, didn’t you?

You couldn’t help grinning sleepily at the comm from Aayla.

>You have no idea ;)

Aayla replied with a simple, resounding vomiting emoji.

You giggled.

Setting your pad aside, you sleepily began to tug on your pajamas, the alcohol buzz from the night long since calmed into a sleepy haze. But just as you went to leave your pad to charge, it pinged once more.

>FOX? Your partner is Commander FOX?!?

The message from Fives brought a tired smirk to your face.

>Still want to beat him up?

>Fuck.

You laughed quietly, tucked yourself into bed next to Fox, and fell asleep.

______________

Taglist: @foxincoruscant @frietiemeloen @rintheemolion @the-santa-maria @dangerousstrawberrypie @jess761 @rain-on-kamino @misogirl828 @panagiasikelia @justanothersadperson93 @nekotaetae @just-a-sewer-goblin @whore4rex @darkangel4121 @cagrame @unstableyetloveable @hannah-schooler @ashotofspotchka @cat-purrsonified @shuttlelauncher81 @theroguesully

See link at top to join my new taglist!

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a-single-tulip · 1 year

Text

Tulip's Fanfiction Masterlist

A list of all of the fics I've written and posted on here, mostly just for The Bad Batch and The Clone Wars. All fics labeled with "🔥" are mature content, so minors DNI. This masterlist is subject to be edited/changed/revised, so expect future additions to be seen as I write more.

Last Updated: November 10th, 2023

Star Wars OC List

My Art

Dr. Cais Varru Sketches

Dr. Waylon Vrand Shirtless Sketch

The Bad Batch

Crosshair:

After Dark - Sub!Crosshair x Femdom!Reader 🔥

Hard Candy - Crosshair x gn!Reader

Tech:

Why Do You Call Me That? - Tech x gn!Reader (some slight Sub!Tech, but then towards the end the tables turn) 🔥

Echo:

Calma - Echo x gn!Reader

Hunter:

Do You Want Me to Brush Your Hair? - Hunter x gn!Reader

Pretty Boy - Sub!Hunter x gn!Reader 🔥

Wrecker:

Like a Teddy Bear - Wrecker x gn!Reader

OC Fics:

I'll Never Be Sick of You - Crosshair x Dr. Waylon Vrand (OC) 🔥

Losing All Control - Crosshair x Dr. Waylon Vrand (OC) 🔥 (sequel to the fic above)

Tell Me a Story - Dr. Waylon Vrand (OC) Origin Story

Star Wars: The Clone Wars

Coruscant Guard:

The Perfect Girl - Commander Fox x Fem!Punk!Reader 🔥

Tranquility - Commander Fox x GN!Reader Ficlet [slightly suggestive themes]

Wolfpack:

Just the Right Way - Commander Wolffe x GN!Reader Ficlet [Implied NSFW, suggestive themes] 🔥

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wizardofrozz · 1 year

Text

Commander Fox x Senator!reader, Commander Thorn, Padme Amidala, Riyo Chuchi, Original Clone Troopers

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: swearing, smut 18+ (it’s only memories but still explicit), PiV, oral sex

A/N: This takes place in the same universe as Thorn’s fic but you don’t need to read that one for this to make sense (basically I just mention his partner from that fic)

Fox hated Thorn.

Well, okay, not really, but at the moment he really disliked his brother. It was Thorn’s fault he was on guard duty for the senate’s Life Day party. Fox wasn’t even sure how he’d managed it but Thorn had done it. Which meant Fox was forced to stand guard, protecting the guests from possible assassins along with their own drunken stupidity. Because that’s exactly how he wanted to spend his night. Although, there was a bright side to his shitty post and it was standing a few feet off to his left.

You were laughing with Senator Chuchi and Senator Amidala, a rarity when you were in the public eye. Fox quickly continued his scan of the room, reminding himself not to linger on you for too long. He caught of glimpse of Thorn at the opposite side of the room talking to one of your aids and he tapped the button on his wrist, activating a private com channel.

“Cut it short, Commander,” Fox ordered. He definitely didn’t get a sick kind of pleasure when Thorn stiffened. He watched the aid’s mouth twitch, their eyes darting toward him briefly before they stepped away, leaving Thorn alone again.

“You’re mean,” Thorn grumbled. Even from across the room Fox saw him struggling not to cross his arms.

“I can’t enjoy being around mine, you can’t enjoy being around yours,” he stated, tilting his head, daring Thorn to challenge him.

“Spiteful,” Thorn huffed, shifting his weight.

“Thanks,” Fox chirped happily, relishing in the eye roll he knew was hidden behind Thorn’s helmet. He continued his scan and checked in with Zero and Cayde who were standing out in the hall. Fox tried to tell himself it was his job but even he didn’t buy it when his eyes immediately locked onto where you were standing again. He supposed it was better than sitting around his office while you were at the party but having to watch you from afar was more irritating. You had moved to a table in his line of view, far enough that he couldn’t hear your conversation but close enough that he could see your face perfectly.

Fox had a bad feeling about this.

Chuchi and Amidala were leaning in on either side of you to be heard over the din of the get-together but you didn’t seem terribly interested. Fox stiffened when your eyes slowly lifted, staring holes into his visor and a stifling heat bloomed under his skin at the look in your eyes. The subdued, professional smile you wore in public was still in place but your eyes seemed darker, hungry almost and it made Fox’s skin feel too tight. Amidala grabbed your attention, breaking the spell holding him hostage and for a split second, Fox thought his knees might buckle.

“You alright, Commander?” Thorn asked but there was something off about his voice.

“Fine,” Fox grumbled, shuffling his feet and twisting his head from side to side. He went back to checking the weak points in the room but the feeling of eyes on him made his skin crawl. The next time he looked back at your table, you weren’t the only one watching him. Chuchi and Amidala’s eyes were trained on him too, flashing him uncharacteristically mischievous smiles before they looked away again. Fox didn’t like the attention to begin with but now he felt like the butt of a joke at the hands of the woman he loved.

His eyes darted back to your face and that’s when he noticed your hands moving, drawing his attention. You were carefully unwrapping what you had told him the other day was a candy cane, specifically a regular red and white one. It immediately reminded him of his armor and he had the feeling that was intentional, especially when he knew there was a variety of colors available. The conversation between you and the other two senators had picked up again and Fox exhaled slowly now that he wasn’t being watched anymore.

Fox wanted to look away, hells he needed to look away but it was like a tractor beam was holding him in place. He could only watch as you mindlessly slid the candy cane between your lips, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked on the minty treat. Fox bit his tongue when your eyes flickered toward him, holding him hostage as you slowly pulled the glistening candy out of your mouth. He held his breath for a moment, his mind desperately trying to keep his thoughts on his objective but you seemed hellbent on making that impossible.

You gestured with the candy cane as you spoke and Fox watched your lips move, the overhead light catching on the sheen left behind by the piece of candy. He hated himself a little more for not looking away when he had the chance because it only got worse. This time your eyes were trained on Chuchi, listening intently to whatever she was saying as you stuck your tongue out, dragging it along the red and white striped treat.

Fox’s train of thought drifted to the night before, his mind supplying him with flashes of you kneeling between his armored legs, performing a similar act to his cock.

Yeah, a red and white candy cane was not an accident.

Fox chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning, his eyes following the slow drag of your tongue, entrapped by the way it curled around the striped length. The pressure behind his codpiece was starting to get uncomfortable, turning his usually coherent thoughts to mush. All he wanted was to lick the minty taste from your mouth as he buried his throbbing cock inside you until you were screaming his name.

A bitten-off laugh echoed through his helmet, snapping him back to reality and his lashes fluttered. Fox lifted his head (when had it drooped down?) and found Thorn staring at him. Not a good sign.

“You look a little…distracted, Commander,” Thorn choked out, obviously struggling not to laugh. Fox took stock of his body and realized he’d slumped out of parade rest and was nearly leaning on the wall behind him. Somewhere in the back of his lust-heavy brain, Fox picked up on Thorn’s impeccable timing.

“You planned this.” Fox was thankful his bucket hid the mortified look on his face when he registered that his vocal cords sounded like they’d been dragged across hot coals. Thorn’s barely contained laughter mocked him from inside the safety of his helmet and Fox decided that yeah, he did hate Thorn.

“It was her idea,” Thorn chuckled, although from an outside point of view he looked like the poster boy for professional soldiers.

“You’ll pay for this,” Fox snarled, flexing his hands behind his back. He really needed his dick to stop pulsing so he could think straight.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Foxy,” Thorn teased, his voice pitching up in a pisspoor attempt to stop his laughter. He could easily reprimand Thorn as his superior but as irritated as he was with Thorn at the moment, it was meant to be a jab at Fox, his brother, not Marshal Commander CC-1010, his superior.

“I’m going to make you wish you were dead, brother,” Fox warned lowly.

“Shit.” At least Fox could still put the fear of the Maker into his brother and he smiled to himself. Little victories.

“Get back to your job,” Fox ordered, tilting his helmet to put an intimidating edge to the order.

“Yes, sir,” Thorn sighed, turning his head to completely look away. Now it was time to deal with the heartbeat pounding below his belt and the little shit that caused it. He hailed Cayde, calling him inside to cover for him for a few minutes.

“You’re doing the same thing in here as you were out there,” Fox explained, patting the trooper’s shoulder.

“No problem, sir,” Cayde replied with a sharp nod. You must’ve noticed the commotion because when Fox found you again, you had an inquisitive brow raised, that fucking candy cane hanging out of the side of your mouth. It wasn’t that he was against being at your mercy, he quite enjoyed you taking control from time to time, but at the moment it was clashing with his job. Fox felt off-kilter and unsteady. He made a point to hold your gaze as well as he could with a helmet on, attempting to wrestle back some kind of control.

“Commander Fox,” you greeted with a polite, restrained smile. Chuchi and Amidala echoed the greeting, suddenly looking as prim and regal as ever.

“May I speak with you for a moment, Senator?” The minute twitch at the corner of your mouth told him that you knew exactly what he wanted to talk about and he simultaneously wanted to scream in frustration and beg you to touch him.

“Of course, Commander,” you answered calmly, resting a hand on each of your friends’ arms before following him. Thorn tilted his head as Fox passed, the equivalent to a raised brow that he ignored as he led you into the hallway and around the corner away from prying eyes.

“What in the fucking Sithhells are you doing?” Fox hissed, stepping into your personal space, nearly bumping his chest against yours. The round, wide-eyed look you aimed at him made his cock throb painfully and he almost whimpered.

“What do you mean, dear?” you asked coyly. Fox felt his control slipping, his focus zeroed in on the arousal pumping through his veins and your red-tinted lips.

“You’re killing me,” Fox whined quietly, turning his head away from you.

“Aw, honey,” you chuckled, gently cupping one of the filters at the bottom of his helmet. “You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” Fox wanted to deny, deny, deny. He was on duty, he was Marshal Commander Fox at the moment but holy Maker above were you right. All Fox managed was a stiff nod that made you smile, the smile you only gave him.

“Please, just…wait,” Fox pleaded softly, grinding his teeth when he shifted and his codpiece rubbed. Your face softened in sympathy and after a second you nodded, taking pity on him.

“Anything for you, my love,” you murmured.

“Thank the Maker,” he breathed. Fox immediately stiffened when you leaned closer, blinking rapidly as he waited to see what you were planning. Despite his brain feeling foggy, he still smiled softly at the light kiss you placed on the white of his helmet, his stomach fluttering. The sentiment only lasted a second when he saw the glint in your eyes.

“Now, get back to your post like a good boy and maybe I won’t make you beg for it later,” you purred before turning on your heels and disappearing around the corner. Fox just stood there like an idiot, trying his hardest to keep himself from blowing his load without being touched.

You were going to be the death of him and fuck he couldn’t wait.

A/N: I’m all for Fox being a switch (when he’s comfortable and trusts his partner) and I’ll die on this hill.

25 days of Life Day Masterlist

Taglist: @sleepingsun501

#25 days of life day #commander fox x reader #commander fox #commander thorn #coruscant guard #cc-1010 #marshal commander fox #commander fox x you #fem!reader #reader insert #commander fox x senator!reader

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coffeeandbatboys · 28 days

Text

I had an absolute adhd moment so I made something short and fluffy and cuddly for @moonlightwarriorqueen who chose Fox (with no context). I literally put my fic writing playlist on and went wild.

Warnings: prepare for all the cuddles.

Fox x Fem!Reader

You dropped your head into your hands, trying to block out everything that had been going on.

“Mesh’la?” Fox asked from beside you. He reached over to turn off the holo that you’d been watching together.

You peeked through your fingers to see a concerned face gazing at you. With a sigh, you leaned into his shoulder.

“There’s just a lot going on, Fox.” You muttered. “It’s not that I didn’t want to watch the holo. I guess I just need to zoned out?”

A soft smile graced his lips and he pulled you closer to him, practically into his lap as he shifted to get more comfortable. You buried your face into the crook of his neck and placed a kiss there. He smelled like Caf and plastoid, and interesting but unique mix that belonged solely to your trooper.

“Now I can’t have my girl down in the ditches, can I? What’s she doing with me anyways? She’s practically a goddess. Force knows I could be mistaken for a wild tooka.”

A blush crept up your neck and flushed out on your cheeks. He was an absolutely gorgeous man.

“Fox,” You giggled. “You’re close enough to perfect for me.”

“I try, thank you Mesh’la.”

Your laughter bubbled up once again. You sighed into his skin as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, and in a low whisper he promised his love for you.

“I love you so, so much, Cyar’ika. You wouldn’t believe me if I could show you.”

You hugged him, pulling yourself impossibly closer to his chest.

“Maker, I love you too. Thank you for making life a little better.”

“Ain’t that my job?”

#star wars #fox x fem!reader #marshall commander fox #tcw fox #commander fox x reader #fox x reader #commander fox #fox #commander fox x fem!reader #clone troopers x reader

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hitomisuzuya · 1 month

Note

I’ve been waiting for this moment yippee😈

Can I request dom archon scara x fem kitsune reader smut where scara loves to tease reader by pulling her tail especially during seggs 🫣

Archon!Scaramouche x Hybrid!Kitsune fem reader. Smut. Finger sucking. Degradation. Fingering. Tail pulling. Dom!Scara. God Complex

Sorry this took me so long to get to😭

You were on your knees in front of him, your ears droopy in submission. Your cheek nuzzled against his thigh, a shy blush coating your cheeks as it brushed up against his hardening cock. Nuzzling your cheek against his thigh again, your tongue swept out to lick his cock.

After a few moments, your felt two taps on your forehead, a signal for you to look up at him. There was a predatory smirk on Scaramouche's face, his electric eyes glinting as he looked down at you.

"Tell me, slut," He purred, pushing two fingers into your mouth, "do you worship your Archon?" The way you obediently open your mouth for him, your tongue wet and worshipping as you lapped at them made his cock throb. You were more than showing your utter submission to him.

You nodded. Your tail swished as you moaned, sucking happily on his beautiful fingers as he pumped them in and out of your mouth. Drool pooled from the corners of your mouth, gagging as he pushed his fingers into your throat.

Making you suck on his fingers was one of his favorite ways to show dominance over you.

A trail of saliva connected your tongue to his fingers when he withdrew them from your mouth. He wrapped a hand around one of your ears, tugging enough to make you yelp in bliss. "On your hands and knees, ass in the air. Show your God how wet you are for him," He commanded in a way that made you shiver.

You did as you were told, crawling onto your hands and knees on the bed. You dropped down onto your elbows, blushing as you angled your hips up.

Scaramouche feasted his eyes on the sight of your drooling cunt presented to him, roughly groping your ass before wrapping his hand around your tail. You gasped, your back arching more as new coat of your slick seeped onto your cunt.

He laughed, tugging on it again to hear your mewl of embarrassed bliss again. He could never resist taking advantage of the sensitivity of your tail just to tease you. "Well go on, beg for it," He parted your folds, his fingers sliding easily around your puffy clit, "Cry about how much you want your God's cock."

He plunged two fingers inside of you, abruptly curling them into your sweet spot. You cried out, your legs shaking as you pushed back into his fingers.

"Please, please, I want my Archon's cock inside of me," You moaned, your eyes rolling in as his increased the pace of his fingers. Stronger jolts of pleasure went straight to your throbbing clit, drool soaking against your cheek and into the pillow. "I want it more than anything!"

Your orgasm curled tighter with each thrust of his fingers, your pussy squeezing tight around them. Every word you said made his cock pulse. He couldn't resist building you up a little more before taking it away, pulling his fingers out of you to tug on your tail again.

Your cunt clenched around nothing, tears stinging in your eyes. Scaramouche kept a firm grip on your tail, lining his cock up with your entrance. With a long, husky groan, he slowly bullied his cock inside of you inch by inch, his hand tightening on your tail.

The brutal pace he immediately picked up left you breathless, hardly giving you any time to adjust to his length. Your fingers gripped the pillows, shameless moans and high pitched cries only serving as fuel for him to pound his cock into your sweet spot.

"Is my fox whore gonna cum?" He moaned, letting go of your tail to give your clit a wet smack. Your back curled as you mewled, seeing stars as you clenched around his cock. He groaned in bliss, pinching and rubbing your clit to help you along.

The word yes could barely leave your mouth, the intensity of your orgasm overwhelming as you creamed on his cock. "That's right slut, cum for your God," He moaned, his cock pulsing cum inside of you.

Scaramouche smeared any cum that leaked from your cunt dominantly on your clit.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 1 year

Text

Grief Stricken

Fives x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your perfect life is shattered into a million pieces after your beloved Fives is murdered. Overcome with grief, you decide to take out your revenge on the man responsible for his death.

Pairing: Fives x Fem!Reader

Characters: Fives, Rex, Fox

Tags & Warnings: established relationship, fluff, romance, kissing, cuddling, death, grief, mourning, funeral, hurt/no comfort, angst, alcohol, drugged alcohol, seduction, violence, revenge, premeditated murder, borderline dark fic, unhinged fem!reader

Word Count: 7.2k

Author's Note: Apologies in advance to the Fox girlies! I did not villainize your boy, but wrote him like any other military police type. That man is a victim too. I stylized this fic as a back and forth from present to past. So, if you remove all the pieces and rearrange them chronologically, the story would still flow correctly. Also, the last few scenes were written to "Cheap Thrills" by Sia, so that's the vibe there. Bonus, if you want to cry, listen to "Somewhere Only We Know" by Keane (Rhianne Cover).

PLEASE DO NOT IMITATE. This is fiction and fiction only. If you or someone you love is struggling with grief, please reach out to get professional help!

@clonexreaderbingo Square: Fox

You stand speechless beside the open casket, staring down at the lifeless corpse inside, wondering how you arrived at this moment.

The morning light breaks through the curtains and gently wakes you from your slumber. You feel his warm body wrapped around yours in half-a-sleep snuggles as a pot of caf percolates in the kitchen. You nuzzle your face into his outstretched arm, breathing in his scent as he rustles under the covers. You wonder how you became so lucky as to have such a wonderful man like Fives in your life. He is your everything. Strong, brave, handsome, and an absolute love-bug.

It’s a struggle at times, when he has to go on missions, but you always wait patiently for him to come home with hugs and kisses at the ready. He always greets you at the door with a big smile and squishes you as hard as he can without hurting you. You know he enjoys coming home as much as you do, and the time you get to spend with him is your favorite. You both dream about what your life together will look like after the war and come up with all sorts of grandiose plans.

You roll yourself over to look at him, his eyes still closed, lips slightly parted, and breathing softly. Resting peacefully without a single care. You smile and gently press your lips against his. It takes a moment, but he kisses you back tenderly while sliding a hand through your hair and behind your ear to pull you closer. You stay like that for a moment, lips locked in a loving embrace of pure bliss. As your lips finally part, you gasp and take in a much needed breath.

“Am I suffocating you?” Fives jokes with a small laugh as he props his head up with his hand. He looks lovingly into your eyes. You stare back into his glistening brown eyes. They’re deep and dark and would swallow you whole if they could.

“Just a little,” you giggle back. You scoot forward and nestle your head under his chin and breathe deeply. These are the moments you live for, the ones where it’s just the two of you and the rest of the world isn’t allowed to intrude. At this moment, it’s just you and him. No war. No missions. No fights. No weapons. Just two people madly in love.

Fives is the first to pull away from the embrace, but gives you another small kiss for good measure. He pulls back the covers and playfully flops them over your head before getting out of bed. He laughs as you claw at the heavy blanket to try and escape. You struggle your way out from underneath the blanket only to find your hair has become a static mess. You blow a piece out of your face and pout at Fives who thinks he’s the greatest thing since sliced bread.

“What’s that face for?” he chuckles and folds his arms.

You shake your head and smile. “Nothing.” You flop backwards onto the bed and roll onto your side to watch as he starts his morning routine. It’s the same procedure every day, but you never get tired of watching him do it. It’s the regimented soldier in him that makes it so automatic, and you find an odd comfort in the small consistency it brings to your rather inconsistent life.

“I have to leave for Ringo Vinda today,” he reminds you while pulling his blacks over his head. “Shouldn’t be a long mission.”

“So soon?” you question with disappointment. You crawl to the edge of the bed to get closer to him. “You’ve only been back for two days.”

“You know war, darling,” he soothes while walking back over to the bed. He bends over and plants a kiss on your forehead to reassure you. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

You kneel on the edge of the bed and prop yourself up to lean into his chest. He wraps his arms around you, resting his head atop yours, and slides his warm hands across your back. Goodbyes are hard, especially during war. You never know if he’ll come back or not, but you try not to worry. Fives is a smart and capable soldier. He won’t do something as dumb as dying. At least, that’s what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night.

He lifts his head off of yours and tilts you back a little so he can see your face. He brushes your hair behind your ear and asks. “Do you want some caf before I go?”

“Yes, please,” you smile as you slip down from his arms and sit back down on the bed.

You watch him walk out of the room and soon you hear the clink of ceramic as he pulls two mugs out of the kitchen cabinet. The strong aroma of freshly brewed caf fills your home. You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, enjoying the blissful moment. You look around the room and think about the life you’ve made. Then your eyes land on his helmet sitting in the corner and an idea pops into your head. You peek out of the room to see if he’s coming and quickly grab it.

“One mug of caf as ordered,” Fives sings while walking back into the bedroom. He briefly pauses, puts the mugs down on the vanity, and places his hands on his hips while raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“ARC trooper 5555 reporting for duty, sir!” you announce with a sloppy hand salute as the oversized helmet bobbles around your small head.

Fives snorts and brings a hand up to cover his mouth before bellowing out in laughter. You love it when he laughs. He doesn’t laugh often, at least not since Echo’s passing, but every once and a while you can rile him up into a good fit. He bends over and holds his stomach as laughter-filled tears form in the corner of his eyes. You aren’t sure what is so funny about this particular instance, but it doesn’t matter. He’s laughing and it warms your heart.

“Give me that,” Fives demands playfully while walking towards you, still chuckling to himself at your ridiculous imitative display. He reaches out a hand to grab the helmet off your head, but you place your hand over his to stop him. He pauses, frowns, and lets out a soft sigh. He gently pulls the helmet off your head, revealing what he expects, your teary eyes. “Oh, darling,” he soothes while wiping one of the tears away with his finger.

“I’m going to miss you,” you confess while wiping a few new tears away as you attempt to compose yourself. You want to be strong for him, but sometimes it proves too difficult to hold in.

“I’m going to miss you too,” he professes while cupping the side of your face with his gentle hand. He rubs his thumb against your cheek in tender sweeps.

You lean into his warm caress and close your eyes. “Come back soon, okay?”

“It’s a promise,” he whispers and leans in to give you a soft kiss on your lips.

“You… You promised…,” the words get caught in your throat as you touch the side of his cold cheek. “You promised… to come back to me.”

You fall to your knees and sob. Your left hand is hanging onto the side of the casket while you rhythmically pound your right fist on the ground. You tilt your head back towards the sky and scream as the tears roll down your red cheeks. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You feel Rex’s hand rest on your shoulder as he kneels down beside you. He takes his other hand and silently grabs your bloodied fist, forcing you to stop.

You turn your head and look at the captain with blurry eyes, pleading without words, why.

The days go by slowly as you wait for Fives to return. You busy yourself, of course, to keep from going crazy. Your job at the diner helps, but you still find yourself daydreaming, waiting for the moment you're back in his arms safe and sound. When you’re not working, you stop by some of your friend's houses to keep you company. Their men are usually off on missions too, so it’s nice to be around people who understand what you're going through.

You laugh, eat, and play games to pass the time. Sometimes you’ll talk about Fives and how amazing he is, and sometimes you won’t mention him at all. Other times you and your friends will gossip about new clones arriving on Coruscant and wonder what their nicknames are. Still, more times than not, you and your friends will go shopping to keep up your spirits. As you go through one store, you see a little arc trooper doll on the shelf and immediately buy it.

When you arrive home, you rustle through your drawers pulling out markers and grab the picture of you and Fives off the bedside table. You glance at his armor in the photo and look down at the doll and think it will be easy enough to replicate. You pop the cap off the marker and get to work adding the correct colors and markings that adorn his armor. The Hevy insignia proves difficult and looks more like a blob than a rotary blaster cannon, but you shrug and keep going.

When finished, you place the little Fives doll next to the photo on the bedside table. You look at the doll and the photo and smile brightly. You can’t wait until he gets back from his mission so you can show him your handiwork. You think he’ll probably laugh and say something like, ‘Is that supposed to be me?’ You chuckle at your thoughts and let out a content sigh. You love this life the two of you have built together, and you love him more and more as each day passes.

“Goodnight, my love,” you say as you kiss your finger and place it against the photo. You smile longingly at it one more time before turning off the lights and slipping into bed. You wrap the covers around you tightly, wishing it was Fives instead of the blanket, but you know he’ll be home soon. Eventually, he’ll come bursting through the door, loud and obnoxious as ever, scoop you up into his arms, toss you onto the bed, and shower you with love and affection.

“Tell me why, Rex,” you cry while rocking back and forth on the ground.

Rex doesn’t respond, but tightens his grip on your shoulder as his hand holding your bloodied one begins to tremble. He leans his head against yours and whispers. “I wish I knew.”

“He wasn’t supposed to die,” your breath catches between your sobs and you turn your face to look at him. Your tear-stained eyes lock into his as you trade emotions.

“I know,” Rex answers with a barely audible voice, straining to formulate words as they drip from his lips in a cacophony of grief.

“He said he’d come back,” you sob harder as your voice cracks under the weight of your unabated emotions.

“I… I know,” Rex barely gets out as he attempts to console you through shattered breath.

“Why did you let him die?” your breath catches again as you realize the implication of what you said. You know it isn’t Rex’s fault, but your mind is a jumbled mess of anguish and anger.

Rex lowers his head and swallows hard. He chokes on his words as tears form in his eyes. He can barely speak, but he finds the words somewhere in his mind and forces them out. “I didn’t have a choice.”

You hear a knock at the door. Putting your holo-book down on the bedside table, you walk up to the door and open it half expecting it to be Fives surprising you that he’s back home. However, when you open it, your smile quickly fades. It’s the Coruscant Guard. Your heart begins to race. What could they possibly want with you? Why are they here? You haven’t broken any laws or done anything to raise suspicion. You stare nervously at the intimidating commander in red.

“Can I help you?” you ask with caution while hovering your hand over the door-button in preparation to close it.

“Where is ARC-5555?” the commander demands as he pulls out a holoprojector and displays a hologram of the arc trooper in question.

Fives? Why are they looking for Fives? You shrug and tell the commander what you know. “He’s on a mission to Ringo Vinda. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

“Ma’am, please step aside,” the commander orders as he forces his way into your home. You resist and try to close the door, but his strength overpowers you.

“Hey!” you yell as he tosses you aside into the hallway. “What do you think you’re doing? This is my home!”

“ARC-5555 is AWOL and wanted for crimes against the Republic,” Commander Fox states as he hands you a datapad with the warrant and signals the rest of his men to enter your home. “Withholding vital information toward his capture will make you an enemy of the Republic and you will be brought up on charges for treason.”

“AWOL? Crimes against the Republic? Treason?” you repeat in disbelief as you watch more red clone troopers file into your home. You put the data-pad down and refuse to look at the details of the warrant. “There must be a mistake!” you exclaim as you come to his defense. “Fives wouldn’t do any of that. He’s a good soldier!”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” the commander begins while getting in your face. “Where is ARC-5555?”

“I told you already,” you plead as anger fills your voice. “I don’t know! He hasn’t been back since he left for Ringo Vinda.”

The commander grabs your arm, pulls you to the kitchen table, and forces you down in one of the chairs. “Stay here and don’t move.”

You sit at the table, watching as these unfamiliar red-armored clones ransack your home. They pull out everything in your drawers and cabinets, all your papers, all your things, and dump them out on the ground with blatant disregard. Your blood boils and you wish you can do something to make them stop, but you know resisting will only get you arrested. If that happens, you won’t be able to get to the bottom of these outlandish allegations.

The guardsmen start calling out ‘all clears’ as they canvas each room in your house, but as they head to your bedroom you take action. You don’t want them handling your personal items, grabbing your clothes, breaking your memories, or touching anything that belongs to Fives. You get up from the table and run into the bedroom only to see it’s already trashed. One of the guardsmen has the photo of you and Fives in his hands and you lunge at him to take it back.

“I told you to stay put!” the commander yells as he grabs your arm. He drags you back into the kitchen and slams you back onto the chair. You let out a yelp as you hit the chair with a thud, a bruise already forming on your arm from where he gripped you.

“Stop it!” you yell, pleading with them to leave you alone. “Please! He’s not here.” You start crying, clutching the photo to your chest to find some form of safety.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Captain Rex exclaims as he walks into the open doorway to see you crying at the table. He rushes over to you and grabs your chin softly to pull your eyes up to look into his. “Are you okay?” he asks gently. He lifts up your arms and moves his head around to look you over. “Did they hurt you?”

You shake your head and sniffle as the tears continue to roll down your face. Your tears anger the captain and he stomps off to confront the commander. “Fox!” he shouts while getting in the commander’s face. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“My job,” Commander Fox retorts, refusing to back down at the captain's harsh tone. “There’s a dangerous fugitive that needs to be found.”

“Well, obviously he’s not here,” Captain Rex articulates while gesturing his hands around the empty room. “But you have made quite the mess, so I suggest you and your men leave.”

“Careful captain,” Commander Fox begins while getting in Rex’s face. “You may have a reputation on the battlefield, but here, on Coruscant, I’m the one in charge.”

“I’m asking nicely,” Captain Rex sneers while closing the already short distance between their faces.

Commander Fox huffs and continues their staredown, raising the tension in the room to a whole new level. “Alright boys,” he finally calls out to his men. “Clear out, he’s not here.”

As the Coruscant Guard leave your home, you sit in bewilderment at the table, shaking and paralyzed from the terrifying encounter. Rex pours you a cup of water, sets it down, and sits at the table beside you. You both sit in silence for a moment. The only noise that can be heard is your soft sniffles as you try to process what is happening. You don’t know what to think and you’re too afraid to ask Rex, because you know he'll never lie to you.

Finally, Rex breaks the silence. “It’s true that Fives is missing.” He sighs heavily before continuing to explain what he knows. “There’s talk going around that he made an attempt on Chancellor Palapatine’s life.”

“That’s a lie!” you counter fiercely. “Fives wouldn’t do something like that and you know it.”

“I know,” Rex agrees as he traces circles on the table with his finger. “But it doesn’t change the current public perception or what’s happening because of it.” He pauses for a moment, scrunches his lips, and begins to speak again. “I have to ask,” he starts cautiously. “Has he tried contacting you?”

“No,” you answer adamantly, the question annoying you. “I haven’t heard from him since he left for Ringo Vinda.”

“I believe you,” he assures while putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Would… Would you like some help cleaning up?”

You nod your head and Rex gets up to start picking up the pieces of your newly destroyed home. He grabs the papers strewn across the floor and piles them neatly on the counter, then grabs a broom from the closet and starts sweeping up the broken dish pieces. Meanwhile, you continue to sit at the table in shock and disbelief at what has occurred. Your mind struggles to process any of it. All you want is for Fives to come home and fix everything.

You snap out of your brain fog when you feel a soft hand touch your shoulder. You flinch and glance up to see Rex looking at you with sympathy. “Do you want to pick up the bedroom?” he asks. “I don’t want to intrude into your private things.”

You take a deep breath and nod while getting up from your chair. Rex helps steady you on your feet and you nod again for him to let go. The transaction between the two of you is silent, but full of emotion, care, and concern. There are no words of comfort at this point. Your whole world is crashing down on you and there’s nothing either of you can do to stop it. You wonder if Fives will ever come back home, but you quickly shake your head to dismiss the intrusive thought.

You slowly walk into your bedroom, sweeping your head from one end to the other and sigh as yours and Fives’ things are strewn about in disarray. You walk through the littered floor towards your bed and think about the last time you were with him. You curl your lips as you try not to cry. Looking beside the bed you kneel down onto the ground and pick up the little Fives doll that was tossed so carelessly on the floor. You clutch it to your chest and weep in silence.

“Come on,” Rex whispers as he gently tugs on your shoulder. “It’s time to go.”

“No!” you yell as you throw yourself across the casket, clutching at it in desperation. “I’m not leaving without Fives.”

“Please,” Rex pleads as he fights the tears forming in his eyes while nudging you to get up.

“No!” you sob and cough through your words. “He needs to come home!”

Rex lets his tears fall unabated as his voice cracks. “He’s… He’s not coming home.”

“No!” you scream while pushing Rex away. “I'm not leaving without him!”

“I’m sorry,” Rex laments while pulling at your waist to drag you away from the casket. You kick and flail and scream for him to let you go. The heartbreak emanating from your voice is excruciating. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers through his tears.

“He needs to come home!” you continue to wail, desperately fighting against Rex’s grasp as he finally picks you up and begins to carry you away. “He promised me he’d come home!”

You slam your fists against Rex’s back. He grips you tighter. You stretch out your hands towards the casket, clawing out of desperation to get back to the man you love, but Rex continues to carry you further away. You watch in horror as they lay the lid down and lower him into the ground. Your agonizing screams fill the air as Rex struggles to maintain what’s left of his composure. The terror and anguish you feel as they shovel the dirt on top of him overwhelms you.

“Fives!” you call out desperately through your sobs. You wait for him to answer you, but an answer never comes.

Your reading time is once again interrupted by a knock at the door. You're still reeling from the last time you answered the door and you're cautious about opening it again. There’s a part of you that hopes it’s Fives. Actually, you want to believe it will be Fives this time. That he’ll walk in the door like he always does and explain that the accusations are false and he can come home. That your life can finally go back to some level of normalcy.

You open the door and to your surprise, it’s Captain Rex. Although, you get the sinking feeling that this isn’t a ‘Rex checking up on you’ type of call. His face and body language are unusually depressive. Your anxiety increases and your thoughts race, but then your stomach drops when he pulls Fives’ helmet around to his front. Your heart stops. You can’t breathe. The only time a helmet comes back without its soldier is when the soldier is dead.

Rex doesn’t have any words to say and neither do you. He reaches out with trembling hands and places Fives’ helmet gently in yours. You stare at it, the helmet that you’ve seen so many times before. The helmet that Fives wore proudly as an ARC trooper. The helmet he decorated with the memories of his fallen brothers. The helmet that you so playfully donned before he left on what you would now remember as his final mission.

You run your hand across the face plate and reality strikes you like a searing knife to the heart. Your legs give way and you crash onto the floor with a loud thump. Rex tries to catch you, but his reflexes are too late. He kneels down beside you in the doorway and looks you over for any injuries. You don’t notice his gaze or his soft touches as you continue to stare at Fives’ helmet, clearly in shock at the news that still went unspoken.

After several minutes of silence, you finally gain enough coherency to ask a single question. “What happened?”

Rex takes in a sharp breath and begins to explain the events on Coruscant's Level 1325. You listen as well as you can, not really understanding most of the military stuff. There is a part of you that doesn’t want to know and a part of you that needs to know. As Rex continues to speak, you pull out choice words from his explanation and let them float around in your mind as you try to comprehend any of it. Much of what is said flies over you as your mind shuts down.

At the story's completion, you ask another question. “Did he suffer?” You gently stroke the side of the helmet while you wait for the answer.

“No,” Rex replies while trying to hide his emotions. “It… It was quick.”

“Did he die alone?” you ask further, showing barely any emotion and refusing to look Rex in the eyes.

“I…” Rex begins with a slight strain in his voice, but he pauses and puts his emotions back in check. “I held him while he passed.”

You continue to caress the helmet, lost somewhere in your own mind, pondering everything that has been said and all the things that have gone unsaid. You break your own silence and ask one more important question. “Who shot him?”

This time you turn your head to look Rex in the eyes. You want to know. You want to know his name. You want to know the name of the man who killed your beloved Fives. Your apathetic gaze visibly shakes Rex and he shifts uncomfortably on the floor. You can tell he doesn’t want to tell you, but you need to know. You can’t hope to move on in any sense of the word until you hear his murderer’s name. “You owe it to Fives,” you remind the captain. “Tell me his name.”

Rex sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. You watch as he mulls it over in his mind, his facial and eye movements clearly showcasing the options he is contemplating. Rex opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it again, fighting the protocol to not release the information, but he eventually caves. “It was Commander Fox.”

You start to chuckle, startling Rex with your unusual response. You lean your head back against the wall and laugh while remembering your terrifying encounter with Commander Fox. “He was killed by one of his brothers?” you rhetorize while tracing over the helmet with your finger. You want to cry, but you can’t, so you let out your emotions the only way you can. “Killed by a clone… One of his own kind,” you snort and don a half smile. “How ironic.”

Rex tilts his head to the side and furrows his brow in concern. “Are you alright?”

You stop caressing the helmet and slowly turn to look at the captain with a sarcastic smile. “No.”

The days are all but a blur. You don’t remember much after Rex brought you home from the funeral. All you know is you’re back at home, laying on your bed, spiraling into grief's dismal embrace. You think Rex visited you a couple times, leaving behind food and a promise that the 501st will be there for you for as long as you need them to be. It must have been a sweet gesture, but you never paid attention when he spoke to you because your mind was miles away.

You lay quietly on your bed. What time is it? What day is it? How long has it been since you’ve eaten? When was the last time you opened the curtains? Is the world still spinning? Or is it just your world that came to a screeching halt? You wonder to yourself in the deep darkness of your once bright and life-filled home. Fives is the one that brought the light with him. Without him, what do you have? No one can replace Fives or the memories you have with him.

Your scrapbook lays open on the floor, collecting dust. You’re not sure when you opened it, but there it sits, full to bursting with photos of the life you shared with Fives. Love letters poke out of the sides of the different folds of pages. He never wrote his name on them, just the number five. They always made you smile. There are lots of smiles, and laughs, and joys abounding in the still memories of the book. All your dreams. All your plans. Everything. It’s all been broken.

You rotate all your unanswered questions around in your head in planetary motion, revolving around one, then another, and then the next one. You never stay on one question for too long. That would prove to be too painful. And you try your best to stay away from the ‘what ifs’, but they never leave your mind for long. There is no reconciliation for the death of someone you love. No. That’s incorrect. There is no reconciliation for the murder of someone you love.

Murder. Now, that’s a word you let spin around in your mind constantly. What is it about this word that’s so intriguing? When did it become so important that it captivates all your thoughts? You think about the ‘how’s’ and ‘why’s’ of murder. How does one murder? Why does one murder? Is it just for threats? Is it out of anger or desperation? Yes, in desperation one murders another. The pieces begin to click together in your mind as the picture becomes clearer.

Your answer is there, amongst the grief. It lies amidst the dearly departed. The dead have the answer you are looking for. Murder is for those who decide it belongs to them. Could you commit murder? Could death's tight grip be commanded by your feeble hands? Can murder be justice? Can justice be murder? You ramble away in your mind at all the possibilities, when you suddenly see flashes of red dance across your vision.

Red, the color of death and denial, but also, the color of the armor adorning the one who committed murder. The memories of the Commander come flooding back to your mind. You can hear the forceful words he spoke to you not so long ago. You can hear his pure disregard as he tramples on your memories. He’s laughing at you. He’s laughing at Fives. You just know it. How dare he. How dare he laugh at your sorrow, at your broken life, and at your dead lover. It’s disgusting.

Why does he get to laugh and you have to cry? Why does he get to live a free life, while Fives’ cold flesh rots away beneath the earth? You finally connect the dots as electricity sparks throughout your brain. You jolt up in bed and look around as if coming out of a daze. “Murder,” you mumble to yourself as the wheels turn. “A life for a life.” The immoral ideas begin to solidify. “I’ll repay him in his own currency.” you smile as you begin to develop your plan of revenge.

You pull out a data-pad and start typing out your ideas. You type something, delete it, then type something else, continuing the process for days. You think about all the different ways you can accomplish your goal. As the leader of the Coruscant Guard, he won’t be easy to take out. You have to be devious and underhanded with your methods. This type of operation will require more intelligence than power. You continue to type away on your data-pad, smiling at your own devilish genius.

At long last, after months of research, stalking, and planning, you have your attack strategy. The last Friday of every month the Coruscant Guard drops in to 79s for a night out where they relax, drink, and unwind with whatever beautiful lady catches their eyes. It’s the perfect ploy. You know exactly what time they’ll be there, where they’ll sit, what they’ll drink, when the commander will be alone, and how you’ll seduce him into your lustful honey-filled trap.

Tonight is the night for you to execute your plan of sweet revenge. You turn the radio on, blasting your favorite music while dancing around the room. The lyrics fill your mind in preparation for the big night. Stepping into a hot shower, you let the water wash all your worries down the drain. You get out and peruse through your closet, sliding the hangers around until you find your favorite dress. Sleek and sexy, with a glittering shimmer, it was Fives’ favorite.

After slipping the dress on, you sit down at your vanity mirror, swaying your head to the music. You brush out your hair and arrange it in your favorite style. Next, you pick out a gorgeous set of earrings and a matching necklace to adorn your ears and neck. You then grab your make-up tray and apply your foundation and a bit of blush. To complete the look, you apply your eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, and a bold lipstick. You smack your lips to spread it out evenly.

You look at yourself in the mirror with a satisfied smirk. There isn’t a soldier on Coruscant who can resist you now. You look over at Fives’ helmet sitting on the edge of your vanity and you smile fondly. You pick it up gently and kiss it, leaving an imprint of your lipstick behind. A giggle escapes your mouth and you put the helmet down. You give it a soft caress, then grab your favorite perfume and spritz your neck with it. This particular scent always drove Fives crazy.

You give yourself a satisfied nod and make your way back to the closet. You open the little hidden compartment and pull out a locked case. You input the combination and pull out the ELG-3A blaster pistol Fives gave to you for self-defense in case he wasn’t there to protect you. It’s a small and elegant weapon, easily concealable, and more importantly, can kill. You strap it to your thigh under your dress and turn to look at yourself one more time in the mirror. It’s time.

Friday nights are club nights at 79s, which means the music is blaring and the bass is pounding. You enter the bar and the smell of alcohol and musk fills your nose. You see your target sitting at the bar alone, his bright red armor giving him away. As you approach the bar, the bartender asks what you want to drink and you respond with a simple cocktail. As you sit down, you catch the Commander glancing at you with mild interest, so you give him a small smile in response.

“Put her on my tab,” the commander instructs with a raise of his glass. Perfect, you’ve caught his attention.

“Well, aren’t you a gentleman,” you smile while turning your body to face the commander, crossing your legs seductively in the process. He puts his drink down and stares at your gorgeous figure with a smirk, clearly intrigued by what he sees.

“I know a pretty face when I see one,” the commander asserts with confidence.

“And a connoisseur of fine women I see,” you point out with fake confidence to bolster his confidence.

“You live around here?” the commander questions as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Just got in actually,” you lie as you twirl the fruit in your cocktail with a toothpick. “I’ve had a long day and wanted a fun night out to unwind.” You pull a piece of fruit off with your lips, enticing him with your flirty demeanor.

“Well,” the commander slams back the rest of his drink and motions to the bartender for another round. “You’ve come to the right place, darling.”

You force a smile at the commander's words, but internally you’re a raging storm. That particular pet name is not something you want to hear from his filthy mouth. That’s the name Fives called you. You flash back to the last time Fives said the word ‘darling’ and you try not to let the emotion get the better of you. You take a large sip of your drink to try and purge the image from your mind. You only have one goal tonight and you can’t let yourself get emotional.

“Easy baby,” the commander chuckles while watching you take the large swig. “We’ve got all night.”

“You have a name, soldier?” you ask playfully while putting your drink back down.

“Fox,” he answers while staring at you lewdly. You can tell he’s getting a buzz and his mental fortitude is slowly slipping, but that’s exactly what you want to happen. “What’s yours?” he asks in return.

“Ladies don’t kiss and tell,” you shoot back with a frisky smile and a wink. You can tell you're getting closer to trapping him in your web. A little more alcohol and a little more seduction, and you’ll have him right where you want him.

“We’ll see about that,” Fox challenges in response to your teasing. He slams back his drink again and gets up off his stool to get closer to you. He’s so close you can smell the alcohol on his breath and the heat radiating from his body, as his thighs brush up against you. He stares into your beautiful eyes with lust and smirks. “Come join me on the dance floor.” He flips his hand over for you to take hold of as permission to go with him.

You look at his eyes and see the glaze forming over them. You prefer that he drinks a couple more rounds before progressing further, but the seduction piece of the plan is equally as important as the incapacitated part. A couple sessions on the dance floor wouldn’t hurt your mission. You bite your lip and look into his eyes. With slight hesitation, you grab his hand and accept the invitation to dance with him.

“At a girl,” he praises while guiding you off the stool and leading you to the dance floor. The music is blasting and powerful. You spend the next several minutes dancing with the man that killed the love of your life and you can’t help but think it’s disgusting. But, for the sake of the mission, and for your beloved Fives, you do it anyway. You let yourself get lost in the bass beats of the music as his foreign hands caress your body while you collide in feverish movements.

You watch his movements carefully, waiting to see when the opportune time will be to pull him away from the crowd. You can feel his hands getting sloppy and his actions get less and less intentional. Of course, it did help that you paid the bartender in advance to slip a little something extra in the Commander’s drink. It won’t be enough to knock him out, because you want him awake, but it will be enough to slow his reaction time to the point where you can deal with him without issue.

You continue to move along to the beat of the music, but when his hands get a little too wild for your own comfort, you decide now is a good time to break from the dance floor. You stop his hand before it goes where you don’t want it, lean into his ear, and whisper. “Why don’t we take this back to your place.” You feel his body shudder from your hot breath.

“You read my mind,” he agrees as he pulls your waist close and gives you a kiss. You want to vomit, but you lean into it passionately to keep from raising suspicion. He breaks the kiss and haphazardly pulls you through the crowd of people to the back door. The drugs are beginning to affect him the way you planned. You put on a devious smile as he ironically leads you to his own death.

The two of you stumble out the door and into a dimly lit alleyway behind 79s. The brisk air gives you a slight chill as it touches your sweaty skin. Fox sways a little, then stumbles into you, pinning you against the brick wall. You gasp at his weight and give him a nudge to get off. He props himself up with one hand and puts the other up to hold his head like he’s dizzy. He blinks hard a couple times and you realize the time is approaching.

“Are you okay?” you ask with a little sarcasm in your voice.

“I…” Fox begins as he continues to hold his head. “I don’t feel so well.”

“That would be the drugs,” you reveal with an evil grin.

“What?” Fox slurs as he stumbles back, fighting the urge to fall over. “Drugs?”

“Do you know who I am?” you ask as you turn around to face away from him. You take a deep breath as you prepare yourself for what needs to be done.

He wobbles and blinks a few more times as he tries to focus on your face. “Should I?”

“You killed the man I loved,” you reveal as you turn back around to face the Commander with a maniacal grin. “And now, I’m going to kill you.”

“What?” Fox asks with shock and confusion. He goes to pull out his blaster, but it’s missing. Your plan covered everything. You conveniently took his blaster off him while on the dance floor and disposed of it. He was so enraptured by you, he didn’t notice you disarming him. Now he has no way to defend himself, making this an easy and quick job.

You pull the ELG-3A blaster out of the holster from under your dress and shoot Fox in the right kneecap. Fives taught you that trick to quickly incapacitate an attacker. Fox grunts in pain and staggers to the side, hunching over but still standing. You frown and decide to shoot the other kneecap for good measure. This time the Commander falls back onto the ground. You walk towards him while he attempts to drag himself backwards away from you, but he’s too slow.

“Don’t do this!” Fox pleads for his life as you approach, pain dripping from every slurred syllable.

The sound of his suffering invigorates you. This is the moment you have been waiting for. The murderer will now become the murdered. Sweet justice. The kind of justice needed during war. The kind of justice that can only be tasted by those brave enough to embrace it and its consequences. You place the muzzle against his temple and listen to him beg you for his life, but you simply smile at his pathetic pleas.

“For Fives,” you whisper as you pull the trigger.

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A03

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yessa-vie · 4 months

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❝HELLO, PRINCESS❞ — park seonghwa & kim hongjoong.

PAIRING. kim hongjoong x fem!reader x park seonghwa

GENDER/WARNINGS. enemies to lovers (without the lovers part). suggestive, but not really?. cursing. slight yandere behaviour. way too much fucking tension, i'm sorry.

SYNOPSIS. once your superiors called you saying they caught two of the leaders of the Black Pirates, you rushed to meet them at the abandon building they were in, but the conversation ended up getting a little out of hand.

WORD COUNT. 3,123.

NOTE. this is based on Ateez lore, also is an idea it's been going on and on in my head since i learned a bit more about their lore, once i saw the MATZ mv, idk, it just cliked and i couldn't stop thinking until i wrote it down. it was supposed to be more, but idk if i'll make this into a series or not, so there's a lot in the open. let me know if you wanna see this as a series (:

UPDATE: i did the series (here's the link).

IMPORTANT. this is a work of fiction, it has zero intent on portraing how any of the people quoted here are in real life.

The Black Pirates had been a problem for a few years now. Your family has always dealt with the rebels in Strickland, you grew up among great leaders, you were trained as one to succeed your parents when you reached a certain age, which would be four years from now, when you turned twenty-eight. Despite this, you had already led persecutions against those who participated in the rebellions since you were seventeen to eighteen years old, shortly after the appearance of the Black Pirates, led by a group called ATEEZ.

You had already managed to meet them at other times, never all in the same space. They were stealthy enough, they had given up their black clothes and fedoras for a while now, making it harder to find them in the crowd, they started to blend in, wear less flashy clothes, although they continued to cause problems to whoever was around.

The guards were no longer able to keep up with them, their incompetence making you laugh every time they returned empty-handed. Which leads to the situation you found yourself in now. Two of the eight members had been captured, or rather, allowed themselves to be captured. You didn't know their names, the few times you met them, there was never much friendly exchange of information.

All except for one. It was at the beginning, when you had your first direct contact with one of the ATEEZ, but curiously he couldn't fully comprehend your words. His stoic beauty didn't help much with the concentration process, especially when he looked so intensely at any information you provided, even if it didn't make sense to him.

He looked like a statue, a beautiful statue, an ancient painting, just like the ones you had seen stored deep in one of Strickland’s main command centers. The Fallen Angel, an 1847 painting by Alexandre Cabanel, a French painter. You knew that it was a copy of the original painting, but it didn't matter, because it was at that moment that you named the first member you had contact with.

Angel managed to escape a while later. The incompetence of the guards is already irritating the superiors. When the recordings were reviewed, the interaction between you and Angel caught the attention of the supervisors, who put you in the Search and Capture Team for all members of the Black Pirates. Over time, more and more interactions took place between you and the leaders, each time more intense and direct than the previous ones.

Angel, Serpent, Fox, Bear, Lion, Cat, Wolf, Squirrel. Each name earned for a specific reason. Angel and Squirrel were the last ones you had come into contact with, but as always, the guards' incompetence caused them both to escape, but not before Squirrel threw a slight wink in the direction of the security camera, knowing that you would see.

A disbelieving smile painted your lips when you saw that recording. Your eyes now saw the same recording followed by the transmission that had just ended, but now the smile was victorious as you walked in the direction where Squirrel and Serpent were, tied to chairs by iron chains.

“Leave us.”

“But ma’am -”

“Are you questioning a direct order?” At no point did your face leave the two chained to the chairs who were still looking ahead. Heads touching at the back. The smile returning to your lips with the movement and noise of boots against the concrete of the place where you were. “Don’t bother us until I call for you.”

The last soldier nodded before closing the metal door behind you. The cameras used by the two were still perfectly placed, but properly disconnected, the drones had been confiscated, some of the Black Pirates that followed them had been captured and were already heading to one of the confinement locations.

Despite the silence that ensued, neither of the two leaders looked at you, but the smile never left their lips. Your eyes passing through every detail of that space, absorbing any trace they left behind, even if deliberately. Over time you learned that everything was a clue, even if you didn't understand it at that exact moment.

As the boots came into contact with the concrete, Serpent opened his eyes, but they didn't find your figure, even as the sound of the boots on the concrete became closer, the pace was slow, not because you wanted to make an impact, no, that wasn't necessary, what you wanted was time to observe all the possible holes they could put any object into to continue the shitty revolution they wanted.

Your steps stopped at the beginning of the stone circle that the chairs were in, one of your feet was placed on top, a long sigh leaving your mouth as your hands rested on your hips on the leather belt of the special outfit. One last look around before your steps continued in front of Squirrel who finally opened his eyes, the smirk bringing a slight irritation, making your blood boil slightly. They thought they were intelligent, what irritated you was that they really were, but the guard wasn't the best either.

“Good to see you again, princess,” he purred the pet name. Your features were controlled, but internally you rolled your eyes. You knew who they were, just as they knew who you were. There was no need for an introduction between you, not since Angel disappeared from the compound he was staying at. “I knew I would see you again, but I didn’t expect it to be under these circumstances.”

“Don’t you like being tied up and having a woman looking you from above?”

You allowed yourself a sly smile, being greeted by another from Squirrel who looked you up and down, the smirk never leaving his lips, making you want nothing more than to wipe that fucking smile off.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I like it, especially if she’s you,” this time you couldn’t hold back a cynical laugh, which mattered little to Squirrel, “but public places aren’t part of my fetish.”

“Funny, because every time we meet you are in public and open places, just like this.” Squirrel refused to answer, making you close your mouth with a small toothless smile, continuing to walk around the stone circle, stopping quickly in front of Serpent, his eyes closed, his head tilted back, leaving the tattoo that adorned his neck visible. “Matz.”

Although you didn't notice the smirk Serpent gave, you saw the movement of his Adam's apple, your eyes quickly moving up to his face, perfectly sculpted, just like the last time you saw him. The brown eyes slightly hidden by hooded eyelids reminded you of the first time you noticed the duality that the leaders possessed, making you change your approach for the third time since you had joined the Search and Capture Team.

“It’s our unit,” his voice was low, gravelly, you ignored the shock that ran down your spine when you noticed his eyes roaming every part of your face and body, his mouth slightly ajar as his damn tongue – that seemed incapacitated to be kept inside his mouth – made small appearances between Serpent's teeth. “We don’t all have a unit name, but we all have units that overlap...” Your eyes fell on Serpent’s tongue that touched the left corner of his mouth, a movement that didn’t go unnoticed by him, causing a sideways smile to appear there. “What is it, princess? Cat’s got your tongue?”

Your mind ignored the automatic connection with the leader you had named Cat, but the millisecond it took for that to happen was captured by Serpent's vigilant eyes, making his eyebrows arch slightly, making his eyes momentarily remember the bobba that you used to take when you weren't searching for them all over Stricktland.

“Why does it matter to you? Are you trying to say that you care about me?”

“First of all, your eyes never left my tongue, so don’t blame me for worrying about losing it,” the lighthearted smile returned to his lips just as the eyelids fell over his eyes, returning the tantalizing look he always had, managing to get under your skin. At your eye roll, the smile only grew, “there are a lot of things I like and still want to do with my tongue, I wish I could keep it for a little while longer.”

"You can barely keep it in your mouth," Squirrel said laughing, it being the most genuine laugh you've ever heard come out of him, being imitated by Serpent, making you watch them for a moment, seeing the duality happen in front of you, the duality which always broke the image you had created of them over time. “What’s the second thing?”

Your eyes continued to dart from one to the other as Serpent stared at you, his eyes wider but still hooded, his smile now shyly present but still there taunting you.

“Second of all, I thought we already made it clear that we care about your well-being princess,” the pet name rolled beautifully in his lips, making shivers run through your body and you martyred yourself for it. Ignoring your body's signals for that simple sentence spoken that way by Serpent, but he – somehow – noticed the effect, letting out a small nasal laugh. “Cute,” he said simply, his body moving away from the back of the chair, his face as close as it's been in a long time, “but I want to know, princess, what are you going to do with us now that you've got us tied up the way you wanted?"

You allowed a smile to appear on your lips, noticing when Serpent's eyes fell on your mouth, using the opportunity to get even closer to him, his mouth mere centimeters away. A warm breath came out of your mouth, and you noticed Serpent moisten his own lips before you turned your face away, moving closer to him, your lips lightly touching his earlobe and you noticed the hairs on the back of Serpent's neck rising, making your smile increase.

“Who said I wanted you tied by iron chains to a chair?” You quickly walked away, boots firmly against the floor as you retraced your steps, standing exactly in the middle of the two chairs, facing the door your team was waiting for any sign of you. Their eyes fell on the cameras that surrounded them. “Wasn’t what you did last night enough?”

Your eyes fell on the two pairs of eyes that were watching you curiously. The security image of Squirrel and Serpent entering a store and destroying the objects there, returning to your mind, the angry screams of your superiors still reverberating in your eardrums, the loss of the work the government was doing, the work and time to be able to replace everything that had been destroyed. To make matters worse, the recording of the destruction they had wrought had already been disseminated, but this was a problem for the Information Transaction Control people, despite their job being Crisis Management, your only job now was the Black Pirates and their leaders.

“Told you she looked tired,” Squirrel said more to Serpent who just nodded, making you roll your eyes at the comment, ignoring when their worried eyes were directed at you, “did your superiors not let you sleep?”

“My job is to catch you, so when you show up in the break of dawn destroying government property,” you sighed, climbing into the circle, standing directly in front of Squirrel, eyes watching your every move, you noticed his movement in the chair as you bent down, hands resting on the arm of the chair, cornering him in some way, but none dared to show any other type of reaction, “I’m the one who has to lose my sleep and go after you.”

“Glad we made your life easier and came here, getting caught in the process.”

Squirrel’s cocky smile made you let out a weak sigh followed by a sideways smile, barely noticing when he got closer to you, his face millimeters away from yours, but you refused to move, maintaining eye contact with him, ignoring when you felt his knees touch your leg, ignoring the way he opened his legs enough for him to corner you this time.

Before you could react, he lifted his legs, wrapping yours around his own, pulling you in such a way that you lost your balance, resting on the back of the chair, before realizing an arm wrapped around your waist, while two hands held your wrists. Squirrel had a small smirk and his mouth was slightly open, your breaths were mixing, making it take a while for you to realize that Serpent had left his chair and was now behind you, one of his arms wrapping around your waist, but before you could say anything thing, Serpent's hand covered your mouth, his breath in your ear, making your blood boil.

“We don’t want anything drastic to happen, do we, princess?”

You could feel the smile on Serpent's lips, imagining it was almost a copy of the smile you could see on Squirrel. Despite the quick head movement, Serpent was faster, clenching your jaw tighter, throwing your head back, using his right shoulder to hold your head in place.

“Now princess, don’t be like that, you know us well enough to have expected this to happen somehow,” Squirrel’s legs let go of yours, making Serpent squeeze you tighter against his body, and you cursed under your breath when you realized how firm his body was, the fit was almost perfect to yours, making any movement impossible, “I love our cat and mouse games.”

Squirrel’s voice was low, hoarse, he approached you and Serpent like a predator. The truth is, you should expect it, Squirrel was stealthy, quick and smart, whenever he had been caught there had been a reason behind it; Serpent was slender, charming, but mysterious, never allowing you to see beyond what he wanted to show you. The two of them together and being captured should have told you enough.

The second Serpent freed your mouth, Squirrel placed tape over it, feeling Serpent's hand go down to your throat, fingers still gripping your jaw, mouth close enough to your ear for you to hear and feel every breath and reaction from him. Squirrel looked at you with a different sparkle in his eyes.

“They sent the drone; we have to go.”

Serpent's voice made your entire body shake, not just because of the proximity, or the tone, but precisely because of the information. A drone. The others were close, the drone was the sign that they were running out of time, again you would lose them, but this time it was all your fault.

“Unfortunately, our time is short, but I look forward to our next meeting, princess.”

Squirrel left your point of view, leaving your wrists to be taken care of by Serpent who finally let go of your neck, turning to face you, a place that was previously used by Squirrel. You could hear the other one walking, trying to memorize the paths they used so you could follow them as soon as they released you and you managed to escape the possible restraints they would place on you.

“I'm sorry, princess, but we can't risk it,” Serpent said quietly, the affection he felt on your waist startling you for a moment, trying to ignore how hot that specific part of your body had become, ignoring the shock that that simple movement caused to your body as a whole. “We’ve already risked so much for you.”

Before you could have any kind of reaction, a cloth was placed in front of your mouth, at the same time as the tape had been ripped off. They were going to drug you, but as soon as you realized, the control of your legs disappeared. The last memory was of Serpent's arms wrapping around you and a murmur coming from Squirrel.

All eight of them were eating dinner that Wooyoung had made, Seonghwa and Hongjoong were hungry, considering how long they had stayed in that building, waiting for you and your team. Both of them just hoping that what they did that afternoon wouldn't cause them too much trouble.

Not that the others would say anything, they all knew how each of them felt about you. The problem was what Nightingale would say when they found out how irresponsible they had been, just to be able to stay longer in your presence, to see you again, to feel your skin and scent.

Almost instantly, a message arrived for them, a small alert noise and the eight were quickly on their feet, their eyes scanning the space they were in while Yunho went in the direction of the beeper, opening the message that was accompanied by a small digital bird and everyone already knew what to expect with that.

“You are lucky that I already expect you to do this and I managed to prevent you from being seen, but I need you to be more careful and obey the rules, not flirting instead of helping us reach our final goal. In any case, congratulations on what you managed to do in the last few days, wait for the next contact. If anything, you know how to contact me.”

All eight exchanged glances and sighs. That was better than they could have expected, but it also explained what had happened when Seonghwa and Hongjoong left the building, getting into the car with Wooyoung to go to the complex. For a moment, everyone's thoughts went to you, a simple exchange of looks between the two older ones said enough, they should have taken better care of you, but time was short, Yeosang had already sent the drone, they needed to prioritize their safe exit.

“Do you think she’s okay?”

Jongho's voice was low, his eyes searching the elders' eyes, seeking some kind of confirmation, that he shouldn't worry, but Matz had said how they left you, there was a 50-50 chance that you were okay, and it was what they wanted to focus on.

“We should have kept her further away from the door.”

“For her to possibly roll over and fall over the railing?” Hongjoong fussed a little and Seonghwa just gave him a warning look, noticing the leader of the eight running his fingers through his hair nervously. “She’s going to be fine, worse has happened and she survived.”

The eight nodded, but they knew it was just an automatic reaction, not necessarily one they agreed or trusted, not until they saw you in one piece, even from afar.

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somedaylazysomeday · 3 months

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Tied Up In You

You have been dating Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard for a while. This is a small collection of the experiments, trials, and close moments you two have shared in that time.

Part One - Warnings for piv sex (in flashback and in current tense), mentions of scratching, mentions of marks, mentions of blood, reader descriptions of lingerie, a single spank, use of restraints, light dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), utter fluff toward the end.

Part Two - Warnings for angst, minor dissociation, vague references to being pressured, massage, oral sex (male receiving).

#ink's self reblogs #reblogging previous fanfic february works #star wars #star wars the clone wars #commander fox #commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert fic #fem!reader #lemon #not suitable for minors #minors dni #fox #fox x reader #fox x you

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samspenandsword · 2 years

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Kinktober 2022/23 Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Summary: Kinktober Day 2 — A/B/O with Commander Fox Pairing: Commander Fox/Reader; fem!reader with no mentions of her appearance. Rating: Explicit, 18+ (Younglings, foundlings, and cadets BEGONE!) Warnings: Explicit sexual content, smut; A/B/O dynamics, unprotected PIV (PRACTICE SAFE SEX), oral sex (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), knotting, liberal use of the titles “alpha” and “omega,” heat and rut, mention of sex toys, clear consent, alpha!Fox, omega!reader, language. Word Count: 7.7k (don’t fucking look at me)

Sam's Pen and Sword Kinktober 2023 Taglist Form

Thank you, anon, for requesting this prompt! I’ve never written A/B/O before and I really maybe went overboard with the worldbuilding aspect of it all, but I hope everyone enjoys nonetheless!

Fox was in the middle of getting a coffee refill when a scent that was decidedly not coffee filled his nostrils. And it was just his luck that it was coming from the break room. Striding inside, Fox's eyes instantly zeroed in on the source.

And it was you.

One of the reasons Fox was so rarely seen without his helmet was because it helped filter the constant onslaught of alpha, beta, and omega pheromones. It wasn't so bad on the surface, where the rich civvies and politicians lived. The ones who could afford suppressants and perfumes that helped them continue with their regular lives. But in the undercity and lower levels, where the poor and working classes were forced to slum it with subpar suppressants or none at all, the stench could be overwhelming.

But it went further than that. In general, the clones weren't all that different from the overall galactic population: the majority of them were betas. But the last thing Fox wanted was to be bombarded by the scents of his brothers who had presented. No thanks.

So he rarely removed his helmet.

It did wonders at blocking his own scent as well.

Fox had presented early as an alpha, and had long gotten used to the realities of it. But one thing that endlessly frustrated him was the way the scent of an omega could rile him up, no matter how hard he tried to fight it.

So as Fox caught a whiff of you in the break room, standing near the coffee machine with Thorn, he could feel his cock grow hard, painfully restricted against his codpiece.

But he rolled his shoulders back. Nevermind that he didn't need this right now, you were his coworker. He wasn't going to disrespect you by making a scene. Or by giving any indication of the effect your omega hormones had on him.

That would just needlessly embarrass the both of you.

As a doctor employed by the GAR, you were stationed permanently at the medical facilities on Coruscant overseeing the regular physicals and check-ups of the clone army. It was rare for Fox to see you outside the medical facilities seeing just how many patients you had. Your team was small, only four doctors total for the entire Grand Army of the Republic. So Fox knew you were just as busy as he was on a good day. Seeing you in the break room, relaxing and talking with friends, was a rare sight.

Fox wanted to rationalize that that was why he was suddenly reacting to your scent, but he'd known you were an omega from the first time you'd met. He'd long grown accustomed to your scent.

This was different.

He knew what the change in your scent meant. He just didn't know why it had affected him so potently.

So again, he set his shoulders and walked into the room like there was nothing wrong.

Surprisingly, it was you who caught sight of him first. While the two of you were certainly familiar and friendly with each other, Fox wasn't one of your closest friends. Not because you didn't like him, or because you two clashed, but rather because you just didn't interact with him as much as some others. At least, not face-to-face. As the Marshal Commander for the Coruscant Guard, he received your reports concerning the well-being and physicals of all those under his command. So the majority of your communication was electronic. The occasional times you did interact with him in person were either if you came to him directly with a health concern about someone in the guard, or if you passed in the halls.

Or met in the break room, like now.

You sniffed lightly, but it wasn't the scent of your coffee that hit you. But rather it was the muffled, faint scent of an alpha.

You recognized Fox's scent, long having grown accustomed to it. But there was something different about it this time. Something deeper. Something richer.

Your thoughts about it were cut off as Thorn caught sight of his brother, waving him over.

"Doc brought over some of her own stash," he said, waving at the percolator. "Tastes way better than the GAR shit."

You chuckled, bringing your own mug to your lips as Fox tilted his bucketed head at you.

"Doc Carsen's always warning me about my caffeine intake," he said. You had noticed that Fox's voice, no matter how similar it was to his brothers', was just slightly deeper and raspier.

You smiled a little. "I'm not gonna tell. It would be a little hypocritical of me."

You toasted him with your own cup of caf, not your first, or second, or even third of the day.

Or fourth.

"You better keep bringing us this stuff," Thorn said, inhaling his own deeply.

You grinned. "And get in trouble with Carsen? Not gonna happen."

"Ahh, but Doc!"

You laughed.

Fox suddenly had a small problem on his hands. He'd come here to take a quick break and get some more caf. But now with your scent invading his senses, he didn't want to take off his helmet.

But he also didn't want to be rude to you and Thorn by taking off. Not when neither of you had seemed to notice anything wrong.

And Thorn was a beta, so he wasn't going to notice anything, period. And you were a doctor. You didn't usually pay any mind to this sort of thing. In fact, you were the one who'd instituted proper health procedures and measures for the clones who'd presented, the Kaminoans having not bothered.

If you noticed anything, it would be fine. You were a professional. But you hadn't noticed anything yet.

So Fox slipped off his helmet.

The times when you'd seen Fox without his helmet were few and far between. While he obviously hadn't taken to the extreme hairstyles some of his brothers had, his hair was distinct for the way he let his curls grow out in the front, falling messily over his eyes. And for the grey strands starting to come in at his temples. Fox also didn't have any tattoos across his face, or any tattoos that you'd ever noticed. His eyes, much like his brothers', were all his own, despite there being no perceptible difference in size, shape, or color. Though Fox always seemed to have dark circles under his eyes, and his face always had a more serious set than some of his brothers.

But it was none of this that caught your attention.

It was the fact that as Fox removed his bucket, the scent of him grew stronger and hit something deep inside you.

You made no physical indication of it beyond ducking back into your coffee, mind whirring. You had long gotten used to Fox's scent. You had! It wouldn't be good for a doctor dealing with alphas and omegas all the time to be regularly affected by their pheromones.

So why were you suddenly so sensitive to Fox's scent?

"Good, huh?" Thorn was saying proudly to Fox as the marshal commander sucked back some caf.

Fox looked at you, a small, surprised, but pleased smile playing on his lips. He lightly toasted you, like you'd done him. "Thank you."

Something inside you rumbled, preening at the little token of appreciation and lapping at it like a bowl of warm milk.

You did your best to smile back at him, but inside, you realized what was happening.

You were going into heat.

You'd been waiting for it for about a week now. While suppressants and forms of birth control were most certainly beneficial, you personally, as both a doctor and an omega, advocated for forms of suppressants that didn't completely erase heats and ruts. Just suppressed them. Minimized their symptoms. Or maybe reduced them to once a year. Completely suppressing heats and ruts wreaked havoc on alphas' and omegas' natural, biological functions and needs. And it could even affect your systems and bodies negatively in the long run. So you, personally and professionally, recommended other methods of birth control and suppressants. You yourself used one that regulated your heat to happen once a year, rather than every few months. You had an implant, embedded in the dip of your hip. But there were other forms too — pills, patches, shots even. Implants were the most common and popular method, and lasted the longest. And there were different types of implants. Types that regulated heats and ruts, but didn't double as birth control (like yours did), so that alphas and omegas could still get pregnant without worrying about constant heats and ruts. There were types of implants that reduced the time heats and ruts lasted, minimizing their symptoms to help them become more manageable. Made them less agonizing for people who didn't have a partner to spend their cycle with.

There were lots of options out there for alphas and omegas to regulate their sexual health. And it was your job and passion to make sure those options were known, available, and accessible to the army you served.

But your once-yearly heat did still make your life a little awkward on occasion. Especially when you were surrounded by alphas and omegas like you sometimes were. It was a little strange for them to suddenly sense their doctor going into heat.

As you and the commanders made idle chat and gossip, drinking caf all the while, you casually picked up your pad and sent a message to Carsen, letting him know that you'd need the next 10 days off or so. It was a long time, but Carsen was very understanding and accommodating when it came to your yearly heats, especially since he himself was an omega. You'd warned him a few weeks ago that you were expecting your heat soon, and he'd made sure to check in with you periodically about how you were progressing. Each omega and alpha experienced heats and ruts differently. Yours, personally, lasted anywhere from 6-8 days, which was on the longer end of the spectrum.

It was hard being partnerless during it, but you'd managed before. Either by using your extensive collection of toys or making an appointment with one of the clinics on Coruscant that specialized in caring for partnerless alphas and omegas.

And judging by how sensitive you were to Fox's scent already, you might just have to do that this year.

Within about fifteen minutes, you were acutely aware of how Fox was beginning to affect you. How had you never noticed how pretty his eyes were? How had you never paid more attention to his posture: the look of his thighs framed by his kamas, the curve of his armored back, his habit of clasping his hands behind his back when he wasn't holding something, the way his throat bobbed with each sip of caf, and the way his tongue flicked out to swipe away the remnants on his lips.

Goddamn it, you knew it was somewhat because of the combination of hormones beginning to rage through you, but you were also clear-headed enough still to acknowledge, unaided by your heat, that Fox was a beautiful man. And you'd never noticed that before now.

And now was, quite frankly, the worst time to be noticing.

You would definitely have to make an appointment at the clinic.

You weren't ashamed of being an omega. Not even a little. In fact, you made no effort to hide yourself. It wasn't something you let define you, or something that you let affect your personality and temperament. In truth, the biological classes of alpha and omega related more to sexual and reproductive health than anything else. From a purely medical standpoint. And psychologically, there was zero concrete evidence that it changed who you were. It didn't define your personality, or your temperament, or even your sexual preferences and role. Anyone who said otherwise was someone that needed to be educated about how to properly recognize pro-Alpha and anti-Omega propaganda.

And if they continued to insist that alphas and omegas had set roles, that only men were alphas, and that they were meant to dominate their female omegas, run.

That was a big fucking red flag.

You as a medical doctor and member of the GAR did your best to educate your patients on their biological needs and processes, but also on how to keep themselves safe from unwanted attention and predators, how to protect themselves against false information and propaganda, and how to do that all while fighting to save and protect the Republic. No matter how they presented, it didn't define who they were. And they should never let someone tell them that it did.

You didn't.

You were just a regular doctor who happened to be an omega. One who cared about her patients and their comfort and health. One who had her own hobbies and likes and dislikes.

But right now, you were going into heat. And before long, your hormones and sexual needs would be overriding just about everything else.

You, at one point, made a pithy remark about a few choice senators, causing Thorn to laugh loudly, and Fox to chuckle.

Your thighs clenched at the sound of his deeper, raspier laugh.

Fox's eyes shot to you, darkening considerably, and his nostrils flared just the slightest bit.

It wasn't much, but it was enough.

Within a few more minutes, Fox drained the rest of his coffee, replaced his bucket on his head, and left the break room.

"Workaholic," Thorn called after him with affection. He loved his brother, but Fox worked too much. He shot you a look as well. "Both of you."

You smiled lightly in response, something inside you whining and licking at its wounds. Fox had left because you'd made him uncomfortable.

You felt awful.

The night found you in your quarters. Small, but private, they were the best place for you right now. The last thing you wanted was to go around reeking of Eau de Horny Omega while everyone else was just trying to go about their lives.

Besides, your heat was going to fully hit any hour now. Best you already be packed with your creature comforts and toys, waiting for the clinic escort to pick you up.

Your pad suddenly pinged with an incoming comm.

It was Commander Fox.

Can you meet? Need to talk to you about something.

You bit your lip. You still felt awful about this afternoon. You hadn't meant to make things awkward between the two of you. You really hadn't.

Sure. Where and when?

Your pad pinged again.

Courtyard? Ten minutes?

The medical facility's gardens and courtyard. It wasn't far from your quarters.

See you soon.

It took you barely five minutes to get down there, and your rational brain kicked at your hindbrain as you wrapped your cardigan tighter around yourself. You weren't cold. Quite the opposite. Heats made your body temperature rise. But you didn't want to make Fox even more uncomfortable by showing up smelling like you were. Not to mention, seeing him would likely accelerate your heat. It wasn't smart to see him this close to it hitting. But you weren't exactly thinking very clearly right now.

You weren't sure why he needed to meet with you, though you could guess that it wasn't good, but you weren't going to try and make this worse by shoving your pheromones in his face.

He didn't need that right now.

You sat on a little bench in the courtyard, shaded by a large, flowering tree. You could smell the citrusy scent of the blooms, hoping it helped to mask your own scent.

Maybe you should've layered up even more.

But your mind went blank as Fox's distinctive red and white armor rounded the corner and came into view.

You weren't sure whether you were relieved or disappointed that his helmet was firmly in place.

He stopped several feet away from you. And in the calm of the evening, there were few others in the courtyard.

You were alone.

"Hi," you said, awkward and unsure.

Something about your posture made him soften his own. Like he was afraid of sending you running.

"Thanks for meeting me," he said. "I... wanted to apologize."

"Oh."

Wait what?

"What, what?"

His head dipped, like he couldn't bear to look you in the eyes. "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Make me uncomfortable?"

"It was unprofessional of me to react like I did. To get affected by you like I did. I don't want things to become awkward between us. I consider you a friend, and the last thing I ever wanted was to distress you, or make you uneasy and uncomfortable around me. But I understand if this is something you can't forgive."

"Wait, Fox —"

"I won't keep you. I just had to see you and apologize before you get overwhelmed by everything. Good night, Doc."

Your jaw was practically scraping the ground. Here you were, thinking you'd been the one to make things awkward. You were the one who needed to apologize! And yet, Fox had retreated this afternoon because he'd been embarrassed and ashamed of his reaction. He thought he'd made you uncomfortable. So he'd asked you to meet him, in a public place, where you wouldn't feel trapped and had every opportunity to run away if you'd wanted, to apologize.

It was entirely unneeded. And entirely considerate.

And entirely endearing.

Warmth rushed through you as your little hindbrain practically basked in the feeling.

"Wait, Fox!"

You hurriedly stood, rushing forward a couple steps to stop him. He did stop, just before he rounded the corner, to look back at you.

He stopped again very suddenly though. And you abashedly realized why. Without the cover of the scented tree, your own scent was now front and center. And your cardigan had fallen open, allowing your glistening skin to show.

You hurriedly pulled it closed again, clasping it at your neck to cover your glands, cheeks heating with guilt.

"You didn't have to apologize, Fox. I'm the one who couldn't control myself earlier. And I'm sorry for that. And for the fact that I made you so uncomfortable that you felt like you had to apologize. It's natural for alphas and omegas to react like this to each other during heats or ruts, but I consider you a friend, too, Fox. I value that so much, and I'm genuinely sorry for this, and for all the stress I've caused you."

You hugged your cardigan as close as possible, shrinking your neck into the fabric, trying to cover as much of your skin as you could.

Fox studied you. "Do you need to go?" You'd never heard his voice so gentle.

You did. You'd been right. Seeing Fox was accelerating your heat. But you couldn't bear the thought of leaving this conversation unfinished. Not without fully resolving things with him.

"Not yet."

Fox took a few tentative steps closer to you, but he was still several feet away. You completely understood.

There's nothing to apologize for, mesh'la," Fox said, his voice still so gentle. You'd been around the GAR long enough to recognize the term, and it made every part of your body tingle.

Fox suddenly stepped closer.

"Thank you," you breathed, feeling like you could relax for the first time since he'd left the break room that afternoon.

As he came closer to you, his scent had gotten stronger. It was still muffled and muted, masked by that heavy armor he wore. It was a good thing, you knew. Had you been able to smell him fully at this point in your pre-heat cycle, it probably would've fully triggered your heat.

But he still smelled so good.

You didn't really understand it. You'd smelled tons of alphas before. Whether as part of your job or just in regular life. You'd also smelled alphas while you were in heat before. And yes, they smelled better while you were running on hormones more than anything else, but never like this. And you'd even smelled alphas in rut before. Again, they smelled good — salivatingly, pussy-clenchingly good.

But every scent in your memory paled in comparison to Fox.

It was all you could do to not either run away right now or jump him in the middle or the courtyard.

You stomped on your little hindbrain. You could control yourself, damn it. You were a responsible, whole-ass grown adult woman with a job and a medical degree and yet here you were, acting like a horny, desperate omega experiencing the first year of heats all over again.

Get a hold of yourself, you mentally slapped your brain.

But your resolve was challenged as Fox slipped his helmet off, cupping it under his arm and studying you with compassionate, gentle, but undeniably dark eyes.

"You don't look too far off," he said. "You sure you don't need to go?" There was no judgment.

"I probably do," you said, forcing a chuckle. "I made an appointment at a clinic earlier."

The low growl that suddenly tore from Fox made you jump, and as soon as he realized what had happened, he froze.

Your wide eyes suddenly saw what you hadn't noticed before.

His posture was very different from usual, changed from the regular, relaxed, but still commanding set of his shoulders and clasp of his arms behind his back. Instead his posture was very still. Watchful. Rigid, wound tight. Like any wrong move was going to send him running or pouncing. His shoulders were stiffer, like he was trying to physically hold himself back from something, but it didn't mask the way his eyes quite literally never left you. Not since he'd caught your scent once more. His hands were clenched into fists, one cradling his bucket and the other staunchly by his side. His neck craned towards you, his eyes dark under the curtain of his curls. His skin glistened just enough in the sunset to give away that he was struggling as bad as you were.

He was going into a rut.

And it was all your fault.

The realization suddenly caused you to stumble back, unbidden tears rising to your eyes. Your fault. It was your fault. You'd sent him into an unscheduled, unexpected rut. One that was likely causing him enormous stress and pain and meant he would either have to work through it or take the next week off, causing him to fall behind on his massive workload, causing him even more stress he didn't need.

You didn't realize you had fallen into a little fit, scraping your hands over your head and muttering, my fault my fault my fault over and over again, followed by repeated apologies and little whimpers. You didn't feel like you came back to yourself, your emotions beaten back into the passenger's seat instead to the driver's seat, until Fox clamped your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him head-on.

"It is not your fault," he said, firmly and with no room for argument. You tried anyway, still feeling the overwhelming rise of emotion and hormones inside you, but Fox cut you off as you opened your mouth. "No. No. It is not your fault. Like you said, it's natural for alphas and omegas to react to each other this way. I wasn't careful enough. I sensed your heat right away but I still walked into the break room. And even beyond that, Carsen told me I was due for a rut soon anyway. It's just a bit earlier than expected."

You trembled in his grasp, not from fear, but rather from the sudden rise and fall of your emotions. It had been a long time since they'd taken over you like that.

But as Fox continued to look into your eyes, steady and reassuring, you slowly but surely calmed down.

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours. "Breathe, mesh'la. It's okay."

You breathed. Inhaled. And exhaled. The scent of Fox flooded your system, like a soothing balm over scrapes and raw skin. It calmed you, and snuggled right up to your little hindbrain, making it rumble with pleasure.

Before you realized, your head fell from his to bury your nose in his neck. His gland was still covered by the neck of his undersuit, but you nosed at it anyway.

He didn't push you away, and instead pulled you closer, his hands falling to wrap around your waist, his own head falling to your neck.

"You need to go," he said, through clenched teeth. Like it was physically painful for him to utter the words. "The clinic."

Your next words escaped you before you could think them through properly. "I can cancel my appointment."

Fox growled low in his throat, pressing you painfully hard into his front. You were quite happy there.

"Mesh'la..." It was both a warning and a wanting groan.

It sobered you a little. You forced yourself to back away from his neck. It took a second, but Fox loosened his grip on you, eyes meeting yours again. His expression was guarded.

"You can say no," you whispered, with what remained of your regular sanity and dignity. You tried to make your voice and gaze as gentle as his had been earlier. There was no pressure for him to take you up on your offer. No judgment if he said no. And the promise that if he did, you would never bring it up again.

But as he looked at you, and your assurance that he could walk away if he really wanted to, Fox's expression softened. And he smiled, bringing your foreheads together again.

"No marking?" he asked, quietly.

You instantly agreed. "No marking."

You liked Fox, but you weren't about to go permanently mating yourself to him the first time he fucked you.

"Your implant?" One of his hands ghosted over your hip.

"I'm clean. And on omega-grade birth control."

Birth control developed specifically to work through even the intensity of heats. One of your own hands fell to his hip, where you knew Fox's own alpha-grade implant rested under armor and skin.

Fox felt both relief and disappointment at your confirmation that you both were safe. Relief because children were decidedly not on his agenda right now, or for the foreseeable future. But disappointment because his Alpha-In-Rut hindbrain was displeased and huffy.

It would clear later.

Fox's lips suddenly came dangerously close to yours, and you felt your heartbeat kick up. But he didn't actually kiss you. A good thing. If he did, you'd both be arrested for indecent exposure.

"And knotting?" he breathed, impossibly deep in tone.

You almost whimpered, pathetically.

"Please." You did whimper now. "I need it."

Fox smirked just the slightest bit. But he had one more question for you. "What can I call you?"

You'd never actually been asked this before. When you'd made an account with the clinic, your preferred terms were a part of your initial questionnaire profile. You were allowed to change them at any time, but you never had.

You usually just had them call you something like "gorgeous" or "baby" or even a casual nickname of yours. It was less personal than your name, or "Omega," which to you, were terms you preferred were only used by partners you knew and trusted outside the clinic environment. They were both more intimate than regular endearments. You preferred keeping things more casual over at the clinic, with simple pet names that maybe weren't quite as usual with omegas in heat, but still allowed you to enjoy the rush of being partnered during your cycle.

But with Fox...

You did know and trust him.

The thought of the clinic had you breaking away from Fox to reach down and grab his discarded helmet, dropped from when he'd rushed to comfort you during your emotional outburst.

You offered it to him with a coy smile.

"Whatever you want, Fox."

He followed you as you began to lead the way to your quarters, kamas swaying around his thighs. He didn't replace his bucket to his head, instead tucking it into his side as he walked closer to you than he ever had before, languidly keeping pace with you. You had never come so close to straight up drooling at how attractive someone was before.

He didn't actually respond to you until you were at the door of your quarters. You tapped in the passcode as Fox typed out a message to Carsen, requesting emergency medical leave. Carsen must've been on duty, because he granted it immediately.

And as soon as your pad was discarded, the notification confirming your appointment cancellation flashing, Fox seized you.

"Good Omega."

And as he kissed you, you finally allowed yourself to stop resisting the heat.

You moaned into him, Fox pulling you closer at the sound and coaxing your mouth open. His taste went straight to your core, sublime and musky, with the slightest hints of coffee.

A taste so unique to him alone.

You were wrapped in his arms, keening as he pressed his tongue into yours, drawing your moans from you so easily you should've been embarrassed. But all you could focus on right now was Fox. Fox. Fox.

"Alpha..." you whispered in the breath he let you take. He pressed a shorter, reassuring kiss to your mouth.

"I've got you, Omega. Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna fuck you so good."

The raspiness of Fox's voice rumbled deeper in your ears than ever before, traveling all the way through his chest plate to stroke the mewling center of you. Curling even further into him, not caring even a little about the plastoid keeping his skin from yours, you wrapped yourself around him, diving back into his kiss.

Fox stroked your back, returning your kiss and guiding you into a rhythm. His hot tongue probed into your mouth over and over again, sliding against your own and licking teasingly over your teeth. Little sounds continued to escape you, and his scent flooded your senses.

Soon, your hands started to hook and yank at his armor, desperate to feel him and not the plastoid.

"Bed, Omega," Fox said, disconnecting your lips. His gloved fingers stroked along the length of your neck, pressing lightly into the gland there and inhaling your scent deeply.

You easily obeyed. You hadn't had a chance to properly nest yet, but right now that was the last thing on your mind. That would come a little later, after Fox fucked and came inside you, locking himself and his cum in place with his glorious knot.

The thought had you tingling and nearly gushing with need.

Fox inhaled deeply again, the scent of you and your arousal the most sublime thing. He could practically taste it, nectar on his tongue.

He needed to taste you again.

He shucked his armor in record time and leaned down to where you had curled up on the bed. He kissed you again, harder, swallowing your little whine and letting it go right to his cock.

It had been hard for hours. Since the moment he'd smelled you in the break room. And having you under his lips and hands made him throb, already close to bursting.

He took pleasure in knowing you were just as bad, smelling the wetness of you in the air, and feeling it on the thigh slotted between your own.

He pushed you to lie back fully on the bed, climbing over you. Keeping his thigh tight to your core, he rumbled with amusement as you ground into it slightly.

"Getting yourself ready for me, Omega?" he said. You released the prettiest little mew.

"Been ready, Alpha..."

The words instantly went to his cock, which twitched inside his body glove. You felt it against your stomach, arcing into it.

Doing his best not to snarl, Fox ground you into the mattress, the pressure inside him building painfully. The flush touch of you on his length felt glorious, and he wasn't even inside you yet.

Fox buried his face in your neck, where he nosed until he found your scent gland. Even starting to rut as he was, he remembered the agreement, and his alpha hindbrain honored it. No marking.

But he was damn well going to make sure you smelled like him for weeks.

You craned your neck back, letting Fox scent you, reveling in the thought of smelling like him in the coming days. One of your hands found its way to his hair, carding through his tantalizing curls. The other yanked at the neck of his undersuit, fingers searching and finding his own gland. Pressing to it.

His following rumble was nearly a growl, a sound that practically yanked at your tightening insides and pussy. You rocked yourself harder against his thigh, starting to feel needy for release.

Your slick was already soaking through his leggings.

He smirked lightly at your growing need.

"Want to taste you, Omega..." he rasped into your collar. His hands peeled the cardigan away from you, and your tank quickly followed. Your cheeks grew hot as his eyes darkened at the revealing of your skin.

And the revelation that you weren't wearing a breast band.

He nosed down your chest, inhaling deeply with each pass. His tongue darted out briefly to lick across your nipple, making you cry out.

But Fox didn't stay. He had a different goal in mind. There was somewhere else he wanted to taste first.

But he'd play with your gorgeous tits later. And that was a promise he rumbled into the skin of your navel.

You were flushing and tingling with anticipation as Fox continued past your chest, down your abdomen, and began to stroke the skin of your legs. You whined at bit at the loss of his thigh to your core. He shushed you firmly, but reassuringly.

"Got you, Omega. Gotta taste you."

He yanked your pants down with the first true sign of impatience you'd seen from him, his eyes nearly black with his own lust. He could barely contain himself at the sight of your naked, soaking pussy, a pleased growl ripping out of him.

"Good Omega, sweet Omega, mesh'la, my Omega..."

He dove in.

Your taste was indescribable. Flooding and musky and sweet and lingering. Fox would be hard-pressed to tear himself from your pussy, knowing nothing else would ever satisfy him like this.

Nothing would ever be like this.

He'd wanted to start gentle, work you into it, guide you off the cliff rather than throw you off it. But the first touch of your juice to his tongue made him feel drunk, everything else becoming a haze around him as his mind began to chant omega, omega, omega. The taste of an omega. His omega.

At the first touch of his tongue to your pussy, you threw a hand over your mouth to muffle the scream that wanted to tear from you. Rough enough to give you the friction you wanted, but soft and wet and warm enough to send what little remained of your rational mind packing.

Fox didn't even open his eyes or move his head from where it was buried in your core, but his hand suddenly gripped yours and moved it away from your mouth.

He didn't let go, instead twining his fingers in yours and curling your hands to rest on your stomach.

He squeezed your hand once. You squeezed back.

He instantly picked up the pace, and you dissolved into a horny, drippy mess.

Even more than you had been before.

His tongue laved at you fully, licking broad strokes across the length of your pussy and core, leaving no fold or lip untouched. His tongue dipped down to below your pussy, catching the slick that dripped out of you before it could soak into the sheets. Growling at the taste and instantly unhappy at the diminishing of it, he lapped back up to your pussy, the source of the sweetness consuming him, greedily claiming your nectar and practically sucking it out of you. Your pussy swelled under his thorough and insatiable tongue, and your little clit began to engorge itself, throbbing and desperate for his attention.

He couldn't stand to leave any part of you wanting. So, angling his face just right, Fox pressed his nose to your clit and moaned at how your juice soaked his skin.

Your legs and core began to tighten at his ministrations, your hand squeezing his tight. Your body climbed higher and higher, wound tight and ready to spring at the sensations of his mouth on you.

"Oh, Alpha... Alpha!"

The squeal left you as his mouth closed on your clit, tongue flicking over it so fast it was practically vibrating.

Fox squeezed your hand as your thighs began to shake. You managed to squeeze back as he sucked your clit into his mouth and tweaked it constantly with his tongue.

And with the barest scrape of his teeth, you came.

Crying out, your toes curled and your back arched as your orgasm crashed over you. You whined with both bliss and the tiny, petulantly pouty awareness of how empty you felt with your pussy clenching around nothing.

Your high was relieving, in the way all orgasms were, but as you came down, relaxing into the bed, languishing in the attention of your alpha, your head clouded still with lust and neediness.

You knew you would not be satisfied until you had his seed coating your walls and his knot swelling inside you.

As if sensing your need before you could voice it, Fox leaned over you. He claimed your lips demandingly, his tongue twining with yours and leaving your taste in your own mouth. You moaned at it, and at the way he slipped two fingers into your pussy.

"Such a tight pussy, Omega." He scissored his fingers gently. "Gonna feel so good around my knot. You're gonna take it for me, right?"

You gasped desperately at his words, and the way he worked you open steadily. In no rush. Wanting you to enjoy this just as much as you would enjoy the main event.

Yes, yes, yes.

"Need it, Alpha," you breathed, begged. Your hands clutched at the black material of his body glove, frustrated at how it kept you from the warmth of his skin. From the full scent of him. From the barrier it created between you. "Need you!"

He rumbled, nosing at your neck once more. Kissing it.

"Give me one more, Omega. One more. Then I'll give you what you need. Good girl, Omega..."

You had never fallen into a second orgasm so quickly before, not even during previous heats. Something about the tones of Fox's voice, the feeling of his fingers in your greedy pussy, the kisses he placed on your neck, the steady, passionate temperament of him, even in the thick of a rut, where other alphas would be domineering and desperate for their own release, the blanketing feeling of trust and safety and security you felt with Fox, more than any alpha you'd met before...

It all threw you over the edge a second time. A smaller orgasm, it still nevertheless made more juice gush from your pussy, slipping past Fox's fingers to spill onto the sheets. Your body didn't clench up so fiercely this time, your orgasm instead wafting through you more gently, allowing your mind to bask in Fox's presence as well as your bliss.

And all the while, Fox kissed you. A kiss to your cheek. To your jaw. To the shell of your ear. To your gland. To your lips. And all the while, his fingers stroked your slick, fluttering walls.

"Such a good omega," he praised, somewhere between a pleased rumble and an praising whisper. "Gonna make you feel so good, mesh'la."

You hummed out an excited note, lower half wiggling lightly with anticipation. His eyes crinkled with amusement, dropping a little kiss to your mouth. You exhaled a little giggle, eyes bright and blown wide.

"Want you, Alpha." you said. "Need you."

"I know, Omega. Stay still, mesh'la."

Fox leaned back just enough to shuck his body suit — top first, then his leggings. His cock was proud and swollen, the flushed tip glistening with pre-cum. You salivated at the sight of it: long enough to where you knew you'd be feeling it in your throat, and thick enough that it would be a stretch even without his knot.

You couldn't wait to take it.

Fox crawled back over you as soon as his clothes were off, his chest hovering over your own. He braced himself on one forearm, the other grasping his cock and holding it to your entrance.

You were practically vibrating with need.

"Ready, Omega?" he asked, murmuring it against your neck.

It touched something inside you. Awakened a part of you that wasn't desperately horny. You'd been ready since this afternoon, truly. But that he was still checking in with you, even as his rut clouded his own mind with need and lust...

Your fingers tangled gently in his curls, the other stroking the skin of his shoulders.

You kissed him, full appreciation and adoration.

"I'm ready, Fox."

His eyes snapped to you, the exhale of his name causing something inside him to snap. And as he slammed his lips to yours, he snapped his hips forward, sheathing himself inside you.

The stretch of him was incredible, and you were just edging the line of pleasure and pain as Fox entered you. He kissed you more gently, coaxing you to relax. But you whined quietly against him, clenching your pussy even tighter around him. You'd been waiting for this all night. You weren't going to let him be tender with you now.

He could do that later if he really wanted. Right now, you needed him.

Fox grunted as you clamped down around him. You'd been so tight he'd worried he'd cum the second he thrust into you. But as you squirmed and whined into him, Fox rumbled with pride. Good little omega. Needing a good hard fuck. Needy omega. So desperate for his knot.

And he did not like the idea of leaving you wanting for anything.

So Fox retreated, until the very tip of his cock was just barely inside you, and then snapped his hips forward.

You practically choked at the steady, but rough fucking Fox began to give you. Pounding your pussy so hard you saw stars, but slowly enough to ensure you felt every ridge, every dip, every curve, every vein, every pulse of him inside you. He pressed his forehead to yours, lips curled up into a lustful snarl at every cry you released, each one stroking his little alpha ego and not-so-little alpha cock. The sounds you made were divine, from your little gasps and whimpers to the squelching of your pussy sucking him in, clamping as if to keep him there forever.

And you were just so tight!

He couldn't wait to feel you stretch around his knot. You were made to take his knot.

"Good omega," he grunted roughly, his cock punching into you, his pace never changing. "Taking me so well, Omega. Can feel you squeezing me, Omega. Gonna knot you so good, Omega."

You couldn't contain the noises his words and cock forced out of you even if you tried. His rough and steady pace was coaxing you closer and closer to the edge for a third time. Tears of bliss and desperation pricked at your eyes.

"Alpha — I... I —!"

"It's okay, Omega," Fox cooed. "It's okay." His pumping grew faster. "Let go, Omega. Let me take care of you, Omega."

You gasped and hiccoughed as his cock brushed a spot in you. Fox noticed, and his next thrust hit the spot dead on. Your vision went white.

"Ahh! Ahh! Alphaaaa!"

Fox could feel your high approaching. He could feel his own. Baring his teeth in an effort to hold out a little bit longer, he reached down and rubbed your clit. You squealed, hips thrusting back into his.

He rubbed faster and harder, and pressed his thumb into the engorged bud.

You came hard, pussy squeezing around him and slick flooding his cock. The feeling of it and the warmth was nearly it for Fox, and he felt his knot begin to swell.

Then he heard you. Your screams of ecstasy as you rode out your climax.

"Fox! Fox!"

Hearing his name on your lips was his end.

He crashed his lips to yours and came.

The sudden rush of heat inside you sent you spiraling once more, before you'd even properly come down from your third climax. And you keened against his bruising, demanding kiss as you felt your pussy begin to stretch and swell around Fox's knot, locking you to him and keeping his hot seed in place.

It took several minutes for the both of you to come down, to regain a bit of clarity outside the hazes of your cycles. But you were practically purring into Fox's neck, content and pleased at the feeling of his knot inside you. You clenched around it experimentally, and Fox answered with a little rumble in his chest.

With some careful maneuvering, Fox rolled over and placed you on top of him, mindful not to jostle you too bad and tug at the knot, still engorged and hot.

It would be a while before it would soften enough to slip out of you.

He was more than fine with that.

You settled happily into his chest, and he knew you were more than fine with that, too.

A few moments passed in quiet contentment.

Fox murmured your name, your real name, making you look up from where you were nuzzling his chest.

He tipped your chin up with his finger, bringing your lips to his.

You sighed happily into him.

He laced his fingers with yours and squeezed once.

You squeezed back.

The coming week was going to be amazing.

Taglist: @twistedstitcher27 @rexxdjarin @frietiemeloen @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @jedimastersovi @hnnybee @sleepingsun501 @virginoliveoil @sunshinesdaydream @adikas-world @theroguesully

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nikolaiismysugardaddy · 1 year

Text

pairings... Jouno Saigiku x Reader

contains...! smut! fem!reader, dom!Jouno, angst, hair pulling, teasing, oral(m!receiving), dirty talk

AFAB reader

I apologize for any mistakes in advance - english is not my first language!

Hope you enjoy! xx

At today's meeting, you were arguing with Jouno back and forth. Even when you said something trivial, like “the grass is green” he would clear his throat and say “No, it’s yellow green” even though he can’t see colors? I mean he’s blind, for god’s sake. I’m sure he’s doing this on purpose.

Fukuchi called it a day after the last remark Jouno made; everyone looked confused and exhausted.

“I can hear you tip-toeing behind me and inferring from your heartbeat, I suppose, that you’re annoyed.” He stopped at his office’s door, not turning in your direction.

“Can I have a word with you, Jouno?” His arrogant behavior made you even more pissed than before, but you tried your best to keep your composure. You’ve worked for the Hunting Dogs for a while now, and you already knew even though Jouno’s handsome face, he’s not the nicest person in the world - but today he was outstandingly an asshole.

A mischievous grin appeared on his face as he opened the door for the both of you. Before you could see that cheeky smile, he washed it off his face and placed his slender fingers on his chin. You hesitantly stepped inside. “Go on.” He closed the door behind you quietly.

“I…” You closed your eyes and exhaled the air from your lungs slowly, trying to get yourself together once more. “What was that? At the meeting.”

“What what?” He tilted his head lightly, making you feel even worse.

“That. You were talking to me like a child - no, even worse. You pointed out every little mistake and corrected every word I said. So tell me, what’s the problem?”

He sighed and took a few steps closer to you; a fox-like smile spread across his face.

“The problem, you ask?” He was just inches away from you. Your heartbeat fastened up from the intimidating atmosphere forming between the two of you. “Hmm…” He chuckled a bit when he noticed your body’s reaction to his closure.

“Y-yes?” You tried to fix your gaze on his boots, but your voice trembled regardless of your attempt.

He placed his thumb on your chin and lifted your head up to look at him directly. With his other hand, he tugged your hair behind your ears and leaned in, whispering: “Unprofessional.”

The way his breath touched your earlobe made your legs tremble, and you felt some heat building up in your core. He slipped his fingers in your hair and lightly gripped it, forcing you to tilt your head back.

“And this… is also unprofessional, Y/N.” A light moan escaped your mouth while his lips ghosted on your skin.

“W-what are you doing, J-” Your blood ran cold when he pushed you to the door. For a moment, everything was quiet around you, he stopped every movement, the only thing you could hear was your own heartbeat.

“Is this the way you act around every man, Y/N?” He hummed the words in the careen of your neck. “Getting wet the moment they come closer to you? I could smell it since you stepped inside.” He licked your pale, thin skin with the tip of his tongue. In return, an audible moan slipped out of your mouth. “Answer me!” He tightened his grip in your hair.

“N-no, Jouno…” you muttered faintly.

The well-known wicked smile spread across his face when you answered. Your words sounded like music to his ears. He noticed that you were rubbing your thighs together to help yourself calm down a little.

Jouno clicked his tongue in disappointment and pushed his body against yours. You felt his hard member in his pants rubbing against your stomach.

“Then is this all for me?” You silently nodded and muttered a yes as an answer. His dick twitched in his pants as he got more and more excited. “Get on your knees.” He moaned and grabbed you by your shoulders while he commanded you. You closed your eyes and followed his order. It was a pretty hard task since you were caged between Jouno’s body and the door; so you had to grab him by his belt and push him a bit further back to reach the ground with your knees.

His smile grew wider, and a small praise left his lips in a very low tone: “Good girl” as he unbuckled his belt. With his other hand, he grabbed your hair in a ponytail to free your neck. In the blink of an eye, the thin black leather was around your neck. Your eyes widened and opened your mouth to speak, but not a single word came out of it.

He made you come closer to his throbbing cock with the belt, and unbuttoned his pants.

“Zip it down” you swallowed your saliva slowly, then grabbed the zipper with your teeth and pulled it all the way down, just like he ordered you. With the back of his hand, he caressed your cheeks and hummed in appreciation. He pulled down his pants and underwear, just enough for you to get a good look at his bulging member.

“Now, darling, be a good girl and show me what that mouth can do besides arguing with your superior.”

For a moment, you hesitated, but as soon as you let the lustful thoughts take over your mind, his tip lingered on your lips. Unconsciously, you opened your mouth and licked it all the way down. Jouno jolted from the teasing with your tongue and impatiently pulled you closer with his belt even more.

A cheeky smile appeared on your face from his reaction, and with one sudden movement, you took his whole length down your throat. He had to steady himself by placing one hand on the door. His spine arched from the pleasure he felt when his tip tapped the back of your throat. You started to move your head back and forth on his length; your tongue swirled around his member.

His solid whines became moans when he took the lead and fucked your mouth earnestly. You grabbed his slightly muscular thighs to steady yourself. The arousal he felt was clearly shown in his facial expressions. His grip grew tighter in your hair and pulled you back a bit, forcing you to look at his lewd face.

“So, is this what you call talking?” with his dick in your mouth, he asked and pulled you slowly closer to take his cock once more all the way in.

The blood roared in Jouno’s ears as you tightened the muscles in your mouth around him once again. Your eyes were watery, with teardrops running down your cheeks. His cock twitched in your mouth as he picked up his pace.

You nearly choked on his length when he pushed all of it down your throat. He whined and moaned; you clearly amused him by how obedient you are.

“F-fuck…” his grip in your hair tightened as he got closer to his climax. “C-cumming..!” He thursted in your mouth once more before he shot the first wave of his cum down your throat. “Swallow it all, darling, don’t waste a single drop!” he moaned while he slowed down his movements.

A few moments later, he pulled himself away, leaving a thin line of saliva mixed with his cum. You gently massaged your tired jaw and wiped your tears with the back of your hand. You licked off a drop of his juice from the corner of your mouth.

You tried to stand up from the ground, but Jouno stopped you with his hands gripping your shoulders.

“My, my, we’re not done yet”

special tag: @jounosnumberoneslut ♡

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a-single-tulip · 1 year

Text

Hello everyone! I know it's been a while since I've posted any fics, but uni was seriously kicking my ass, and now that I've been on break the past week I finally got to work on something again 😄

This may come as a little out of left field given that I've only written for members of The Bad Batch up until now, but thanks to @wizardofrozz I've actually become a bit of a Fox girlie 👀

Without further ado, I hope y'all enjoy this fic. I tagged accordingly on AO3, so make sure to read all the tags on there carefully, and if you don't vibe with any of them feel free to skip out on this fic (Fox gets a bit bitey in this one). All my love to y'all

Pairing: Commander Fox x Fem!Punk!Reader

Word Count: 6,969 (AO3 says 7,012 tho smh)

Tag List: @techs-feral-wife, @notthatfanfictionwriter, @starrylothcat, @hunterswife99

#star wars the clone wars #swtcw #star wars the clone wars fanfiction #swtcw fanfiction #commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #commander fox swtcw #reader insert #fem!reader #fem reader #smut #coruscant guard #corrie guard #tulips fics

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wizardofrozz · 1 year

Text

Shadow Play

Commander Fox x senator!reader (fem), Senator Farr, Commander Thorn, and mention of Commander Stone

Word Count: ~3.7k

Warnings: NSFW, this is literally just filth, unprotected sex, exhibition, creampie, fluff, Fox being a tease

Summary: Seeing their favorite senator getting wrecked by their commander was certainly not in the Coruscant Guard’s mission briefing for today.

A/N: I finally had the motivation to write some Fox smut thanks to this art. Huge thanks to @homie-one-kenobi for all the encouragement and help editing ❤️ Writing this has reduced me to a puddle so please enjoy 😂

Lights flashed across the rows of seats, making you squint as another Mon Calamari dancer twirled elegantly. You tried to focus on the choreography, praying it would hold your attention but no matter what, you still couldn’t force yourself to enjoy the ballet. Watching it for a third time wasn’t changing your opinion, yet it wasn’t like you could’ve declined the offer. Your eyes flickered to the balcony opposite you, noting Fox’s absence for the fifth time in less than an hour, borderline glaring at the unfortunate Corrie taking his place.

A small part of you hated the poor sentry, his red armor acting as a constant reminder that for the last 21 rotations and 17 hours since Fox left for an off-world assignment, your bed had been cold and empty. Your eyes finally drifted away from the trooper and just barely stopped yourself from rolling your eyes at the small group of senators whispering praises. While you agreed that the performers were exceptional, you couldn’t follow the plot, leaving you to count down the seconds until the next intermission. A small part of you wished that Riyo or Padme were there to make the whole experience a little more bearable.

Years of etiquette training was the only thing that stopped you from jumping out of your seat when a booming voice announced the second intermission. Your aid that was standing near the back of the senatorial box shot you a sympathetic look and you appreciated the gesture even if there was nothing they could do to help. Just as the door was within reach, the faint call of your name had you stopping in your tracks, forcing your expression to remain pleasant.

“Senator Farr,” you greeted, managing a small smile. You had nothing against the Rodian senator, you quite liked him, but you really weren’t in the mood for small talk. You expected him to ask for your interpretation of the ballet only to surprise you when he ushered you into the bustling hall.

“How many more acts are there?” he whispered, leaning in to keep the conversation somewhat private. Your mouth twisted to the side in a poor attempt at hiding your amusement.

“Three,” you replied, chewing on your top lip when Senator Farr’s already large eyes seemed to grow bigger. “I plan to feign a stomach bug for the next two.”

“Will it be any less believable if we both do?” he mused, glancing over your shoulder at the cluster of senators still talking about Act 2.

“Probably more believable,” you snickered, scratching the corner of your mouth to cover your persistent grin. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m not feeling well.”

“Hm, now that you mention it,” Farr sighed, his forehead wrinkling in a show of distress that you found quite impressive. He chanced one last look over your shoulder before gently nudging your arm and hurrying toward the bathroom. You allowed yourself a fond laugh before heading in the direction of the lady’s room, making a detour through the nearby door at the last second. The click of your disgustingly uncomfortable shoes was deafening in the silent stairwell, making you pause at the top of the first flight to check no one had followed.

Once you were confident you were in the clear, you took the last flight at a slower pace, contemplating burning the fucking torture devices you called shoes the entire way. You paused one last time at the top of the steps, just to be safe, before slipping through the door at the top. A warm, orangish glow washed over you, melting some of the tension in your neck and shoulders as you stepped into the cupola.

It had been far too long since you’d ventured into the little hideaway, only able to admire the beautiful stained glass windows from afar. Most Coruscant residents had no idea there was even a room atop the opera house, meaning they missed out on one of the most beautiful views. You lazily wandered toward the window, lightly brushing your fingers over the marbled glass, watching the slightly distorted ecumenopolis below. Your original intention had been to find a refuge from the torture of sitting through three more acts but standing there, looking out across the capital world, all you felt was lonely.

The soft whir of the door was lost to your aching heart but there was no mistaking the muted footsteps approaching. Anyone else would’ve felt fear in that moment, yet you only sighed, knowing the taste of solace you found had come to an end. You let your hand linger on the cool glass for another second before dropping it, turning to face the presence lingering off to your left.

For a moment, you were convinced you were hallucinating, that maybe you were sick, when you turned to find a Coruscant Guard member watching you. There was no mistaking the pattern you had sought out in waves of red armor time and time again. He canted his head and it was so painfully familiar, it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

“What are you doing here?” you blurted, your manners suddenly tumbling to Coruscant’s surface. Not that he minded.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Fox countered. Just hearing his voice, the unique inflection in his words that set him apart had your shoulders slumping like the marionette strings folding your facade up had been cut. Something between a sob and laugh tumbled past your lips, the sound seemed to break through the barrier Fox built around himself. The second his stance lost some of its rigidity you were moving, throwing your arms around his shoulders. The collision punched a grunt out of Fox but he barely even swayed, catching your weight with ease.

“What are you doing here?” you repeated, the words muffled against his shoulder. It had been three long weeks since you saw him before he went dark for a security detail off-world. Fox smelled of blaster fire, caf, and sweat, a mixture that should’ve had your nose wrinkling, but right then, it was so perfectly him you pressed closer.

“Thought I’d pick up a security shift for a few senators spending the night at the opera,” Fox sighed, pressing the hard edge of his helmet against the side of your head. That had you pulling away, staring into his dark visor. How long had he been back? The question must’ve been written all over your face because Fox laughed, a soft, beautiful sound. “Relax, we landed maybe an hour before it started.”

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” you mumbled, threading your fingers together at the back of his neck.

“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” Fox snorted, pulling you as close as he dared. The bite of plastoid against your body was uncomfortable but you’d take it over his absence any day.

“Drama queen,” you huffed with a fond eye roll. His helmet tipped down and you assumed he was pinning you with a dark glare, something you had never wanted to see more than you did in that moment. You carefully broke the seal, slowly lifting the bright red helmet off, not realizing you were holding your breath. Fox blinked a few times, gently shaking his head, tousling his longer-than-normal curls. But instead of a scowl, you were greeted with a soft smile that melted your heart.

“Hey,” he breathed, gently tracing the curve of your back.

“Stars, I missed you,” you rasped just before surging forward to capture his lips. Fox let out a soft, breathy laugh against your lips before gently cradling the back of your head, and leaning into the kiss. The bitterness of caf lingered on his lips, a taste you shouldn’t have missed seeing that you drank it just as often as Fox, however, it always seemed to taste better this way.

The kiss had started out sweet, a slow and tender brush of lips that made your heart flutter wildly. You intended to pull away until Fox started to knead the back of your neck, molding you against the curve of his chest. Every ounce of fatigue and anxiety you had been holding onto melted away as you coaxed his mouth open. Fox groaned softly, using his hold on your neck to angle your head back with an urgency you weren’t expecting. The shift had your head spinning to the point that you hadn’t realized you were moving until your back met the cool window.

“Missed you too,” Fox mumbled, dragging his lips away from yours to pant against your cheek. “So fucking much.”

“Mm, playing bodyguard for one of my colleagues wasn’t engaging enough,” you teased, carding through his messy hair. Fox nipped at your ear in retaliation, forcing a half-gasp, half-giggle past your lips. He tugged you tighter against his chest, the unforgiving plastoid of his codpiece pressing into your thigh, tempting you with what waited behind it.

“Like any of them could compare to you,” he breathed, nuzzling into your neck with a shallow roll of his hips. Maybe it was because you weren’t used to him being gone for long stretches of time but you were suddenly aching to feel something beyond GAR blacks and rigid plastoid. Fox yelped at the impatient tug on his codpiece, pulling back to dart his eyes between your hand and your face.

“What - what are you doing?” he hissed, glancing over his shoulder. Yet he didn’t try to move your hand, letting you trace the shape at a torturous pace.

“I’m trying to indulge in what I’ve been daydreaming about for weeks,” you huffed, playfully tugging on the clip holding the armor in place. You watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed before his expression shifted, brown eyes somehow growing darker in the low light.

“Right here?” Fox mused, crowding you against the window and pinning your hand in place. Daring you to bow out. “Now what if one of the boys looked up and saw us? How would they feel seeing their favorite senator being ruined by their commander?”

“Fox,” you gasped, closing your fist in his hair, and grinding into the curve of his thigh plate. The idea should’ve scared you, should’ve filled you with a numbing dread at the thought of anyone catching an esteemed senator with a Guard commander. Instead, you clenched around nothing, mouth falling open with your strained pants.

“Oh, you like that, honey,” Fox purred, his gloved hand slipping under the hem of your short skirt. Even through a layer of fabric, his touch left a trail of heat across your skin. The quiet whine that followed the first brush of his fingers over your cunt made him shiver in your grip. “Maker, you sound even sweeter than in my dreams.”

“You - you dream about the s-sounds I make?” you panted, rocking forward in time with the drag of his fingers.

“Oh, I dream about more than that,” he chucked, bumping his nose against yours.

“Care to share?”

“How long do you have?”

“For you?” you whispered, barely brushing your lips against his. “All the time in the galaxy.”

“Is that so?” he mumbled, moving to pepper kisses down the side of your neck. You caught a glimpse of redness high on his cheeks just before a digit sank into you with little resistance. Your cunt clenched around his gloved finger, a strangled moan bursting from your lips as he pumped his finger once. The rough fabric of his gloves never bothered you before but the desperate, clawing need to feel the warmth of his skin had you squirming.

“Take your gloves off,” you all but begged, “please.” You almost wished you hadn’t asked when he slowly, torturously, pulled away. He caught your eye, pinning you in place with a heavy look, never breaking eye contact as he brought his hand toward his face. You had witnessed Fox bring down a mercenary single-handedly after losing his blaster, seen him dissolve a full-fledged riot, and hit what should’ve been an impossible mark without batting an eye. Yet somehow the sight of his tongue curling around the soaked finger of his glove was more electrifying, setting your teeth on edge.

He pinned you in place, closing his lips around his finger; his lashes fluttered, a muffled groan filling the air as he savored your taste. Your lungs suddenly felt too small as you watched the slow drag of his digit over his full bottom lip. Fox was putting on a show, the twinkle in his lust-blown eyes giving him away and you were undoubtedly enjoying every second. A flash of white teeth sinking into the tip of the glove made your breath hitch, your eyes staying glued to the hem of the fabric as Fox tilted his head back, revealing strong, calloused hands.

Fox’s now bare hand came to rest lightly against your chest, following the curve of your body but your focus was zeroed in on the glove dangling from his teeth. He looked far too pleased with himself, a slight smirk lifting the corner of his mouth as he paused, letting you admire the view. The feather-light brush of his fingers over your heated skin jerked you back to reality but your eyes still followed the fabric when he turned his head, letting the glove fall to the floor before turning his attention back to you.

“Better?” he rumbled, brushing through your folds before sinking two fingers into you, his smug grin never fading. Your head bobbed in an almost frantic nod as you tried to bite back a moan. Fox’s smug smile wasn’t helping either.

“Fuck, yes,” you gasped, tightening your grip in his hair. Fox hummed in the back of his throat, lazily pumping his fingers like he had all the time in the world. You were suddenly reminded of your hand placement when he shifted his weight. If your brain didn’t feel like it might leak out of your ears, you would’ve been more impressed with the skillful way you unclipped his codpiece in one swift movement.

“You’re getting too good at that,” Fox groaned, rocking into your hand.

“You only have yourself to blame,” you laughed breathlessly, tracing the shape of his hard length. He surged forward, his finger brushing a devastating spot inside you as his lips slammed into yours, muffling your incoherent cry.

“Will–will you let me,” he stammered between kisses, the sloppy roll of his hips growing rougher, “let me fuck you for all of Coruscant to see?”

“If–fuck–if you don’t–” you warned, trying to sound commanding, but your ability to form words was quickly narrowing to nothing more than curses and Fox’s name. That seemed to be all the permission he needed though as he licked into your mouth again, the hand that had been buried in your cunt coming up to grip your jaw. In a flurry of movement, you were suddenly facing the expanses of Coruscant, Fox’s warmth pressing against your back as he hiked your skirt up, bunching it around your hips.

“Put your hands on the window, honey,” he rumbled, brushing his nose against the shell of your ear. You obeyed without a second thought, bracing both your hands against one of the orange panels; your heart fluttered when one of his large hands filled the space beside yours. “I wonder if I’ll be able to see our handprints every time I pass by.”

The thought that you’d leave behind a reminder, something only you and Fox would know about, had you pushing back into him. He seemed to catch on, unceremoniously tugging his pants down just enough to free his weeping cock, slipping it between your thighs. There was a brief moment where he paused, his tip barely pressing into your folds like he was savoring the buildup before he pushed in. The stretch felt endless, your head falling forward as you panted around soft whimpers until he was fully sheathed.

“Stars,” you chuckled, feeling dizzy with how full you were, “almost forgot how big you are.” Fox’s hips jerked forward involuntarily, punching the air from your lungs. His free hands slowly followed the curve of your waist, catching on the flashy fabric of your outfit, pausing briefly to brush a thumb over your covered nipple. A shiver tore through you when his hand gently curled around your throat, never squeezing, only using his grip as a way to hold you in place.

“Guess I’ll have to remind you,” he growled, pausing long enough for the words to sink in before he moved. The first thrust tested your ability to hold yourself up but Fox barely gave you a moment to steady yourself before he picked up a brutal pace. If you weren’t so high above the bustling crowds, you might’ve been worried about how you cried out, throwing your head back against Fox’s shoulder.

“F-Fox,” you moaned, needing him to hear the desperation pumping through your veins. You mindlessly curled your fingers over the smooth window pane, forcing your eyes open when you met warm skin. Fox’s hand was still braced against the window, your hand half covering his after your frantic scrambling. You were so mesmerized by the sheer size difference that you didn't notice right away when Fox shifted his weight, hitting a spot that made your eyes cross. You blindly grabbed onto the back of his hand, fingers interlacing between his. Fox instinctively closed his hand, pressing your fingertips into the rough skin of his palm. He nuzzled against your cheek, his ragged breathing raising goosebumps along the length of your throat.

“Fuck, you - you feel so good, cyar’ika” he whimpered, pressing a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your cheek. You were both spiraling out of control, climbing higher and higher with each galaxy-shattering thrust. Fox’s usually composed attitude was long gone, leaving him just as desperate and pleasure-drunk as you were. The heat building under your skin had reached a scalding level but you just couldn’t seem to fall over the edge.

“I– I’m so close,” you whispered, turning your head to try and find his lips. Fox mumbled something you couldn’t quite catch before his hand slid over your chest, coming to rest on your stomach. The pressure of his hand made each punch of his cock somehow more explosive, reminding you both just how deep he was; Fox’s strangled moan overlayed with yours, his hips losing their rhythm.

“Never - fuck - never leaving you behind again,” he panted, leaning heavily against your back to drop his hand lower. Every muscle in your lower half clenched when his fingers brushed your clit, ripping an unusually loud moan from deep in Fox’s chest. The movements of his fingers were sloppy but you were so lost in the blinding pleasure that it didn’t matter. It finally, finally, crested, throwing you over the edge with a cry of Fox’s name as you gushed around him.

It only took three more thrusts before Fox went rigid, burying himself to the hilt with a soft, shaky moan.

Your thoughts cleared slowly, the fog of arousal melting away as you drifted back down to Coruscant. The empty cupola felt oddly quiet without the slap of skin on skin, leaving you to focus on Fox’s slightly labored breathing. Your eyes drifted back to where your hands were still braced against the stained glass, a small smile lifting the corner of your mouth when you noticed that your hand was still wrapped around Fox’s larger one. Flashing speeder lights caught your attention, drawing your gaze to the traffic zipping past the opera house.

“Think anyone saw us?” you wondered absently. Fox laughed, loud and unguarded, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder and the sound alone was enough to make your stomach do a funny little flip.

“We may never know,” Fox snickered, kissing the base of your neck. The deafening chirp of Fox’s comm brought you crashing back to reality, but you did your best to not let your disappointment show when he reached up to tap a button on his vambrace. “Fox.”

“Gotta question for you, Commander,” Thorn said in place of a greeting. Fox propped his chin on your shoulder, humming softly when you let your head drop to the side, resting your temple against his.

“Yes, Thorn.” There was a pregnant pause, your brows pulling together when you swore you heard a muffle laugh through the channel.

“You, uh, wouldn’t happen to be in the opera house’s cupola, would you?” Thorn snickered. Your stomach plummeted to your feet while Fox stiffened behind you. There was no denying it since Fox’s cock was still buried inside you. You tilted your head down, searching for a few dots of red in the sea of creatures, easily finding them near the opera house’s entrance.

“No,” Fox replied stiffly, only making the situation worse.

“Oh really?” a slightly different voice huffed. You glanced to the side, arching a brow in question. Fox rolled his eyes but mouthed, Stone, before returning his attention back to the comm.

“Heya, senator!” Thorn shouted. You only knew it was him because just as the greeting came through, you saw one of the dots with more red paint raise an arm, waving it wildly.

“How’d you know?” Fox grumbled, sounding close to pouting in your opinion.

“We can see your shadows, shit for brains,” Thorn wheezed, barely getting his sentence out between fits of laughter.

“Go do your fucking jobs,” Fox snapped, punching the button to end the call a little too hard. You had managed to keep a straight face throughout the call but you were steadily losing the battle against laughter. “I’m glad you find it funny.”

“I’m surprised you don’t,” you giggled, lightly resting your head against his temple. Fox huffed and hid his face against your shoulder, faintly shaking his head.

“I’m never going to hear the end of this,” he groaned, mindlessly squeezing your fingers that were still intertwined with his.

“About getting caught,” you wondered, letting a smirk pull at the corner of your mouth, “or how hot it looked from their perspective?” Fox sounded defeated as he brought your intertwined hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Both.”

Taglist: @techs-feral-wife (thank you for your help too Max ❤️)

#commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #commander fox #coruscant guard #commander fox smut #cc-1010 #star wars #the clone wars #marshal commander fox

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