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pawnshopbleus · 10 months

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Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Plinth!Reader

Warnings - Smut, Penis in vagina sex, Cunnilingus, Squirting, Abortion is mentioned once, Angst with a happy ending. Not beta read :0

Authors Note - I think this is the first time I’ve written p in v sex so please bear with me.

Standing in front of the door to the Snow residence, you made sure you had everything. The basket you brought over for Coriolanus and his family was filled with food, gifts, and roses for Grandma’am. You wanted to celebrate Coriolanus’s historic win in this year's Hunger Games. Well, Lucy Grey won, but she wouldn’t have done without your Coriolanus.

Your knuckles tapped the door three times and you patently waited until the door opened to reveal Grandma’am’s signature snow-white hair. She smiled at you and embraced you. She stepped aside and let you enter the home you had become so familiar with over the years.

“Grandma’am, I wanted to bring this little gift for Coriolanus’s big win. The flowers are for you, by the way,” you winked and placed the basket on the table. “Speaking of, where might he be.”

Grandma’am's eyes softened at your comment. “He’s with the dean,” she said, “He will be here any moment. You can wait for him in his room if you’d like.” Grandma’am rushed over to examine a particularly pretty white rose.

You sat on Coriolanus’s bed tracing hearts on his pillow for what seemed like hours before his door opened. He looked frantic as if someone found out something they weren’t supposed to find.

“Come on, Coryo, you’re supposed to be smiling. Lucy Grey won. Aren’t you happy?”

“I cheated,” he sighed.

Your heart stopped. He what? Never in a million years did you think that he would do such a thing. With strong women like Tigris and Grandma’am raising him, you would have thought that he had the decency to break up with a woman before he did that.

Coriolanus shook his head as soon as he realized that you might have been taking his comment in the wrong way. “I cheated in the games. Not on you. I would never do that.”

Your body relaxed and then it shot back up again. “Wait, what do you mean you cheated in the games? Is that even possible?”

Coriolanus explained what he did in order to get Lucy Grey to win. The compact mirror that used to belong to his mother had been packed with rat poison, poisonous to anyone who came in contact with it. He also put his father's handkerchief which was covered in Lucy Grey's scent in the snake's cage. If the snakes were familiar with her scent then they wouldn’t kill her. So it wasn’t her singing that saved her, it was Coriolanus.

“What are they going to do to you?” Your eyebrows scrunched together with worry. You couldn’t lose Coriolanus for his stupid, yet chivalrous actions.

“I don’t know yet. I don’t want to think about the future. Right now, I want to live in the moment with the prettiest girl in all of Panem.” Coriolanus smiled at how your face heated up so quickly, but deep down he was hurting. He knew what his punishment was. Twenty years of service as a peacekeeper in the Districts. He would leave the Capital and everything he’s known since he was a baby. That he could deal with, but losing you would be the hardest thing he would have to deal with.

He knew that you would run to your father and beg him to get Coriolanus out of serving, but he didn’t want you over-exhausting your father's resources. He was a big boy and he needed to learn how to deal with his consequences. He would be fine. After all, Snow lands on top.

He wanted to live in this moment with you. He wanted to memorize every inch of your body. He wanted to hold onto that memory and make it last.

Your smile calmed him. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, eyes focused on your lips.

You nodded your head and smiled into the kiss. It was soft and sensual, vastly different from the kisses that the two of you usually share. Your lips brushed together as your bodies got closer to each other. By the time the two of you broke apart, you were under him, his forearms caging you underneath him. There was no need for him to do that. This is where you wanted to be, with Coriolanus. The toxic and tyrannical world that you lived in was long forgotten as she swooped in for another kiss.

His lips traveled down to your cheek, then your jaw, and settled on your neck. He spent the majority of his time kissing and nibbling at the skin on your neck. There would be pretty little marks on your skin later, reminding people that you belonged to him. Coriolanus doesn’t remember when he got this territorial, but he sure loved the fact that Strabo Plinth’s beautiful daughter was his girlfriend. His girlfriend to mark and fuck and love whenever he wanted (with your consent of course.)

You laughed as Coriolanus licked the sensitive patches of skin that he nibbled raw. “My parents are going to kill me when they see what you’ve done.”

Coriolanus kissed your lips one more time in response to your comment. He then resumed his exploration of your body. His hands traveled down to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up to reveal the bra that he unclasped in less than five seconds. He threw it on the floor of his bedroom, letting it get hooked onto the pile of books in the corner.

Coriolanus kissed in between the valley of your breasts. He flicked his tongue over your sensitive nipples. It was cold in the Capital of Panem and unfortunately, the Snow’s didn’t have indoor heating. Maybe it was because they didn’t want to melt.

You sighed in pleasure as Coriolanus continued to explore your breasts. After five minutes of teasing, he began to travel south to the part where you needed him the most. He hooked his fingers into the belt loops of your pants, “may I?”

You nodded, “Ever the gentleman.”

With your permission, he ripped your pants off of you and threw them on the floor. They were lost in the pile of clothing that had gathered on the floor. Coriolanus had shed some of his clothing as well. His ripped body was adorned in nothing but his white underwear.

Coriolanus spread your legs apart, “Look at how wet my girl is.” He traced a finger down the cotton of your underwear and slowly slid it up your legs. He wanted to drag this on as much as possible. You let out a grumble of frustration, getting tired of his constant teasing. Coriolanus gave in and got rid of your underwear.

The same finger that was used to skim the fabric of your underwear was now being used to gather your slick and spread it across your sensitive pussy. You took a deep breath of air into your lungs. The feeling was new, but not unwelcomed. Coriolanus flicked his tongue over your sensitive clit. Your clit was pulsing with need. You needed Coriolanus to drop the act and eat you out like he was a starving man.

“Coriol-” Your word was cut off by a moan as his mouth did exactly what you wanted it to do. Coriolanus delved into your pussy, tracing shapes onto your clit with his tongue. Your back arched off of the bed again. Coriolanus’s fingers teased your hole, trying to find the perfect time to ease into your channel.

Coriolanus’s fingers weren’t thick, but they were long making it easier for him to tease your G-spot. He fucked his fingers in and out of you as he sucked your clit. You had to bite your lip in order to keep quiet. Your lips were sure to be chewed raw after this, but they would serve as a reminder that you had a man who was willing to do this for you. Many high-society women told stories about their husbands not pleasuring them when they had sex. It sounded like a horrible life to lead, but they were rich and beautiful so they needed to sacrifice something.

Coriolanus curled his fingers up, letting them knock against your G-spot. He continued to kiss and lick at your clit. You were close. By the way you were clenching down on his fingers, he could tell that the waterworks were coming. Your naked chest rose and fell as you played with your nipples, increasing the pleasure that you felt. Your head fell even deeper into the pillow as a chill ran down your body. That chill eventually led to where Coriolanus was currently still working. He ate your pussy like a starved man, just the way you liked it.

Without warning, your juices painted Coriolanus’s face. He wasn’t surprised that you came so fast. The last time you had sex was two months ago. You were burning for him and he was burning for you.

Coriolanus wiped his face with the back of his hand and laughed. That was the first time he had actually made you squirt. It had always been a personal goal of his after Tirgis explained to Coriolanus how a woman's body works. At first, he was traumatized. He didn’t want to have the sex talk with his dear cousin, but when he laid eyes on you for the time, he wanted to do everything Tigris said and more.

His cock was hard. You could see the outline of it through his white underwear. You would tease him about his tighty whities later. Right now, you were laser-focused on the fact that Coriolanus hooked his thumbs under his waistband and lowered them, exposing his cock to the cold air. His hard cock slapped against his lower stomach. He jerked his cock off, spreading his precum all over his length. He wanted to make sure that it went in as smoothly as possible. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you.

He lined himself up at your core. He slid his tip up and down your pussy, gathering your slick with his dick before he pushed into you. Your insides welcomed him with little to no problem. The stretch felt good. You were all slicked up and ready for him.

Contraceptives weren’t a problem for you. Coriolanus was always careful and made sure to come somewhere that wasn’t your vagina. You didn’t want to have a kid just yet. First, you wanted to study at the University and travel back to District Two if you were given the chance. Then you wanted to get married. Pereferabbly to Coriolanus, but you didn’t know if that was possible yet. With his fate still undecided, your plans to marry the love of your life dwindled. Besides, even if you were to get pregnant your father would have enough money to get you an abortion

Coriolanus’s head fell forward as he buried his cock in your tight pussy. Two months and he had forgotten how good you felt. Your insides fluttered around him as he bottomed out.

Coriolanus began to thrust his cock in and out of you. He was methodical with everything he did. Coriolanus set a rhythm as he fucked into you. He fucked you hard and fast. The side of his bed slapped against the wall and his mattress cracked and groaned as he fucked into you. You prayed to the heavens that Grandma’am and Tigris were in a deep sleep. Or that the walls of the Snow residence were thicker than Coriolanus’s cock.

Coriolanus peppered your mouth with kisses in order to muffle your moans. He kept his pace as he did this. Your breasts jiggled as he fucked into you. Your hands found their way down to your extra-sensitive clit. You circled it with your fingers and moaned in pleasure at the feeling.

His balls slapped against your ass as his strokes became more deep and labored. He was going to come soon. He needed to come soon. He couldn’t hold on much longer. Two months with no sex had gotten to him. “Fuck,” he said under his breath as your pussy clenched around him. “Where do you want it?” He asked, his voice was strained from trying to keep his composure.

“Inside me,” you said. You were close too, the feeling of your finger frantically rubbing your clit and the feeling of Coriolanus's cock buried deep inside of you spurred your orgasm to come out from the woodwork.

You have come a second time, your pussy fluttering and squeezing Coriolanus cock that was still inside of you. A string of curses fell from Coriolanus’s lips as he came inside of you. His pulsing and throbbing cock pushed his come deep inside of you as he continued to fuck you as he came. His thrusts were slow but intentional. He would have lasted a few more seconds, but with the way that your pussy squeezed his sensitive cock, he came instantly.

Coriolanus slowly eased his cock out of you. The both of you were breathing heavily as Coriolanus went to grab a towel from his closet. He eased your legs open one more time as he cleaned you up. He was slow and gentle with it. He knew that you were still sensitive after two orgasms.

His come eased out of you and onto the towel. The sight almost caused him to get hard, but he didn’t feel like tiring you out even more.

Once he was done cleaning you up, he tucked you into his chest and covered the two of you with the blankets on his bed. He kissed your forehead and your cheek. Coriolanus’s love language was kissing. He loved kissing you. He loved doing anything with you, but kissing was his favorite.

Your eyes closed, but you weren’t falling asleep. Not yet. Sex might have been a clever distraction, but now that you were coming off your high you needed to know what will happen to the future of your relationship.

“Coryo, what is going to happen to you? I know that you know what your punishment is. I'm not stupid.”

Coriolanus sighed as he tried to keep his voice from waving. He rarely cried, but in moments like these, he did. Just you and him shielded away from the rest of the Capital were his favorite. “Twenty years as a peacekeeper.”

You let out a shuddering breath as you tried not to cry. Your body ran cold as you repeated those words in your mind. Twenty years as a peacekeeper. Twenty years without your Coriolanus. Your Coryo.

“My dad can-”

“No,” Coriolanus said. “I don’t want your dad to get me out of this one. I need to learn how to do things on my own.”

“What if I had a crazy elaborate plan to get you out of it?”

“Nothing could be crazier than this.” Coriolanus got this crazy idea. It has been sitting in the back of his mind ever since you agreed to be his girlfriend. “Marry me?”

This isn’t how he wanted to propose to you. He had already gotten your father's approval months ago. You were perfect for him and you deserve a perfect proposal. He wanted to take you to a fancy restaurant, get down on one knee, and ask you that way. Traditional and expected of Capital people, but things never go as planned when you’re a Snow.

“Seriously?” You were in disbelief. Of course, you wanted to marry him, but this all seemed a bit rushed. “I mean, yes, I’ll marry you, but Coryo. You’re about to leave.” Then, your brilliant mind comes up with the perfect plan.

You’ll marry Coriolanus, making him one of the heirs to the Plinth fortune. Thus making him more valuable to the Capital. This way you get to marry the love of your life and keep him within arms reach. Were you being possessive? Maybe, but it was better than the dean having to deal with an angry Plinth.

And your plan worked. You and Coriolanus got married a week after he proposed to you. It was a bit rushed, but the two of you were ready. He was going to be a loving husband, and you, a loving wife. Coriolanus’s punishment would be reduced to two months of training in District Two. He would then return to the Capital as a peacekeeper. He would keep the peace during the day and return to you at night.

Turns out Snow does land on top.

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Time to study up on straight people sex!

#coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #the hunger games

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yinyuedijun · 2 months

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SINCERITY

Flirting with Suo is never a good idea—you can never tell whether he means to charm you or make fun of you when you do it. Sometimes it feels like both. Occasionally it feels mean. More often than not, you like to entertain it. But you can't right now, not when his blood is all over the washroom sink. Your manager will be furious about the mess, and also about the fact that you're giving first aid to three delinquents while you're on the clock. If Suo makes one more joke about marrying you, you'll probably throw up and cry. (Or: Suo, Nirei, and Sakura get into a fight in the red light district and go to you to get patched up. Suo takes the opportunity to tease you mercilessly.)

4.5k words, suo x reader with implied one-sided sakura x reader, sfw with mature themes. set post-canon (they are all 18-19 years old), non-canon backstory details for suo and sakura (speculative as of ch. 146). fem reader – references to gendered professions, e.g. hostessing; reader wears a dress for her job in a girls’ bar. warning for inaccurate depictions of first aid! dividers by @/cafekitsune.

Suo’s never liked your job.

You suppose this is fair. The feeling is mutual. You’ve never liked the fact that Suo chose to go to a delinquent school rather than a proper high school, and he’s never liked the fact that you chose to drop out of your proper high school to go work in the red light district—first at a kyabakura, and now at a girls’ bar. His master, who also happens to be your master, has always told you that this was a natural reaction on his part. Having a secondary school certificate is important, after all. But Suo’s disapproval of your income sources, no matter how politely or subtly phrased, has always felt like it runs deeper than simple concern for your education.

Still, this has never stopped him from visiting you at your place of work, though he only tends to come by under the worst possible circumstances—tonight worse than any other.

When you see the three of them limping through the clamour and heat of the red light district—the neon glow of the street making the blood smeared across Suo’s face shine vibrantly—you entirely forget that you're on the clock. You chuck your sign onto the ground (3000¥ per hour! it reads) as you cut a path toward them, almost tripping in your stiletto heels. Your customer service voice gives way to your regular one, which is so outraged that it startles everyone around you.

“Suo, you motherfucker—are you trying to lose the only eye you have left?!”

Suo is unbothered. His smile is calm and deeply shameless as you approach him. It’s nothing like Nirei, who cringes at the furious look you give him, or Sakura, who looks like a deer caught in headlights when you round on him instead. Like he doesn’t know what to do at the fact that someone is worrying over him, and especially not when that person is wearing an extremely revealing evening gown. For a minute, you think he's going to bolt.

But Suo keeps him there, grip tight on his arm.

“Hi,” he says brightly, like there isn't blood all over his face and shoulder. “Are you busy? We might need to trouble you.”

“Of course I'm busy! I'm in the middle of a shift!” you fume at him. But you still extract Sakura from him, scruffing him by the neck before he can clam up and run. You pull him in the direction of your bar, and gesture for the other two to follow. “Hurry up before my manager sees you.”

Smuggling three delinquents into the washroom of a girls’ bar is not a skill you thought you'd ever need, but it is one that you've become an expert in. This is at least the third time you've done it. The Furin trio rarely ever loses fights, but they occasionally slip up in the part of the red light district that isn't controlled by Roppo-Ichiza. This is somewhat unavoidable, as Keyaki Street is a different beast from Keisei Street. It isn't just delinquents here, but bona fide criminals. “Like, actual fucking Yakuza,” you grouse at Suo for the millionth time. You wipe at the blood remaining on his face—most of it you've already rinsed off, staining the melamine sink with iron—and the paper towel in your hand blooms red.

“But these guys weren't Yakuza,” he says cheerfully.

“They still pulled weapons on you! Bladed weapons!”

“Mm… well, that's true. I'm sorry.”

You scowl at him. “No, you're not.”

“No, I'm not.” He’s still smiling. “In our defense, we didn't have much of a choice. They were about to do something terrible to an innocent person,” he says, and you deflate a little, because you know Suo can't stand to see injustice. This is something you love very dearly about him, and also a quality of his that constantly raises your blood pressure. But then you roll your eyes when he happily adds, “And in my defense, it’s all our Captain’s fault!”

“Oi!” Sakura yells from one of the stalls, where he’s sitting and holding a bag of ice to a knot on his head. “Wasn’t my fault we ended up fighting. They were practically beggin’ to have their asses kicked.”

“You did provoke them, Sakura,” Nirei says. He's in the other stall, trying to stay off his sprained ankle.

“Well, they were dangerous! Not like you wanted to just leave them alone either,” Sakura grumbles, and Nirei apologises, though Suo accurately points out there is no need for him to. After hearing this story, you can't help but agree, and you suppose you shouldn't have expected any differently. After three years at Furin, Sakura is no longer the type to pick fights for no reason. Whatever those guys were up to must have been pretty bad for him to start shit in unfamiliar territory.

Still. The red light district is what it is. Touts, street gangs, and Yakuza are constantly causing problems here, with violence of a scale and nature that Bofurin simply don't see on their own turf. Your street in particular makes someone like Endo look like a joke. “You should still learn to exercise some restraint,” you say to Sakura. “And you”—you give Suo a miserable look—“you know the area. You should have known better. At the very least, you should have called me for backup.”

“But you were on the clock,” Suo points out, and you frown. Despite having absolutely no need, you take out an alcohol wipe and swipe it over his cut. He winces.

“I'm still on the clock now,” you reply, voice dry, “and here you are, distracting me anyway. My boss is going to be on my ass about it if I don't bring in any customers tonight, you know.”

“We can be your customers,” Suo offers.

“You aren't old enough to drink!”

“Neither are you, yet you work here.” His gaze has turned a little sharp. His voice too. You blink, suddenly mollified.

“...okay. If each of you buys a drink after this, I’ll call us even.” Then you glance down at his changshan, which is sliced through, the pearly silk stained red at the shoulder. He’s insisted that the wound is unserious and said that he'd rather clean up his face first, and you're starting to question his priorities. “That is, if you don't have to go to the hospital after this.”

“I don't.”

“I don't know if I believe you.” You pull out some polysporin. “Come closer.”

Suo could do this on his own. His hands aren't incapacitated. But he humours you, as he's always humoured you, and allows you dab his cut with the antibiotic. You feel a little sentimental as you do it, and almost a little sad. Doing this reminds you of when he was a kid who had just started learning martial arts. Granted, he never got any real cuts back then, but sometimes he’d scrape his knees or his elbows or—god forbid—his face, and you would plaster bandaids all over him when he did. But none of those were real injuries.

More than anything, doing this reminds you of when he lost his eye. The state that he was in after the accident. The way his face was bandaged after the surgery. The texture of the gauze against your fingers when you asked to try swapping out the dressings for him.

If Suo notices the way your lip is trembling, he doesn't comment on it.

“You’re so mean—how come you never believe anything I say?” he asks. You press the gauze to his cut with more pressure than necessary, and he blinks. He opens his mouth again, but then the door rattles violently.

“Sorry!” you yell. “Washroom’s closed for cleaning!” You wince as you hear complaints in reply—you’ve been closed for half an hour!—and shoot Suo a sour look as the customer leaves. “I’m really risking it all for you three,” you remark.

“I'll make it up to you,” Suo says. “I'll stick around the whole night and buy as many drinks as you want. Your manager won't be able to hassle you about anything then.”

“No way. You're not wasting that much money on the red light district.” You frown. “Master will kill me if I let you piss away your inheritance like that.”

“I’m not wasting my money on the red light district. I'm wasting it on you.”

“Well, I'm employed at a girls’ bar, so when you waste money on me, you are in fact spending it on the red light district.”

“Then you should quit so I can spend as much money on you as I want.”

“Quit and then live on what income?” You set aside the first aid kit and grab some more paper towel. “Take off your shirt.”

“Oh? Right here? Right now?” His eye goes wide. “How forward.”

Sakura coughs very, very loudly from the stall. If you weren't so used to Suo saying this kind of thing just to mess with you, you'd probably do the same. In fact, you'd probably choke on your spit and die on the spot. But as it is, you only sigh and start unbuttoning Suo’s changshan, starting at the high collar. Any sentimentality or concern you previously felt is quickly drowned out by annoyance.

“Suo.”

“Don’t worry—I don't mind,” he adds. “I thought you'd never ask. I just didn't think it’d happen here. And so suddenly.”

“Don’t do that. I can't do this today.”

“Don’t do what?” he says innocently. He lets you slip his changshan off one shoulder. To your relief, the cut does look very shallow—he’s too quick for anything other than a bullet to land a serious hit on him, you guess—but you still swallow when you see it. It looks like he's bled a lot more than he probably actually has.

Or you hope so, anyway.

“Joke like that,” you reply after a moment. “It's very mean.”

“I’m not joking about anything.” You feel his eye on you as you start dabbing at all the red on his skin, the paper towel in your hands blotting crimson as if with ink. Your breath shakes as you study the wound. He lifts his hand, his knuckle brushing against your cheek. You smack it away, but he doesn't seem bothered. “I was being very serious,” he continues. “Quit working in the red light district and let me support you instead.”

“Suo,” you say, your voice flat, “there is no job you could qualify for on this planet that will let you earn more than what I'm making now. If anything, you should let me support you.”

“Ah,” he says brightly. “I get it now—you want me to be your trophy husband!”

Now you are choking on your spit and you do think you're dying. Sakura sounds like he's not doing much better—something bangs loudly against the washroom stall, and you assume it’s his forehead. Even Nirei is affected, not-so-subtly clearing his throat.

“I do not want you to be my trophy husband.”

“Just a regular husband, then?” he asks. “That’s alright. If I joined the Yakuza, I could make plenty of money. You could even stay at home if you wanted.”

“Suo you motherfucker you are not joining the fucking Yakuza! And I wouldn't be a stay at home wife!”

“Oh? You wouldn't want to be?”

“No, god! Do you know how much I could make if I scored a hostess gig at a high-end place? Why would I ever turn down that kind of money?!”

“Ah, so you want us to be dual income?”

“Of course I would want us to be dual income!”

“You could get a different job and we could still be dual income.”

“There’s no other job that would pay as well.”

Suo sighs, and your brow twitches. You've always been suspicious about why he disapproves of your choice in career. It’s not in his disposition to judge people, but sometimes you still worry that he's doing it to you.

“What,” you ask, “would you be so against marrying a hostess?”

“No, not at all. But I'd be worried if my spouse worked somewhere unsafe. What if you end up at a Yakuza-owned club?”

You pause, startled at the abruptly earnest tone of his voice. Suddenly you feel guilty.

“Oh… well, I wouldn’t work at a Yakuza-owned club.”

“Hm… then I guess it's fine.” Suo nods, as if arriving at a decision. “We’ll get married, we’ll be dual income, and neither of us will work for the Yakuza.”

“Yes, exactly. We’ll get married, we’ll be dual income, and neither of us—” Your eyes go wide as you realize what you're saying. You feel yourself flushing. “Wait.”

“What? Is there a problem?”

“Suo.”

“Don’t tell me you're going to change your mind now. That would just be mean.”

“I'm being mean?” you ask, flabbergasted.

“Well, yes. You don't think it would hurt if you changed your mind about marrying me? And so soon after agreeing, too.”

You stare at him in disbelief. You have a number of possible retorts that cross your mind, and somehow you pick the least relevant one: “You can't trick someone into marrying you.”

“Then can I trick you into dating me?”

“Suo! I said don't do that!”

“Don’t do what?”

“Joke about that kind of thing!”

“I'm not joking about anything.”

“Yes you are? You don't actually want to date me. Stop saying that you do!”

Suo leans in. He stares at you, his gaze distinctly vulpine. It's very attractive, and also intimidating, and you should be used to it by now, but your heart rate ticks up anyway. You swallow thickly as his thumb glides along your cheek again, your skin scorching beneath his fingertips. You forget to bat his hand away this time.

“You’re so mean,” he repeats, voice lilting, “how come you never believe anything I say?”

He's baiting you. He's obviously baiting you, and you consider for a moment whether you want to bite.

Flirting with Suo is never a good idea—you can never tell whether he means to charm you or make fun of you when you do it. Sometimes it feels like both. Occasionally it feels mean. More often than not, you like to entertain it. But you can't right now. His shirt’s stained with such a bright red that it keeps distracting you, just like the blood he's left all over the washroom sink. Your manager will be furious about the mess, and also about the fact that you're giving first aid to three delinquents while you're on the clock. You think they'd go broke before they could spend enough money here to appease her, were she to discover the four of you. You might even lose your job. Then you wouldn't be able to support yourself anymore, let alone Suo, who cracks jokes as easily about being your trophy husband as he does about being Leonardo DiCaprio.

If he makes one more joke about marrying you, you'll probably throw up and cry.

“You're not being very gentlemanly right now,” you finally point out. He raises a brow.

“No?”

“No. I'd even say you're being a menace, actually. Doing a very bad job of”—you almost laugh as you say this, because you've heard this speech so many times—“engaging with my feelings. Not being supportive at all. Really falling off the staircase to adulthood, you know.”

Suo studies you. Something complicated passes through his eye before he pulls away, his expression now back to normal. It's deceptive how innocent he looks.

“Sorry,” he says. “You’re right. I’ll play nice.”

“No, you won't,” you retort, and Suo smiles at you, not replying. But he does give you a break. You finish cleaning up the cut without incident, although you do get flecks of blood on your evening gown, which you hope won't be too noticeable against the black satin. You bemoan the lost cause of Suo's changshan too—made of Suzhou silk, a gift from your master—and silently make a note to buy him a replacement sometime.

You're in the middle of buttoning up his shirt when the door clicks and swings open. Met face to face with your coworker, you freeze up.

Your stage name leaves her mouth in an angry bark. “What are you doing? I told you you're not supposed to be having sex with customers here, you should be doing that someplace—” She stops, evidently spotting the blood on Suo’s shirt, and then the other two individuals locked up in here with you, one of whom is blushing violently and looks to be on the verge of dying from embarrassment. Beneath your hands, you feel Suo’s body go stiff too.

“Oh,” she says before either of them can comment. “It’s just your delinquent boyfriend and his buddies.” Suo waves at her, and she nods back before squinting at the sink. “Are you going to clean that up?”

“Yes,” you say quickly. “Please don't tell our boss.”

“Have I ever ratted you out?” she asks. “Just get out of here soon. People do have to piss, you know.” Then she stops, looking at Suo with a dubious expression. “And make sure your boyfriend doesn't die.”

You're too tired to correct her on the nature of your relationship. “I've been trying,” you say, and she gives you a sympathetic look before retreating. You hear her laughing with a customer about people fooling around in the washroom, and I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, sir, and could you please go downstairs while I clean up. You’re so relieved, you nearly fall to your knees. A calloused hand touches your back as you rub your temples.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Suo says quietly—sincerely—and instead of saying no, you're not, you reply, “I know. I’m sorry too.”

Suo’s always hated your job.

He’s always hated your job, your boyfriends, your apartment, and a lot of other things about your life that Sakura doesn’t have any business prying into. And it's just as well. Sakura also hates your shitty job, and your shitty boyfriends, and considering that you live in the same shitty building as him, he isn't a fan of your rental situation either. Nirei’s too polite to say anything about it, but Sakura can tell that he disapproves as well. It’s not like any of them are living the most comfortable lives either—Sakura has personally been living from shithole to shithole, mostly alone, ever since his parents passed—but your lifestyle does make them all feel poorly.

You're just a very easy person to like. And it's very easy to want nice things for you. So Sakura gets it, how Suo feels about you.

What he doesn't quite get is how Suo acts about you.

One thing he’s learned over the years is that Suo is very good at reading people. Sometimes he understands Sakura better than Sakura understands himself, and he can convince Sakura to do things which he himself didn't think were possible for him to do. He's done the same with Nirei, and about half the other people in their grade, and at least a third of the guys in Bofurin. It’s frankly a terrifying skill. But Suo never uses it with you—not to get you to change jobs, or boyfriends, or even apartments.

At first Sakura thought that you were just immune to Suo’s tactics, but he's recently come to realise that Suo simply gets too emotional about you to know how to convince you of anything. He’s even emotional enough to get kind of petty and a little mean with you, which is something that Sakura has only witnessed from Suo during fights. Really bad fights.

It’s terribly uncomfortable, especially when you’re clearly head over heels for Suo.

Sakura doesn't have any business prying into your personal problems. Though truthfully, he’d be happy to thrash some random assholes for you anyway, if that would fix your heartbreak. (He's already done this to at least one of your exes, and it worked shockingly well.) The problem is, Suo is not a random asshole and Sakura isn't sure that you'd want him thrashed in the first place. But it's just fucking painful watching the two of you act like this around each other, so he ends up pulling Suo aside after you kick them out of the girls’ bar, scowling.

Suo looks at him, surprised. “Sakura? What's the matter?”

He doesn't mince words. “How come you were being such a dick to your friend?”

Nirei goes stiff. “Sakura,” he says in his panicked ‘why are you trying to pick a fight now’ voice, “where is this coming from? I don't think Suo was being rude…” But Sakura can tell, as Nirei’s finishing his own sentence, that he's second-guessing himself.

“No,” Suo replies. “I was being a bit terrible, wasn't I?” There’s no humour in either his words or his face, but the corner of his mouth lifts. He actually looks endeared. “I'm surprised you noticed, Sakura.”

“I mean”—Sakura feels himself going red, embarrassed at just the memory of how you looked at Suo; first so worried, then painfully fond, and then like you were going to burst into tears right there in the washroom and ask him to hold you, as if you were in a horrible getsuku drama—“it was kinda hard not to.”

Suo nods. “I suppose it’s natural to be sensitive to the feelings of someone you like.”

Heat floods his face. “I don't like her!”

“Did I say you did?” Suo’s mouth curls when Sakura can't answer. “Don’t be embarrassed. She's a very easy person to like.”

Sakura tries his hardest to ignore Suo—which should be easy, because Suo lies randomly and pointlessly all the time, whenever he thinks it's funny—and says, “If she's an easy person to like, how come you act like you don't like her at all?”

“Was I acting like that? Or was she acting like it was impossible for someone to like her?” Sakura stops. Suo gives him a long look, then smiles. “You would know how difficult it can be to accept being liked, Sakura. And how long it can take to understand that there are people who want to support you unconditionally.”

Sakura opens his mouth once, twice. A third time. Nirei sighs. The two of them watch as Suo—rather than walking in the direction of the subway—steps over to a vending machine and buys a bottle of oolong tea.

“Are you going to wait for her shift to finish?” Nirei asks.

“Mm, I think so.” Suo glances down at his ankle. “But you should go home, Nire-kun. You can’t fight like that. In case those guys come back here, I mean.” He opens the bottle, takes a sip. “They had bladed weapons. It would be bad if you risked it.”

Nirei glances at the entrance to your bar, worried. “But…”

Sakura understands without Nirei finishing his sentence. The security at your bar is terrible, and plenty of people like to exploit that. It was Nirei who noticed a group men eyeing you before anyone else did, following you all the way from Keisei Street to your place of work. And sure, Suo kicked the shit out of them in the end, did much worse to them than vice versa—but who knows if there aren't more of them.

Suo hates your job. All three of them do.

“It’s okay,” Sakura says. “I'm sure the two of us will be enough.”

“...I'll ask Tsubaki if he's free,” Nirei finally relents. “And I'll text Kiryu and Tsugeura too.”

“Thanks, Nire-kun.”

Suo gets a bottle of ramune after Nirei leaves, passes it to Sakura. Tsubaki comes by later, still in his pole outfit, with several pieces of taiyaki for them to share—I’m always snacky after dancing, he explains—and the three of them loiter in front of your bar until four in the morning. Tsubaki asks questions about you in a tone that has Sakura wanting to crawl into an alleyway just to hide, and Suo deflects masterfully with questions about Tsubaki’s new boyfriend. The guys from earlier don't show up. Maybe the sight of Roppo-Ichiza’s top fighter scares them off.

You're surprised to see them there when you emerge a little later. You give Tsubaki a happy but perplexed look as he hugs you.

“Tsubaki? What are you doing here?”

“Keeping these two company,” he replies. “And I wanted to say hi, of course. You should come by the club sometime, you know! I haven't seen you in forever.”

“Sure! That would be nice, but…” You turn to Sakura and Suo, puzzled. “Why are you guys still here?”

Sakura, on instinct, nearly recounts the whole evening to you—about the men tailing you, about how they got into a fight, about the kind of things they said they'd do once they caught you—but Suo answers first.

“Troubling you again,” is all he says. “It’s fine since your shift is over now, right?”

You give the two of them a long, curious look. For a moment, you look worried, but you're eventually disarmed by Suo’s expression.

“I guess it's fine,” you reply. You sound so happy. Suo’s gaze goes soft, and Sakura has to force himself not to look away. “Let's hurry up and go home.”

You smile at them, and it's the kind of smile that makes it very easy to like you. The kind of smile that makes it natural to want nice things for you. The kind of smile that would make anyone emotional, even if they're normally very controlled. It makes something in Sakura squeeze tightly, all knotted up and painful.

He’s starting to understand why Suo acts the way he does around you.

END

this wasn't meant to be a love triangle, my apologies…

this was also meant to be a very short piece (like 500w lol), but I kept thinking about what suo’s backstory might be, and why he was so comfortable in the red light district in the manga, and what these guys might realistically act like in an aged up, romantic context. that all coalesced into this very bizarre fic LOL. I'm not sure how it'll land, but I hope someone out here enjoyed it! I would like to write more about this triangle (+ nirei) but I'm not sure what the level of interest would be, or if it'll even make sense with the manga. I guess we’ll see eventually!

in any case, thank you for reading!! <3

#hayato suo x reader #suo hayato x reader #haruka sakura x reader #sakura haruka x reader #wind breaker x reader #wbk x reader #i cannot believe this was 4.5k words...#yueshuo.fics #divider by @/cafekitsune

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fatkish · 2 months

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Alpha Tengen+Wives x Omega Reader

Pt. 2 NSFW

During your time in the entertainment district, you and Tengen got along and bonded. He told you about his past to which you comforted him, telling him that his family’s deaths weren’t his fault and he shouldn’t blame himself

Whilst you guys were talking, Tengen decided to pop the question and ask if you were interested in becoming his 4th mate

You told him you would think on it

During the battle in the entertainment district, you managed to save Tengen’s hand but not his eye

You got hurt quite a bit during that battle but nothing that was life threatening

After seeing him in action and getting to know him well, you decided you wanted more time with him

So you left the battlefield and went home with him and his wives

His wives were extremely receptive to having you stay with them again. Suma begged you to make a giant communal nest for everyone to snuggle in, and you agreed

Then things started to get serious

After you and Tengen were healed up, you knew you were about to go into your heat. Tengen could tell and he decided that he would allow you to chain him down if needed, if you didn’t want to have sex during your heat. But you talked it over with him and decided that you felt safe enough with him

To say Tengen was excited and happy was an understatement. He was so happy that you felt safe enough with him to allow him to take care of you when you were at your most vulnerable

When your heat hit, Tengen was there servicing you and giving himself to you entirely. When he wasn’t having you sit on his face with his fingers and tongue buried deep inside of you, he was stuffing you with his cock, pounding away at your insides

Tengen would alternate between eating you out, letting you rest, fucking your brains out, letting you rest, then rinse and repeat

Tengen is mad skilled with his fingers, you can’t tell me anything different. It would take him less than 2 minutes to finger you into an orgasm

While Tengen helped you through your heat, his wives cooked your guys’s meals and brought you guys whatever you needed

Eventually your heat ended and you both returned to the communal nest to snuggle with his wives

After spending your heat with Tengen, you decided to make it official and you told him you accepted him as your mate

That night Tengen celebrated with you and his wives. Promising to be the best mate ever and to give you lots of children

When it comes to pleasuring his many mates, have no fear, the man has got stamina and isn’t ashamed to let you use him

While someone rides his cock, two of you can use his hands while the fourth rides his face. He’s more than happy to please

When it came time for Tengen’s rut, you were stuck with him and suffered orgasm after endless orgasm. His wives helped by substituting for you when you couldn’t take anymore

This man is tall, so his cock measures at about 9 inches in length and 2 inches in girth. His knot is 3 and a half inches wide. He’s got some thick veins and the head is a pretty pink

While he’s more than happy to dish out, he’s more than happy to receive. If you suck on his cock while he’s pleasuring his other mates, he’ll groan and growl, and if you play with his balls then he’ll snarl as he cums

Eventually you decided to retire to which, Kagaya was actually happy about since he didn’t want you to die before experiencing what life had to offer

When Tengen heard, he decided it was time to settle down and start a family. Well, he gave you 7 children. This man has some potent baby batter. 2 sets of twins, 1 batch of triplets

Suma was so excited at the news of your first pregnancy, she kept bawling her eyes out and hugging you

Makio was excited too but kept her composure. She simply congratulated you

Hinatsuru had started making baby clothes and getting things ready for the babies, she too was excited but decided to use her excitement to get things done

Tengen was so happy to hear the news he immediately picked you up and spun you around before bringing you in for a hug

You weren’t allowed to do anything while pregnant. No cooking, Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru took care of it. No cleaning, the girls are on it. If you tried to do anything, Tengen would pick you up and carry you back to your nest

You were only allowed to do low energy things like sewing or knitting baby clothes

Eventually you would give birth and everyone got to pick a name for at least one kid

Tengen is an excellent dad, he plays with his kids and even lets his daughters dress him up and he even does their makeup

Everyone takes turns with the babies. If the baby cries, don’t worry, cause everyone takes nights in shifts so everyone can get their rest

If you suffer from postpartum, don’t worry, Tengen and his wives will take care of you and the babies, after all, it’s the least they can do after you’ve given them a family

All in all, the Uzui household is hectic and filled with chaos, but it’s full of love too

Tag list: @imagineshazamlokimight

#demon slayer a/b/o #demon slayer tengen #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kny tengen #tengen x wives x reader #tengen x reader #tengen uzui

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milliesfishes · 4 months

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𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚𝓘𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓪𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

[fem reader] contains: bullying, angst pairing: coriolanus snow x fem reader summary: Coriolanus met you during his time as a peacekeeper, and he resolves to bring you back to the Capitol with him. author’s note: Hey hey! First Coryo fic in awhile, I'm excited about this one!! Please enjoy! Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

You were lying between his legs, hidden in the trees away from the world when he told you he was leaving. It was a sunny day, and the shadows of the leaves were dancing over your faces.

Sitting up from his arms, you turned around, looking at him with your brow furrowed. "What?" You knew a peacekeeper's service spanned twenty years, and Coriolanus had hardly been here seven months.

"I passed the advancement test," he said, looking down at you, his blue eyes solemn. "They're sending me to Two."

"Oh." It was all you could say, and you pursed your lips, turning back around and leaning against his chest. You were quiet.

Coriolanus brought his fingers to your chin, turning your chin to face him again. "Sweetheart."

You looked into his eyes, brow furrowing. "So, you'll still be a peacekeeper? Just...not here?"

He nodded, studying your expression in his way. Coriolanus, you had learned, was always watching you, always inspecting you in some way. You'd grown to find it comforting, though now you didn't know how long that comfort would remain in your vicinity.

Biting your lip, you looked down, the reality of him leaving setting in. You'd fallen in love with him so quickly, and you now couldn't imagine your life without him.

Coriolanus couldn't either.

He'd been disappointed, at first, when he'd been assigned to this city. Bribing the official had been a last-ditch attempt to get to Lucy Gray. The chances had been small, he had known, but still he'd moped during his first week here. Not only was he in District Twelve of all places, but the person he'd spent the last of his money to get to wasn't even here.

But, knowing he wouldn't last twenty years pining over her, he'd pulled himself together and thrown himself into his work. Coriolanus was a hard worker, and he put his skill to good use, focusing solely on his duties.

That mindset had lasted all but a week.

One day he'd been in a bad mood. There were some unusually rowdy citizens that he'd had to round up, and the clouds were getting dark. On top of that, he'd had Lucy Gray on his mind more than usual, wondering (stupidly in his opinion) if she missed him, what she was doing. He'd been patrolling along the street, breathing in coal dust and holding his gun tightly.

There had been a rumble of thunder, and then it began to rain. Quickly, passerby had begun to scramble inside, and he'd cursed his shift, longing to go back to base and have a hot shower. Of course it'd rain today of all days.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone walking in the downpour. When he turned to get a better look, he'd seen you, carrying a bag on your shoulder.

Although you were strikingly pretty, that wasn't what caught his attention at first. It was the fact that you, in a now soaked through blue dress, weren't hurrying along at all, not eager to get inside like everyone else. No, you were meandering along, smiling as if there was nowhere you'd rather be.

He'd approached you, unable to help it. "Miss," he greeted. "You shouldn't be out in the rain. You'll catch a chill."

You'd smiled so sweetly it made his head spin. "I don't mind a little water, officer. It's a lovely change from the heat we've been having."

"Still," he nodded, trying to quell his thoughts. "You shouldn't be walking."

"I don't know any other way to get home from the market," you raised your eyebrows, teasing a bit.

Coriolanus paused for a moment, realizing you were right. He straightened, nodding. "Allow me to accompany you home, then. At least I'll know you're safe."

You'd smiled coyly, tilting your head. He remembered thinking how pretty you'd looked, with your wet hair sticking to your cheeks, rain sliding down your face like tears, contrasting your happy smile beautifully. "Do you do this with all the girls, officer?"

He'd been unable to help the slight lift of the corners of his mouth. "No miss. Just you."

That had only made your smile wider, and you'd let him escort you home. He carried the bag of fruit and vegetables for you, telling himself it was simply the gentlemanly thing to do. But as you'd chatted with him kindly all the way to where you lived, he'd found himself drawn to you, to your sweet nature, your beauty, you.

He'd never before understood how Romeo fell in love with Juliet so soon after Rosaline.

From that point on, your relationship had bloomed quickly. He began to let his guard down around you, surrendering to the pure goodness of you. He was wholly enamored by your being, by your existence. Coriolanus had thought coming to District Twelve would mean Lucy Gray at best, lung cancer at worst, but he hadn't at all expected to find a treasure like you amidst the dust and grime. The two of you cut a striking picture at first- the peacekeeper in his sharp uniform and the sweetest girl in town with a gentle demeanor.

You pried him open, softened his heart. And he made you feel loved, made you feel special. You cherished him for this reason, which was why this news of him leaving hit you so hard.

Back in the forest, Coriolanus propped his chin up on your shoulder. One of his hands was resting on your tummy, soothing back and forth. "What do you think sweetheart?"

"Of the promotion?" you questioned, leaning back against him. You didn't want to tell him how saddened you were by his leaving. So you, true to yourself, took the positive route. "You'll be happy there. You've worked so hard and I'm proud of you." You knew how he dreamed of escaping the lower districts, how much he missed his home. Transferring to Two was a step closer to getting back. "You deserve to go."

He nodded, kissing your temple. "Thank you, sweetheart." Then he rubbed his hand over your tummy again, the side of his head leaning against yours. "Are you upset with me?"

You shook your head, biting your bottom lip in contemplation. He studied you. "What's the matter then, darling?"

"I just..." you hesitated. It felt so insignificant. In your eyes, Coriolanus had a bright future, and you didn't want to weigh him down. "I'll miss you."

You were afraid he'd think it silly, but instead he cooed, pulling you more snugly into his arms. He pressed his lips to the top of your head. "I'd miss you too." He rested his chin on your head for a moment, thinking. Then, in smooth tones, he asked, "Would you come with me?"

Once again, his words made you turn around. You read his face, trying to determine if he was serious. When you found no trace of humor, you asked, "You want me...to come with you?"

His hand found its way to your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. He smiled in a reassuring way. "Come with me, dove," he repeated. "I know you think I'll be happier there, and maybe it'll be familiar for me. But..." he reached over and squeezed your hand. "I won't be happy without you."

You searched his eyes. "Coryo, I can't-"

Coriolanus leaned in and kissed you softly, his hand running up and down your side. He pulled back slightly, that usual contemplative look on his face. "You've got no reason to stay here."

He was right. Your family was long passed or moved away. But that was beside the point. "This is my home," you murmured as he pressed gentle kisses to your neck. "I grew up here."

"But what does this district have for your future?" he asked, nudging his nose against the soft skin of your neck. He was clinging to reasons to keep you.

"I..." you didn't know how to counter. When he put it that way, he was right. But the idea of leaving here, the only home you'd ever known, was just so daunting.

Coriolanus met your eyes, both his hands coming to your cheeks. "What will you do here?" he questioned, shaking his head slightly. "I don't want you to marry some farm boy and make babies for the rest of your life darling." He heard how selfish he sounded, but he didn't care. "You deserve better, sweet girl. You deserve the world."

You felt yourself soften at his words. "Nobody could give anyone that."

He shook his head. "Give me a little time. A few years to move up. And I will be able to give you everything you deserve."

A little smile came to your face at his loving promises. And now you were actually considering it. Sitting back against his chest, you turned sideways so your cheek was pressing into it. "Is it even allowed? Bringing a girl?"

Coriolanus smiled reassuringly. "I'd send you a ticket once I got there. This is hardly the first time a soldier's fallen in love with a girl where he's stationed."

You nodded, then looked up at him. In truth, the idea was growing on you. To be with him, away from the slums, where you might have more opportunities to pursue the things you loved, sounded wonderful.

The other driving factor was the way he looked at you. The way he so clearly wanted you to come. He wanted you near him. He'd said you made him happy.

So, for these reasons, you sat up a little, and nodded, looking into his eyes. "Okay. I'll come with you."

The words were barely out of your mouth before he was hugging you tightly to his chest, peppering kisses all over your face. You giggled, cuddling into him and imagining your new life with him, far away from here.

He told you he'd be leaving in two weeks. Your train ticket would be sent about a month in, so he could get settled first.

You began to prepare, saving money and gathering together a few things you'd want to take with you. Living arrangements would likely be modest, but you were used to such things. As long as you were with him, you'd endure any circumstances.

In the weeks before he left, Coriolanus suddenly became very busy with his peacekeeper duties, and you didn't see him very much over the next bit. It was only when you heard awful news that you figured out why.

Sejanus, his peaceful, soft-spoken friend, was to be hanged. For conspiring with rebels, you'd been told. You were horrified. Sejanus was the last person you'd have thought to be caught doing such a thing. Your heart broke for him, but also for Coriolanus. That was his best friend. Even though their personalities were stark opposites, and Coriolanus was a little colder in affections toward anyone except you, you knew he was fond of Sejanus.

Since you knew him, you grappled with going to the execution or not. It would be horribly painful to watch, since he'd been your friend. But what if he was looking over the crowd, seconds from death, and he wished to see a familiar face? Someone who cared about him? Or would it be worse then? You went back and forth until you received a message from Coriolanus.

Don't come.

It was a hard order to follow, but you did. The whole day you cried for Sejanus. He didn't deserve this, no matter what he'd done. But like your mother would have said, he was in a better place now.

You didn't hear from Coriolanus at all after that. Knowing him, he wouldn't want to talk about what had happened with his friend, but you'd hoped to get something from him letting you know he was okay. The day he was set to leave came and went without anything.

During the month following, you practically slept by the mailbox, hoping and praying for a letter from him. Anything to let you know he remembered his promise. It was harder than you'd thought to live without him now that you knew what it was like to do so. You missed him desperately, trying to distract yourself but ultimately failing.

In a moment of desperation, you wondered if he really had forgotten you. But then you recalled the look on his face when he'd asked you to come. No. Coriolanus never made promises he didn't intend to follow through on. So, you kept your things packed and waited.

The day the letter came, you opened it eagerly, noting the heavy, fine texture of the paper. His initials were prominent in gold at the top. Maybe this promotion was better than you'd thought.

Sweetheart-

I apologize for not writing sooner. Things have been busy here. This ticket is for the twenty-eighth, at 9:00 am. I'll meet you at the station. I miss you.

Yours,

Coryo

Him closing the letter with the name you called him made your heart sing. He didn't forget you.

Then you realized: the twenty-eighth was tomorrow.

Leaping from your seat, you scurried to put what remained for you to pack in your small, round case (a pretty thing your mother had left you), making sure there wasn't anything you were forgetting. You hadn't renewed your rent on this house yet for the next month. The plan had been to send a letter to the owner from District 2, and you figured you could still do that. You'd thought Coriolanus would give you a little more notice, but it would be okay.

Waking early the next day, you donned your prettiest dress: a white thing with buttons to the waistline and little flowers embroidered on the bodice that tied at the bust. Brushing out your long hair, you checked your appearance several times before leaving. You wanted to look your best when you saw him.

When you presented your ticket to the stationmaster, he directed you to the first-class section. Surprised by this, you hesitantly settled, sure there'd been a mistake. But a few hours into the ride, nobody ordered you out. It was very in character for Coriolanus to do this. To make sure the long journey was comfortable. But first class? You hadn't asked enough questions about his new position apparently.

The train ride was long, but you hardly minded, watching the landscape whiz by through the window like a moving picture. Eventually, your eyes became heavy and it was clear your exhaustion caught up to you. You fell asleep, figuring it was okay since you were in a safer section. No need to keep guard over your possessions here.

Some hours later, awoken by the sound of the brakes screeching to a stop, you wearily stretched, sitting up from where you'd lain across the seats. You rubbed your eyes (not too hard as not to muss your light makeup) and looked out the window, expecting to see the rugged mountains of District 2.

Instead, the sight that greeted you was of a city, shiny and crisp. Buildings stretched tall; their grandeur surprising you. It was true you'd never been to District 2, but you were fairly certain that it had nothing like this.

Maybe you'd been sent to the wrong place? You reached for your ticket frantically. But no, it had your name on it. If this had been a mistake, it'd been a well-planned one. Looking back out the window, you saw a sign situated just on the outside of the train tracks.

WELCOME TO THE CAPITOL!

Blinking in surprise, you looked from the sign to the view of the city again. It certainly looked how you'd heard the Capitol did.

The conductor called for everyone to get off the train, and you stood, taking your case in your hand and hoping he'd really be there when you exited.

You stepped off the train, trying to see if you could find him amongst the crowd. People dressed very nicely here; you noticed as you observed the hoard of people coming and going. Then, as you made your way away from the tracks and into the station, you saw him.

Heart jumping for joy, you started to walk toward him. His appearance caught you off guard for a moment. You'd thought he'd be wearing his peacekeeper uniform, but he was in a red suit, a coat of the same color over it. His hair was longer too. He was studying something in the distance in his serious way. As you got closer, he noticed and turned to you, a little smile gracing his features.

You walked faster at the sight. When you were close enough, he held out his arms and you dropped your case, practically jumping into them. Coriolanus held you tightly, lifting you off your feet and burying his face in your hair.

"Coryo," you laughed, overjoyed to be with him again.

"I missed you sweetheart," he muttered into your hair. Coriolanus pulled back slightly to look at you, arms still holding you up around your waist. Yours were wound around his neck, and you searched his eyes.

"I missed you," you said softly, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was gentle, but there was a hint of hunger to it, and you knew when he got you alone there'd be more. For now, you smiled into it, nudging your nose against his.

Coriolanus set you down carefully, picking up your case and holding out his hand for you. You took it, the familiar feeling of his hand in yours lighting you up. As you walked hand in hand out of the station, you were overwhelmed by the sight. This was nothing like anything you'd expected.

He watched your reaction, smiling and squeezing your hand. "I'm sorry for not telling you darling."

"Why didn't you?" you asked as you began to walk down the street. "Did you know you were coming here the whole time?"

Coriolanus moved his arm to your shoulders as he guided you through the crowd on the sidewalk. "I thought I was going to Two until I was about to leave. They sent me here instead." He looked down at you, that little smile you loved so much making you melt. "As for why I didn't say anything about it; I wanted to surprise you."

You smiled at that. It was sweet of him. Then you tilted your head as you asked another question. "Is it the same position, just in the Capitol?"

He shook his head. "I've been discharged. I'm studying at the university."

Now that you were at a lightly less crowded part of the street, you stopped, looking up at him, remembering what he'd told you before about tuition and why he'd been sent out to begin with. "Really? But I thought-"

Coriolanus brought his hands to your arms, setting your case down for a moment. "Strabo Plinth- Sejanus' father- is sponsoring me. He was very grateful for my friendship to his son. And in addition to my studies, I have an internship with Dr. Gaul that pays. Extremely well."

All this information washed over you, and you stared at him in disbelief, trying to understand how you felt about this. Already everything was far different than you'd thought. But he looked excited, and you knew this was everything he'd wanted; to be back home with his family and you, a promising future ahead.

So, you smiled, winding your arms around his neck again and whispering, "I'm so happy for you."

He squeezed you once before you pulled back. Coriolanus lifted your chin with his finger, making sure you were looking at him. "It's going to be so much better than we thought, sweetheart. Just you wait." You nodded, unable to do anything but believe him. The two of you were attracting a few looks as you stood there with him, and you knew it was because you were dressed like the country girl you were. It may have looked odd next to his sleek appearance. You hardly cared though, too caught up in excitement that you were here.

Picking up your case, he took your hand again, leading you further into the city. You looked around at all the sights, excited by the buzz of it all. The structures were so distinguished, with their columns and pillars. It was also chilly. You shivered a bit, and he tightened his arm around you. Back home it'd been spring for a month. But here it still seemed to be winter. The cold, however, didn't stop you from gazing at everything in awe. The view quickly took your mind off the temperature.

Coriolanus watched you take it all in, a look of amusement on his face. He seemed to delight in your wonder. You looked over at him. "Are we going to where you live?"

He shook his head, squeezing your hand. "Not yet sweetheart. We're going to go somewhere else first."

Brow furrowing slightly in confusion, you let him take you to this mystery location, which turned out to be a tall building with lots of windows. He held the door for you, and when you stepped inside, you saw sleek decor, and a woman sitting at a receptionist's desk, looking like something out of a magazine.

She looked up as the two of you approached. "How can I help you?"

Coriolanus told the woman your name, his hand on your shoulder. "She needs to be...outfitted."

The woman nodded, giving him an impressed look. "I'll call someone in to assist."

"Thank you." Coriolanus turned to you, putting your case down beside you. He put his hands on your shoulders, thumbs smoothing over your skin soothingly. "I have a meeting at the university in twenty minutes, but I'm leaving you in-" he paused, looking over at the woman.

"Lyra," she affirmed.

He gave her a charming smile. "-Lyra's very capable hands."

You tilted your head. "What am I about to do?"

Coriolanus tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "It'll be fun, sweetheart. Don't worry. We're going to get you something pretty. Tigris said this is the very best place in town." He referred to his cousin, who he'd told you was very fashion centric.

Feeling a bit confused still, you nodded hesitantly, and he smiled. "Good girl. And I don't want you worrying about price or quantity. The more the better. I'll see you in a bit." With that, he kissed your forehead and left.

You watched him go, then turned to Lyra, who wore a kind smile, seeming to understand how you felt. "Don't worry. We're here to help you. It can be overwhelming at first, especially here."

"Help me with what?" you questioned, returning her smile nervously.

She stood up as another woman walked in, taking her place behind the desk. "Shopping, of course." Lyra gestured for you to follow her, and you picked up your case, walking behind her through another door.

Behind it was a seemingly never-ending space. You saw racks of clothing, jewelry peeking out from behind cases, and shiny bottles of perfume on shelves. Lyra smiled as she watched you take it in. "Like I said, it can be overwhelming. But it's not as intimidating as it looks, I promise."

She led you to a room with wallpaper in a pleasing shade of blue. There was a three paneled mirror in the center. Two comfortable looking chairs were positioned against the wall in front of the mirror, a side table between them.

Lyra told you you could set your case down, and you did, a little warily. "Would you like some champagne?"

"No thank you," you declined sweetly, and she smiled.

"Now, I'm going to pull some things from the floor that I think would fit you," she said, studying you in an observant way. "Are there any colors you like to wear in particular?"

You thought for a moment, shifting on your feet. "I have a lot of blue things, but I'll wear anything, really."

Lyra took note of this, promising she'd be back in a few minutes with a few options. When she returned with two full racks, you realized you and her had very different ideas of a few. "I sent someone to get shoes."

She held out the first dress to you- long, silky, in a light blue color. "Go on."

There was no area to change in, so you hesitantly stripped down in front of her, avoiding eye contact. She didn't bat an eye, zipping up the dress from behind and nodding at the mirror. "Go see."

Gradually, as you tried on dresses, you began to get more into it, spinning to see yourself at different angles in the mirror. The things they were giving you were very beautiful. You liked how the fabric felt against your skin, so different from the dresses you were used to wearing. Lyra pronounced the best colors for you to wear as pink, red, black, white, and blue. "But honestly, you're so cute you could wear anything."

Another woman whom she introduced as 'Cassia' came in with shoes. You tried those on too, testing them out with different dresses and experimenting walking. You almost felt like someone else in these clothes, but in the best way.

Lyra and Cassia flattered you, adjusting the clothes, telling you the best ways to wear your hair with which ones and what accessories would look good. They hung the dresses you'd liked on one rack, separating them from the others, and did the same with the shoes.

You put the dress you'd worn in on and followed Lyra out to the different departments of the store. First to jewelry, where you picked a few simple pieces, much to her pleasure. "You'll be able to wear these with everything," she said approvingly, holding up a necklace to your collarbone.

She led you to an area with nightdresses and intimates next, which you'd balked at. "Are you sure about this? Nobody will be able to see them." You were looking at what she was suggesting: a set with a black lacy bra and panties.

Lyra gave you a mischievous sort of smile. "It's less for you, and more for him."

"Who?" you questioned.

"That handsome man who brought you in, if I'm not mistaken," she raised her eyebrows. You caught her drift and blushed, looking down. She insisted you pick out a few sleeping pieces too, lacy nightdresses and sets.

You selected a scent of perfume too; one you liked that smelled like roses. Lyra handed you a pretty black and white bag that she said would go with everything you'd picked out today.

Much to your surprise, that wasn't the end of it. Now she was sitting you down in a chair in front of a sink, telling you to lean your head back as she gently washed your hair with warm water and soap that smelled like flowers. "To match your perfume," she clarified, as if to explain the choice.

She rinsed your hair and dried it with heat, using her brush to make it fall in sleek, bouncy curls. You smiled at your reflection, amazed at how chic it looked. Lyra applied a little makeup too, not too much because in her words you "were naturally pretty and don't need it unlike some other girls I've helped before".

When all that was over, she took you back to the room with the mirror, handing you one of your favorite dresses you'd tried on (red with a long skirt and short sleeves), and a pair of black heels. Lyra turned her back when you put on your new intimates, only coming over to help you with the brassiere, which was held together by a ribbon tied in the back.

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you were in awe. Somehow you looked brand new, but also yourself at the same time. Bouncing on your heels, you thought of Coriolanus, and what his reaction would be. Would he love it or hate it?

Lyra smiled at you through the mirror. "Very pretty." You turned around excitedly, thanking her kindly for all her work. She almost seemed surprised that you did, as if she wasn't used to it. Adjusting your hair behind your shoulder and smoothing the sleeves of your dress, she said that you were a sweet girl and she'd be happy to help you anytime.

You helped her carry your four bags of things, plus your case, to the front. Just before you got to the door, Lyra took the bags you were holding, hoisting them in her arms and giving you a knowing look. "You come out last. For effect, you know?"

She opened the door, an impressive feat with everything she was carrying, and said something you couldn't hear to someone on the other side. You followed her, and instantly saw why she'd wanted to go in front of you. Coriolanus was standing there, his eyes on you as you entered.

His face, in its usual serene position, broke into a smile when he saw you, all dolled up for him. Moving forward, Coriolanus took your hands in his, lifting your arms so he could see you in your entirety. "Look at you," he said in awe. He put one hand down, lifting the other, still joined with yours, up high. "Turn around for me."

You did so happily, doing a slow spin under his arm so he could see the whole dress. His smile seemed uncontainable. "You look beautiful sweetheart. So pretty." He brought your hand to his lips, kissing your fingers. "There's a car waiting. I knew you'd have bags." He nodded at a man in a suit standing near him, and he started to gather them, carrying them outside.

Coriolanus turned back to you, looking over you again with an adoring smile. "You look lovely, darling. Truly." His affections pleased you, and you looked up at him proudly. Then he seemed to remember something, rubbing your arms. "Did you get a coat?"

Lyra stepped in, holding out the white coat with fur around the cuffs and collar you'd selected earlier. He gave her an appreciative nod, holding it up for you to step into. You slid your arms through the sleeves, and he turned you back around, taking the edges to adjust it around you, making sure you were warm enough.

You watched him do all this with a soft look in your eyes. He'd always doted on you like you couldn't believe. Coriolanus closed the coat around you, chucking you lightly under the chin. "I forgot to tell you how cold it stays for a while, darling."

The driver poked his head in, letting him know everything was ready, and Coriolanus took your hand. You turned to Lyra. "Thank you again for everything."

She smiled appreciatively. "It was my pleasure. Come back any time." You could tell she meant it.

Coriolanus led you out to the car, his arm around your waist, and you could see that you were attracting stares from some of the passerby just like earlier. Only this time, you weren't sure why. You were dressed like a Capitol citizen now.

When you asked Coriolanus about it, he smiled, squeezing his arm around your waist. "It's because you're gorgeous. You were before, but now you're beautiful in a way they know."

He kept his arm wound around your waist the whole car ride, and you couldn't help but think what a pretty pair the two of you made. For so much of your relationship you'd been mismatched. The soldier and the country girl. And a few hours ago, the country girl and academic. But now you looked like you belonged together, like you were dolls that came in a set.

The car pulled up in front of a tall, grand looking building. It was clearly old, but in a majestic way. The sun setting made the white exterior appear nearly golden. Coriolanus exited the car first, holding out a hand for you. You moved to get your bags, but he shook his head, offering his arm. "They'll be taken up. Come with me, darling."

Every step you took, you were more unsure of what you were walking into. A man standing guard at the front nodded at Coriolanus, and he returned it curtly. All the way into the elevator, to what seemed to be the top floor, you wondered what it would be like. Living with him. You'd never lived with someone you were in a relationship with before.

When the elevator dinged, signaling your arrival, Coriolanus looked down at you, reaching his other hand to where yours was clinging to the crook of his arm. "Ready?"

You nodded in an assuring way, even though you had no idea what he was asking.

The doors parted to reveal a luxurious space, more elaborately decorated than anything you'd ever seen. One thing you noticed were the accents of red everywhere. And the roses. Both the color and the flower seemed to hold importance. On some unconscious level you'd known this, known red was his favorite color but not why. Known he valued roses, but not the reason. You were thankful for your choice in dress, the same dark, rich crimson.

Coriolanus helped you take off your coat, but he seemed to be looking for something as he did. "Tigris?" he called, removing his own and hanging it with yours in the closet. Or someone.

A pretty, stylish woman with blonde hair emerged from another room. When she saw you, her face lit up. "Is this her?"

"It is," Coriolanus looked down at you proudly. You felt as if he were showing you off, but you didn't mind it one bit. "Darling, this is my cousin Tigris."

She smiled as she looked over you. "You're just lovely...I can see what Coriolanus was talking about."

"It's nice to meet you," you offered shyly, letting go of his arm. She brought you into a warm hug, and a comforting feeling bloomed in your chest. When she pulled back, she looked over the details of you with great interest. "Your dress is beautiful."

"Ah," Coriolanus said pleasantly over your shoulder, and you looked up, seeing an older woman enter the room. His grandmother, you presumed from what he'd told you.

He introduced you to her and she smiled, albeit a bit tightly. "So, you're the girl he met in twelve?" Her tone made it sound like that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

Tigris saved the day, swooping in and linking arms with you, asking about you, your interests and how you liked the Capitol so far. You told her a bit about shopping earlier, and she beamed. "I'll finally have someone to shop with! Maybe that's the real reason Coriolanus brought you home," she said teasingly, tossing a look back at her cousin.

He only smiled, holding out his hand. "I'm going to show her the bedroom, Tigris."

Playfully reluctant, she let go, smiling sweetly at you. "We'll talk more tomorrow." Then she hugged you again. "I'm very glad you're here. You and I are going to be great friends."

"I'm sure we will," you smiled, letting go and going to Coriolanus. He seemed pleased that you were getting along with her.

He led you to a pair of doors at the end of a hallway, standing like two white chess pieces. The king and queen, you thought.

Coriolanus took you through the door on the right. It was a rather pretty bedroom, decorated much the same as the rest of this floor, grandly with accents of red. Beautiful of course, like a palace.

"This is your room, dove," he explained, and you smiled at the thought of this elegant space belonging to you. Then, he opened a door you'd presumed was a closet. Behind it, you saw another bedroom, but this one looked a little more lived in. "And this is mine."

"A secret door?" you wondered in delight. He confirmed it with a nod.

"The washroom is just through here," he pointed to another door with a gold handle. "It connects to my room as well."

Instantly, you wondered how much time exactly you'd be spending in the room he'd pronounced as yours. He validated your thoughts, taking your face in his hands. No matter how many times he did so, you loved it, the feel of his big hands caressing your soft cheeks. "They've already brought your things in here. I'll let you freshen up." He chucked you under the chin lightly. "Meet me in my room."

Coriolanus kissed your forehead, looking at you in his typical fond way. "I'm happy you're here, sweetheart."

Your smile stayed on your face until he shut the door behind him, and then you leapt into action.

The bags of things you'd gotten today were set to the side of the bed, beside an open door that looked like a closet. You rushed to them, carefully pulling out boxes and trying to figure out what was in each of them.

Finally, you found the one with your sleepwear and rustled through it, trying to find something...acceptable to wear. He'd implied you'd be sleeping in the same bed. You wanted to be pretty for him, for your first night together in the Capitol.

You pulled out nightdresses and sleep sets, considering. Which one was the prettiest? Which one would he like the best?

Remembering the importance of red, you chose a nightdress of that color with white lace trim and a bow in the center. You would keep your panties underneath on, you decided.

Removing your dress and hanging it in the closet, you put the nightdress on, looking at yourself in the full-length mirror. It was pretty. It made your legs look long and your skin smooth.

You pulled your hairbrush from your case and ran it through your hair a few times, making sure you looked presentable. Suddenly everything about you looked wrong. You messed with your reflection, turning to try and see yourself from the back.

There was a knock on the door. "Is everything alright, darling?"

When you looked at the clock, you realized you'd been in there for nearly an hour. "Yes!" you called, adjusting the straps of your nightdress. "I'll be just a moment."

Looking at yourself one more time, you nodded, hoping this was enough.

Opening the door, you saw him standing at his desk, holding a file, reading the contents. He'd also changed, into a grand looking dressing gown that was open, revealing he was wearing nothing but his boxers.

Coriolanus looked up, grinning when he saw you, and putting the papers back on his desk. He came to you, reaching for your hands. "Beautiful." He looked you up and down, his eyes catching on your delicate nightdress. His gaze grew slightly hungry, and he pulled you to the bed, sitting and guiding you to his lap.

His large hands settled on your thighs, grazing the hem. You searched his eyes, trying to guess at his next move. Leaning in, he kissed you gently, pulling back to look at you. "Have I already told you how happy I am now that you're here?"

"A few times," you teased, and he gave a playful growl, grabbing you around the waist and rolling you over so he was on top of you. Coriolanus' lips trailed hot kisses down your neck, and you leaned back and enjoyed it, sighing softly and tangling your hand in his hair. He'd never had hair long enough where you could do that before.

As he ravished you with attention, you relished in your newfound position. Here you were, lying on silk sheets in a pretty dress being kissed by a handsome man who loved you.

When he pulled back to look at you, your smile was bright. Was there ever a girl luckier than you?

The second he'd met you, Coriolanus knew you weren't destined for the backwater slums of District 12. No, he knew you needed something grander, that you were born to live in luxury.

And besides, you deserved it too. There was a natural sweetness about you that made him protective of you, made him want to spoil you beyond belief. And until now, he hadn't had the chance or the means.

The second he'd spotted you in the crowd at the train station, his heart grew full. You were so adorable, a breath of fresh air in the windowless room that was the Capitol. He grew excited at the chance to spend money on you, and give you every comfort he thought you required.

Pretty dresses to wear, A grand place to live. Silk sheets to...well, he'd come back to that later.

Although the dress you'd arrived in was pretty, he wanted you to fit in here. Besides, you'd look absolutely beautiful in the classic style of the Capitol.

When he'd come back to collect you at the shop and seen you all dolled up, looking like you'd been born into luxury, he'd rejoiced. Obviously, he'd always found you beautiful, but there was something about the way you carried yourself now. You were every inch a lady.

He'd been slightly disappointed at how little you'd gotten, but remembering the way you'd lived in 12, he let it slide. In time you'd become accustomed to it. He'd send you shopping again soon, perhaps with Tigris since she seemed to like you so much.

It was only a few days after you arrived that the first social event you'd attend together came up. He was eager to take you out and show you off.

That night when you emerged from your bedroom in a black and white floor length gown of delicate tulle, a string of pearls around your neck, his breath was taken away. He took your hand in his, kissing it gallantly. "Beautiful darling. Absolutely stunning."

You smiled in your sweet way, and he offered his arm to escort you out. Tigris fawned over your dress, looking lovely herself in pink silk. The three of you made your way down to the car, and he could feel your giddiness at the prospect of tonight, though you kept yourself composed in a way he admired.

Walking in with you, he could feel everyone's eyes draw to the pair of you. As a new face in the Capitol, they'd likely be curious, and he relished in the unspoken interest.

Instantly people came to you. He introduced you to person after person, and you greeted them shyly, but politely. It was obvious after a while that people were becoming enamored by you. The sweetness of your being captivated them just as it had him, just as he knew it would.

Women fawned over you, complimenting your dress and asking where you got it. Men eyed you appreciatively, but saw that you were on Coriolanus' arm, so didn't get too close. Good, he thought, looking down at you. You were his. Anyone who got too close in the wrong way would be buried.

You chatted eagerly with anyone who crossed your path. He kept you close, but still greeted those who approached him. There were certain people he was required to talk to after all, but he wasn't going to let you go for it.

When you went off to get a glass of champagne, an older woman whispered to him, "She's absolutely darling."

Coriolanus' mouth twitched into a smile. "Isn't she?" He was pleased that society seemed to have accepted you, finding you as charming as he did.

The night progressed smoothly, and soon you were caught up in a group of women alongside Tigris, talking about fashion. He excused himself, deciding you were alright for the moment in the company of his cousin.

Making his rounds, he greeted senator after senator, oozing politeness. These events could be tedious but having you here with him helped greatly. He'd look over at you every now and then, just making sure you were okay. Every time, he'd see you caught up in conversation, looking like sunshine in a physical form.

He wasn't worried about your social graces. You were unusually well educated for where you were from, and by your own choice too. There was plenty in your pretty little head about topics Capitolites could discuss for hours. Both intellectuals and opposite. His angel could bewitch anyone she wanted.

You came back to him shyly after a little bit, and he wrapped his arm around you, pressing a kiss to your temple. He could smell your perfume. Roses. His favorite. "Everything alright, darling?"

You nodded, looking up at him. "Who do we talk to next?"

That made him smile. You were so eager to please. He rested his hand on your face, thumb running over your cheek. "We don't have to. We can go home now, love."

You looked nervous. "Just a few more? I don't want to be rude."

Coriolanus looked over you, considering. "A few more." He thought it was adorable of you to worry about manners; you really were too sweet.

He led you over to a group of colleagues, greeting them politely. The group of men looked at you with interest, showering you with compliments. Of course, these compliments were a bit more sexual in nature than the women from earlier, but he let it slide, keeping his grip on you tight. You were oblivious to it, chattering with them and winning them over the same way you had with everyone else thus far.

One of the men made a comment about the way your dress hugged your body, and his fingers splayed on your waist possessively. It's not her fault, he reminded himself. He made a mental note to keep you even closer at the next event.

You excused yourself for a moment, whispering to him that you'd be right back, and he was left alone with the group of men. Back to talking about what he considered to be uninteresting affairs, especially when compared to you.

Twenty minutes passed, and you had not returned. He was growing concerned, looking around the room to see if you were with Tigris, perhaps. But no, his cousin was talking to an older lady in a blue dress.

His brow furrowed as he looked, still trying to stay engaged in the conversation but failing. Where on earth had you gone?

Finally, to his relief, you returned. Your smile was tighter, wearier than it had been before. When he got a closer look at you, he could see dried tear tracks on your face.

Immediately he took you under his arm, nodding a brief goodbye to the men in front of him. Leading you out into the hallway, he searched your eyes, brow furrowed. "Sweetheart...sweetheart, what happened? Are you okay?"

You were trying to stay composed; he could see it. Breathing deeply so you wouldn't cry, you said, "Who else do we need to talk to?"

Coriolanus shook his head, pulling you into his arms. "No one. What's the matter?"

The second he had you against his chest you broke, tears slipping down your face like rivers. He held your head against his shoulder, letting you cry there. "Shhh, I've got you angel. It's going to be okay."

He kissed your hair, rubbing your back lightly as not to wrinkle your dress. "What happened?"

You sniffled, shaking your head against his chest, words muffled. "Nothing. It's nothing."

"It's not nothing if it's making you cry. What happened?" he demanded gently.

Turning your head so your ear was over his heart, you sighed softly. Then, "I heard someone talking about how I'm 'district' and I should go back to Twelve."

His blood ran cold, his arms tightening around you. "Who?"

"I don't know," you said honestly. You were so new to this; he should have figured you wouldn't recognize who did it.

Coriolanus inhaled softly, burying his nose in your hair. "Pay them no mind, darling. They're fools with too much wine in their systems."

"I don't even know how they found out," you muttered, pulling back to look up at him. "I didn't tell anyone where I was from. Did you?"

"No," he said, trying to think if he might have let it slip. Not that being from Twelve was anything to be ashamed of, but he knew the socialites at the Capitol would take it too far in a negative light.

You leaned your forehead against his chest. "I don't know how anyone found out," you repeated.

"It's alright, sweetheart," he promised, his voice a soothing coo. "High society feeds on gossip like this. They'll forget all about however scandalous they think it is in no time."

You nodded, unable to do anything but believe him, leaning back into his chest, safe in the cocoon of his arms.

When the next event approached; a gala to celebrate the president and his wife's anniversary, he watched you build yourself up to attend. You selected your dress carefully, trying to infuse confidence into your appearance.

Coriolanus had known it would be a hard transition, going from living in a poor district to the upper-class world. You were doing wonderfully on your part, and he reveled in that. It was the people around you that were having a hard time getting used to it.

Perhaps he shouldn't have involved himself so much in the world of parties and dinners so soon after returning in anticipation of your arrival, but he couldn't help himself. He finally had money and influence and he wanted to use it. It was like giving a man dying of thirst water.

Anyways, the both of you were stuck in this position now. You were making the best of it, enjoying the life he'd given you despite the whispers heard everywhere you went. His sweetheart had a gift for seeing the light.

Tonight, you looked especially beautiful, in a floor length white, sheer dress that Tigris had assured you was the latest style. You seemed very eager to please, checking your reflection a dozen times before you followed him out the door.

He watched you enter the party with an air of pure confidence. Here you were, beautiful as ever, determined to make everyone like you. It broke his heart a little, that you sook the approval of others so much. But he stayed quiet, letting you do what you pleased.

It started well.

You greeted everyone you'd met before, a bright smile gracing your face. Coriolanus felt a twinge of pride. That was his girl.

He looked up at a group of women who were eyeing you, whispering among themselves, and his eyes narrowed just slightly. Then he turned to you. "Darling, let me introduce you."

Walking you over to them, he put on a polite smile as you sweetly told them your name. "It's lovely to meet you."

"Pleasure," one of the women, a blonde, said, pursing her lips as she peered at you over her glass of champagne.

"Likewise," you gave her a genuine smile and Coriolanus thanked the higher powers for your innocence.

As you began to speak to them in your special you way, he relaxed a little. Maybe he need not be so protective. Maybe you could handle yourself.

After a few minutes, you leaned into him, whispering, "You can go greet whoever else you need to, my love. I'll be fine."

He furrowed his brow a bit. "Are you sure?"

You nodded assuredly. "Of course." Tilting your head up to kiss him briefly, you said, "I know you have people to talk to. Go on."

Coriolanus stood still for a moment, deciding if it was a good idea. Eventually he concurred, giving you a parting kiss on the temple and going off to talk to a nearby official who greeted him heartily.

You watched him go, then turned back to the women, smiling. "I love your dress," you told the blonde who'd said it was a pleasure.

She softened a bit, giving you a squinty eyed smile. "Thank you. It's from the new boutique on Third. I can direct you there if you'd like."

Before you could answer, one of the other women, a brunette, said, "Your accent is so unique. Wherever are you from?"

You froze at the question, keeping the smile on your face. "Up north."

The brunette looked amused, a little smirk on her face. "Oh, so like Seven? Or Nine?"

Another blonde cut in, laughing a little. "Oh no, I bet she's from Twelve. Their accent is very similar."

Feeling tense and not much like lying, you nodded. "I am."

Blonde number two seemed rather pleased to be correct, and she raised an eyebrow as she looked you up and down. "How did you wind up here, then? In the Capitol, I mean."

You ignored the pang in your chest. "Coriolanus brought me here."

All three of the women's faces lit up at the mention of him, now looking interested. "How kind of him," the brunette said, sipping her drink. "The Snows have always been known for their charity. First with the Plinth boy and now with you! How lovely."

It was a jab, but you brushed it off. She probably didn't mean anything by it, you decided. Straightening up, you responded, "Yes, it was. I'm very grateful to be here."

"But how long are you here for?" Blonde number two asked, her eyes wide. She seemed about your age, but you could nearly physically feel the difference between you two.

"As long as he wants me to be," you answered honestly, fidgeting with the sleeve of your dress and looking to see if you could spot Tigris. She was nowhere to be found.

"Ahh, I see," the brunette gave you a smile that almost seemed condescending. "Well, that's very nice for you. A little trip to the Capitol."

"Yes, quite," you smiled politely, feeling like a bug under a microscope. "Excuse me, I'm going to go get a drink."

Once you were away, you took a deep breath. At least they weren't being outright awful. It was better than nothing, you supposed. Grabbing a glass of champagne, you took a sip for courage.

You can do this, you told yourself silently as you made your way back over. Make them forget where you're from, make them-

"She's rather naive, isn't she?"

The words of the first blonde woman pierced your ears, and you halted to a stop, just barely in earshot. The crowd was thick, but you could both see them and hear everything they said.

"Well, she is from Twelve after all," the brunette laughed. "Did you expect anything different?"

"Such a shame for Coriolanus," the second blonde mused, swirling her drink. "I wonder if he felt sorry for her. Or maybe he got her pregnant!"

The brunette gasped, hitting her in the arm lightly as she giggled. "That must be what it is. He's such a gentleman, of course he'd do the right thing even if she's a whore. I've heard most pretty girls from Twelve are."

"Poor man fell in love with her and she's just using him," the second blonde shrugged. "Oh, my word, we have to tell Jenny and Mary!"

You were rushing off into the hallway before they could say anything else.

Hot tears burned your cheeks as they fell, and you leaned against the wall, hand covering your eyes. Why did I ever think I could do this?

You caught sight of your reflection in a mirror on the opposite wall, and it only served you worse. Before tonight it had shown a girl who fit in, who could be every bit as good at society as the women in the next room.

But now all you saw was an imposter. Nothing dressed up all pretty.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried desperately not to cry. You didn't want to ruin your makeup and have to go back out there with blackened eyes. Taking deep breaths, you tried to focus on the positive. Everyone else seemed to like you, that was good. The dress you're wearing is pretty.

Opening your eyes, you breathed in and out shakily, smoothing your hair and still harvesting good thoughts. You're in the Capitol. You don't have to worry about money. Coriolanus is-

Right there.

You caught him in the reflection of the mirror and slowly turned your head. His face was solemn. Silently, he held out his arms.

Like a magnet, you were drawn to him. His arms felt like a shield around you, and you could've welded yourself to him in that moment. As a peacekeeper he had always been protective of you, and you were happy that hadn't changed.

No words were said. He knew. Instantly he knew. And you loved him for it.

You were still trying not to cry, and he looked down at you, lifting your chin with a single finger. "Darling."

The single word broke you. Biting the inside of your cheek, twin tears rolled down your cheeks, and his face softened. He pressed your head against his shoulder, holding you to him.

"I'm sorry sweetheart," he breathed, holding you against him.

"This was a mistake," you hiccupped, lifting a hand to brush a tear away.

"What do you mean?" he frowned, hand running through your hair.

"I shouldn't have come here," you whispered in shuddering tones. "I know it looks bad for you, being seen with a girl who's 'district'."

Coriolanus pulled back, looking down at you. He looked determined. "Darling, if anything you make me look better. You've charmed just about everyone in that room."

Shaking your head, you choked, "I'm an imposter, Coryo." Your hands were shaking. You'd jumped into the river of Capitol society, and now the words of the women were stones tied to your wrists, holding you down at the bottom when you desperately needed air. "You should just let me go back to Twelve."

"No," he said instantly, tone sharp. Coriolanus held you tighter to him, as if you'd disappear to Twelve any second in a puff of smoke. "You're not going back there. You're staying with me."

"There is absolutely no reason to keep me here," you begged, searching his eyes. "You have so much ahead of you- you don't need me dragging you down."

Coriolanus heaved a sigh, looking firmly at you. He thumbed a tear from your cheek, studying you for a moment. Then, he reached down for your hand. "Come on. We're going home."

"You don't need to-"

"No," he cut you off, looking over you. "Come with me, sweetheart."

You trailed behind him, his hand in yours as he pulled you back into the ballroom. Flushing red a bit due to your slightly disheveled appearance, you kept your eyes on your shoes, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

Hearing Tigris' voice, you looked up. She looked concerned, looking between you and Coriolanus like she was at a tennis match. "Is everything okay?"

"We're going to head home," Coriolanus said smoothly, letting go of your hand and moving his arm to your waist, holding you in a protective way.

"Okay," Tigris said confusedly. "I'm going to stay a little longer. I'll call a cab." It was sweet of her, to let you go. You didn't want her evening to be ruined because you couldn't handle what other people said about you.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly, and she shook her head.

"Nothing to be sorry for," she said kindly, reaching out and smoothing the sleeve of your dress. "Feel better, alright?"

You nodded, and Coriolanus guided you away, through the crowds. Their whispering irked at you. You were convinced they were talking about the naive country girl and the Capitol's newest up-and-comer, and what a mismatched pair you were.

The car ride home was quiet, and you sniffled the whole way. Coriolanus kept close, his presence a rock in your panicked ocean of insecurity.

All the way up the stairs and into your room he was silent. It wasn't until he sat you down on the bed, and knelt before you, his hands grasping yours, that he said, "You're not going back."

"You have to let me," you responded dryly, your voice hoarse both from crying and lack of use. "I'm no use to you."

"Darling-" he looked away for a moment, seeming frustrated. "What did they say?"

"I don't want to talk about it," you mumbled, looking at your lap.

"You're going to talk about it," he said firmly, lifting one of his hands to take your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him. "What did they say? Don't leave anything out because you want to be nice. I know you, dove. Repeating what they said about you doesn't make you any less of a sweetheart."

Feeling trapped, you avoided his eyes. "It doesn't matter." What the women had said had hurt you, but you didn't want to be the one running to your boyfriend every time someone hurt your feelings.

"It matters to me," he insisted, forcing you to meet his sharp blue eyes. "Don't leave a single word out."

You bit your cheek so hard you tasted blood. Then, seeing no way out, you said in broken tones. "They said...I must be pregnant, or..." you didn't want to say whore. "...or a girl who sleeps around to have gotten you to bring me back here." His eyes darkened, and you quickly tried to smooth it over. "But it's not-"

"Don't defend them," Coriolanus stopped you, squeezing your hand. "Don't. Trust that they'll be dealt with, but do not defend them. They wouldn't do that for you."

"That's not the point, Coryo," you shook your head, scrambling so you wouldn't be the cause of anyone getting hurt. "They also...said I was pretty...?" you tried.

Coriolanus paused for a moment, then laughed lightly in disbelief, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing it. "You really are an angel, you know that? Always so worried about everyone else. I'll bet it was a backhanded compliment and you're leaving something out."

He'd gotten you. You were quiet.

He nodded in confirmation. "Right. But sweetheart-" he came to sit by you on the bed. "Come here." Coriolanus pulled you to sit across his lap, your head resting on his shoulder. "They didn't say anything true. Women in the Capitol are jealous creatures."

"That's likely all they know," you said softly as he rubbed your back soothingly. "The poor things...growing up competing with each other like that."

Coriolanus kissed your temple, chuckling ironically. "You're too sweet. It'll be your downfall someday."

"They were right, though," you said softly, your fingers hooked on the buttons of his shirt.

"Baby," he muttered against your hair. "No."

You looked up at him, and he exhaled softly, his fingers running through your hair. "I don't want you talking about yourself like that. Especially when what those women think is in the minority."

Furrowing your brow, you tilted your head. "What do you mean?"

He scoffed lightly, in a fond way. "Sweetheart, do you know how many people have asked me about the charming girl I brought home with me? How enchanting everyone finds you?" Coriolanus squeezed your arm. "You've entranced everyone that matters."

"But-"

"There's always going to be someone who can't find it in their heart to admit they like you," he assured, nudging a kiss against your temple. "But you, my angel...you're perfect. And you're staying right here. With me."

The possessiveness of his words did not escape you, but it made you feel safer. "I don't want to hurt your position."

"You are the last thing that would hurt that," Coriolanus stated, and the way he said it made you believe it too. "If anything, you're an asset. The way you draw people in, you're a born higher-up's wife. And you're a thousand times sweeter."

He put both hands on the sides of your face. "I have never found you anything less than radiant. Never. And I do not want you do go back to Twelve. You deserve better. I want you here with me. Do you understand?"

Moved by his words, you nodded, and he wrapped his arms back around you, tucking you into his chest. "That's my good girl." He kissed the top of your head, rubbing your back. "I love you. I'm not about to let you go for anything."

"I love you too," you breathed, eyes closing as your body melted against his. It was safe here. And in that moment, you saw forever with him, here where he wanted you.

Seeing you in distress was agony. Coriolanus never wanted that to happen again.

He had to be careful with how he handled things, however. You were innocent, unknowing. And that was just the way he liked it.

Holding you there in his arms that night, he vowed not to let anyone who made you cry walk the planet. Someone who'd hurt a creature as sweet and good as you were didn't deserve to live anyways, he justified.

Coriolanus had big plans for the future. As he rose to power, it'd be less and less of an issue getting you what he thought you deserved.

And it'd be even less of an issue hiding from you what he had done to get there.

You would never find out that he was the cause of Sejanus' death. You would never know what became of the women who spoke so illy of you tonight. No, he'd continue to distract you with the shine and luster of the Capitol. Tomorrow, he'd send you out for a day with Tigris and then leave his internship early to spend the evening with you. Maybe armed with a gift or two. It likely wouldn't even be as hard as he was thinking, given your tendency to focus on the light.

He would do everything over and over again because he adored you. The love, the light of his life. Too good for this world, his alone to protect and cherish and dote on. He would live for you; he would kill for you.

This was only the beginning.

come talk about coryo here!

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games #tbosas fic #tbosbas #tbosas x reader #tbosas #Spotify #milliesfishes coryo #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coryo x reader #coryo snow

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phoward89 · 7 months

Text

Based on this ask & this ask

Dark!Coryo, Dark!Peacekeeper Coryo, Innocent!Reader, obsession

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1:

Coriolanus, now Private Snow, hated District 12. It was so depressing. Between the coal dust, mud, and poverty, he’s surprised that half of the district's population hasn't killed themselves yet. The atmosphere is horrible.

He hates it.

Would've never made it to adulthood if he was raised in the back hills of the Appalachian mountains. Seriously, he would've offed himself. Between the mud, the muggy heat, the never ending coal dust, the bugs (locals call them skeeters), and the overall atmosphere of despair, he hates District 12.

Oh, how he missed the view of the Rockies that surround his beloved Capitol. He had such a lovely view of the superior mountain range from his former penthouse. Even though it was falling apart, moldy, and rat infested, the penthouse was still on the Corso. Was still in the wealthiest part of town. Yes, he was struggling to stay afloat; was impoverished, but at least he lived in the prized and most sought after part of the Capitol.

Keyword: lived. As in past tense, as in he used to live there. Now he lives on Peacekeeper Base-12, District 12.

From a 12th floor Corso penthouse to a peacekeeper’s base in 12. Oh, how Coriolanus Snow has fallen.

High-as-a-kite-bottom must be shitting rainbows at Coriolanus being a peacekeeper in a backwater district.

And to think he was originally assigned to the peacekeeper base in 8. Oh, how he's glad he spent every last cent to his name to bribe his way into service in 12. He doubts that he could survive District 8 considering it's full of nothing but smog, tenant buildings, and textile factories.

At least in 12 he has some fresh air to breathe.

But, he hasn't been able to find his reason for being in 12.

Lucy Gray.

He's been in 12 for a few weeks now and can't locate her. Even Sejanus can't get anyone to tell him where she's at. That's bad considering how everyone seems to trust Sejanus; open up to the naive revolutionary due to his warm and friendly personality.

So, Coriolanus is stuck patrolling the streets of District 12 while rethinking his life choices. God, how he wants to be back in the Capitol so bad. He'll do anything to get back.

Anything at all.

One day, while on patrol in the Merchant Sector, he spotted you, a pretty Seam girl, making her way to the apothecary shop.

You had on a pretty floral dress.

No, not just a floral dress, but a dress with tiny red roses on it.

It suited you.

You had a book tucked under your arm as you walked down the cobbled streets of the nicer part of the district. And when you noticed him, you gave him a small smile.

That was the biggest goddamn mistake you've ever made in your entire life!

That one small smile sent Coriolanus’ mind into overdrive. You were so kind to him with that one tiny gesture. So kind when everyone else in the district looked at him with disgust because of the uniform he wore on a daily basis. Everyone else in this back asswards district looked at him like a bug to be squashed, but you didn't. You looked at him like he was a genuine person.

Your small smile was full of warmth and sunshine. It reminded him of his mother, who he lost such a long time ago.

Oh, how he secretly craved the warm gentleness of a woman. The warm gentleness that he's only known while in the embrace of his mother.

He wonders if you would sing to him late at night when sleep seemed to evade him. When he was deep in thought, too focused on a problem that needed solving to sleep. Would you wrap your arms around him, hold him when he needed solace? Would you be that gentle woman's touch he's craved his entire life?

Yes.

Yes, you will be.

Coriolanus vowed that he'd find a way back to the Capitol, but now that's changed. Now, he needs to find a way to bring both of you back to the Capitol.

As delusional as it might seem Coriolanus was instantly obsessed with you all because you gave him a kind, small smile while on your way to intern at the apothecary shop.

But he didn't view it as obsession, instead he viewed it as love. And he loves you with his entire being all because you smiled sweetly at him.

Your older brother Rein and his girlfriend Ashlie raised you to be leery and fearful of peacekeepers. They told you not to trust them; to stay away from them. And most of all, they told you to never ever look them in the eye or talk to them.

Not unless you wanted trouble to rain down on you like hellfire, that is.

But you made the mistake of flashing one a smile while on your way to the apothecary. The peacekeeper was young, you reckon around your age, and very tall. He had to be one of the tallest men you've ever seen in your entire life. But it wasn't his height that made you notice him. No, it was his eyes. Eyes such a pure blue, that they reminded you of the beautiful crystal clear water of the lake.

He seemed unlike any man you've ever seen before. Yes, he was a peacekeeper on watch duty, but he looked miserable. As if he didn't want to be here.

So, before you could think twice, you gave him a small, warm and friendly smile. Hoping that maybe you could cheer him up. Make his day a bit brighter in the desolate, depressing coal mining district you were cursed to be living in.

To your surprise, he smiled back. It was a closed lip smile, but it took over his entire face and just made his eyes sparkle. Made him look youthful underneath his peacekeeper's persona.

You barely made it a yard away from him when suddenly, a large shadow loomed over you. Looking up, you saw that the very same peacekeeper you just shared a smile with was right next to you. Walking by your side, like your personal golden retriever.

Except you didn't know that Private Snow isn't a golden retriever. He's more like a demon possessed Chihuahua from the deepest pits of hell. Shit, scratch that, he's legit the hellhound Cerberus that's guards the gate to the underworld for Hades.

Mhm…

But you didn't know that. How could you? You've just seen the man. Up until now he's been nothing, but a stranger to you.

Just another random peacekeeper.

“Um, hi.” You greeted your new companion, your voice a near stutter, as you passed by townspeople and shopkeepers while walking down the cobblestone street of the Merchant Sector.

Everyone looked a bit wide-eyed since you were side by side with a peacekeeper. Surely your name would be in the gossip mill tonight; it wouldn't be anything good either. Your older brother was going to flip his shit when he found out.

“Hello, Miss-” The peacekeeper at your side greeted, leaving an opening hanging for you to supply him your name.

“Y/N Halvir.” You simply supplied.

“Well, Miss Y/N, I'm Private Coriolanus Snow; I thought perhaps I could escort you to wherever you're going since, after all, it's my duty to patrol these streets and keep the good law-abiding citizens of 12 safe from harm.” Coriolanus told you, laying the charm on real thick since he wanted you to believe that he just wanted to do something nice and dutiful for you. He didn't want you to know that he wanted to take you to your destination in order to show you off to the entire Merchant Sector. To make sure that everyone (and he means everyone) in that part of 12 knows that you're with him.

Commissioned Officers are the only ones allowed in the Peacekeepers to have serious relationships (usually they would have an arranged match in the Capitol) but he didn't care. Coriolanus Snow did what he wanted; the hell with anybody else. He wanted something, he took it. Right now, he wanted you.

So…

He was taking you.

Or at least he would be taking you back to the Capitol with him once he figures out a way back there. But as for right now, Private Snow was letting everyone see you together; letting everyone know that you were his girl.

His girl and off limits to anyone else.

And if someone even did so much as look at you sideways, well, he'd kill them.

“Oh, you don't have to. The apothecary’s right up the bend and I'd hate to be a bother; make you take time out just to walk me there.”

“It's not a bother at all, darling. In fact, I insist on walking with you, to keep you safe.” Private Snow smiled, seeming to be a friendly and helpful gentleman underneath his grey uniform. “Never know who out there might try to harm such a pretty girl, like you.” He added in to drive home his reason for walking with you.

Hearing him call you pretty made your cheeks grow hot. Oh my… Nobody's called you pretty before, not even your own brother and his girlfriend (and they raised you). No, Rein and Ashlie always said that you looked nice.

Coriolanus calling you pretty did something to you.

The peacekeeper smirked to himself, knowing that his words had ensnared you to him. He honestly did think you were pretty, so having you react to the compliment by getting all flustered made his heart soar. It gave his obsessive nature a large ego boost, because to him your reaction meant that you loved him back, just like he loved you.

That the two of you shared the unbreakable bond of love at first sight.

But the truth of the matter was that Coriolanus was obsessed with you in an unhealthy way after seeing you and sharing a few words while you were just a kind person that wasn't used to being called pretty

You're from the Seam; girls from the seem don't get called pretty.

Well, not unless they're one Lucy Gray Baird.

But that reality would never be Private Snow's reality. No, his reality’s one where you're both crazy in love with each other after sharing smiles, a few words, and a walk.

Coming to a stop right in front of the apothecary, you looked at the peacekeeper and politely told him, “Thank you for walking me here, Coriolanus.”

Coriolanus leaned forward, closing the space between you, only to request, “Please, call me Coryo. All my friends and family do.”

His words took you aback. Blinking, you asked in disbelief, “You want to be friends?”

“Yes.” Coryo nodded, a too wide smile showcasing his pearly whites on his face.

Lie!

That was a big fat fucking lie!

He didn't want to be your friend, he wanted to be your boyfriend. No, no. That's not true either. Scratch that, Peacekeeper Snow wanted to be your husband.

Yes, that's right. He just met you and barely knows you, but he wants to be your husband. All because he's obsessed with you; thinks that you share some kind of special undying love all because of a kind smile and a blush.

Boy oh boy, seems like he forgot about Lucy Gray real quick.

Lucy Gray. Lucy Gray who?

She didn't matter to him anymore. Coriolanus realizes now that the songbird was just a means to an end; that it would've never worked out between them.

That you're his true prize. The girl that's meant for him. The girl that's kind and pretty, just like his mother used to be before she was taken away from him by dying in the birthing bed with his baby sister.

You're his perfect girl.

“Okay. We can be friends.” You naively responded.

If only you knew what he truly meant by ‘being friends’. It'd save your family a whole lot of trouble and heartbreak. That's for sure.

“I'll wait around; escort you back when your done.” Coriolanus offered as the young dirty blonde man inside of the apothecary shop looked at the window, stunned to see you talking so easily with a peacekeeper.

A peacekeeper that had no need for herbs, remedies, and healers since he had access to all the modern medical marvels Panem’s Capitol had to offer at the PKB-12 Military Hospital. The young shopkeeper was concerned for your safety, seeing you exchanging words effortlessly with the uniformed grunt.

“I’m interning here til 5:30, sometimes 6.” You told Coriolanus because you didn't want your new friend waiting around for you when he had work to do.

Before Coriolanus could tell you that he'd be back around then to escort you home, the door to the apothecary flung open and out walked Juris Ashberry.

Juris was a dirty blonde of average height that you had gone to school with. His father was a clerk at the Justice Building; worked closely with the mayor. His mother was good friends with the old hag that owned the apothecary.

So, Juris arranged for you to get an internship at the shop after his family had arranged for him to be in a courtship with Belladonna, the daughter of the old hag that ran the apothecary.

Belladonna hated you because her intended, Juris, had a sweet spot for you. A sweet spot he was too chicken to openly declare.

And it was the worried look in his eyes that tipped Coriolanus off that the man who just walked out of the apothecary felt something for you. He wanted to stab that dirty merchant boy's eyes out for looking at you.

Coriolanus is the only one allowed to look at you with such sweet worry and care.

“Y/N, you're needed inside.” Juris told you as a way to separate you and Coryo. His eyes sized up the Capitol born and bred peacekeeper, concluding that if he had to then he could take the tall and athletically built peacekeeper on in a fight.

“Bye, Coryo.” You waved at your new friend before turning towards the apothecary.

You were almost to the door whenever it opened and out strolled Belladonna, your boss's daughter. She gave you a glare before skipping over to Juris and snatching his hand in hers. “Now that she's finally here, we can go have midmorning tea with Mayfair and Billy.”

Juris just nodded before silently walking off with Belladonna in the direction that the Mayor's large lavish house was in.

Coriolanus didn't like Juris. Even though Juris has himself a pretty flaxen blonde on his arm, the way he looked at you was dangerous. And the fact that the man seemed comfortable at your place of employment (internship, but practically the same thing) didn't go over well with him either.

Coriolanus decided that he needed to get you away from that dirty blonde man; he needed to make you dependent on him. And he needed to do those things because it was the only way to ensure that you'll join him back in the Capitol.

So, while you went about your midmorning in the apothecary, Coriolanus patrolled the streets while scheming up a way to get you fired. Hmm, maybe he could threaten the shopkeeper’s family? People seemed to do anything to keep their family safe.

Whatever he’s got to do to get you out of that shop, he’s going to do it. He was going to stop at nothing to have you on his arm as he stepped out of the train and onto the platform during his return to the best city in all of Panem.

The Capitol.

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owlespresso · 6 months

Text

the golden ivy which clings

omega!luocha/beta!reader you are a beta courier. one of your clients is more interested in you than you'd like. tags: blackmail, coerced intimacy done as a part of @lorelune's a/b/o collab.

Your legs ache. Your muscles twitch with the extended exertion. The last five hours spent on your feet are catching up to you. It’s a trapping of the occupation. Being a courier on the Luofu means you regularly bounce up and down its many layers and areas, rushing from district to district, from the boughs to the canopy. After three years, you’ve long memorized the thin corridors and hardly beaten paths, mapped every vein and pipe and ligament in your seemingly endless pursuit of planning the optimal delivery routes.

Faces blend together in your line of work. You doubt your clients remember much anything about you. You’re a muddy sparrow flitting from branch to branch, a bee gliding from flower to flower, as nameless as any other customer service worker. You earn more than most of your peers, but that’s mostly because you’ve extended your services to stations and ships beyond the Luofu orbit.

…And also because of your status as a perfectly even beta, liberated from the debilitating symptoms of heats or ruts. You have no need for bimonthly off days, and needn’t fear the voracious gazes or grasping claws of wayward alphas. No one is likely to notice a lone, scentless courier, even in areas where the Cloud Knights frequently patrol.

Today’s business sees you on the far ends of Aurum Alley, where night has slipped over the artificial skies like silk over skin, streets steeped in deep shadow. You stick to the walls, underneath awnings and through narrow side paths. Silvery moonlight dapples through a canopy of sunset orange leaves, touching the aged stone path, the askew benches next to the food stalls.

On the furthest side, mist billows from the waters and onto the red wood docks. Quiet, still. Hardly a customer to be seen. It’s been the very same every other time you’ve visited. The only people you’ve seen have been members of the IPC. They’re surely thrilled at the minimal returns the businesses here are receiving. Filthy hawkers, intent on contaminating every locale unfortunate enough to make contact with them. You hope they never see another coin in their entire lives.

Not that it’s any of your business. You’re just a courier. It’s in your best interests to keep your head down and keep your eyes from wandering, lest you attract their attention… or the attention of any other governing body who would disprove of the wares you ferry from place to place.

Near the docks, where the wind churns the briny waves, stands the blond man. A repeat customer, a man you’ve come to know as ‘Luocha’.

“You didn’t have to wait out here,” is the first thing you say to him, adjusting the straps of your heavy bag. Your shoulders have started to ache from the strain of the day's long treks. “It’s cold, isn’t it?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he assures you. He has a delicate kind of beauty, the kind you see in fairytale picture books or depictions of soft omegas in gravure magazines. His cheeks are thin, set of his nose regal. His lips are soft rose, petals curled into a winsome smile. His lashes, thick and blonde, fan against his cheeks every time he blinks. It’s all at odds with his imposing height and strange, cold aura. “Shall we head inside?”

“It’s whatever you want,” you reply drolly.

“Inside, then. You look... tired. Have you been on your feet all day long?” Luocha’s hair sways when he turns and bobs which each sway of his hips. Dim lantern light catches on the ornamental pin which holds his strands in place. Just as striking as the rest of him. You really don’t know how he’s come this far without finding a mate. He surely turns the head of any alpha who catches a whiff of him. Even with your muted sense of smell, you still detect undercurrents of that delicate sweetness. Frosted finger cakes and clean face powder. It’s buried under something bitter and medicinal—only able to be caught in the tender hours of the night. After his work is long done.

“That’s just the job. It doesn’t bother me,” you assure him. The apartment building is darkly lit and nondescript. He doesn’t look like he belongs here, in all his whites and golds, pristine and put together and perfectly pressed.

“Still,” he glances back at you. “You won’t be able to do your job at all if you don’t get enough rest. And I would hate to be deprived of my favorite courier’s company.”

You don’t know what kind of face you’re making, but he takes one look at you and laughs quietly.

“My apologies. Given my occupation, it’s practically second nature for me to be concerned about these sorts of things.” He says with a small shrug. You don’t reply, lips nettling into a frown. If you were kinder, perhaps more naive, perhaps you would have mistaken the sentiment to be genuine.

He doesn’t live in the hollow apartment he leads you to. It’s too ramshackle, mostly undecorated space with a couch, a table and a mismatched arm chair when you walk in. He’s dressed too nicely to tolerate moth-eaten curtains and layers of dust.

“Pardon the state of this place—I don’t actually live here. If it were up to me, we would hold our meetings in a nicer place.” he sighs. You don’t know why he feels the need for small talk. He hasn’t always been like this. During the first few months of serving him, the only words exchanged between you both were basic greetings and fleeting formalities.

“It’s fine. ‘S not like you live here,” you wave him off and deposit your bag onto the leather. It’s an earthy green, the color nearly the same as the worn upholstery. It squelches at the impact, and you tug it open by the zipper. The vacuum of created space is chilled around your arm, goosebumps rolling over your skin. A square package wrapped in plastic, off-worlder medicine banned aboard the Luofu, favored by certain members of Sanctus Medicus.

“Are you a member of Sanctus Medicus?” you’re not sure why you ask.

“Oh? I can’t recall you ever asking me such a personal question,” Luocha observes, a mote of mischief in his voice. “Why? Would you dislike it if I was?”

“No. It’s not my place to police anyone's beliefs—but the members I’ve met seem…” you trail off. It isn’t like you to give your opinion so freely, but you can’t imagine someone so discerning falling in line with those quacks.

“Sanctimonious? Self-righteous? Gullible?” Luocha lists for you, leaning against the back of that dowdy couch. He doesn’t move to accept the package, even when you pointedly zip the bag back up. His smile is unreadable.

“All of those things,” you agree, making the three steps it takes to reach him. “Though, I can’t really blame them.”

“And how could you? The long-lived of the Luofu will be roaming the galaxy and enjoying its many fruits hundreds of years after they’re dead and gone. It’s only natural to pursue that which they feel has been hoarded from them.” Luocha plucks the package from your waiting hands, eyeing it with mildly fond intrigue.

“I suppose,” you hum. You’ve already spoken too much. This isn’t a discourse you should be involved in. Sanctus Medicus, despite their incompetence, is still a faction of individuals with enough outreach to meddle in your business, should this conversation get back to them.

Long fingers wrap around your wrist. Your eyes blow wide as you stumble into his chest—sturdy, so different from what you’d expect from someone so beautiful, built well beneath his layers. There is no presage, no forewarning.

Underneath the chamomile slides forth the tender, ambrosial scent which betrays his status as an omega. Your pulse hums in your ears, body frozen stiff—but you remain unblemished by the adrenaline.

“Mister Luocha?” you say.

“So steady, even now,” he observes with infuriating tenderness, breath warm against the shell of your ear. “I suppose I should have expected that from an emanator of Harmony.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, unable but to be proud of how steady your voice remains. Every meeting you have ever had with him replays in your head, rolls by all at once like jittering strips of old-timey film as you pull them from the rusty bank of your memory. What could have given you away in the brief moments you’ve shared together? What in the way that you’ve handed him his contraband belied your true nature? Nothing, you’re sure. He’s discovered this piece of you on his own, and that worries you the most.

“Come now,” Luocha coaxes, the euphony of his voice slipping into something softer and sweeter. “You can be honest with me. We’ve already shared so much with each other, haven’t we?”

“The only thing I’ve ever shared with you are the poisons you order,” you inform him, hands braced against his chest. He tuts at you, and his scent grows all the sweeter. Even you can recognize the excited pheromones he pumps into the air. Your senses are replete with him, tongue made sticky by the devious croon of his voice.

“And you give so much of yourself with that alone,” he insists. “Your willingness to pass illicit drugs into the hands of your customers tells me far more about you than any small talk ever has. A shame, really. You have such interesting thoughts, whenever you deign to share them.”

“What do you want from me?” you ask flatly. Your eyes narrow with undisguised suspicion.

“A great many things, but to start...” His fingers tap a gentle drumbeat atop your shoulder. You shrug him off. A contemplative sound hums deep within his chest, quiet but loud in the dusty still of the room. “Share more of your thoughts with me, Courier.” he beseeches. “You’re always so quiet, when we’re together. I think we’ve known each other long enough to hold better conversations.” His hands slide off of you, smooth and quick as oil slick. It’s a concentrated effort to not bolt out of his reach like a startled fawn.

His gaze bores into your back as you take several measured, extremely normal and calm steps over to your abandoned bag, zipping it back up with renewed zeal.

“I think that was extremely inappropriate.” you share generously.

“I apologize. I only meant to tease, but it seems I’ve pushed too far,” he confesses, genuinely contrite. There is something else about his inflection. Something which sparks alive the long distant urge to soothe. “I don’t often forget myself like this. You must bring it out of me.”

You frown. The feeling dies. It’s not your responsibility to comfort this weirdo. He’s done nothing to earn your sympathy. Pesky biology, however, would dictate otherwise.

“You’ll be delivering to me again tomorrow, won’t you?” he asks, tilting his head. Your internal discourse snaps to a halt, instinct shafted to the side to make way for the sacred tradition known as “doing business”.

“Of course. Same ingredients, same amount?”

“Yes—and a Core Esse, if you’ve the means to procure one—”

You give him a look, but you nod regardless. “Understood. I’ll meet you at the docks, tomorrow—” It’s not professional to walk away while making arrangements with a client, but you very badly want to be out of this stuffy apartment and away from the new, bizarre scrutiny he looks at you with.

You typically avoid knowing anything about your customers beyond the bare basics. However, you can no longer afford Luocha that same distance. Just how much does he know? And where exactly has he pulled your precious secrets from?

The investigation begins tonight. You’re hesitant to call on her, but you may very well need to reach out to a particular contact.

—

Hours worth of feverish research inevitably lead to you just calling the Stellaron Hunter who owes you a favor. You have not the slightest clue where Luocha procured such private information, or how much of it he has. Penacony’s travel logs will be the first place to look. If your bothersome merchant has been there before, it’ll be no mystery where he figured you out. Does The Family still talk about you? And do they look back on your brief term of leadership with nostalgic fondness or embittered hatred?

You care not. Those mistakes are long behind you. The Luofu is a kinder place, somehow easier to navigate despite its Abundance soaked innards, where only the engineers dare wander. Without the protections they are outfitted with, you suppose you’re more vulnerable to mara exposure and all it entails, but you never dwell longer than half-an-hour at a time.

Roots and vines cling to the aged metal paneling and jutting pipes, green and gold particles sour the dim air. The pipes rattle and groan, portions of something neon yellow shooting through the complex web of them at irregular intervals. Flowers sprout from the ropey greenery, some bulbs shut and others agape. Pale petals of pink and white and periwinkle peeled wide open against slick silver and rusted brown. The closed bulbs look oddly wooden, but you’re not stupid enough to touch one.

Luocha could surely excuse you for being mara-struck. The Cloud Knights, on the other hand…

Well. It’s not worth thinking about. The overworld welcomes you back with a gust of fresh wind, washing away the acrid tang of the tunnels. The shallowest of them have several discreet exit and entry points. Crevices in the walls swallow you whole and deposit you in nondescript locations across the Luofu, random alleys and average apartment buildings where it’s easy to sink into the crowds.

Today, it’s a high end district, populated by the high-end homes of diplomats and ranking officials from the Luofu’s sister ships. They come to roost in these behemoth manors a few times a year at most, meaning the streets are emptier than you’re accustomed to. There’s not a soul to be seen or heard, not one resident there to share the wide open road with you. The houses leer at you with wide windows and lacquered doors, sat fat and happy behind their tall gates and gaping lawns.

Luocha calling you here, after all of those clandestine exchanges in that dowdy shell of an apartment, is a statement in itself. Is he threatening you with this obscene display of opulence? You can’t begin to fathom why he’d bother with bothering a simple courier. What does he possibly hope to gain?

The address he sent is among the smallest houses you’ve seen so far. One of the least extravagant, which is to say, still pretty fucking extravagant. The latticework fence is wreathed with delicate cotton roses and the yard is a veritable Eden in comparison to the other lots. The path forward is lined by patches of vibrant wildflowers.

The air is cleaner here, and for the first time since entering the district, you can hear birdsong echoing from the tops of the trees.

How much of this did he plant himself? And how have his neighbors handled living next to a miniature forest? You reach out, palm sliding over the closest oak’s trunk, the bark coarse under your cold palms. Beyond the path, to your left, you hear the babbling of flowing water. The yard isn’t large enough to have a creek, you reason, and the time of your appointment looms close—but you figure you have enough legroom to at very least sneak a glance. Your curiosity for once gets the better of you, sending you through the thicket of green, beyond a copse of trees lined up like appointed sentinels, and over an emerging path of flat stones.

The forest opens into a small clearing. A massive, rock-lined pond nests at the center, surrounded by cattails and watergrasses and other waterfaring plants. The babbling, as you expected, comes from a filtration system stealthily hidden amongst the many reeds.

Sunlight shivers across the gentle waters, stirred up by the afternoon breeze.

A chair has been left unfolded beneath the low-hanging branches of a stout, red maple—a splash of crimson among earthy greens and cool browns.

Cautiously, you pick your way down the slope to the pool, squinting at the fish which flicker and dart between rocks and lotus stems. Mostly koi. Pretty, glimmering things which likely cost an arm and a leg. You’ve been to many aquatic markets, even ferried a few live specimens yourself. You settle by the edge, elbows resting on your bent knees. Cautiously, you extend outstretched fingers towards the water, dragging along the silken smooth surface.

A hand lands on your shoulder.

“My, my—”

You don’t hear the rest of what he says. One moment you’re above water and the next under, your startled flailing sending you straight over the lip.

Luocha is at very least apologetic about your unfortunate (humiliating) spill. He shows you to the washroom and closes the door with a contrite little smile. You run up the water bill for your trouble, the shiver chased from your drenched frame as you step under the hot spray. The shower has room enough for three people, easily. There are two heads and a bunch of silver knobs and dials you don’t feel like fucking with. Rich people and their needlessly complicated household appliances.

You don’t know exactly how long you spend in there, but the mirrors have fogged over by the time you get out. Only once you’ve properly scrubbed the pond water from your skin and tended to your hair do you turn the shower off. The mist sticks to your skin even after a decent toweling. You go through two until you give up and throw on the plush robe he so generously provided. It’s as fine quality as the porcelain tub you spy nestled against the western wall.

The brass glows near gold beneath the warm light. The entire bathroom is all golds and black. Utterly resplendent, but it doesn’t really seem his style.

Is this even his home? You can’t help but wonder as you stroll out the bathroom and into the rest of the house. Most of the interior chambers are linked by wide circular arches. The furniture is cream cushions paired with lacquered dark wood. A sweet smell hangs in the air, but you can’t tell if the potted white lilies on the table beside the sofa are the source.

Luocha stands by the window. Beams of sun hit his face and cast his hair in vibrant gold. He’s ethereal in those shades of sun. He looks delicate, somehow, curves of his body lean under the flowing press of his silken robe.

He looks at you. The dreamy green of his gaze clears your brain of the remaining fog, leaving you cold and alone with the fact that you are alone, together, in an empty house. In a mostly empty neighborhood.

“Your clothes are in the wash,” he smiles. “They’ll be clean in around an hour. Once again, I apologize for startling you—”

“Don’t. I shouldn’t have been skulking around in your front yard in the first place.” The sooner your humiliating slip is forgotten, the better. “Let’s just get down to it. You wanted something delivered, right?”

“All business with you, even now,” Luocha sighs, forlorn disappointment wrinkling his brow. “You don’t have to be so uneasy around me, you know. Why don’t you take a seat? I’ll brew us some tea.”

You do not sit. “You called me here for a reason. I deserve to know what it is.”

“Is your company not reason enough?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. He’s closer now, close enough for you to see how glassy his eyes are. The cloying, sweet smell grows stronger with each step taken, reckless pheromones enough to send a shudder down your spine. Is he… “What if I said I simply wanted to see you?” he breathes, gently cupping your chin. “Should I admit that you’ve haunted my near every thought for the past month, or would that be going too far? Would it frighten you?”

A ruddy flush paints his pale cheeks, cracks in his composure beginning to show. He’s always been the perfect picture of composure, to an irritating degree. The certain grace he moves with used to almost annoy you. So steady, in a world contaminated by constant disruption and imbalance. The very pinnacle of perceived harmony. Perhaps you envied the way in which he carried himself or the freedom he enjoyed as an interstellar merchant, but now—

Now you can say you hardly envy him at all.

“I would say that you should wait until your heat is over before making any confessions,” you observe, resisting the urge to swallow and make the problem worse. Omega or not, he still looms large over you.

“I’m in pre-heat, where I’ll most likely stay for the next few days,” one of his hands graces your right shoulder, thumb rolling delicate circles there. “I won’t ask you to… service me through the heat itself, but your company would help soothe the symptoms.” The touch wanders down your upper arm, a smooth, repetitive caress. It feels more like an unconscious gesture or a nervous tic than anything else. A self-soothing sort of motion.

“I’m a courier, not an on-call heat partner,” you inform him. How desperate must he be, to seek out the assistance of a courier of all people? “And I’m a beta. I can’t help you in the same way an alpha could. You know that.”

“And how do you know what will and won’t satisfy me?” he replies cooly, haughtily, as if he did not just sing your praises and plead for succor by your hand. “Betas are known to be particularly adept heat and rut partners due to their versatile nature—”

“I too have read the ‘Galaxy Hitchhiker’s Guide to Dynamics and All their Intricacies’. You don’t need to quote it verbatim to me.” you reply flatly, sounding as unconvinced as possible. Luocha is—dangerous. He is handsome, and he seems very sweet, and always seems well of manners, but you know he hides his daggers deep in his sleeves. The moment you realized you are considering his offer, you feel apart from yourself. Because it is ludicrous an idea.

Luocha’s eyes close. His bright lashes fan against flushed cheeks. “No sexual intimacy has to be involved. While skin-to-skin contact is the most effective method to ease the pain, simply being in the same room as you will suffice.”

The heat of him slips onto your skin, the layers between you thinner than you realized. An absentminded hand roams to the sash tied ‘round your waist, idly toying with the knot. His palm, after a moment of fidgeting, settles on the round of your hip. He gives you a gentle squeeze, but it reminds you more of a cat flexing its claws than a gesture of simple appreciation. He inundates you with scent and touch, pins you like a butterfly to a board, wings splayed open for his searching eyes.

Not that you’ve really tried to fly away at all. A flush of newfound heat encompasses you, unbidden as his scent washes over your palate. You draw him into your mouth and swallow, thighs pressing tight together. It’s ridiculous, really. Inane. Who is he to make you feel so unbalanced?

You find him so utterly vexing. No other man could do this to you, you think. You wouldn’t dare step foot into anyone else’s private home. You wouldn’t consider breaking the strict code of propriety you keep with your customers. But for Luocha, denizen of the Abundance and keeper of your most precious secret, you fear you may do anything.

“I’m a beta,” you repeat quietly.

Luocha remains undiscouraged by your disquiet. Baffling creature, bold beyond reason and reckoning behind his steady, at times coquettish mien. “You can still help me, if you would like. I’m not in the practice of taking unwilling partners.”

You let a poignant pause settle between you, as if you are legitimately considering his request. He leans in, ever so slightly, as if leering at you from three centimeters away is any better than leering at you from five.

Then, finally, after remaining silent for at least thirty long seconds. “Do you prefer blackmailed ones?”

He smiles. The corners of his eyes crinkle with it, entire face lighting up with genuine fondness. So utterly vexing, this man.

“Do you really want an answer to that question?” he asks. When you don’t answer, he presses a kiss to your temple.

—

It isn’t as awkward as you thought it would be. Perhaps it’s because Luocha seems to lack shame in almost everything he does. True to his word, he doesn’t touch you without permission. The rest of the day is spent sitting together in the lounge. He reads a book while you sit on the couch, half-paying attention to the news program you’ve put on. Dinner is takeout. The conversation is… bearable. It helps distract you from how close he is, pressed tight to the side of his body.

You stay in the living room until the sun sets, vivid orange light descending to dusky twilight. Eventually, Luocha stands to head to the washroom. A chill replaces the space he once occupied. You don’t allow yourself to mourn the loss. Instead, you haul yourself onto your feet. Black spots swim at the corners of your vision as your body lags a few seconds behind your brain.

It’s just more time wasted, as far as you're concerned, so you push yourself. You stagger until your eyesight clears, intending to make a break for the guest room that certainly must exist. Somewhere. A house this extravagant must have a guest room.

You manage to peek into two rooms, one a particularly extravagant closet and the other a sunroom.

You sullenly retreat back into the main hallway and head for the next door. Luocha slides out of the bathroom and fixes you with a questioning stare. “Where are you going?”

“Isn’t there a guest bedroom?”

“Ah,” he stands there and looks at you for a long moment, like you are a stranger in his home. Which is partially true, you suppose. You are little more than strangers. “There is, but I was hoping…” he looks off to the side with a pointed sigh. “you would spend the night in my bed.”

You stare at him like he’s grown a new head. He stares back, completely unrepentant.

“Because skin-to-skin contact helps?” you supply wryly.

“Right,” he smiles, as though glad you understand. “During pre-heat, an omega craves the constant companionship of a trusted person, preferably a mate, but that label doesn’t apply to our arrangement. Remaining isolated during this time could cause anxiety, depression, feelings of worthlessness, headaches, migraines—”

“You’ve gotten all the pity you’re gonna get out of me.” you inform him crisply. You relent anyway. The wooden floor is chilly as you pad towards him.

Your stoicism “Wonderful. Thank you for accommodating,” At very least, he seems to know that he’s putting this upon you. Luocha’s bed, you think, is far from the worst place you could spend your night. He’s far from unappealing. He smells good. He’s been weird to you, before, but he’s also unwaveringly polite and currently weaker than usual, hazier.

Not like you have much of a choice.

He could easily leak your location to your former allies. The Family’s connections span the universe wide. They could easily track you down and cause you all sorts of trouble, maybe even get you kicked off the Luofu. It’s best to cooperate with him, for the time being. And it’s not like he’s terrible company. He holds the door open for you even now, when you’re here for his sake.

His bedroom is as luxurious as the rest of the house. The floor is dark wood and the walls are black with golden accents. Tapestries hang over tall windows, blocking out the moonlight. A porcelain vase sits atop a combination dresser-vanity, its knobs and gnarled claws a warm bronze. The rest of the furniture is similarly colored, and of similar quality.

What draws your attention the most is the bed. It’s a wide mattress held aloft atop a platform. Gauzy black curtains hang from the top of the thin gold frame, parted to give you a good look at the mountain of pillows and blankets stacked atop of it. This, you recognize.

“Ah, that’s…” you begin, not quite sure how to phrase it. Aren’t some omegas super touchy about their nests? You haven’t the slightest clue as to which compliments to pay and to which part.

“A nest. I typically don’t indulge in the baser instincts that come with heat, but the urge was stronger than usual,” Luocha informs you, padding over to the mattress. He flops backwards on it, swimming through silks and satins like a minnow up a stream. Soon enough, you’ve lost him in the pile. “There isn’t much else for me to do besides twiddle my fingers, and I can only watch television for so long. So I thought: why not? It’ll be as good a way to keep busy as any other.”

There’s a small pause. Luocha hesitates by the vanity, drumming his slender fingers atop the hard wood. There’s something uncharacteristically fretful about the gesture. “What do you think?”

“It looks comfortable,” you nod sagely.

“What glowing praise,” he says, almost beaming. You’re kind of annoyed at how… no, you won’t call him cute. Not even within your own internal dialogue. “I’m glad to hear that. Why don’t you join me?”

He rests up against the headboard, lines of his body lean and lithe. He looks like something out of an old painting, long locks and pale limbs flowing over the dark sheets like

The green of his eyes is startling in the dim of the room. He looks you over, haughty like a monarch on a gilded throne, until his eyelids dip and his head tilts.

“Come here,” he beseeches again. “Please.”

And you do. You cross the threshold of the room, slipping past the open curtains and into the bower of his bed. The mattress dips plush under your hands and knees. Once you’re halfway across, you sit back on your knees—but this is not close enough for him. He needles and pleads with you until you’re close enough to grab. One of his hands wraps around your upper arm, the other at your hip as he tugs you to him, fitting your back snuggly against his front.

You still, but the tension remains wound tight in your shoulders. You’re more amazed at your own stupidity more than anything else. Wasn’t it you who insisted on keeping your clients at arm’s length? All of that haughty professionalism was tossed out the window the moment you succumbed to his pleading—if it could even be called that. He asked nicely.

Your eyes flutter shut. You lean backwards into his chest. His wide hands slide over your body, thumbs rolling circles onto your hips. A soft and sticky feeling settles underneath your skin as his thighs (bigger than you imagined) cradle your own, silken fabric of his robe pooled over the sheets. A low sound rumbles in his chest, suspiciously close to a contented purr.

“I’m so glad you decided to spend time with me, courier.” he coos. His hand glides up your arm to cup your own, long fingers interlacing with yours. A contemplative hum rumbles within his chest as he turns it over. His thumb traces the lines and creases of your palm. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“I suppose I don’t.”

“And that’s why it means all the more to me that you stayed,” Luocha murmurs. He reaches over to the nightstand, and the lamp flickers off. The room is plunged into matte darkness, hardly a glimmer of moonbeam slipping in. “I think that you’re more considerate than you pass yourself off to be. Does that frighten you?”

“I didn’t think you’d be able to talk this much,” your brow wrinkles. “Aren’t you supposed to be too horny to think?”

“I’ll remind you that I’m currently in pre-heat—a process my body uses to prepare for the actual heat.” he says with a light sigh. “Believe me. If I were in heat,” his breath brushed against the shell of your ear, a warm and heady caress. “You would know.” He delicately presses the shell between his teeth, nosing the space behind it with another pleased sigh.

You shudder, and close your eyes. “And what’s the difference between heat and preheat?”

“Ah, I suppose you wouldn’t be able to tell… The pheromones for one,” Luocha squeezes your hand. “Are different. They’re similar to the ones we give off when under threat, a signal that we’ll need help soon… Not all omegas go through it—only an estimated forty percent.”

“I see.”

Luocha smiles, the curve of it pressed against your throat. You don’t like not being able to see him. A predator looming in the dreary dark of his den. “The desire is still present. Less a raging storm, more the gentle lapping of the waves.”

“Poetic. But I still don’t get why you picked me. They have services for this kinda thing. People who know more about it than I do.” If you doubted his sanity before, you certainly do now. What kind of sane omega enlisted the help of a postwoman above paid professionals?

“I would rather you than an unfamiliar alpha some service decided would be an adequate match. Even if vetted, a stranger is still just that. A stranger.” Luocha idly toys with your fingers, thumb rubbing circles onto your palm. It’s a touch too familiar, too tender for what you are. But Luocha permits himself to it, and the rest of your body, with a natural ease. You can’t help but feel lulled by it.

“I see. And you feel safe sharing a bed with your dealer?” Tempting as the siren song of slumber may be, you retain enough wit to pry. The whole thing is too absurd to not badger him a bit more. The arm wrapped around your waist tightens in reply.

“I trust someone who has never been late, never sold my personal information or purchase history and has been nothing but courteous to me.” Luocha lists off your credentials with ease. They feel like they’re straight out of an EULA, or some sort of contract. Out of place in a situation as delicate as this. You could easily tell him as much, but he’s starting to sound sleepy. You would rather he get his rest. And be quiet.

“Of course,” he squeezes the space above your hip, making your pulse spike. “Having the endorsement of an Aeon helps. Especially if said Aeon rules over the Harmony. What a lovely and orderly path to tread, courier. She chose you so well.”

“You should have told me that this thing was gonna make you delusional,” you grumble, writhing in his hold to simply signify your displeasure. A part of you wants to come clean and ask where the hell he learned your secret. It’s obvious that he won’t change his mind, or be swayed by your protestations. But you’re still too stubborn to admit he’s right.

You’re almost annoyed by how comfortable this is. He laughs, breath brushing the crown of your head, but he says nothing else, perhaps sensing that he’s reached your tolerance threshold for silliness. His breathing evens out a few minutes later, chest rising and falling beneath you.

You adjust yourself, settling into his side. Over the next few minutes, he contorts around you, the weight of his arm settling around your waist. Time slips away from you, after that.

The rampant pounding of your heart at last begins to slow. You’re almost calm, wedged between the blankets and body. Your sleep shirt is still wrenched upwards, his bare arm pressed against your stomach. The contact is a boundary crossed, a spark to a hunger you didn’t know you had been harboring. You don’t like it. Some part of your hindbrain rejoices at seeing this man’s needs met, and that delight worries you more than literally anything else Luocha has done or said today.

You stare across the room at the covered window. Slowly and steadily, you untangle your legs, curling them to your stomach. Outside, a frog croaks. The pond babbles in the distance. The air above the blankets is cool on your face and legs as you gently kick the covers back. The chill caresses your skin, sneaks between your robes to give you bumbling gooseflesh. The walls of the nest vent out the worst of the cold. Maybe you’ll ask him about cracking a window open tomorrow. Just a little bit.

—

You wake up a few hours later, and blink into the dark. Luocha stirs next to you. He’s awake. You don’t know how you know, but you can tell. His finger curl ever so slightly against the soft core of you. A shiver ripples across you, robe parted just enough for his fingertips to touch your bare skin.

“...Did you plant the garden outside?” you don’t know why you ask, but you do.

Luocha hums into the crook of your neck. He strokes your stomach, petting you.

“I did,” he answers after a moment, a contented sigh ruffling your hair. “Now get some rest.”

—

You leave the next morning, without breakfast. Luocha is a surprisingly deep sleeper, though perhaps you owe that to his current affliction. You’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. You’re also not going to be lured into skipping work by your own foolish sympathy. He can take care of himself for a miserly ten hours.

The day goes as any other does, at first. You take the shortest route you can find through the Luofu’s abundance-ridden innards, starting at the lower decks first. Packages and envelopes pass hands with little delay.

One of your clients, a buxom woman who owns a silk shop, covers her giggling mouth with an oversized sleeve. You eye her with suspicion. She notices, and giggles harder.

“I don’t mean to offend you, dear courier—it’s just—I hadn’t taken you the type to so openly… wear that kind of perfume.” she says, as if elaborating. You don’t understand what she’s talking about, and you don’t particularly care. You leave her to her frivolities and spirit away, merging back into the crowd with casual ease.

The next few clients each make some degree of face at you. One goes wide-eyed, before schooling his features into his typical, customer-service smile. The next looks at you like you have just thrice cursed his family line, nose wrinkled and eyes narrowed into a beady glare. You resist the quite mean-spirited urge to remind of the legality of his purchases, shoring up your mental fortitude by recalling the sumptuous tips he usually gives.

Your seventh customer meets you beneath the crimson awning of a local cafe. You’re glad to be out of the beating sun.

“Congratulations, by the way,” she says with a smile, nursing a cup of iced tea and ah—you realize, something about you has really changed.

“Thank you, but may I ask what you are congratulating me for?”

“Oh!” she looks startled, and then sheepish. “On the relationship? I didn’t mean to presume….but your scent, today…” she trails off, looking awkwardly to the side.

Fortunately, you don’t need her to elaborate. The context clues snap together with sudden, startling clarity, the peevish behavior you’ve endured all day granted perfect context. Of course, evidence of your business with the merchant would be more apparent to those with keener noses. Your cheeks blood with abashed warmth. You resist the urge to shrivel like an old apple peel, overwhelmed all at once with humiliation, with indignation at yourself and the man who cast this misfortune upon you.

Heavens, how outrageous you must have seemed, walking into the esteemed establishments and parlors of your clients bathed in that ridiculous fellow’s scent! It’s but another consequence of yesterday’s poor decisions. You fume silently as you leave, making a beeline for your apartment. It’ll delay the rest of your deliveries, but that can’t be helped.

Your phone jitters in your pocket as soon as you step through the threshold of your dwelling.

You drop your bag onto the grey throw rug. It lands with a mighty thud, loud enough to make you silently hope the downstairs neighbors had not been enjoying an early afternoon nap. Your jacket gets tossed onto the sofa, keys thudding onto the upholstery. Then, you roundabout to the door. A row of locks catch stray rays of sun. You swiftly latch each one and give the door a rough, cursory shove.

Then, and only then do you check your messages.

You left without saying goodbye.

Your brow furrows. You’d never taken him to be this needy. Every other message above this exchange is polite, but ultimately curt. Most of his recent prying has been done in person.

You were still asleep

It’s alright. When will you return?

After work. Around 8 hours

That long? Could I persuade you to return sooner?

I can’t just skip out

I’ll buy you out. How much do you earn in a day?

Honestly, the nerve of this man! You type a series of poignant expletives out before tactfully deleting them.

It’s more than the money. my clients are powerful. i cant lose those connections

A few poignant moments pass before his reply comes.

Alright. I’ll see you later.

The tension drops off your shoulders. You expected him, in truth, to let loose a most potent threat to ensure your immediate return. A part of you, small and illogical, fears he’ll do his worst regardless. The thought of The Family learning your whereabouts nauseates you, bile churning at the very base of your throat, but surely a man possessed of his many sins is too wise to open his mouth about yours.

Without even realizing it, you have completely trapped each other.

What did he ever do with that Core Esse?

It’s better not to think about it. You have hours more left to move, and your line of work demands utmost focus, lest you drop an organ into the wrong customer’s hands.

Fifteen minutes, you afford yourself. The water chases the sweat from your skin, soap and sponge raking your skin raw. The evidence of him washes down the drain with the suds, leaving you remarkably less agitated. Because, really, who gave him permission to linger on your skin and on your clothes and in your thoughts—who gave him leave to evoke your fear and sympathy and intrigue and misplaced affections? Not you, that much is for certain!

You determine yourself free of the vexing beast’s cloying scent and return to the Xianzhou’s busy streets.

—

Arrogance is one of humanity’s most populated wheelhouses. Next door, its foundations built by fools and geniuses both, stands proud senselessness. If you had to name a tenant they share, then with abrupt acuity, you would surely name the Stellaron Hunters, who, as far as you can ascertain, base their stratagems off the ravings of a lunatic. As you wander to the edge between land and space, you cannot help but wonder what his credentials are, and if anyone has ever laid eyes upon them.

You don’t care enough to ask, though, when you reach the jagged edge. The end of the cargo hold, where the Xianzhou’s artificial sky breaks. Fragments of pale blue and white float amongst the void, growing smaller and sparser until none remain. The ground ends in a series of jagged, shiny edges, as though the metal had been cut clean through. You duck underneath a smattering of ships and starskiffs and cranes and cargo containers. Cold, silvery chrome gives way to the cold, open empty. That is where the man in black waits.

“Blade” is his name. He is a vision against the star-scattered expanse of the empty. Stood beneath a bright, red star, unbothered hy the thin oxygen levels and freezing temperatures. Tall and looming and perhaps irredeemably beautiful. It could be the lack of air talking. You like him more than you like Silver Wolf. She wastes your time with always unnecessary and often personal questions.

“Here for Silver Wolf, I assume?” you ask, already rifling through your bag for the cables and strange, circuit-board devices which she has ordered from you.

“Yes,” he nods, and you appreciate how he says nothing else.

“Alright. Here you are, then. Make sure she knows that she owes me another favor. These things were hard to find. She’s getting the discount of a lifetime.” you hand him three small boxes and he leaves with a nod. A polite and concise interaction. As distant as mostly-strangers should be.

—

“Home” is after that. The skies have gone a bright gold, nighttime looming in the near distance.

Luocha’s home is not your home. You refuse to identify it as such, for doing so opens dangerous doors and implications which are most inappropriate for what you have. You make a brief pit stop to your apartment to gather a night bag, changes of clothes haphazardly crammed into the black canvas alongside a toothbrush and other necessary toiletries.

You nudge the door open with your hip. Pale orange light falls across the threshold and into the dimly lit living room. Luocha sits on the couch, or rather, he lounges. The silken collar of his robe drapes over his right shoulder, exposing a frankly indecent amount of his chest. You pay his naked skin no heed, plonking your bags onto the floor. It’s a welcome weight off your shoulders. You wish you could lay on the floor. A good sleep on that fine, polished wood would fix you.

“Welcome home,” he greets you, daintily depositing the book he’d been reading onto the side table. “I never realized just how long your hours are. You must be exhausted.”

“I’m used to it,” you reply, but you flop onto the opposite end of the sofa regardless. A heavy sigh punches out of you, weary eyes shutting.

“With how much you charge me, I would think you could afford to shorten your shifts,” he says, with sympathy you know is feigned. You crack an eye open to cast him a cursory look—but the room shifts around you in a blur as long fingers curl around your wrist and pull, tugging you onto his side of the couch.

You land with a disgruntled squawk. Your hands curl into silken fabric. and you realize belatedly that you’ve all but been dragged atop of him, left laid out between his legs. You twist, top half of your body turning to the side to level him with a nasty glare.

He’s flushed, is the first thing you noticed. More so than yesterday. His cheeks are dusted in pale pink, a delicate blush that runs all the way to his shoulders. He’s warmer, too. You can feel the heat of him pressed along your body.

“You didn’t have to do that. You could have just asked,” How does someone who looks so willowy have such a strong grip? It’s beyond you, truly.

“Forgive me,” Predictably, he looks completely, and utterly, unrepentant. “You were just so unsuspecting, I couldn’t help but want to surprise you…” You make a point of looking as surly as possible, and the fiend laughs. Quietly, and behind his oversized, crimson sleeve. Unbidden comes to you the shape of his lips around that euphonic sound, what they might look like when parted by soft breaths and dulcet moans— “Ah, please don’t make that face. It only makes me want to tease you more.”

“Enough of your insanity. ” you bite out, pointedly pressing your elbow into his side. You wriggle in his arms. His grip curls tighter around your waist and he sighs, pressing his face into the crook of your neck to take a long inhale. “Let me up!”

“Just a few more moments?” he asks, words mouthed into your skin. You feel hot all the way down to your shoulders. You muster all your resilience with a swallow, but it isn’t enough. A hush falls over the living room.

Against your better judgment, you find yourself lulled by the gentle sound of his breathing, by his warmth at your back. Nearly ever part of you aches. Your legs throb, the tight muscles of your thighs worn and throbbing from a long day’s labor. The scorching pains dig deep into your shoulders and your back—you’re due a nice, long shower, you think.

The dappled sun against the adjacent wall writhes and shifts with the artificial breeze. You can hear the winds shifting through the canopy outside. A songbird sings a trilling little tune. It’s easier to focus on these things while you indulge him and wait to be let up, even if he is being unusually quiet. You’re wise enough to not necessarily be glad for the silence.

His hand cups your hip, shifting you even closer. It’s only a centimeter or two, but it lets you feel the pointed hard thing jutting into your back in greater clarity. Unbidden, your cunt throbs between your thighs. The arousal and exhaustion makes your mind sticky, concrete thoughts difficult to come by among the haze.

“Luocha,” you murmur, and he moans softly, breath brushing against your tender skin. Goosebumps flare across your shoulders and arms despite the heat—the sound the shock you needed to get moving. “This is—” you cut yourself off with a swallow as his lips press to the column of your neck. Your already flagging resistance whimpers out into nothing. Each heavy inhale draws him further in, the scent so sweet and cloying in spite of your muffled senses.

“You must have had such a hard day. Doesn’t it hurt? Always going home to that empty apartment?” he purrs, voice indulging, dripping with a delirious sort of fondness. And isn’t that always the trouble with these sorts of situations? Does he want you, or are you the closest warm body available for him to rut into? How strong is his grip on reality? You writhe in his lap and he gasps. His grip tightens in response, holding you fast with surprising strength. “You must be so lonely…”

“I’m not, really,” you nearly snarl, finally losing patience with your clinger’s affections. Your voice, alongside the elbow you jab into his side, jars him from his twisted reverie. He chokes, and muffles a groan into the collar of your jacket, at last lifting his lips away from your skin. The breath whooshes out of him at the force of the blow, but his grip barely loosens. “Behave. Or I’ll leave.”

He inhales quietly, and shudders.

Over your brief stay in his lavish home, you have perhaps twice (or thrice) wondered if keeping to your principles was worth it. Why not sink into his touch? Why not drink deep of the physical affection he saturates you in? The fact that you’re contemplating the subject at all is deeply ruffling. Little less than two weeks ago, you would have scoffed at the idea.

Alas, the creature at your back is more siren than man. It wounds your pride. You aren’t just any beta. You’re a prime beta, a beta noticed and beloved by Xipe herself. The gift of Harmony should allow you to smother the scents around you completely. It should grant you immunity to the bothersome urges which so often get in the way of business. He weakens your shored-up defenses, somehow.

“Of course… My apologies.” he sounds contrite, and despite yourself, you soften. Just a tad. “It’s just—well, a little difficult to hold back when you smell like that.”

“Like what?”

Luocha evades the question, without even pretending to humor it.

“Your last customer was an alpha, wasn’t he?” He lifts his head from the hollow of your throat, looking down at your intertwined fingers over your shoulder. His thumb brushes along the back of your hand before he flips it over. His fingertips brush over yours, before curling into a fist around your pointer and middle, giving a gentle tug. He idly toys with your hand while he speaks. Voice a light, low murmur. “A tall man. Black hair, pretty red eyes… They look like candle wicks, don’t they?” He says it fondly, and your heart sinks into your stomach.

Of course he knows Blade. Why wouldn’t he?

You’ve never bought anything from Luocha, but you can tell from what he orders that he’s a merchant who idles in the same, seedy markets as yourself. A man who had asked you to trade him an organ brushing shoulders with a Stellaron Hunter somewhere in the darkest corners of the Luofu sounds completely and utterly plausible. A group of little coincidences which occurred just to be a thorn in your side. How did they meet? You can’t help but wonder. How well do they know each other? What kind of relationship do they have?

You don’t ask any questions. It’s not your place. Getting involved anymore than you already are is just asking for more trouble.

“And if I did meet him?”

He pauses, and laughs a little.

“Well. I am almost in heat. Perhaps I just became… a bit defensive when you came back, smelling just like him. Omegas in heat can be just as territorial of their dens as alphas in rut, though that's often overlooked in the social narrative. We’re supposed to be weak, dainty little things, you know?” If he feels self-conscious about this, he doesn’t show it. He has a tighter leash on himself, now. He sounds more contemplative than resentful.

“You, weak and dainty? I have to laugh,” you don’t.

“I appreciate how open-minded you are,” he says sweetly.

A brief silence falls over the room. You take in the soft sound of the breeze outside. The steady shifting of the trees’ canopies. The steady breathing of that small ecosystem he has birthed and nurtured.

He’s hesitating. A question hangs in the air, tangles on the tip of his tongue. You can’t see his face, but you have a sixth sense for these sorts of things. That, and it’s typical of him to demand more than you’re willing to give. No more ground will you cede to him. If he begs again for you to remain during the duration of his heat, he’ll find himself succinctly refused.

Still, you’d rather not have to go through the uncomfortable hassle of rejecting him. But he clearly thinks better of it, because he stays quiet—only breaking the contemplative quiet to ask you what you would like for dinner, his thumb rolling circles onto your palm.

#hungering for hsr #luocha/reader #luocha #imagine hsr

200 notes · View notes

rhadamanthes · 7 months

Text

Made with love. Toji x reader

word count : 2,8k

warnings : kitchen sex, fluff, praise, bakery AU, food play, breeding kink, soft toji, forced proximity, single dad toji, slowburnish.

"Thanks for that, I owe you :)" You sigh, reading Shiu's message. You accepted one of his friends to work with you for a time. Toji, your new coworker starts today, you couldn't be more nervous. For the past 4 years, you've been working alone. You own a small pastry shop downtown, key word being small you don't even know how two people are going to fit in. You fidget nervously waiting for someone to show up. Shiu didn't even take the time to send a picture of the said friend. So you're just looking like a creep observing every passerby trough the window of the bakery waiting for someone to stop.

And when they do you can't help but gasp. A black haired man, built like a brick, is looking at the facade. That must be the guy. You open the door and pass your head through the crack.

"Toji?" you call hesitantly.

His head drops to meet your gaze and he nods. You're taken aback by the beautiful shade of his eyes, a deep captivating green. You feel the heat cripping to your cheeks but invite him inside.

"Did you find it easily ?" you start to break the ice.

"Yeah it's the only pastel colored shop in the business district" he laughs

You clear your throat in embarrassment, what's wrong with pastel color ?

"Anyways, so I suppose Shiu told you that I'm specialized in dessert and stuff, do you have any experience with that ?" you ask nervously.

"Not really in sweets, I used to cook for the army."

"Oh nice so you have some basis, I'll give you a quick tour."

The shop is small and only has a few seating tables so it goes pretty fast, pushing the swing door you're now behind the counter, and your fear comes to life. With the way he's built this feels like you're stepping on each other's feet. You open the door to the kitchen in a hurry needing to have some personal space again, it's the biggest room in the shop, and you walk him through it.

"So that's it, if you have any questions before we start don't hesitate and- oh! I almost forgot here is your apron, it's a spare of mine so I think it's going to be small but I'll go shop for others tomorrow." You say handing him the white colored clothes,

Now That you think about it, it also has lace details on the hem, you purse your lips the idea of this mountain of a man wearing a way too small apron with girly little details on it. Toji nods his head accepting the piece of cloth.

"So are you going to watch me change ?" he asks teasingly.

"N-no! Not at all the door here it's the break room, you can change there"You stutter over your word.

You put your own apron on, taking the ingredients that you need out of the fridge.

⠀༺ ✤ ༻

The morning rolls around fast and you're satisfied with Toji's way of working, he learns fast and is independent. The first customers start to walk in and you decide to put Toji at the desk to see how he interacts with them. And it's kind of catastrophic, not a smile in sight, no greetings or basic customer service sentences. You put your hand over your mouth looking at him. You go behind the counter, tapping his shoulder lightly.

"Toji, you know it would hurt anybody if you smiled a bit" you whisper not to expose him in front of the client sitting at the tables. "Look how I do with the next ones, yeah ?" He nods without saying a word.

Waiting patiently for the next customer, you rearrange the displayed goods, telling Toji how you like them to be presented. The bells at the doors ring and you put on your customer service smile, fading quickly when you realise who it is.

"Get out" you hiss.

"That's how you greet your friends now ? I just came by to see how the partnership is going" Shiu answers in his usual mischievous tone.

"It's great, now turn around and go away"

"Hmm i'll have the fondant aux poires please" you roll your eyes at his request serving him anyway.

"You're lucky i don't have tomatoes in here i'd ruin your suit"

"One day you'll thank me~" he says in a singsong voice handing you the cash "So toji how do you like it so far?"

"It's nice," he answers flatly.

You can't help but wonder if he really keeps this monotonous tone, and stone cold expression even with his friends. You turn around to meet his eyes and he's already looking at you, neutral expression, just grazing the scar on his lips with his fingers.

"Well I'll leave you to it then" Shiu says bidding you both farewell.

"So can I threaten the next customer?" Toji says leaning back on the counter.

" "Hello", and "have a nice day" will do, Forget about the smile" you say, hitting his arm lightly, going back to the kitchen.

At the end of the day you show Toji how to leave the kitchen ready for tomorrow, and everything clean. Outside of the shop you're both standing in front of each other awkwardly.

"Well i hope you enjoyed today" you laugh nervously "I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, 8 am again ?"

You nod your head.

"See you then" he says, turning around going his ways.

Looking at him disappear, you think that this might not be as terrible as you thought, nobody ever denies a little help. This will do you think, this will do.

༺ ✤ ༻

You quickly get used to Toji, it's not like he's talkative, or particularly joyous but his presence makes you feel less lonely. He's less trouble then he seems, during the lunchbreak the two of you usually sit next to each other in the break area, when you were alone you would always put on some TV reality show to unwind. Now that Toji is here you still do, but he made fun of you for the first few days. Now he silently watches it with you, making comments from time to time.

Work wise you couldn't be more satisfied he quickly followed your rhythm and rarely complains. The only thing is that in such a small space you stopped counting the number of times you bumped into each other especially when behind the counter, he would always make snarky comments about how it's not an accident and you just want to feel his muscles. You always shut him off but he likes to see you so flustered.

One day Toji came to you looking thoughtful. You immediately pick up on it asking him what's wrong.

"Would...it be a problem if my son came to eat with us today ?" he asks, scratching his neck.

You're a bit dumbfounded, he has a son ? Of course Shiu didn't mention it.

"Hum yeah sure no problem" you says realising how few you really know about him

"Thanks, i should have warned you sooner but he only decided it a few minutes ago" he says avoiding your gaze

"It's fine, really, let's get back to work" you shut him off.

For the rest of the morning you can only think about Toji and his son, how old he's he ? Is it the reason why Shiu insisted for you to engage him ? Before you can think anymore about it the door opens, ringing the bell. You can see a small form rushing through the door and an adult following close behind, telling the kid to slow down.

"Megumi!" Toji beams as he takes the kid in his arms "Giving Tsumiki a hard time?" he laughs ruffling the hair of his son. The kid doesn't answer, hugging his father.

Tsumiki, the woman you suppose was following behind, is out of breath.

"Sorry about the cub, did he make you run around town again ?" Toji asks.

"No that's fine" she whispers, slowly breathing back to normal. "Enjoy your meal and I'll pick him up after hmm?"

Toji nods and she makes her way to the exit giving you a warm smile and a wave of her hand. You mimic her still not realising what happened.

"This is my son Megumi" Toji states awkwardly "Megumi says Hello" he whispers in his hair.

The kid turns around waving, not saying a word, well if it wasn't for the fact he's his dad spitting image, the attitude gives it away. You chuckle at the scene before you, leading them to the break room.

Dinner with the father and son duo was fun, they act exactly like each other, but Megumi is a bit more talkative you would say, he went on and on about the dogs he has back home and his friend Yuuji. This is the most information you have on the Fushiguro's. For dessert you offered Megumi a pastry and he happily devoured it. Tsumiki went to pick up the kid and the two of you resumed your shift. Since Toji brought a part of his private life here you allowed yourself to ask him a few questions, you learned that his wife passed away giving birth to their only son, and that Tsumiki is like a big sister to Megumi.

༺ ✤ ༻

Toji is not used to praise, or simply people talking to him without a second thought. To him, your sweetness hides something, so when you're both preparing the sweets of the day and you tell him how good he's doing, he snaps.

"Stop doing this" he tones. His harsh tone takes you aback, you furrow your brows.

"What are you talking about?" you ask genuinely intrigued

"Your stupid words of encouragement i'm not a toddler i don't need this, or your pity"

"This shop is all i have i don't care about your personal feelings, i care about your performance if you were doing bad i'll tell you too, you know what next time i'll tell you to fuck off when youre done with one of your task" you scoff losing patience.

Turning your back to him, you keep on decorating the cupcakes. The rest of the day was silent. Toji felt stupid for even mentioning that. He won't say it out loud but the silent treatment you're giving makes him miss your voice. He'll accept anything now, even the oversweet words.

༺ ✤ ༻

Today is the end of the week, on friday customers are rare in the afternoon. This is usually the day you take your time to try new recipes. Sitting on the counter you're eating a blueberry crumble with cream on the top.

"Solitary pleasure ?" Toji's voice interrupts you.

The both of you quickly made up after the little fight and everything is back to normal, even his little teasing. Heat creeps to your cheeks at his comment and you clear your throat.

"No just trying some new stuff" you stammers

"And can I have a bite?" he smiles.

You nod, extending your hand. A normal person would have picked up the sweet from your hand but not Toji, supporting your hand with his, he dips his head low, eating straight from your skin. The feeling of his lips and tongue on your skin makes you shiver. What is wrong with him ? He looks at you through his lashes and you instinctively close your thighs. He straightens his back, licking his lips.

"Don't close your thighs on me darling" he purrs with a smirk growing on his lips.

You hit him with your feet, getting off the counter to wash your hands in the nearby sink. The water runs against your skin and you try to forget what he feels like against you. But he seems to have other plans. Caging you against the counter, Toji takes your hands in his, spreading the soap on your limbs. His chest feels like a wall behind you, he's hot and strong, you relax in his touch and wonder how his tongue would feel on every part of your body. He keeps on massaging your hands as he rubs against your ass.

"Toji stop" you blurt in a meek voice, you're not even convincing yourself.

"You sure you want me to stop? you have goosebumps all over" he whispers in your neck. "And I can tell you want me, everytime i pass behind you you clutch your little thighs or your cute little apron," he adds, kissing your neck.

You moan out loud at the feeling. He stops the water, drying both your hands on the closest piece of clothes. Toji turns you around, locking your lips in a heated kiss. You completely let yourself go at his contact, locking your arm behind his neck as you start to grind on him too. He places a knee between your legs and your clit catches at every fiber of his jeans making you squirm. You can already feel yourself getting wet, as well as he's getting hard under your ministrations.

Lifting your hips, Toji places you on the counter. You shiver against the cold marble. Breaking the kiss you get rid of your apron and his. He rips open your blouse, attacking your nipples with his warm mouth. Your back arch off the counter in pleasure, as his tongue twirls against your sensitive bud. With his free hand toji reaches for the bowl of cream you used for your cake he places the cold mixture on your other tits lapping hungrily at it.

"Fuck Toji" you cry at the hot and cold sensation.

You're getting wetter by the second and want to feel him inside of your pussy right now. You let your hand travel to your pants working the zipper down. Toji lifts your lower body off the counter so you can properly take it off. He does the same for himself and you pat him through his boxer. Fuck he's big, you bite your lips.

"Scared ?" he asked with a grin.

You bite hard on his neck as an answer, he chuckles. You stroke his cock a few times and spread your legs when you feel he's hard enough. The tip of his cock runs against your folds and you clench his shoulders. Slowly entering you, you let your head fall backward at the stretch feeling.

"God that tight little pussy" he rasps in your ear

"You like that? you taunt petting his hair

Letting your back hit the counter once more, he hides his face in the crook of your neck as he begins a slow pace in your cunt. His big cock pushes your gummy walls all the way. It's been a long time since you've been fuck like that. The faster he gets the louder you moan.

"Shit Toji, just like that, good boy"

His hips stutter at your words and he groans.

"Say it again" he growls.

"You're a good boy," you say, kissing his jaw.

"More"

"My good boy" you purr right next to his ear.

A defeated sound escapes his mouth and picks up the pace ramming into your pussy full force. Each thrusts lock you harder against the counter while you dig your nails into his muscular back. Turning you around Toji places you in a doggy style position. Your hair is firmly locked in one of his hands while he pounds into you. He's close you can't tell. you're not far away either. He keeps rutting into you, the knot in your belly is getting closer to snap with each thrust.

"Make me cum Toji please be good to me" you moan on the verge of your orgasm .

A few more thrust and you cum undone, face pressed against the cold counter. Your muscles squeezing around his length make him shoot all of his cum deep inside of you. YOu're both moaning, and breathing heavily. His head rests against your sweaty back, you can feel his dick twitching inside of you.

Catching normal breaths you straighten your back.Toji is locking you against his torso in the process, his beefy arms resting on your belly. You're glad he does because your legs feel like jelly right now. Catching a few of the whipped cream with your finger you raise it to his mouth he licks it looking at you in the eyes.

"What a good little boy, you want more ?" you taunt

He squeezes his arms tighter around you and you apologize, laughing a bit. Guess you really have to thank Shiu for that.

235 notes · View notes

freesia-writes · 5 months

Text

Pets4Vets: Jesse (1/4)

Chapter 1 of 4 - Word Count: 3.2k - Jesse x Fem Reader Master List

“Thanks for dinner,” she said quietly, shifting her eyes from her plate to his and crossing one arm across herself to rub the outside of the other.

“Yeah baby,” Jesse purred with a cocky grin. “I mean, I got the dinner but you brought the dessert.”

“Huh?”

“You’re a treat,” he said with a wag of his eyebrows. “Want to take the party back to your place?”

“Oh, um. I’ve got to work early, so I think that’s all I’ve got time for now. But thanks again,” she offered, trying to mask the cringe on her face with a disingenuous smile.

“Alright, your loss… heheh…”

“Yeah…”

They made their way to the door of the restaurant, Jesse holding it open for her as she shuffled awkwardly past him. She hesitated on the sidewalk, turning back to face him with that same feeble grin. Another thanks for dinner. An offer to walk her home. Declined. A question about another date. After a long, uneasy pause, that was also declined.

Jesse kept up his best face, chest puffed and confidence set firmly in place, until she disappeared around the corner, then he slumped, turning to begin his own walk home. A glance at the chrono reminded him that he wasn’t allowed back in the apartment he shared with Kix for another hour and a half… The cramped flat they rented together didn’t allow for much privacy, and his roommate had been excited to take advantage of the alone time with his partner from Right to Love, a matchmaking service for clones wanting to live as freely as they were able since the war had ended and they were released from service.

The endless flashing lights of the Coruscant streets were oppressively bright as he plodded aimlessly, unsure of where to go. A deep sense of resentment was growing within, and he didn’t realize he was muttering under his breath until a few strange looks from passersby clued him in. Many of his brothers had found immediate success with Right to Love, now experiencing the joys of a relationship in ways they’d never thought possible when they’d been nothing more than property their entire lives. And yet here he was, having tried to connect with five different people now, each one entirely put off by the end of the first date. His assigned case manager at Right to Love had assured him that matches weren’t always perfect the first time around, and sometimes the process took a little longer to ensure the ideal fit.

Doubt was growing in the pit of his stomach as he walked. What was it about him that was getting in the way? He was throwing himself wholeheartedly into this pursuit, and yet each attempt seemed to be less encouraging than the last. The resentment began to coil in his chest, heating up into anger, and he leaned into it. Anger was familiar. Anger, he could deal with. It made him feel powerful and in control, pushing aside any tendrils of fear or sadness that lay at its core. A sign up his head caught his eye, and he turned abruptly to barge through the door.

Music thumped inside, the small crowd on the dance floor moving as one to the beat, and he jostled his way around the edge to find a seat at the bar. He waited for a while, watching the bartender help customer after customer, including those that had arrived after him. When the man began polishing some glasses, Jesse finally called out, eyebrows furrowed.

“Can I get some service here?”

The bartender slowly finished wiping his glass, sidling down to the end and resting his palms on the counter with no attempt to hide the disdain on his face.

“Did your giant face tattoo block you from seeing the sign on the door?” he drawled. “No clones. Go back to your own district.”

“You’re living in the past,” Jesse growled, the snake in his chest twisting and hissing. “Credits are credits. What does it matter who they come from?”

“Just get out,” exhorted a Zabrak on the stool beside him who’d had his back firmly turned to him from the start. “Before we make you.”

He’d had enough.

“Go ahead and try,” he snarled, smacking a fist on the counter and rising to his feet. The Zabrak was in his face immediately, flanked by a nat-born and a Weequay who looked far too excited to throw hands.

“Know your place,” the nat-born taunted, leaping forward to throw a swing, which Jesse dodged and countered with one of his own, sinking a fist into the man’s stomach and earning a satisfying grunt of pain. The brawl exploded, quickly changing the three-on-one situation into an entire mob set on teaching the clone a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. The ARC trooper held his own, ducking and swinging, using leverage to toss one body into another, but the blows were coming from every direction. A foot to the back of his knee knocked him off balance, right into someone else’s fist.

The next thing he knew, he was unceremoniously thrown onto the sidewalk among a litany of curses and insults, and he scrambled to his feet, body throbbing with numerous bruises from the punches and kicks that had landed as he’d tried to hold them all off. His nose was bleeding, and he wiped it on his sleeve before pinching it hard, stalking toward his building in a tornado of rage.

He sat outside on the stoop for the remaining hour, ruminating on the sheer injustice of it all. But eventually, the hot indignation quieted, and in the stillness, he fought to stuff down the disappointment that whispered judgment and failure in its place.

* * *

“Come on, give it a try.” Kix straightened his scrubs as Jesse slouched against his bedroom doorway. “It’ll be a different dynamic. Might be helpful.”

“I don’t need help,” Jesse scoffed, folding his arms across his broad chest.

“I know,” Kix affirmed quickly, “But the food carts in the square are delicious. So bring your next date and just come along for that.” He smoothed a hand over his neatly-cut hair and tilted his head at his mirror, checking that the first few letters of his head tattoo were hidden as much as possible by his dark locks. The medical clinic he worked at had some fairly strict rules around personal appearance, and considering how difficult it was to find clone-friendly jobs, no matter how qualified they were, he wasn’t about to risk losing his placement over something as trivial as that.

“Fine,” Jesse huffed. “I’m doing this for the ronto wraps, you know.”

Kix grinned, clapping him on the back and squeezing his shoulder as he headed for the front door. “You’ve been doing too much upper-body, vod. Have a leg day.”

“Hah. Go clean some crusty old geezers, di’kut.”

“Oh please. I’m saving lives out there,” Kix threw over his shoulder as the door closed behind him. Jesse sighed. That did seem like a much better purpose than his own job as a personal trainer at a local gym, where most of his clients were flaky hopefuls who wanted to get into shape without putting in the time and work that it required. It paid well enough, though, and gave him an outlet for a sense of purpose as well as a place to exercise. If he were honest, he’d hoped he’d meet someone there, figuring they’d be more aligned with his interests and lifestyle, but after months upon months of dismal prospects, he’d gone ahead and applied at Right to Love. He sighed, turning to rummage in the cooling chamber until it was time for work.

* * *

Days of work and leisure blended together, and Jesse found himself spending more time at the gym, adding cardio sessions on top of his bodybuilding regimen as a way to blow off steam. He finally got another match from Right to Love and agreed to go on the double date with Kix and his partner, laboring a disproportionate amount of time over what to wear. He didn’t want to admit it, but with each date he felt increasingly desperate. Desperate to prove that there wasn’t something wrong with him. Desperate to feel like he had access to the whole variety of options for a “normal” life. Desperate to enjoy the care, intimacy, and connection that some of his brothers had found.

He straightened the long-sleeved henley shirt and rolled up the sleeves a little. Ladies loved the forearms, right? Slipping a wallet into his back pocket, he checked his reflection one last time and ventured into the living room where Kix was waiting for him.

“Here goes nothing,” he grumbled.

“That’s the spirit,” Kix nodded sagely, a fond smirk on his face.

The square had a weekly event where all the food carts in the vicinity would gather to offer their delectable delicacies, and there really was something for everyone, making it a very popular attraction. Jesse swaggered beside his date, Kix and his partner bringing up the rear, and shared stories of valor and bravery as she nodded and made small sounds of agreement here and there. The four of them had shared some snacks from a variety of vendors and were now walking it off along the city streets.

Coming to a somewhat scenic overlook of a steep dropoff with many Coruscant levels stretching down below, the four of them sat on a couple of benches. Kix stretched his arm across his partner’s shoulders, and they nestled into his side with an affectionate gaze. Jesse shifted awkwardly beside his date, a beautiful redhead that made his mouth go dry when he tried to talk. Yet he’d pushed past it with bravado and confidence, he felt simultaneously certain and completely unsure of her interest. Kix was murmuring in his date’s ear, bringing a demure smile to their face, and Jesse turned to look at the redhead beside him.

“So… You mentioned some adventures in the jungle… Did I tell you about our campaign on Felucia?” he asked, launching into the story before she was able to respond. He wove an exhilarating tale of their encounter with both Separatist forces and the Commerce Guild, finishing with a flourish and grinning proudly.

“Sounds like the war was wild,” she offered.

“You’re karking right it was,” he laughed, attempting to slip his arm around her shoulder as well, but she stood up quickly.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I… I’m gonna go.”

Jesse watched her leave, speechless, then was flooded with embarrassment as he felt the eyes of Kix and his partner on his back. He slowly turned to face them, and the empathetic looks on their faces added insult to the injury.

“See you at home,” he muttered to his brother, nodding to Kix’s partner and stuffing his hands in his pockets as he trudged back to their apartment. Kix watched him for a long time, nodding at the murmured condolences from his partner, who was incredibly kind and gentle, both admiring and strong in their own right, and he was regularly blown away at the fact that he’d been able to find them. Their compassion only served to deepen his own hope that his brother could find whatever it was he was looking for.

* * *

The next morning, a much-needed day off of work for both of them, Jesse was sprawled on the couch with a lazy hand resting on the steaming mug of caf on the nearby side table. Kix was scrambling some eggs in the kitchen, casting the occasional glance over the counter at his brother’s dejected slump. He was torn; Jesse was notoriously stubborn, but Kix also knew him better than most anyone else, and if he kept continuing in the same pattern, he would likely keep getting the same result. He flipped the eggs one more time and turned off the burner, scattering some shredded cheese over the top of them and putting a lid over the pan to melt it all together.

“You… uh… seemed different last night,” he ventured, picking up his own caf, now mostly cold, and sitting in the armchair across from the downcast clone.

“Mmm,” was the only response.

“Does it always go that way?”

“Mmm.”

“What’s… What’s with the swagger stuff?” Kix asked, abandoning the subtlety. Jesse cast a hard look at him, but he caught the quickly-concealed flicker of hurt beneath the tattooed face.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Just doesn’t really seem like you. Did you answer the questionnaire honestly?”

“Yes!” Jesse said defensively, furrowing his brow.

“Well… then that might be why the dates aren’t going so well, if they’re expecting you to act… normal. You’re smart and pretty down-to-earth most of the time. Last night it felt more like you were trying to prove yourself somehow.”

His words stung, and Jesse balked at the feeling of being perceived so accurately. But a sense of resignation had settled in again, and he shrugged, attempting a nonchalant facade.

“I’m just gonna get a pet. That’ll have to lo–... to put up with me, right?”

“Sure,” Kix sighed. “I’ve heard good things about P4V.”

“Look, di’kut, I know I can’t even get a second date, let alone some bedroom action, but I don’t think I have the credits for a sex worker… At least not a good one.”

“Classy as always,” Kix rolled his eyes. “It’s not a brothel, it’s called Pets 4 Vets. They have a variety of service animals to help with the difficult aspects of adjusting to civilian life.”

“I want a good-sized Massiff, not some fluffy little Loth-rat to lick me when I have ‘big feelings’,” Jesse snorted.

“Kriff, you are thick sometimes.”

“Just these thighs.”

“Right. Just try it.”

“We’ll see.”

* * *

You stroked a hand down the bogling's back, running fingers along the soft fur of its fluffy tail. It leaned into your touch with a contented noise, and you closed the cage behind it, watching it begin delicately eating its food before moving to the next kennel. You’d been working at Pets 4 Vets for a while now, and you felt thoroughly at home amid a great group of coworkers and an even better assortment of animals from every corner of the galaxy. They were all either in the process or finished with their training to be emotional support animals for the veterans who had served the Republic so well. You’d been a little unsure around the clones at first, not having spent any time with them before this, but they’d grown on you quite a bit and you’d been amazed at the complexity and individuality of each one. You’d also developed a knack for pairing them with animals, although it still took a few tries at times.

“Good morning, tookas,” you said warmly as you slid the food bowl into the next crate, watching the two loth-cats eye it lazily from where they were curled around each other in the corner. They were a bonded pair, and last summer they had surprised the entire staff with a full litter of the most adorable babies you’d ever seen, who had since grown and been placed into loving homes. None of you had been too eager to see the parents leave, however, and it just so happened that none of the troopers so far had been the ideal match for them. The two of them roamed the clinic during the day, curling up near computer terminals or gracing guests in the lobby with their tails high in the air. At night, all the animals were tucked into their cozy kennels until morning, when they’d be fed and let out into their various programs for the day. Some had hours of training, others enjoyed free time inside or out, and some simply spent as much time as possible shadowing the clinic staff.

“I wish I got breakfast in bed,” you murmured as you closed their door, watching the loth-cats yawn and nuzzle one another. You felt a deep sense of longing in your chest, and moved to the next cage to try to keep your mind from continuing on its current trajectory. But it was a lost cause. “Wish I had someone to wake up next to as well,” you continued. The dating scene hadn’t been kind to you, and if you were honest, you’d pretty much given up. Your friends urged you to keep the dream alive, to go on double dates with them and to meet the various eligible bachelors they knew, but nothing felt like a good fit. You assumed the problem was with you. And that was alright. You were happy enough on your own…you said. The clinic staff was a tightly-knit group, for the most part, and you authentically loved the animals. You felt fulfilled by the unconditional love you shared with each one, and you were so proud at the growth you got to witness as they went through training.

The horde was fed, each one was released to its daily duty, and you began to clean all of the kennels, wondering if you should take your friend up on her offer to check out 79s. It felt completely out of your comfort zone, however. Not because of the clones, but you just generally weren’t a fan of loud, raucous environments, and you weren’t much of a drinker… So it didn’t seem like a very attractive prospect. As much as you were mocked for it, you weren’t really keen on one night stands, nor were you good at “keeping it casual”. You wanted a relationship with depth and longevity. Sometimes you wondered if the taunts about you were correct, that you had in fact watched too many cheesy holofilms and now had an unrealistic view of romance.

Whatever.

A few hours of cleaning were followed by an hour or so at your computer, reviewing and categorizing the new applications. You didn’t realize you’d been completely hunched the entire time, your back rounded as you tapped away at the keys, and would have remained blissfully unaware if the receptionist hadn’t commented on it as soon as she popped in.

“Geez, you look like a shrimp,” she laughed, dropping a data card on your desk.

“You’re a bit of a cod yourself,” you teased, and she giggled, swatting your arm. “What’s this?”

“A new app. I was gonna bring him back here in person but he said he had lots of ‘big important stuff’ to do.” She rolled her eyes. “Quite the cocky one. He didn’t want to go through the interview process because he ‘knew what he wanted and it was a big dog’.” A chuckle followed the words as they both nodded. They were familiar with the type.

“Did you tell him he has to do an interview if he wants anything at all?”

“Yup. Said you’d contact him.”

“Lucky me.”

“Thought you might like a challenge. It’s been quiet for you lately,” she grinned.

“Considerate as always,” you smiled right back.

“Have some fun with him. He could use someone taking him down a peg or two. Although I thought I could see the remnant of a black eye, so maybe someone already tried. He’s a big boy, too.” A suggestive wink.

“Oh boy. Can’t wait.”

Next Chapter

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copperbadge · 1 month

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Radio Free Monday

Good morning everyone, and welcome to Radio Free Monday!

Ways to Give:

discursivetacenda is an ace artist in NW Indiana, outside of Chicago, facing eviction after struggling to make rent while unemployed; they need to raise about $1K before the 16th of this month. They are offering commissions and also selling on Etsy; you can read more, reblog, and find commission and giving information here.

Anon linked to trippingthemoonlightfantastic needs to make rent after the passing of their mother; they are selling watercolor florals on their Etsy and offering special reduced prices on tumblr. You can purchase from their Etsy here or read more at tumblr here.

a_phoenixdragon is raising funds to cover bills for the next week; she has hit a rough financial patch that is lasting longer than expected and needs help to make it to payday. You can read more and find giving information here.

mtdewwhore is a queer afro-indigenous person offering tarot and tea readings to help raise rent while they recover from brain surgery; they are also currently a caregiver for a 3-year-old. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

Mendi is blind and has been unemployed for almost six months despite active jobsearching; she's applying for services to gain income but many are on hold due to requirements to prove her disability. She needs to raise funds to cover bills and stay above water; you can read more and support the fundraiser here.

Anon linked to naamahdarling and her partner, who lost two of their beloved cats this week, Smooch and Raleigh; they're raising funds for assistance with covering medical bills and end-of-life expenses. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

Recurring Needs:

onedollopofsourcream is raising funds for food and medication for their family including young children; they need medication that is important for family mental health. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

we_are_spc's AC in their house has gone out, and they are trying to stay cool with only one fan; they are unemployed, and the heat is bad for both their asthma and their cats. They have a tech coming on Tuesday, but still need to raise funds to cover the repair; you can read more and support the fundraiser here or give via paypal at [email protected], via venmo at rowansong, or via cashApp at rowansong.

loversdoom has recently been diagnosed with PCOS and needs help to afford the prescribed birth control pills on top of living expenses; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here or give via paypal here.

thegeeksqueaks's school district has shorted her on her summer teacher's budget; she can't afford currently to stock her classroom for back-to-school. She's raising funds to get food and hygiene tools for underserved kids as well as various aids for neurodivergent kids. You can read more and reblog here, give via DonorsChoose here or via paypal here, or purchase from an Amazon wishlist here.

And this has been Radio Free Monday! Thank you for your time. You can post items for my attention at the Radio Free Monday submissions form. If you're new to fundraising, you may want to check out my guide to fundraising here.

#radio free monday #charity #philanthropy #fannish community

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probablyasocialecologist · 1 year

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Ripping up concrete sidewalks and parking lots and instead planting urban forests and using less cars can all help to decrease indoor and outdoor air temperature. In cities with an abundance of water, “soft cooling” techniques using fans and pools can also greatly reduce extreme temperatures.

Many architects today are also changing how they design buildings: only providing AC in specific rooms instead of through a central heating system. This way, people can choose to open or close their windows if they want, while reducing the energy needed to cool the hallways and lobby areas.

If you face photovoltaic panels westward, you can time the peak electricity production from solar energy with peak electricity demand for cooling. Using better glass on buildings, external shading, increasing air movement and installing ceiling fans—all of these further reduce reliance on AC.

In the longer term, we can cool our streets by narrowing them, using less dark colors that absorb heat, and aligning streets to prevailing winds. There are also ways we can overhaul the way we do air conditioning itself.

Many cities already provide air-conditioned public spaces as a public health services; we could also redesign apartment buildings with social spaces for people to hang out, by, for example, transforming the much cooler basements into lounges.

We could build cooperative housing that is ecologically and efficiently designed, so that people can together manage their energy use and decide on their own innovations to lower temperature. Toronto has a district cooling system that uses cold water from the bottom of Lake Ontario, and then uses the warmed up water for the drinking water supply.

#air conditioning #climate change #cities #architecture

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techhasmjolnir · 9 months

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Trivial Pursuit

Plot: It is a dark, stormy night... Wait, let's not use that trope for the millionth time, shall we?

You're home alone thinking your plans for the night are cancelled, but things change quickly when Tech comes home late and wants to pursue what the two of you originally planned...with a major twist neither of you envision.

Author's Notes:

This is my first time crafting a Bad Batch story, let alone a smutty one. I wrote this after receiving inspiration and encouragement from a friend of mine, and I'm quite proud of the final result. I usually don't write anything on a very short scale, so while this is a one-shot story, it is quite lengthy (word count is 12,450).

Some sections have notes in parentheses, listing names of songs and artists I paired with the scenes at hand. I strongly suggest looking them up as you read, in hopes you can make your own connections to the story that much stronger.

Important Notes:

This content is strictly for audiences 18+. The roles in this story assume female readers & Tech. Concepts introduced include: dirty talk, fingering, M & F masturbation, oral sex (giving & receiving), PiV, creampie, female ejaculation, and soft dom Tech.

Summer nights on Coruscant bring one of two things – either endless, driving rain or nearly unbearable heat and humidity. Tonight is the former; the rain spatters angrily against the windows of your high-rise apartment in the Uscru District. Despite the inclement weather, the entertainment district still bustles with throngs of beings from every corner of the galaxy. You wisely choose to stay in tonight, knowing that you could have been out in any one of the district's numerous clubs, but then you remember that when it rains, the clubs become overwhelmingly claustrophobic with seas of bodies looking to stay dry.

Tech sent you a holo-message earlier in the afternoon, letting you know he wouldn't be home for dinner, as he and the rest of the guys were experiencing a few mechanical issues with the Marauder, and needed to stop for emergency repairs. You're disappointed, because it was supposed to be a stay home date night for the both of you, but you're pragmatic; machines are made to eventually break, and the Marauder is no exception.

Since you're already having dinner alone, you decide to load up your browser with half a dozen scientific journals you'd been meaning to catch up on. Pouring yourself a glass of desert wine (the real deal, too – you'd been lucky to exchange services with someone coming back from Tatooine who had a bottle directly from the Tuskens), you take your dinner and sit on the floor in the immense pile of thick, fluffy blankets you threw down to create a nest, of sorts. You know what will happen. You'll read one article. One becomes three. Three becomes six. Six becomes four hours later.

Who cares?, you think. Tech's not coming home tonight, the weather is shit, and I've nothing better to do than read and possibly get very drunk tonight. Sipping the desert wine slowly, you open the first journal, “Frontiers of Marine Science (Kamino).” You choose this one on purpose. You've been fascinated with Kamino for as long as you've been with Tech, hanging on his every word when he would tell you stories of when he and his brothers were young, and what the Kaminoans are like, although you suspect that there's a great deal he hasn't told you, and likely never will. Down the proverbial ash-rabbit hole you go...

You stare intently at the computer screen, not even cognizant of the last time you blinked. You sigh, and you realize it happened again. Glancing at the clock, you realize it's close to midnight. The wind has picked up even more, howling and threatening to drive the raindrops through the windows. You want to sleep, but without Tech by your side, it will likely be another restless night.

You get up painstakingly, stiff from sitting in one place too long, taking your dishes to the sink and washing them quickly before you turn off most of the lights, except the one that casts ambient blue-green light throughout the entire living room. The sound of the rain is spiking your anxiety and hurting your ears, so you put on some music to try and mask the sounds of the raging tempest outside.

“Much better,” you say to your empty apartment. “Now I can get back to more reading...and maybe I'll fall asleep before four? Fat chance,” you mutter.

Nestling back into your blankets, you pull your computer back in front of you and open the umpteenth article of the night. “Landscape and Urban Planning (Coruscant).” You laugh loudly at the title of this one, given the complete lack of any discernible “landscape” on Coruscant.

“Urban Planning? On THIS planet? Let's see what the so-called “experts” have to say on this topic.” As you delve into the article, you let the background music ease your mind to a more focused state. You'll never sleep if you can't quiet your mind. Tech...where are you? I need you...

(Peter Murphy – All Night Long)

You slip back into your reading easily, and it's not long before you're completely engrossed again. The state of hyperfocus takes over you so much, you don't even hear the tone of your security alarm chiming as it's being deactivated, and the front door sliding open with an audible hiss. Tech stands in the vestibule and reactivates the security alarm before removing his helmet and walking slowly into the living room, bathed in relaxing ambient light. He isn't surprised to see you're still awake; he knows when he isn't home, you rarely sleep more than a few hours.

He stops when he sees you bundled up in the middle of the floor, your computer on the coffee table, your eyes wide and glassy. He knows this look well, because as you're so fond of pointing out to him, he looks exactly the same way when he's working intensely on something. He smiles softly, and waits to see if you'll even look up and notice that he's there. When he notices you're pretty far gone, he chuckles quietly and puts his helmet down on a side table where you've got medical journals piled high. He knows better than to startle you, so he comes into the living room a little more and stops.

“Cyaré...I'm home...I am quite sorry about tonight, but we had a malfunction with the Marauder's hyperdrive and an unscheduled trip deviation was necessary. If it is quite all right with you, I would like to make it up to you...”

You don't acknowledge him and he sighs. He knows you heard him, but nothing has registered. It's been some time since you've been stuck in a hyperfocused state like this, but Tech feels like he's responsible for this one, and it's up to him to ease you out of it. “Cyaré, please...” he tries again. Nothing. His brow furrows and he walks over to the control panel that controls the audio system. The music isn't even loud, but he eases the volume down, and when the raging wind and rain outside is heard once more, it snaps you back to reality.

Blinking hard, you look up from your computer, and you see Tech standing there, arms crossed, looking down at you, and for a moment you could have sworn it was Crosshair in your living room. The switch flips in your mind and you finally realize it's Tech, and while he doesn't look exactly icy, he doesn't look at you with the warmth he normally does.

“Tech...?” you croak, your throat parched. You haven't even remembered to drink any water.

(Sundial Aeon – Iced Melancholy Spectacle)

“Mésh'la, have you been up all night waiting for me? For your sake, I hope you have not. You know how I feel when I find out that you have not been getting proper sleep. I ask you again, were you up all night waiting for me?”

Your pulse quickens as he speaks to you, for his tone is becoming increasingly frigid. You wonder if he's doing this to purposely get a rise out of you, because he knows you're incredibly easy to bait. Many times he uses this tone of voice with you before the two of you engage in sexual relations, because he learned early on in your relationship that he could send you into extended periods of arousal just through that alone.

“Yes...and no, Tech,” you reply meekly. “You know I have a hard time sleeping when you're not here, and the storm tonight has sent my anxiety into overdrive. I thought I could sit here and read until you got back...and with luck, maybe sleep a little before then.”

This answer appears to satisfy him, for he now walks over to you and sits on the couch just off to your side. You catch a bit of his scent as he sits down...metallic, earthy, sweat. Nothing you haven't smelled on him before, but longing for his presence and his touch all night turns those simple scents into potent triggers. Your pulse is still elevated from him speaking to you, and as you turn to look up at him, those beautiful golden brown eyes of his look down upon you, and his face softens with that little grin you've always found to be one of the sexiest things about him.

He leans forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees, and you can see that he's definitely tired. Tired, but not so tired that he isn't interested in spending any time with you now. As he glances at your computer screen, he can see what has to be at least a bare minimum of 30 open tabs in your browser. Moving over so he's behind you, he shifts his legs a little so you're sitting between his feet. His strong hands close on your shoulders, and before you know it, he's firmly massaging them. You've been sitting hunched over for so long, that everything feels taut and pinched.

“Y/N, please do not let this become a habit. I know your mind works very much like mine. But you need your rest.”

You can't help but groan softly as his long fingers manipulate your skin through the material of your light sweatshirt. It doesn't matter if his hands are under his work gloves, or if they're bare...there's something magical about the power of his touch that you can't get enough of. You let your head loll forward as his thumbs dig in around your shoulder blades, and this time you let something more akin to a pleasurable moan escape. Accidental, of course, but you feel like you could melt into a puddle under his ministrations.

“Mésh'la, was that what I think it was?” he asks, amused.

(EN Voice – Hold On)

“What was what?” you reply, confused.

“I think that was more than just a casual groan. Is this turning you on?”

One hand remains to work on your shoulder, but his other hand has now moved down your back slightly, and come around to the front, gently cupping your breast, then closing around it and squeezing lightly as his thumb traces across your nipple.

Your head snaps up as he does this, your back straightening up into his hand, and your eyes close, holding back the moan that desperately wants to leave your throat. This is what you've craved all night, and you bring your hand up over his, holding it lightly as he begins to flick his thumb over you, feeling the tissue grow firm under his touch. You feel a very gentle pulse in your clit, and a tiny contraction inside as he touches you, and this time you let him know how you feel, letting out a soft, feminine moan through parted lips.

“I will take that as a yes, cyaré... Don't hold back anything from me.”

This time he lets go of your shoulder, and his other hand comes around to take your other breast, repeating the process. As your drop the hand over his, you lean back against the couch, your head resting close to his groin. You look up and you can see eyes growing heavy with lust. As he catches your gaze, he takes each nipple and pinches them firmly. You gasp and feel the unmistakable heat beginning to pool between your legs. The first instinct is to reach down and lightly touch yourself, but as you move to do so, Tech takes your wrist firmly and holds it in place.

“I don't think so, mésh'la... Would you like to play a little game with me? It is something we haven't done before, but I have been thinking about it for awhile, and it would be fun for both of us.”

“What kind of game?” you ask dubiously.

“It is a game of intellect...however, there are several rules. The first is that I am the only one that may ask the questions. I know you are well versed in many disciplines, and in the interest of fairness, will keep them based in subjects you know well. The second rule is, you will only have a maximum of three minutes to answer me. The third rule is that if you answer correctly, you must remove an article of clothing. I will also remove something, starting with my armor and gear. When your clothing is gone, each successive correct answer will net you a physical action from me. The fourth rule is that if you are incorrect, or fail to answer at all, everything will stop and you receive nothing.”

“Oh, what?!” you fire back indignantly. “How is THAT fair, Tech?”

“I do believe this is called “being a tease, mésh'la... That is the correct phrase, is it not?”

You sigh a little huffily. “Yes, it is. But...you've piqued my curiosity, and more importantly, by the end of this I want both of us to be in post-orgasmic bliss. You got that?!”

His eyes widen a little at the slight aggression you fire back at him, but he can tell you've been worked up all day, and need some relief soon. He does too, because the thought of him buried to the hilt inside you by the end of the night has been on his mind all day. He feels his cock beginning to stir a little under his codpiece...no time to waste.

(Desert Dwellers & Phutureprimitive – Praise Her, the Fire Keeper (Phutureprimitive Remix))

“Move over a little, Y/N...let me sit next to you. It will be easier this way. Move the table out of the way, too. You know we're going to need the extra space.”

You smile at him cheekily as you shift the coffee table out of the way, leaving plenty of room for both of you. Those long legs of his have zero chance of having room with any furniture in the way. Images of you running your hands up the length of his body, stopping at his hips, pausing to lick and gently suckle on his cock flit through your mind and you feel your face grow briefly hot. We've never had sex in the living room yet... I wonder what kinds of questions he'll ask me?

Tech shifts the blankets around so that he can be next to you, and he stretches out his legs, letting out a groan of his own. Being cramped up in the cockpit of the Marauder all day left him just as stiff and sore as he was sure you were, being in front of your computer all night. You turn to look at him, and he smiles softly at you. What he's really thinking right now is beyond you, but you hope it's something incredibly wicked.

“Are you ready? I will set a timer for three minutes with each question. We will start with something easy, as a warm up. What is the definition of the “instar phase?””

“Tech, come on, this is super easy.” You look at his grinning face, eyes never leaving his as you give your answer: “this is the developmental stage of arthropods, such as insects, between each molt, until they achieve sexual maturity.”

“Of course, you are correct. Take off your sweatshirt, cyaré...do you have anything else on underneath?”

Without hesitation, you skin off your sweatshirt, and you're wearing the sexy black and red lace bra that Tech would have seen much earlier in the night, had he come home on time. Normally you wouldn't have bothered with a bra if you were planning on being alone at night, but you know Tech is very much a visual creature when it comes to sexual endeavors. You hear him sigh softly as he catches sight of you, and you see him pull off his work gloves, casting them off to the side. All you can think about now is feeling his bare hands on your flesh...your face, your neck, spine, and especially between your legs.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful you are, Y/N? You truly are one of the most exceptional creatures I have encountered in all of my travels.”

You can feel the heat rising in your face, and you're thankful that the ambient light in the room can hide the fact you're beginning to flush, but you know how perceptive Tech is, and he will pick up easily on other visual cues.

“Tech, I...” you begin, but you can't think of anything meaningful to say. How do you follow up after such a grand statement?

He flashes you that sexy grin of his again and you're melting inside. “Next question, love. Are you ready? What are eubacteria?”

It's been awhile since you had to discuss microbiology with anyone, but this was another easy question, and you're wondering if Tech keeps planning on asking easy questions just to get you naked faster. Not like it would bother you if that's the case, but he has more things to take off than you do...

“Eubacteria are simple celled organisms, many with rigid cell walls, often needing a flagellum for movement. They are considered “true” bacteria, along with cyanobacteria. They are often found within the intestines of animals, and can also be found in soil.”

“Very good, love, although you took a little longer to answer this time, and I know you knew the answer easily. Stand up and slowly take your pants off for me.”

Slowly, you rise, and your first inclination is to deeply stretch, because of being on the floor too long. You are tempted to make him wait, but you're afraid if you do, he might stop the game just to make you wait for another time. You hook your thumbs into the waistband of the soft, loose pants you like to wear around the house, and as your eyes lock on his, you begin to sway your hips a little and laugh as you draw your pants down over your hips, then let them drop to the floor. You've got on the matching panties that go with your bra, and you watch Tech's eyes move down to look between your legs.

You know he's wondering if you're wet for him yet, and you watch as he takes off the breastplate of his armor, and everything else off his arms. You can see the musculature of his chest through his blacks, and this time there's no denying that you're aroused. Your clit pulses with heat and you can feel yourself starting to grow wet, as you think about skinning his shirt off, tracing every line of his flesh...burying your head into the crook of his neck and showering him with hot kisses...

(Nor Elle – Silent Storm)

“So much better,” he breathes, running a hand down his chest, letting it rest on his stomach. He looks up and you and his eyes almost seem to shimmer behind his lenses. Oh yes, he's turned on. “Turn around for me, mésh'la, I want to see that beautiful ass of yours.”

You can practically hear the lust dripping in his voice now, and you comply, turning around for him. You're not wearing a thong, but there's very little material, and to sweeten the pot for him, you decide to be a tease. Curling your finger into the material, you lean forward a little and pull your panties aside, so you're completely exposed for him...and now he can see glistening moisture, inviting him home.

Hearing him groan softly and shift around a little as his codpiece suddenly becomes much more restrictive makes you smile. You know what you're doing, and you're damn good at it. Letting the material go, you turn back around and look at him. You look down and see that he's slipped his fingertips just under the material of his blacks.

“Do you have another question for me, or are you in shock right now?” you tease gently.

He laughs and removes his hand from his blacks, letting it rest on his stomach again. The urge to start stroking himself is incredibly strong right now, but this needs to be a waiting game. If he's going to make you wait, he has to, as well. He brings his knees up and puts his other hand behind his head, leaning back against the couch, trying to think of a more difficult question for this round.

“All right, this one is a little more involved, and I do not want you answering in a simplistic fashion. Tell me what happens when an individual suffers a crush injury.”

While you have plenty of knowledge of anatomy and physiology, it's been quite awhile since you've had to draw from it. You're frantically thinking back to your university courses in medical terminology and A & P, trying to remember. You are drawing a serious blank, and you look over at Tech, who smirks at you a little because he can see the creeping panic in your face.

“Time's fleeting, cyaré...you have a minute and a half.”

Fuck, come on! I know this! Why can't I remember it?!

You're looking around the room, grasping at straws, mind racing as you try to give Tech something...anything. You shut your eyes and you're not even conscious of the fact you've slipped a hand between your legs, rubbing your clit through the gossamer fabric of your panties. Tech cocks an eyebrow when he sees you doing this.

“Fascinating, my love, but you're at 45 seconds. I need an answer.”

Your heart is up in your throat, robbing you of your breath, and your voice. Still touching yourself, and feeling your clit pulse beneath your frantic fingertips, the connection is made. You don't know how, but here it is. You have to be at somewhere under 20 seconds at this point, and the minute you open your mouth, it becomes a raging torrent of words. He's not going to rob you of pleasure tonight, and if he wants an answer, he's going to get one!

“It's a reperfusion injury that appears after the release of crushing pressure. The mechanism is believed to be the release into the bloodstream of muscle breakdown products – notably myoglobin, potassium and phosphorus – products of rhabodmyolysis, the breakdown of skeletal muscle damaged by ischemic conditions. Devastating systemic effects can occur when the crushing pressure is suddenly released, without proper preparation of the patient, causing reperfusion syndrome. In addition to tissue directly suffering the crush mechanism, tissue is then subjected to sudden reoxygenation in the limbs and extremities. Without proper preparation, the patient, with pain control, may be cheerful before recovery, but then may suddenly die shortly thereafter. This sudden failure is called the "smiling death." TECH, WHAT THE FUCK?!”

The sudden obscenity catches him off guard, and he can't help but laugh at you, standing there, looking so flushed, with wild eyes and heaving chest. Just to tease you even more, he does a slow clap before speaking.

“I am seriously impressed, mésh'la... Not only did that outburst have the correct answer in it, but you clocked in with just two seconds left. I will not apologize for the question, but I will apologize for inadvertently stressing you to the point where you felt it necessary to touch yourself for me, without me ordering you to do so.”

You feel your cheeks go hot, instantly embarrassed that you've now accidentally shown Tech something you've always done when pushed to your maximum stress levels. “Tech, I...fuck. This is embarrassing. I'm...”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Y/N. I have extensively studied what can happen to people with minds like ours, when we are pushed beyond our ability to cope with certain situations. You acted well within the parameters of normal behavior. That being said, I believe I owe you something now. I'm feeling generous, so for that answer, I'll take off more than one thing.”

He gets to his feet, and seemingly towering above you, he looks down at you as he unhooks his utility belt and drops it on the floor next to the rest of his gear. You can see that his breathing is becoming a little more shallow, and you wonder just how hard he is, hidden by that infernal codpiece. Off comes the armor on those lithe, muscular legs, along with the other utility pouches. Suddenly you don't feel so close to naked anymore, but now you wonder what he'll ask you to take off first. He sits back down next to you, looking up with eyes full of wonder.

“I can almost read your mind, Y/N. I will make it exceedingly easy for you. Take off your bra; it's beautiful, but those breasts of yours are so much more so. So much so, that once it's off, I want you to show me how you play with them when you're thinking about me.”

(Sister Machine Gun - Burn)

You almost let out a tiny squeak with his last sentence, but you find yourself actively wanting to show him. Besides, once you're done playing this game, you can always ask him to return the favor, and show you how he touches himself when he's fantasizing about you. Reaching behind you, you unhook the band and slide the straps down your shoulders, letting it fall into your hand, and holding it at arm's length, you wink at him, dropping it to the floor.

Swallowing hard, and trying to ignore the fact you've mostly soaked your panties through with your juices, your hands come to your chest, one hand squeezing, while the other pinches, rolls, and tugs at a nipple. You bite your lower lip and close your eyes, thinking about Tech pulling you down to the floor, unleashing his cock and taking you right then and there. Moaning softly, you show him just how much he affects you, and through doing this, show how much you adore him.

“That's it, cyar'ika, don't be shy...show me...teach me,” his voice getting husky with deep arousal now. “Please, baby, don't stop now...”

Breasts still in hand, you step in between his slightly parted legs, nudging his foot aside to make room for you between them. Tired of standing and feeling like you're a trophy upon a pedestal, you sink to the floor on your knees, sitting back on your feet. He has an overwhelming vision of grabbing and pulling you to his chest, sinking his tongue into your mouth for a deep kiss, bucking his hips up into you so you gasp at the sudden intrusion of his cock between your outer lips...

You flash a mischievous smile at him. He caves, as his hands come to rest on your hips, pulling you closer to him so quickly that you put your hands out in front of you to keep from falling. For a moment you hope you don't come crashing down face first on his codpiece, but you manage to get your hands on either side of him, your face a hair's breadth away from it.

A harsh gasp rises from you and you look up at him. He's unperturbed by your current position, and only wishes the codpiece was off so you could kiss him through the fabric of his blacks and feel how hard he is for you.

“I've got you, don't worry. Although I do believe it's prudent I ask the next question, don't you think? No, I won't ask another question like the last one...at least just yet. You look uncomfortable down there, love. Be a good girl, and sit in my lap. Here, let me help you.” Hands still on your hips, he pulls you toward him more so you can creep your way onto his lap. You don't want to sit down on him fully because you know he's hiding a massive erection under the codpiece, but you can still straddle him. You let your hands come to rest on his shoulders and he sighs contentedly, happy to finally have you in his arms after a particularly stressful day. Wanting to return the favor from earlier, your hands begin to gently massage his shoulders, and he's so tight and knotted up, he closes his eyes and lets out a soft moan.

“Mésh'la, please...you're distracting me!”

“Me? Distracting you? If that's not the pot calling the kettle black, I don't know what is!”

“All right, I concede...so here is your next question. What is a myelin sheath?”

Finally, an easy A & P question! “The myelin sheath forms around nerves, including those in the central nervous system. Composed of fatty substances and proteins, it allows electrical impulses to travel easily along nerve cells.”

A triumphant smile crosses your face and Tech's expression softens once again, his eyes smoldering with invisible fire. You know your panties are coming off next, but it's the manner in which they'll be removed that's in the front of your mind. His hands move down from your hips to your ass, squeezing your cheeks firmly, fanning the flames of desire ever higher within you.

Your hands move from his shoulders to rest on the back of his neck, stroking the soft flesh lightly and for a moment he lets out a brief moan. In return, his fingers sink just a little lower down your cheeks toward your outer lips, and you gasp as you feel him beginning to move your panties aside. A fingertip begins to draw its way over your lips, slick with moisture. You moan his name unbidden, wanting him to sink that finger deep inside you, but he knows the game you're playing, and he's not willing to play that hand just yet.

“Not just yet, Y/N. You should know better than that. Get those panties off, NOW.”

The razor sharp edge to that last word sends chills down your spine. He releases your ass and lets you climb off him, and as you stand between his knees, you look down upon him. He's got his hands behind his head now, looking up at you expectantly.

“Take them off now, cyaré, or I rip them off you, and I'm sure you'd like to keep them intact, yes?” “Yes, Tech,” you murmur, not exactly sure you still want to keep holding his gaze.

Hooking your thumbs under the waistband, you begin to roll your panties down, skinning them off slowly in a little bit of a striptease. You swirl your hips to and fro as you part your legs just a little bit as you get them all the way down, and as you step out them, you chuck them behind you, not really caring where they land.

You feel wetness beginning to seep from you freely now, and you shift your legs apart a little more so Tech can clearly see that there's a thin bead of your juices getting ready to drip on the floor. He's never seen this particular phenomenon up close before and you smile as you watch his eyes widen in surprise, and his lips part silently.

“This is what you do to me, Tech. You make me so fucking wet, my pussy weeps for joy. All for you, baby...all for you.”

You slip a hand between your legs and let your fingers pick up your wetness before it falls. Time to show him something else you do when he's not there, and you're thinking about him... You trail your fingertips through the cleft of your outer lips, picking up a great deal of moisture. As you bring your fingers back to your mouth to suck them clean, you see Tech activating the release for his codpiece in a big hurry, and he almost whips it off to the side as it lets go, and now you see what he's been trying carefully to keep under control.

Under his blacks, you see the prominent outline of his cock, fully hard, lying long and thick, begging to be released. You can't see anything because of the material, but you wonder if he's also wet for you; you've always loved seeing him ooze pre-cum for you, and as you've discovered, he loves it when you tell him you love how wet he is for you.

“Mésh'la, I need you to move out of the way. Let me get my boots off, and then you're going to come back and stand over my face. I must taste you, before your next question.”

(Asura – Crossroads Limiter)

You waste no time stepping back to let Tech ease himself back up onto the couch so he can get his boots off, which he does in what seems like record time, kicking them off to the side before sinking back to the floor and urging you to come forward with a few short waves of his hands. Carefully planting your legs on either side of him, he lets his head rest on the back of the couch cushion and puts a hand on your thigh. He's breathing hard now and his free hand has slipped down between his legs to start touching his cock through his blacks. He doesn't want to reveal himself to you just yet, but the mounting arousal can no longer be ignored.

You have a hand on the couch's armrest for a little stability as Tech bids you to lower yourself down within reach. Another bead of your juices threatens to fall, but this time Tech is ready with his dexterous and skilled tongue, ready to catch it. His cock twitches heavily under his hand, and you can feel the heat of his breath against your outer lips as his tongue traces its way through them, picking up every bit of wetness he can, as if he's starving.

“Let me feed you, Tech...you're so hungry... Eat your fill, my love...”

He moans deeply against you as you say this, the vibrations tickling you, making you twitch and squirm. The hand on your thigh begins to close down and squeeze as his tongue probes deeper now, slipping through your inner lips, very nearly to your entrance and now it's your turn to cry out sharply. Your clit begs and aches to have attention lavished upon it, but as you slip your free hand down to start touching it, your hand is pulled away.

“Not just yet...you don't get to play with yourself until I tell you, remember? As much as I'd love to eat you out right now, go sit back down. It's time for your next question. What are the four main components of physical science? I do not need any elaboration for this response.”

“Wow, this takes me back to my high school days,” you chuckle. “Let's see if I still remember all of them!”

“You'd better, because you know what will happen if you fail...and we're too far along for this to become a disappointment, cyaré...”

You swallow hard at his response, because you know he's serious. You're both too far along now to have this be a night of completely ruined edging and orgasms. You remember two of them immediately, but the other two are escaping you, and panic begins to set in once more. He's watching you intently as he continues to touch himself, letting out intermittent moans on purpose to help keep you focused.

“Uhh, well, I remember there's physics, chemistry...I'm having trouble with the other two.”

You look over at him and he just shakes his head at you, one eyebrow raised as if to say, “you're smarter than this, and you aren't getting my help.” He lets his head rest against the couch cushion again as he strokes himself through his blacks, and the hem of his shirt has ridden up his stomach just a little. Looking down, you can see the head of his cock peeking out of the waist of his pants and you suddenly get the chills, knowing that it's only a matter of time before he lets that beast out to play.

“Time's a-fleeting, honey. You'd better hurry up, because if you want any hope of riding my cock tonight, you will answer me.”

“Goddamnit, Tech,” you mutter, trying to focus the incessant loud chatter in your brain. “Okay, it's physics, chemistry...” You look over at your bookshelves for answers, hoping there's something there that will jog your memory. Books on botany, biology, genetics...no, that's not it. Wait...biology? Terrestrial sciences...yes, that's it!

“One minute, my love. It'd be prudent if you stopped wasting time.”

Physics, chemistry, Earth sciences (like meteorology and geology), and...and...come the fuck on, I know this!

You look out the expanse of windows to see that the storm finally stopped, and the clouds are beginning to dissipate. The glittering lights of the Uscru District seem to twinkle like stars, and then the light went on. It's so simple, and it's been here the entire time! “30 seconds, mésh'la. You really like pushing your luck, don't you?”

“Tech!” You look over at him and he picks his head up, blinking a little owlishly as he refocuses on you. “It's physics, chemistry, Earth sciences, and astronomy! Told you I knew it...and you know I don't have the greatest long term memory.”

“I am aware of your memory capabilities, and know it is a limitation for you. You have done well, and you're one step closer to being fully rewarded.”

Sitting up, he pulls off his shirt, and that is a gift unto itself. You long to touch every single inch of his finely chiseled chest and abs, kiss your way from his mouth all the way down to his cock, taking him in hands free in a small display of dominance of your own. The vision is so real, you can almost taste him. He leans back against the couch and gives you that irresistible sexy grin, and one of his hands comes back down to touch himself, not caring that his cock is now peeking prominently out of his pants. He's content to stroke himself through his clothing for as long as it takes.

“Just one more question, and then the real fun can begin,” he says lowly, his voice reminding you of roiling smoke. “I've been thinking about coming home and fucking you senseless all day...so much so that Hunter asked me if something was amiss, because of how unfocused I was. You are my undoing, cyaré, but I would not trade it for anything in this galaxy, or any other.”

You feel a deep twinge of arousal deep in your chest as he tells you this, and you close your eyes and moan his name, making a conscientious effort to not reach down and touch your clit as you do so. At this point, all you want is Tech to be touching you, gently swirling his thumb on the underside of your clit as his fingers stroke your insides, bringing you to a juicy wet orgasm...

“Tech, I'm ready...what's the next question?” You reach out and gently touch his calf, stroking your fingers over the soft material of his blacks. “Please don't make this one that spikes my anxiety again, okay? I'm not sure I can handle much more of that...”

“I promise you, Y/N, it won't be a question that made you panic like that first one. I am still impressed with your response to that, by the way.” He grins at you and slowly closes his eyes, trying to think of a question that will yield a response that will tie in with all of this foreplay. You look over at him expectantly, wondering if he'll keep his word. Without opening his eyes, his silken voice flows with the query: “the arrector pili muscles are responsible for what phenomenon?”

“I think you've finally realized that the A&P questions are where I generally feel most comfortable, Tech,” you chuckle. Tapping a fingertip to your lip, you try not to glance over at Tech, who has slid one of his thumbs into the waist of his blacks, and is ever so slowly beginning to pull downwards. He's still not looking at you, but he knows that you're unable to stop watching him.

“Arrector pili...hm, arrector pili...pretty sure this one is a dermatological term, if I'm not mistaken,” you muse.

“Two minutes, love. You should be thinking much harder about the answer, than about me getting my pants off,” he fires back.

“I wasn't...! Tech, I wasn't even...”

He starts laughing at you and now he finally opens his eyes. “You're wasting time again, mésh'la! Must you always do this?”

You'd love to just say “fuck you, Tech,” right about now, but you know how well that would go over. Grasping your ankles, you rest your head on your knees as you look around the room again. There's definitely nothing here to give you any visual clues like last time. You look over at Tech, and your breath catches in your throat as you see that while you've not been focusing, he's gotten his pants down to his knees, and as you look up at him, he cocks an eyebrow and then winks as he's now got his cock in his hand, and he is fully primed. Sudden chills zip down your spine and you feel yourself breaking out in goosebumps. Wait a minute...

“Hey, Tech? The arrector pili muscles are responsible for goosebumps, also known as horripilation, piloerection, or the pilomotor reflex!”

“That's my girl...I knew you could do it. For your reference, you responded with approximately one minute left. You are going to come over here now and finish taking my pants off for me, and when you're done with that, my cock is going in your mouth. Is that acceptable?”

You know your face is flushed, and behind your eyes, you feel the strong heat of arousal burning. Tiny pulsations deep within you trigger wetness to begin flowing once more as you crawl over between his feet, and grab hold of his pants, skinning them off with ease.

Before you comply with his request to start sucking his cock, you do something that momentarily catches him off guard, as it's nothing you've ever done before. Since he's sitting with his knees propped up, you curl an arm around one of his legs and then lean against him, pressing your face to the hot flesh, closing your eyes and savoring the moment. It isn't just arousal devouring your mind and body now, it's the deep love you have for Tech.

“Cyaré, is everything all right? A note of concern is quite detectable in his voice, and he begins to reach for you. Are you feeling ill? What's the matter?”

You sigh happily. “Nothing is wrong, Tech...don't worry.” You open your eyes and look at him, smiling softly. “I love you, Tech. As you said to me earlier, you're the most beautiful creature I've ever encountered in all my travels. Now let me come and take care of you. I can't wait to have you in my mouth...taste your wetness...maybe even let you come there, too...”

He certainly wasn't expecting this reaction and for once, the chatterbox that is Tech, is silent. You giggle and then let go of his leg, moving on all fours until you're right up against him. “Let me help you, baby, please...”you plead quietly.

Guiding his cock into your mouth with one hand, you slowly ease him in. You hear his breath hitch for a moment and he moans quietly as you ease him a little farther in; your free hand knows just what it needs to be doing to make this even better for him, and as you take him in as far as you can, your other hand closes around his balls, slowly squeezing and massaging him.

“M...mésh'la, don't stop... Be a good girl and suck my cock...”

(Aquascape – Phoenix Dance) His head falls back against the couch cushion and his legs close around you just a little. One of his hands comes to rest on the back of your neck lightly, and as you begin to suck on him, you feel him stroking the flesh there, sending more chills shooting down your spine. You always love it when he touches your ears and your neck, because he knows how wet it can make you, and like clockwork, wetness begins to slowly seep from you again.

Closing your eyes to refocus, you begin to move your head to and fro, tongue gliding effortlessly along the underside of his cock, sucking hard as you reach the tip, pulling away to let the tip of your tongue flick rapidfire, eliciting a sharp cry from Tech, and the hand on your neck closes down suddenly, pushing your head back down as he bucks his hips, nestling himself back inside the safe, hot haven of your mouth.

You moan deeply as that incredible thickness fills up your mouth, the vibrations traveling all the way down his cock, earning you quick flexing and even more swelling. You'll have to be careful, or he'll come too soon, and you want to make this special night even more special for the both of you.

You release his balls from your grasp, and you pull your mouth off him, purposely leaving a long trail of saliva behind. You're going to need two hands to stroke him adequately. Inwardly, you can't help but laugh because although he's never directly come out and tell you, it drives him wild when you give him super sloppy blowjobs.

He looks down at you and your eyes meet, and when he sees your tongue connected to his cock only by saliva, he starts to breathe faster and shallower. He can't remember a time when your eyes have shone this brightly, consumed with both love and sheer primal lust. He brings a hand under your chin gently with his index finger, lifting your head up.

“Y/N, do you know how beautiful you are when you have my cock in your mouth?”

You shake your head slightly. “Tech, let me feed...I'm so hungry!”

He lets go of your chin and his hand comes to the back of your head again. He starts pushing you down and your hands guide him back in to your waiting mouth. “Eat your fill, cyar'ika, there's more than plenty...that's the way...”

Grasping his cock tightly, as you draw him farther back in your mouth, your hands corkscrew their way down his shaft, gliding easily as you purposely let saliva dribble out of your mouth. As your hands come up to meet the head of his cock, you pull your mouth away, letting one of your hands close over him, massaging and stroking the sensitive underside with your thumb.

Tech begins to slowly buck his hips, and you hold your hands still for him, closing firmly around him once more, letting him feel that indescribable tightness that mimics what it's going to feel like for him once he decides he wants to fuck you. His moans have become much more frequent and louder, and you know you're pleasing him exactly the way he wants.

“Your cock feels so good in my hands, Tech... So perfectly hot and hard... Do you want my mouth again, baby? I'll suck you dry, if you want me to... You're so fucking beautiful, Tech...I love you...”

“Mésh'la, let me go right now, I'm getting too close,” he chokes out.

Immediately, you release him and his breath comes hard and fast. You can see a light sheen of sweat building on his forehead from the strain of trying to remain totally in control and not lose himself. You scoot back on your heels a little, and put your hands on his knees. In a flash, his hands grab your hips and suddenly you're being picked up and heaved onto the couch, your legs spread wide open for him, glistening with wetness.

“Now it's my turn,” he growls, and he brings his mouth close to your entrance, giving pause to stop and smell you. His olfactory senses are not as acute as Hunter's, but he can still detect pheromones at moderate levels, and right now, the scent of your dripping pussy is almost enough to send him over the edge without even having to touch himself.

Hands gripping your thighs, he lets his tongue snake out and drag through the cleft of your outer lips, picking up the delectable salty and slightly sweet taste of your juices. You let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden intrusion of his tongue, and then you moan his name deeply when he slips his tongue farther in, letting it work its way just inside your entrance, greedy to consume everything you can give him.

You realize he never gave you permission to touch yourself, but the pulsing in your clit is driving you mad. Slipping your hand down just enough so your fingers can graze the slightly retracted hood and the lustrous pearl of your clit, you get no more than a few seconds of contact before Tech's hand comes up and seizes your wrist. He pulls his mouth away from you, your wetness smeared across his face.

“Cyar'ika, once AGAIN, you're not allowed to play with yourself unless I give you permission. Until I tell you otherwise, your pussy is mine do with what I please. Is that understood?”

You're so flustered and aching for release that hot tears begin to prick the corners of your eyes. Your voice wavers slightly as you plead with him, hoping that he'll either let you touch yourself while he works your insides, or hoping that he'll slide his cock in, filling you to your absolute limits, and bang you like a broken screen door.

“Tech, please let me touch myself, I wanna come for you so badly...”

“I'm not ready for you to come, my love. You will wait, and when it's time, you'll be given release...not a moment before. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, just about ready to slide my fingers into you. You've been such a good girl for me so far, Y/N. You will be rewarded soon, I promise.”

He lets go of your wrist and then turns to plant light kisses on your trembling thighs. His lips moving across your flesh feel like butterfly wings, and as he kisses his way down your thigh, he plants kisses on your pubic mound, before turning his attention to the treasure at the center of it all. You hold back a scream of pleasure as his mouth closes over your clit, and as he begins to suck on it, one of his fingers begins to push into you.

(Delerium - Serenity)

Your hands grope the couch cushion blindly, looking for something to hold onto as you watch him digitally penetrate you. No such luck, and you begin to swirl your hips gently in an attempt to get Tech to pick up the pace and start fucking you with those gorgeous long fingers of his. As you did to him, he now does to you, and pulls his mouth away to let his tongue flick effortlessly over your fully engorged clit, chuckling to himself as he pushes a second finger inside you.

Even now, you feel quite stuffed with just his fingers, and the thought of eventually taking his cock triggers another seep of wetness. He moans deeply as he feels the gush around them, and it doesn't take him long to find the tiny spot within your walls that when properly triggered, makes you come hard and productively.

Tech closes his mouth over your clit once again, swirling his tongue across it while alternating with sucking it like you would his cock, letting his head bob just a little bit as he does so. Your head falls back against the back of the couch as now he begins to move his fingers fore and aft within you, gently hooking the tips up so he can stroke that little sweet spot. He has no intentions of letting you come just yet, but he's more than content to edge you.

Deep seated groans of pleasure escape you as he continues his delicious torture. You feel yourself starting to grow close to orgasm, and as much as you want to come, you need him to fuck you good and hard first. “Tech, slow down, I'm getting close,” you nearly sob. You moan his name repeatedly in attempts to get him to stop, but he's purposely ignoring you.

“Cyaré, if you keep moaning any louder, what will the neighbors think?” he murmurs as he pulls his mouth away once more. He can feel your walls starting to constrict around his fingers, the telltale sign that your orgasm is getting ready to break.

The obscene squelching noises his fingers are making as he's stroking your insides is the other tell that you're ready to take him. He slows the gentle stroking and then carefully pulls his fingers out, reaching back down between his legs to start stroking himself once more, using your juices as lube.

“Fuck the neighbors, Tech, I don't care what they think!”

“I don't want to fuck the neighbors, love...I'm only interested in fucking you. Move forward just a little bit, please...” He shifts positions as you move yourself right to the edge of the couch, propping yourself up on your elbows. With cock in hand, he shows you exactly what he wants, stroking his thick length slowly, eyes locked on yours the entire time. “Tell me, Y/N, what shall I do with this, hm?”

You're trying to control your breathing, which has long since become erratic. Your face flushes with intense heat once again, and even though Tech is quite composed, it's taking every ounce of his being to stay in control. “Tech...please,” you whimper. You're not even sure how much you have left to beg him. “Fuck me, Tech, I can't wait anymore... Slide that big cock in me and fuck me senseless...”

“Are you sure, mésh'la? As much as I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your begging, there's one thing to which I cannot say no, when it comes to you.”

He doesn't wait for a reply from you asking what that one thing is, as he positions himself in line with your entrance, and slowly begins to push his way inside. This time that scream can't be held back, and your hands fly to his forearms, gripping them so hard your nails dig furrows in his flesh. He lets out a hiss of shock, rather than one of pain, and his eyes narrow. You've never been quite this way before with him, but as you pull his arms forward in an attempt to get him to push his cock in even deeper, he's more aroused than ever by this primal behavior.

His eyes close and his head falls back a little as he slides ever deeper into you, his girth stretching your inner walls to what feels like their maximum. You feel especially tight, and he can't help but let out a deep sigh, followed by an equally deep moan as you squeeze your walls around him, creating exquisite friction. It would be very easy to lose control and come inside you far too soon, but there's something he'd like to try with you tonight, that the two of you have never done before.

“Cyar'ika,” he groans, “take my cock...take all of it...you're so fucking wet for me...”

You begin to swirl your hips just as he finally parks himself inside you fully, the head of his cock lovingly kissing your sweet spot and your cervix. Letting go of the death grip you have on his arms, now you reach for his hands, closing yours around his as he begins to move. He rocks his hips slowly, watching himself move in and out of you, the sounds of your cries the finest music he's ever heard.

“Oh, Tech,” you moan airily as you squeeze his hands. “Harder...faster...this pussy's all yours, Tech. Ner cyaré...please, I love you...” You've never spoken a word of Mando'a before now, but you learned what some of the terms of endearment are, considering how frequently all of the guys used them with you.

Tech squeezes your hands hard and for a brief moment, you could swear he's getting misty eyed. “...Your accent is a touch peculiar, my love, but...it will suffice. Ni kar'taylír darásuum...”

He lets go of your hands, running his own from your hips down to your silky inner thighs. Closing his hands gently around them, he honors your request, and the lazy thrusting becomes faster and more insistent. Soon he finds a pleasant rhythm that sends you into a state of deep bliss, your moaning constant and deep.

Tech curls his arms under your legs near your hips, pulling you in closer to him as he begins to fuck you just a little harder, slipping over your sweet spot, teasing your walls to start constricting around him...calling for you to touch yourself and bring about the ultimate release... You bring your hand down between your legs one more time, giving pause before touching your hard, swollen clit.

“Tech, please...let me,” you nearly whimper. “Let me come for you...I want you to watch me come on your cock...”

He lets out a harsh groan as you squeeze him tightly, urging him to spill inside you. “Permission granted, mésh'la, but when you're at the eclipse, you must stop...” He slows his pace now, knowing that it can be difficult for you to get close to, or have an orgasm, if he's fucking you too fast. “It's all right, love, show me how you touch yourself when you're fantasizing about me...”

(Lords of Acid - Venus)

You pick up wetness on your fingertips by letting them run over his cock as he pulls back from you, stopping just before he's all the way out. He flexes hard under your touch, amazed by how sensuous you're being, moaning softly as you slowly retract the hood of your clit, the beautiful pink pearl underneath glistening with moisture. You close your eyes to help focus, as your fingertips begin to swirl over the hot nub of flesh; Tech slips his way back inside as you, exhaling sharply as he watches you touch yourself.

“That's it, Y/N, show me how...” he whispers hotly.

A deep sigh lets loose from you as your fingertips draw concentric circles around your clit, then along the sides, and finally underneath, flicking it gently like you would with your tongue on his cock. “Tech, you make me feel so fucking good...look how hard I am for you...” With each deep stroke from him gliding along your sweet spot, the pulsing in your clit continues to grow, and you know you're starting to get close. Everything pulling into a singularity, seemingly crackling with electricity...

As he watches you swirl your fingers a little harder over your clit, he instinctively knows that you're on your ascent. Your gaze meets with his once more, and his eyes are so full of love and deep desire as you share this level of intimacy with him. Faster you work yourself, and subconsciously your back begins to arch upward, your inner walls squeezing his cock like a vise.

“Cyar'ika, slow down, I can feel you getting too close,” he warns. “If it's all right with you, there's something I've always wanted to try with you...will you let me?” He starts pulling out of you as he makes sure you're not touching yourself anymore. As he does, you adopt a mock pouting expression. He's used to you doing this to him to be purposely annoying, but he's not having it now. “Don't be a little brat, Y/N, or I'll stop right now!”

You recoil slightly, and in a small voice, utter words you normally wouldn't for him: “I'll be a good girl, Tech, I promise. You can try anything with me, you know that. What do you have in mind?”

“Let me help you up, and I'll show you. I promise you, I think you will really enjoy this,” he says, getting to his feet, and taking your hands in his to pull you up off the couch. “Come on, mésh'la, follow me; we're not going far.”

He leads you around the back of the couch, then takes your hips in his hands as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. At long last, your lips finally connect in a deep, passionate kiss...his tongue slipping through your lips, moaning deeply into your mouth as your tongue collides with his. “You taste so good, my love...if I'm not mistaken, I do believe you've been drinking desert wine tonight, have you not?,” he murmurs, softly kissing the corners of your mouth, then your forehead.

You can't help but laugh at this. “Shit...you caught me, honey. But you know I can't help myself when it comes to desert wine!” Returning the favor, you cradle his face in your hands and bring your forehead to his, before kissing it gently. “So...what is it you wanted to try, Tech? The suspense is killing me,” you say, with a little bit of sass.

He returns to gently kiss you a few more times, his lips lingering just above yours as he whispers, “why don't you turn around, and I'll show you, hmm? Here, let me help you.” Suddenly, he spins you around and pushes you over the back of the couch. Yelping, you put your hands out to brace yourself as you're bent over, standing on tiptoes as Tech pushes your feet apart. You are fully exposed to him with no way to stop whatever he has in mind.

You hear him laugh softly as he drops to his knees, and then you feel his hands on your ass, kneading the flesh firmly before he begins to spread them apart. For a moment you think he's going to try and feed his cock into your ass, but instead, you feel his tongue plunge into your pussy, gathering every bit of your wetness. Back to your clit he goes, hungry mouth closing over it once more to suck and tease briefly, before pulling away and standing back up.

“I will never tire of seeing you spread open for me like this, cyar'ika... Now take my cock all the way, like a good girl!”

You moan loudly as you feel him press the thick head of his cock flush against your entrance once more. Taking your hips in his hands, he begins to push his way back in so slowly, it's agonizing. He groans deeply as your insides begin to swallow him whole, and once more, he looks down to watch himself disappearing inside you. As he buries himself all the way in, he flexes hard a few times, making you squirm and cry out as you try to get your feet on the floor.

“Don't fight me, baby... Relax, cyaré, I've got you,” he says reassuringly. You feel him pick you up by the hips just a little, relieving the stress in your legs, and now he begins to fuck you, slowly rocking his hips up against your ass, stretching your insides to the maximum. “Take my cock, Y/N, it's all yours,” he moans, as he feels you squeeze your walls against him once more, coaxing him to let go inside you.

“Tech, faster...harder...” you cry, eyes shut as he rocks you into a state of sheer bliss.

Something between a sigh and a deep moan rises from Tech as as he picks up the pace, hands gripping your hips tightly. As a moth is drawn to flame, his gaze can't be pulled from watching himself slip in and out of you effortlessly; it is an endless fascination. You hear his breathing becoming increasingly ragged the harder he fucks you, and you can feel him beginning to swell with each successive stroke. All you want him to do now is push forward with one final surge, lock himself in place, and come hard for you while moaning your name...

“You're so close, baby...come for me, please...fill me up!” you cry.

“Not...just...yet...” he groans, slowing his pace down yet again. He's panting heavily with exertion now, and his grip lessens on your hips. “There's just one more thing I want to experience with you before you and I both have our release...”

You want to scream in frustration as he pulls out of you, but you feel his chest pressing down on your back as his arms come underneath you to lift you up. Your legs feel like wet noodles, and you're afraid you'll fall to the floor, but Tech's strong hands hold you tight against him, his damp cock poking you in the back. Your heart is racing now, feeling slightly apprehensive over what he has in mind.

(Sundial Aeon – Our Eternity)

“Hold still, cyar'ika, I'm going to pick you up. Put your hands behind my neck and hold on. There's something I want you to see.” “See? Tech, what are you...agh, Tech!” you cry out as his hands come down between your legs, resting on your hamstrings as he begins to lift you up. You raise your arms and slip your hands behind his neck as he asks, your head resting against his shoulder. “Tech, this feels so strange,” you moan softly, eyes tightly shut.

“Bear with me, my love...this is new to me, too. Let us learn together,” he murmurs with his nose buried in your hair. Once he has you securely in position, he turns around and slowly moves toward the full-length mirror that is mounted on the closet. It doesn't dawn on you what he has in mind until he stops in front of it. “Look, ner cyaré...look at yourself with a set of fresh eyes.”

You open your eyes and see your reflections in the mirror, Tech looking at you with a serene, loving gaze, holding you perfectly steady, mere inches above the perfect curvature of his thick cock. The soothing blue-green light encompassing the living room serves to accentuate every curve and line of both your bodies. A small gasp of awe leaves you, as you're reeling from how beautiful both of you look.

“By the Maker, Tech...this is unreal,” you say quietly. “Look at us...”

“There are times when I feel like you do not appreciate yourself, mésh'la...as if you do not understand your importance or worth. I want you to see yourself the way I do...as a most resplendent star. With darkness spreading unchecked across the galaxy, I know your light will always guide me home.”

You feel a thick lump in your throat and you can feel yourself getting misty eyed. He's never spoken like this to you before, but you know every single last word is true. Tech is not one to mince words, nor speak half truths. Coming from the man who couldn't even hold your gaze for more than a few seconds at a time, and who was so shy that it took him months to gather the courage to ask if he could hold your hand... This is nothing but love of the highest order, girlie...if you needed any more proof of his devotion to you, this is it.

“Tech...” “Just breathe, baby. Here we go.”

With that, he lowers you down until you feel the head of his cock nudging against your entrance. Moaning lustily, your legs begin to tremble as he brings you down further on him, that beautiful heat and fullness taking over your senses once again. You watch your reflection as he fills you, clit pulsing wildly. You've never seen yourself being spread open like this and penetrated, and the enormity of how arousing this all is, is almost overwhelming.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” you moan deeply, “this pussy's all yours, Tech...”

He lets out a deep moan as he finishes lowering you into place, feeling you constrict your walls around him. “That's right, cyaré...it is!” Now you witness the extent of Tech's immense physical strength as he begins to lift you just a little so he can start fucking you. You watch the mirror transfixed, unable to tear your eyes away from watching him spear you; even in this light, you can see his cock glistening with wetness. Your clit peeks out from its hood, thick and swollen, begging to finally be caressed over the edge.

“Tech...let me come, please,” you manage to utter in between uncontrollable moaning.

“Move with me, mésh'la. I want to watch you come all over my cock... I won't let you go,” he replies gently.

With that, you start to bounce on his cock each time he thrusts upward, your eyes never leaving the mirror, watching Tech's musculature ripple as the two of you quickly find a common rhythm in your motions. You feel his chest heaving against you, breath coming hard and fast as he fucks you. It's when the low, ceaseless moaning starts that you know it's time for you to finish yourself off and give him the ultimate release.

Carefully you release one hand from his neck and bring it down between your legs. You've been edged so much tonight that an orgasm will not take very long, and you know Tech is well on his way to his, for you feel him beginning to swell just a little more inside you with each upward surge. Swirling your fingertips over your wet, hard pearl once more, the electricity returns quickly. Amplified by his cock sliding over your sweet spot, you let out a deep moan as you feel the tiny contractions beginning to swarm and intensify.

“Oh, Tech, I'm getting so close...” you groan as you tighten your grip on the back of his neck.

“I know, cyaré, don't hold back...let it all go,” he whispers. “Give me everything you have...I love you, baby.”

You feel everything beginning to pull inwards into that little singularity, every nerve ending in your clit ablaze, your very breath streaming fire. Tech slows his pace down just a little, moaning deeply as your fingers press into his neck. He can't tear his gaze away as you swirl your hips lightly, stroking your clit for all it's worth, just about at your peak. His cock swells yet tighter within you, and you know he's just about to come, too.

“Cyaré, please...”

“Tech, my good boy, I love you,” you gasp, before unleashing a near-scream as your orgasm breaks, writhing in his arms as the waves of pleasure flood your body.

His hands squeeze your thighs hard as he tries to get you under some semblance of control, before he bucks his hips up hard into you a few short times before you feel him swell to maximum within you. He buries his face against your hair as he exhales sharply, deep moans vibrating against you as he starts to come. Crying out his name as you feel him flex hard a few times, he finishes depositing the last of his seed, then immediately starts fucking you again, still riding the highs of his orgasm.

You're caught off guard by this, and your free hand comes back up around his neck to hold on for dear life. Each successive thrust means you're steadily dripping an admixture of fluids all over the floor, but you couldn't care less. Your gaze returns to the mirror, and you watch breathlessly as Tech runs blindly on sheer instinct. You're both bathed in sweat, your hair completely disheveled, and his lenses are starting to slide down his face a little... “Bear down, mésh'la,” Tech chokes out. “I want to see you push that load out.”

“Whatever you want, ner cyaré,” you reply. “Look up, baby, or you might miss it!”

Tech's attention returns to the mirror, a blissful smile on your face awaiting him. He buries his cock deep in you one last time, then quickly lifts you off him as you let your pelvic floor take over, pushing hard as his cock slips out of you. His eyes go wide in amazement as a gush of fluid comes out of you, spattering all over the floor, with some of it managing to hit the mirror, too.

You can't help but let out a gasp when you see what you've done, and then you start to laugh when you catch Tech's expression – he's completely dumbfounded. He starts to sink down to the floor, bringing you with him, carefully setting you down. Looking back at the mirror, you can see the wetness slowly rolling its way down, and you're feeling pretty proud of yourself for rendering Tech speechless. You look over at him and he pushes his lenses back into place, shaking his head a little.

“Cyar'ika... You are absolutely incredible. But I must ask...all of that...that wasn't all mine, was it?”

You grin and shake your head. “No, Tech, it wasn't. A good part of it was all mine. Pretty sure this is the first time you've ever made me do that, too.”

“Beyond fascinating,” he murmurs, tapping his index finger against his cheek. “I think I must explore this a lot more with you, if that's all right.”

You lean over and kiss the corner of his mouth softly, then slip your tongue in for a deep, loving kiss. “Anytime you'd like, Tech. I can't believe everything that's happened tonight, and I must admit, you are quite creative....”

He chuckles softly. “Contrary to popular belief, mésh'la, I do have good ideas from time to time.” Painstakingly, he gets to his feet and braces himself on the back of the couch, momentarily unsure of his ability to not collapse after all that. “Why don't you go fix up your...nest, and I'll clean all this up.”

You do as he asks, rearranging the giant pile of blankets before burying yourself within them. You feel like your entire body is glowing, radiating not just heat, but all of the love you have for Tech. Exhaustion finally sets in, and it's not long before Tech joins you in your nest, pulling you up on him so your head rests on his chest, his arm around you protectively.

“Tech? I want to do game night again some time, if you want,” you murmur sleepily.

“Oh, is that so? Even after all I subjected you to?”

“Mhmm...but next time, I get to pick the game.”

#star wars #the bad batch #clone force 99 #tbb tech #tech x reader #tech x you #tech smut #tech bad batch #soft dom tech

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