#close quarters fic

[cleo-fox]

Close Quarters

Part 1 of 2

Summary: “You don’t have to like it,” says Fury, “you just have to do your job.”

Your job, as it turns out, is to go undercover at a luxury resort.

The only problem? Your fake husband is Loki Laufeyson—the infuriatingly handsome Norse god turned Avenger who delights in making you flustered. What could go wrong?

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (Minors DNI), dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, elevator sex, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, a hint of dom/sub, Dom Loki.

A/N: there will be a part 2. Also have a handful of related one shot ideas, so if people like this, I may post those. This is also posted on AO3.

Your self-sufficiency has always been a point of pride for you, both personally and professionally. The highlight of your career was overhearing Nick Fury say that he didn’t need to send in a team of people for a mission so long as he had you on the payroll. You are calm, competent, and ruthlessly efficient; you are used to relying only on yourself.

So it comes as something of a surprise when Fury informs you that Loki Laufeyson will not only be accompanying you on this undercover mission, but will also be taking the lead.

It takes a lot to render you speechless these days, but this does it. You gape at Fury for a moment before you’re able to speak.

“You never send me in with anyone,” you say.

“This mission requires a unique skillset.”

You scoff. “He can’t do anything that I can’t.”

Fury raises an eyebrow and folds his arms across his chest. “Really? How’s your conversational Sokovian?”

There’s, of course, no argument to be made with this. Your lips press into a thin, hard line. “I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it,” says Fury, “you just have to do your job.”

*

Your job, as it turns out, is to play the part of Nina Pine.

Nina Pine is bubbly and vivacious, the sort of person you’d see in the society pages. She wears designer clothes and owns jewelry that is so ostentatious and expensive that it looks like it must be fake. She is not particularly bright or talented; she is the product of good luck and generational wealth.

Three weeks ago, Nina married Jonathan Pine, who she met six months ago at the home of a mutual friend. Jonathan does something in finance that sounds like it’s just a tarted up version of gambling, but with more complicated rules and less oversight. It is Jonathan’s higher tolerance for risk (and healthy trust fund assets) that has him considering an investment in KorolCo, a company owned by Ivan Litvinchuk. Litvinchuk uses KorolCo as a front to launder money from illegal arms deals.

Loki would be going undercover as Jonathan. Your new husband.

You are not particularly happy about this little detail (a detail that Fury mysteriously failed to mention when you met with him), in no small part because Loki has already started leveraging it to annoy the shit out of you.

“How are you already this annoying when we’re still in prep?” you say after a particularly exasperating meeting.

“I’m simply overcome by my love for you,” says Loki with a cloying faux sincerity that makes you yearn for the sweet release of death.

Fury, you note, is suspiciously unavailable during all of this. After ignoring three of your (admittedly lengthy) emails on the subject, he sends you a frustratingly short reply:

Do your job, Agent.

Maybe you’ll take up meditation.

If there’s a bright side to what appears to be a massive clusterfuck in the making, it’s that you’ll at least get a free vacation of sorts

The mission will be taking place at The Indigo, an absurdly expensive and exclusive hotel on a private beach not far from La Jolla Cove. The Indigo is the sort of place that you’d only read about—the kind of hyper exclusive resort that is only ever mentioned in damning Pro Publica reports about the questionable actions of high ranking public officials. Rooms start at fifty thousand a night and you are staying in one of the suites, which likely costs more. Your room information was included in your briefing materials and it all sounds too good to be true: a soaking tub and waterfall shower. Private terrace with an infinity pool. Private bar. In-suite chef and spa services by appointment. Ocean view.

One Norse god who delights in irritating you (non-negotiable).

You suppose you’ll try and make the best of it.

*

The first problem is your sleeping arrangements: there’s only one bed. Granted, it’s a big bed, but still—it suggests a level of intimacy that you had not thought about and are not at all prepared for.

“Well, Agent, this isn’t how I envisioned taking you to my bed, but I suppose it’ll have to do,” says Loki on your first evening there.

You chuck a pillow at him, which he easily dodges.

“Keep it up and you can magic yourself a pillow and sleeping bag and sleep in the hall,” you say.

“Even if that were an appropriate accommodation for someone of my rank and title, I rather think it would do some damage to our cover.”

He has a point and you don’t like it. You decide to ignore him and start getting ready for bed.

The pajamas that had been packed for you are a little fancier than what you’re used to—satin and lace instead of cotton tees and shorts. Normally, you’d relish the opportunity to feel a little fancy—it’s an unexpected indulgence, a splurge on the company dime.

But with Loki now thrown into the equation, you are suddenly hyper aware of the fact that the fabric will likely cling to your curves, that the hem of the skirt is just a little too high. You choose the most demure one of the lot—a pale rose colored thing hemmed with lace—and head to the bathroom to change.

Even with the matching robe, you still feel a little awkward and oddly nervous. You avoid looking at Loki—if his gaze is lingering on your legs or your hips, you don’t want to know about it right before you hop into bed with him—and go about your normal routine. You manage to have a relatively normal conversation about your plan for tomorrow and you read a couple chapters of your book before you start to drift off.

It’s a king sized bed with plenty of room, but somehow you wake up perched near the edge of the bed with Loki pressed up against your back.

He’s got one arm wrapped around your waist so that you’re pinned against him and the deep, even breaths brushing against the back of your neck tell you he’s still asleep. You’re pretty sure this must have been unintentional on his part: Loki doesn’t seem like the sort to willingly allow himself to be seen seeking out human contact. It’s too vulnerable, too soft for the sharp and sarcastic veneer he presents to the world.

He shifts slightly in his sleep, his grip on you tightening. Something hard pokes against the curve of your ass.

You can’t help the responding ache between your legs. You should feel embarrassed—and you do, just a little—but there’s a competing feeling of warm curiosity that makes you press your thighs together. It’s been a while and you miss being held like this. The silk of your nightgown is cool and slippery against your skin, and you feel oddly restless and alert despite the early hour.

You should put a stop to this—that is the professional and sensible thing to do. So you carefully lift his arm from your waist and gently extricate yourself from his embrace. You pad to the bathroom, leaving the light off to spare your eyes.

In the bathroom, you run the tap as cold as it will go. You cup your hands and drink before splashing some water on your face in an effort to quell the restless heat building between your thighs.

It doesn’t really work. You’re not entirely surprised—if you were by yourself, you would simply take care of it, but that’s obviously not an option now. Out of curiosity, you slip your fingers between your thighs to assess the state of things and you immediately regret it: you’re soaked and just the feeling of your index finger glancing against your clit is enough to undo the admittedly minimal effect of the cold water.

You splash your face again and shut off the tap, taking a few deep breaths and smoothing your hands against your hair.

You exit the bathroom and slide back into bed. Loki reaches for you in his sleep and you are only half surprised when you let him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to him. The throbbing ache between your thighs intensifies and before you can think about it, your back is arching and your breath is hitching.

He pulls you closer and suddenly his breath is warm on your ear. “You know, if you wanted me, all you had to do was ask,” he says, his voice deep and smooth, only a little husky with sleep.

“This is a bad idea,” you say, even as your back arches again and you press yourself against him.

Lips press against where your neck and shoulder meet. “But you want it.” His fingers toy with the hem of your nightgown. “Yes?” he asks, his voice husky against your ear.

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Agent.”

“Yes. Please.”

“Agent.”

Your eyes flutter open. Loki is standing at the foot of the bed, hair wet, and wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“It’s eight o’clock,” he says. “You need to shower and dress if we’re to make it to breakfast on time.”

It takes you a moment to process this information. Partly because he just woke you up from a sex dream about him and partly because wearing only a towel should be fucking illegal when you look like that. You try to keep your eyes trained on his and not let them drift to his flat stomach where you can see a faint smattering of chest hair that gathers in a line that trails directly to his cock. And definitely not to any of the muscles that are on tantalizing display and dotted by drops of water that are begging to be licked away. Nope. Not looking at any of that. Just at his devastatingly handsome face. 

Fuck.

“Agent?”

You shake your head. “Sorry. Bit groggy this morning. Finish up what you were doing and I’ll go jump in the shower.”

He gives you a bit of an odd look, but mercifully walks away without further comment. 

This gives you an opportunity to stare at his broad back as he walks away. Goddammit, even his ass looks good in that towel.

Fuck.

You have a feeling this is going to be a long week.

*

It’s only day one and it’s becoming clear to you that you are not really prepared for some of the practicalities of being Loki’s wife.

Specifically: being the primary focus of his flirtations and little gestures of affection. His hand on the small of your back, his fingers lacing with yours, the brush of his lips against the back of your hand or the shell of your ear—it’s all a little overwhelming in a way you don’t expect. It was one thing when he was razzing you in your prep meetings—he was quite clearly doing it to be irritating. But at The Indigo, he has to appear sincere for your cover and that particular detail makes it a different beast entirely. 

The fact that both his regular appearance and the blond-haired, blue-eyed glamor he’s adopted for the mission are both devastatingly handsome certainly doesn’t help. Nor does the additional baggage of your sex dream this morning.

Unfortunately for you, Loki quickly ascertains that he now has a great and novel way to fluster you. Equally unfortunate is the fact that he seems to find this as hilarious as he did back in prep meetings, which prompts him to be only more outlandish.

“Are you trying to sabotage this?” It’s later that afternoon and you’ve gone down to the pool with the plan of schmoozing with Litvinchuk and his associates. Loki has clearly decided that this needs to be more difficult than it is and has fully committed to the bit, as they say.

(You’ve also gotten very good at whispering threats under your breath and making it look like you’re flirting; the timing of this is not a coincidence).

“I don’t know why you’re so distraught about sunscreen,” says Loki, rubbing a generous amount between his palms.

“It’s not the sunscreen, it’s that you’re going to find some way to be inappropriate about it.”

“I’d never.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“You wound me.” He places his hands on your shoulders and begins rubbing in the sunscreen, going much slower than you think is strictly necessary. “Perhaps this trip is merely bringing out our natural chemistry.”

“You wish.”

“Is it the hair that does it for you, Mrs. Pine? Do you have a particular fondness for blonds?”

“Do you have a fondness for being murdered in broad daylight? Because that’s the fate you’re headed towards, buster.”

He tuts at you as his hands slide to the small of your back. “Temper, temper. You really need to work on that.”

“Have you considered working on not annoying the ever-loving shit out of me?”

His breath is suddenly warm against your ear. “Now where’s the fun in that? And before you answer, be advised that Tarasevich is looking right at us.”

Fuck. Tarasevich is the most suspicious and paranoid of the lot—years in the Sokovian mafia paired with recreational drug use will do that to a guy. You turn so that you’re facing Loki. He looks at you fondly, looking for all the world like a loved up newlywed just smitten with his new wife.

“One of these days, I’m going to drop kick you into the motherfucking sun,” you say in the sweetest voice that you can muster.

“Now, now, Mrs. Pine, let’s keep the foreplay in the bedroom.” He rests his forehead against yours, reaching up to stroke your cheek. “There’s such a thing as public indecency laws, you know.”

You sigh heavily. “Why are you like this?”

“Oh, because it’s so much fun.”

“Is he still looking?”

“Yes and I’m going to kiss you to put him off, so do try to contain yourself.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage.”

You catch a flicker of a smile before he leans in and brushes his lips against yours. You intend for this to be brief, but his mouth is so warm and inviting and before you know it, he’s gently coaxing your lips open and leading your tongue in a slow and seductive caress that has your mind drifting straight to the gutter.

His hand slides to your thigh and you can’t bring yourself to be mad about it.

“Ah, Pine. Mixing business and pleasure, I see.”

You pull back from Loki to find Ivan Litvinchuk standing in front of you, wearing the smug, congratulatory smirk that you often see men like him trading with one another when they think they’re getting somewhere with a woman.

“Normally I try not to, but I’ve found it rather impossible these last three weeks, haven’t I, darling?” Loki takes the opportunity to loop his arms around your waist and pull you into his lap, nuzzling your neck.

You give a good natured laugh. “You’re insatiable.”

“Oh, I don’t think anyone would fault me when I have such a tempting little wife.”

This, paired with the squeeze of his hand on your thigh, sends an unexpected rush of heat to your cunt. Fortunately, the effects of this are quickly tempered when you notice that Litvinchuk is eyeing you rather appreciatively. The wardrobe team has really outdone themselves with your clothes, but the swimsuits they’ve sent are definitely more revealing than you are used to—today’s choice is a bikini with a split sweetheart neckline that dips a lot lower than you’d like and a fucking underwire in the top. Underwire! The bottom is no better—it’s both low rise and high cut, the perfect way to ensure that half of your ass is exposed at any given time. Even in the matching translucent cover up—which of course you’ve left on the chair that Litvinchuk is standing in front of—you feel a little more bare than you’d like, a fact that Litvinchuk seems to be appreciating, if the path of his gaze is any indication.

“You’re a lucky man, Mr. Pine,” he says, his eyes flicking briefly to your cleavage.

You expertly tamp down your disgust and smile at Litvinchuk before turning around to bat your eyes at Loki.

“You are, aren’t you?” you say, twining your arms around his neck and planting a brief, chaste kiss on his lips.

He gives you a dazzling smile that’s so sincere it makes your stomach flip. “Very much so.”

Another squeeze of your thigh, more heat to your cunt. Fuck.

“Well, Pine, when you are ready to discuss more business—” Here he switches to Sokovian.

This is the part you dislike the most about this particular mission: whenever anything of substance comes up, Litvinchuk and his cronies immediately switch to Sokovian, leaving you in the dark.

To add insult to injury, Litvinchuk still seems infatuated by your cleavage.

Litvinchuk says goodbye a few minutes later and you manage to bite your tongue until he’s out of earshot.

“I really don’t love the fact that he spent half of that conversation sneaking looks at my boobs,” you say quietly.

“Well, to be fair, they do look spectacular,” says Loki. “I’ll have to send a thank you note to the wardrobe team for that.”

Heat stirs hopefully and unhelpfully in your hips at that comment.

“This is what I meant by being inappropriate, you know. Did he have anything interesting to say?”

“He’s invited me to a game of cards this afternoon.”

“Do you need me for that? I could go try and talk to the wives, see what I can find out.”

“Originally, I’d thought no, but since dear Ivan seems so enamored of your assets, it might not be a bad idea to have you come along.”

You sigh. “How am I now at the point in my life where letting an illegal arms dealer stare at my tits is a fucking mission objective?”

Loki laughs quietly. “We’ll keep that out of the final report.”

*

The card game ends up being a lot worse than you thought it would be. And not because of Litvinchuk’s wandering eyes.

They’ve set up the game on the pool deck tables and chairs. As best as you can tell, it’s a Sokovian twist on a combination of rummy and poker. You’re not the only woman at the table: a few of the other men have their girlfriends or mistresses draped over them like strange human scarves, though their roles seem to be largely decorative.

Loki makes a big show of pulling you into his lap, saying how he just can’t bear to be apart from his new wife for terribly long.

“Ah, young love,” says Mikhnevich. “I remember when my Irina and I were like this.”

“Now she begs for him to leave the house!” says Litvinchuk. There’s a hearty round of laughter—it’s not a particularly funny joke, but you suppose that’s one of the benefits of moving up in the world of crime: people will laugh at your jokes because they’re afraid you’ll kidnap their families or something. It’s all very dysfunctional.

Loki makes an effort to teach you the game, but Nina is not the sort who pays very close attention to that kind of thing, so you find yourself giggling and letting him steal kisses or whisper in your ear as he explains some strategy or another.

There are several problems with this arrangement. The first is that you are positioned on his lap in such a way that you can feel his cock nudging your ass or your thigh, depending on how he’s sitting. And it’s close enough proximity for you to ascertain that he is long, thick, and semi-erect.

The second problem is his thigh; specifically, how it presses against your cunt, how every time Loki leans forward to draw a card, he inadvertently rocks you against the firm muscle. Each time, it feels better than the last; each time, you clench and ache and talk yourself out of riding his thigh until you have a screaming orgasm right on the pool deck. Each time, the idea becomes more and more tempting.

The third problem is his hands. Specifically, where and how they are wandering. He plays it off like it’s unintentional, like he’s just absently fidgeting with the part of your suit that lays against your hip or idly drawing lazy circles on your thigh. You can’t help but think that it must be calculated. He’s spent the last twenty-four hours intentionally trying to drive you crazy–there’s no way that he would pass up an opportunity to play his little games without you scolding him or rolling your eyes.

The fourth problem is that the first three problems are turning you on a lot.

Your clit seems to swell with every pass of his fingertips on your bare skin, no matter how casual. It drags against the slick material of your swimsuit every time you shift on Loki’s muscular thigh. You can feel yourself growing slicker and slicker with every moment. Eventually, it becomes too much and you try to shift in his lap, crossing your legs to give yourself a little relief.

This does exactly nothing useful. Instead, your movement causes his cock to twitch against you, which only escalates your growing arousal. He hooks the elastic of your suit at your hip onto his thumb and pulls, letting it snap back against your skin. His expression is playful when you look up at him, but there’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

You are throbbing, your cunt practically weeping with slickness. And you’re pretty sure he knows.

And you’re pretty sure you don’t mind.

You lick your lips.

He hooks his thumb back into your suit at the hip, and this time he leaves it there, his fingers splayed along the curve of your hip. It’s casually possessive and ridiculously hot and the polar opposite of helpful.

He definitely knows.

Your heart is pounding. Can you go into cardiac arrest from being too turned on? You wish you could use Google. At a minimum, some sort of visual equivalent of a cold shower would be helpful. Pictures of Henry Kissinger or something. Budget reports. Taxes. Anything to get your mind off your aching cunt and the mess that you’re making in your swimsuit.

“I think you could do with a bit of a lie down, Mrs. Pine.” Loki's voice is low in your ear. “You seem…warm.”

You would have thought that Loki knowing about your current state of arousal would be cause for humiliation, if not irritation. Instead, it only seems to add fuel to the fire, especially with the way he’s talking to you. You’re not sure how he’s doing this, but it feels like his fucking voice is vibrating in the cradle of your hips, sending a fresh wave of slick arousal to your dripping cunt.

“Yeah,” you say. “Very warm.”

It’s perhaps a testament to your current state of mind that you can only manage this sentence and not some smart remark.

“Would you like my help with that, darling?” he asks. The phrasing is innocent, but the question is loaded. And sincere. You take in a shaky breath. You know all the reasons why this is a bad idea, but you also can’t bring yourself to say no. He may be wildly irritating, but you suspect he’s likely a good fuck…and you really need to be fucked.

You nod. “Yeah…I’d like that.”

“We’ll go up to the room after this game ends,” he says. “And then I’ll take very good care of you.”

It takes everything in you not to whine. Fuck. You didn’t think it was possible to be this wet, this turned on. 

Loki shifts slightly, pulling you close against him, his cock now fully erect and pressing hard and thick against your ass. 

“Do you feel me?” he asks, his lips grazing your ear. “Do you feel what you’ve done?”

You nod and wiggle your hips slightly, partly to situate yourself and partly because you want a little bit of payback. His grip on your hip tightens.

“I’d advise you not to play games, little wife,” he rasps in your ear.

More heat builds in your hips. You can’t remember the last time you were this turned on. Maybe never. You throw a look at Loki over your shoulder. “It’s not a game,” you say. “I’m just very warm.”

His eyes are dark. “Burning up, I suspect.”

“You have no idea.” You lean back against him, turning so you can nuzzle your face against his neck. God, he smelled good. “Please,” You say it so quietly that only he can hear, “I’m aching.”

He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and you feel his cock throb. He clears his throat. “Gentlemen, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take my leave a little early—Mrs. Pine is feeling quite unwell.”

Fuck yes.

If Litvinchuk and his men suspect there’s anything untoward about your departure, they don’t say so—and you imagine you must look a little unsteady anyway. Loki slides an arm around your waist as you leave.

“Now Mrs. Pine,” he says once you’re out of earshot, “tell me exactly what ails you.”

You let out a shaky sigh. “Are you seriously going to do this?”

“I only want to ensure that we are on the same page,” he says with a smirk.

“Like hell you do. I already told you, you just want to hear—” You cut yourself off, realizing that you’re playing right into his hands.

He smiles like a cat with a bowl full of cream. “What do I want to hear, darling?”

You press your lips together. This is infuriating.

“I’m waiting…”

You blow out a shaky breath. Fuck it. “You just want to hear me say that I’m fucking soaked because you’ve been rubbing me against your thighs and touching me for the last two hours and if I don’t come soon, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”

He smirks as you approach the hotel lobby. “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting to hear you say all that.”

“You absolutely were.”

The air conditioned air in the hotel lobby feels extra icy against your sunwarmed skin and your sandals seem to clack particularly loudly against the marble floors.

“You have a smart mouth, do you know that?”

“You like it,” you say as you approach the bank of elevators. “That’s the reason why you pull half of this shit with me.”

“Perhaps.” He gives you a smile that feels a little dangerous and sends even more heat to your aching cunt. “But do you know what my favorite part of your smart mouth is, Mrs. Pine?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

The elevator door opens. It’s empty and your cunt clenches at the possibilities this presents.

“My favorite part about your smart mouth,” says Loki in a low voice as you step into the elevator, “is that it will sound that much sweeter when I make you beg for me.”

The elevator door slides closed and you barely have a chance to react before he’s backing you up against the wall and pressing his thigh between your legs.

“You’re a disobedient, wicked tease, Mrs. Pine,” he growls, sending a thrill through you. “I think you could benefit from a firm hand.”

“You like it,” you breathe, rocking your hips against his thigh, trying to capture some of the same friction that was driving you wild earlier.

“Rutting yourself against my thigh in public like a common slut,” he purrs. “You must be desperate.” He slides a hand between your legs, slipping his fingers under your bathing suit. His expression changes the moment his fingers dip past the fabric—almost like he expected you to be wet, but not this wet.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purrs as you keen. “You’ve made a mess of yourself, haven’t you?”

“I need to come so bad,” you gasp.

“I know you do.” He reaches over and slams the emergency stop button and the elevator shudders to a halt. “And you’re going to. Right now.”

“I can wait until we get to the ro—”

He spins you around and pulls you to him so your back is pressed against his chest.

“No, you can’t.” He curls his big frame over yours, sliding his hand back into your bathing suit and stroking the full length of your sex and making you cry out again. “You need it too badly.” He starts rubbing your clit with his middle and index fingers. “And I don’t think it’s going to take all that long, darling,” he growls, sucking your earlobe into his mouth, “because you’re already so fucking wet.”

There’s a small, distant part of you that resents the fact that he’s right about anything, let alone anything pertaining to your orgasms.

The larger part of you is focused on the fact that he’s right: you’re going to come and you’re going to come hard.

Your legs are shaking and you brace your arms against the elevator wall to hold yourself up. You moan loudly and arch your back as the feeling starts building in your hips.

“You need this so badly, don’t you?” He nips hard at your earlobe. “You’re desperate for it. I felt you tense up every time your sopping cunt rubbed against my thigh, every time I touched you just right.”

You whimper, pressure rising in your hips as you rock with his hands.

“You’re so close,” Loki purrs in your ear. His hips are thrusting mindlessly against your ass, like he can’t wait to be inside you.

“Fuck, I need to come,” you whimper.

“Oh, I’m going to make you come, darling, but I think what you really need is to be fucked.”

You moan as your orgasm starts to crest.

“You need to be fucked properly and hard,” he murmurs. “You need me to take care of your sopping wet, needy little cunt. You need to be filled to the brim with my cock and my come like the good girl that you are. You need to come over and over on my cock until you can’t take it anymore.”

This is what pushes you over the edge. The muscles of your cunt clench and then pleasure is blooming in your belly as the tension of the last two hours comes to a peak and you come hard. You cry out, your hips rocking against Loki’s hand, chasing the shimmery aftershocks.

“There she is, that’s my good girl,” he purrs. He holds you as you shudder and shake, his fingers still moving, still coaxing out those final waves of pleasure. But just when you think he’s about to pull his hand away, he starts massaging your clit again, one long finger slipping inside you.

“You don’t think you’re going to be satisfied with just one, do you?” he growls in your ear. “Not a needy girl like you, not when you’ve been dripping for hours. You need more, don’t you?”

“Oh fuck—” You can feel that pressure growing again and you know it’s going to be different this time.

“You’re going to come for me again, pretty girl,” he purrs. “And this time, I want to hear you scream.”

Everything is coiling up so tight and tense and suddenly two of his fingers are inside of you and they’re curling just right and the edges of your vision go white as everything inside you fizzes and releases and a sharp cry falls from your lips as you come.

“Good girl,” his voice rumbles low over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

His hand finally stills once the final aftershocks roll through you. Your legs are shaking, but his grip on you is still firm. Boneless, you turn to him and he presses his slick fingers past your lips. You suck and lick his fingers clean and then he’s kissing you, sucking your own essence from your lips and tongue.

“Fuck,” you breathe as the elevator shudders to life. “Fuck, that was so good.”

Loki laughs quietly and scoops you up into his arms as the elevator arrives at your floor.

“Oh, we’re nowhere near done, darling.”

Continued in Part 2

[mdzsxchange]

Chapters: 8/8 Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Jiang Yanli/Wen Ruohan, Madam Wen/Wen Ruohan - Past Characters: Jiang Yanli, Wen Ruohan, Wen Qing (Modao Zushi), Wen Xu (Modao Zushi), Wen Xu's Wife (Modao Zushi), Wen Ning | Wen Qionglin Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Forced Marriage, No Sunshot Campaign (Módào Zǔshī), Politics, Older Man/Younger Woman, jianghu politics, Jiang Yanli-centric, Jiang Yanli is having a bad time, but at least there's soup, medically inaccurate depictions of chronic illness, Qi related handwavy illness, internalized ableism, Self-Esteem Issues, Wen Ruohan is probably his own warning, Warning: Wen Ruohan, Beauty and the Beast Elements, handing out corruption arcs again, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping Summary:

Jiang Yanli’s engagement is broken. In the wake of this, Wen Ruohan senses an opportunity.

Jiang Yanli, who is still standing there, a lotus seed pod between her fingers, silent as the grave, thinks that perhaps this is how a fish felt, in a woven rush trap — not yet dead, but already on its way to dying.

Not yet dead, but certainly trapped within the small boundaries that had reduced its world to nothing, alone with panic until someone comes to strike the killing blow.

Jiang Yanli is a child of Yunmeng's waters. She has, in the past, been the one to put her hand in the rush trap and drag the fish from its final prison.

She had, in the past, been one to gut said fish in a single stroke along its belly and pull out its innards.

She knew how to not spoil the meat.

[amrv-5]

Finals Season Affirmations for the quarter system experiencer. i will not give myself the mia farrow rosemarys baby haircut unless I can determine it is a genuine act of Will and Desire. Experiencing February temperatures is fine and does not bother me. I enjoy anxiety and stressful situations and putting myself in them voluntarily. Protein bar is a beloved friend and close relative of gummy vitamin

[sashketter]

Close Quarters - Part 2

Summary: Riyo gives Echo a blowjob. Rex returns from the fresher, and the men attend to the Senator, taking turns eating her out.

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi (Echiyo), Captain Rex x Riyo Chuchi (Rexiyo)

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Smut. Porn without Plot. Threesome. Oral (M and F receiving), fingering. Mention of Foxiyo.

Notes: FOREPLAY IS IMPORTANT. That is all.

Parts 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

Riyo smiles and pushes his shoulders back. “Relax.”

Echo remains upright. “I want to watch.”

She keeps his gaze as she wraps her lips around his angry head and sucks lightly. He groans deeply, the head on his shoulders feeling lighter with every suction of her warm mouth. Saliva floods the insides of her cheeks and sucking sounds fill the air as she bobs and inches him along her tongue.

Between Rex, Fox, and a handful of the Coruscant Guard, Riyo had grown familiar with clone cocks, their weight and tastes and textures. She had concluded long ago that while the men were undoubtedly cut from the same cloth, their varying shades of brown all unmistakably of the same warm hue, no two cocks, much like the clones themselves, were alike. She quickly places Echo somewhere along the lengthier end of the spectrum, with Rex somewhere near the thicker end.

Echo falls back onto the bed in a fit of deep moans and choked chuckles. His arms come up and wrap around his head as it’s emptied of all thought except for those related to the sensations on his shaft. He’d forgotten, nearly written off ever feeling this warm and wet and wanted again. He sits up on his elbows and watches Riyo lave his shaft with the attention he had scarcely allowed himself to imagine. She meets his gaze with soft eyes and dislodges with a pop.

“Feel good?” 

Echo chuckles at her thoughtfulness. It’s been so long. Unable to gather enough breath to answer, he smiles and nods furiously.

She smiles back and switches tack. She dips her head lower and sucks on his balls, twisting her wrist with each swipe of his shaft and sending Echo back onto the bed. He closes his eyes and focuses on Riyo’s tongue and hand on him. Heat reaches his skin as the volume of his moans increases. His orgasm starts to crest when the door opens.

Rex enters quietly, a towel wrapped low on his hips as he rubs another on his head. He stops behind Riyo and huffs. “You were supposed to warm her up, not the other way around.”

Echo comes back up on his elbows and answers in tight breaths. “I was going to— oh, kark! You shower too fast.” Riyo pulls a long groan out of him as she drags her tongue along his underside. “Besides— unh— I’m not sure I can—” Her lips wrap around his shaft and reach his base. He bucks lightly. “Ungh, yes, that’s it!” He’s nearly doubled over, fighting to keep his eyes open.

Rex laughs and chucks both towels aside. He kneels behind Riyo, pressing his knees against her thighs. He unties her robe and works the silk off her limbs with gentle fingertips across her skin. She leans forward and bobs, keeping Echo in her mouth, as her arms come down to her sides. Rex throws her robe behind him and leans down to press his front to her back, his hands to the sides of her waist, and kisses from her shoulder to her neck.

When he reaches her ear, he purrs, “Ready for me?”

She lets Echo fall from her mouth and turns her head to find Rex’s lips. She pumps Echo with both hands, her slide eased by the slick of her saliva, as Rex steals her breath and snakes his arms around her torso. One hand lands on her breast, the other in between her legs. She moans and writhes in his grip while tightening hers on Echo.

“Ungh! Riyo, please. I-I-I’m…” Echo grits his teeth and tries to hold back.

Her mouth breaks from Rex and dives deeply onto Echo. He feels the pinch of her throat around his frenulum and comes forcefully, loudly. His abs clench, and his moans punch the air. He thrusts shallowly into Riyo’s face. She sucks as he releases, swallowing until he’s flaccid in her mouth. Only then, with a satisfied smile, does she remove herself and let him flop back onto the bed.

“Such a talented mouth for a talented Senator,” Rex croons between kisses to the other side of her neck and shoulder. He keeps his arms tight on her. He dips a gentle fingertip between her folds and finds her nearly dripping. He announces loud enough for Echo to hear through his lingering moans and giggles, “She’s soaking wet.” He brings the wet digit to his lips and sucks it clean before whispering in her ear, “But I can make you wetter.”

Riyo hums and presses her back into Rex. She reaches a careful hand underneath and finds his half-hard head not far from her aching core. She gently lifts and slides him along her slick slit, wrenching a moan from Rex that rumbles down her back. She rocks her hips and coats his length with her moisture. Echo sits up and watches them.

Rex clenches his jaw and growls like a predator closing in on his prey. “So needy, Senator.”

Riyo tilts her chin up and breathes, “I need you, Rex, please.”

In a flash, he scoops her up in his arms bridal style and deposits her on the bed next to Echo, her head inches from his thigh. She laughs as she bounces on her back. Rex kneels by the right side of the bed and pulls her by the ankles to close the few inches between them. He nudges the backs of her thighs onto his shoulders before catching Echo’s heated stare.

He nods and gives the order. “Take care of her up there while I work down here.”

Riyo’s giggle turns into a moan as Rex dives in, sucking and licking her labia. Her heels find his shoulder blades and push, pressing him impossibly farther into her. He laughs and tuts. “So needy,” he teases over her mound before pressing his tongue to her slit and finding her inner lips. She arches her back and moans deeply. Her hands claw Rex’s scalp, and he responds by brushing his nose against the hood of her clit. She keens and squeezes her breasts as he wraps his arms around her thighs.

Echo stands and watches, quickly doffing his trousers and slowly pumping himself. His eyes land on the blue expanse of her abdomen, arching and undulating and beginning to spasm. He kneels down and mouths at her stomach. Her skin tastes like salty blueberries and smells faintly of summer rain and the soap he had used earlier. He starts a trail of wet kisses up her torso. Riyo rubs his upper back and the base of his neck, careful not to catch on his cybernetic implant. She arches her back as he reaches her breastbone, pressing herself firmly on his lips. He licks and kisses each soft breast before sucking on each purple nipple. Riyo’s moans reach for the ceiling.

As he reaches her collarbone, Echo tucks his hand underneath her neck and finds her lips. Their tongues dance as his fingers comb through her soft hair. She reaches for his right arm, pressed carefully to his side, and brings it across her chest and abdomen. Echo starts to pull back, worried that he might hurt her with his sharp edges, but Riyo wraps her right arm around his neck and anchors him. She grips the narrow end of his scomp link and presses her front to his right arm, the cool alloy of his prosthetic refreshing on her heated skin. Echo feels her smile on his lips, and he presses a little harder.

It’s not lost on Riyo that she has two clones kneeling before her and working both sets of lips. They work in tandem, seemingly in sync. As Rex dips his tongue deeper between her inner lips, Echo does the same with her mouth and finds the back of her tongue. As Rex pumps two fingers into her dripping folds, Echo stands and presents his leaking cock to her eager mouth. She sucks the precum off his head as Rex sucks on her clit and nearly brings Echo’s base to her lips as her moan opens her throat and rumbles around his shaft. They dive into her like explorers of a new ocean, finding more pressure the deeper they push and coming back more breathless than before. 

Echo turns his head from Riyo’s mouth to look down her torso. He finds Rex mirroring his gaze, his lips attached to her clit as he keeps pumping his two fingers — not hard enough to make her come, but firm enough to keep her writhing and moaning. They lock eyes and share a nod, communicating wordlessly. Rex removes himself, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand and bringing in one of Riyo’s legs with the palm of the other.

“On your knees, baby.” His baritone vibrates on her skin and produces goosebumps.

She sits up and follows orders. She starts to back up towards Rex until he stops her with a hand to her lower back.

“Mm-mm, other way around. I want a turn with your mouth.”

She giggles and swivels around on her hands and knees. 

Rex juts his chin towards Riyo’s backend as he mirrors Echo’s movements and pumps his shaft steadily. “Got her plenty wet and loose for you.” He looks down and starts to say, “You ready— ungh!” Riyo cuts him off with a gentle suck of his engorged head.

Echo looks down at Rex’s handiwork. She glistens from cleft to mound. Her lips are swollen, and a gentle tap of his cockhead wrenches a moan from Riyo’s other end. He bends down, kisses and licks her soft rump, and presses his thumb firmly over her clit. Riyo pulls her mouth off Rex as her arms buckle.

“Echo, please,” she whines, “I need more.”

Rex laughs. “Stop teasing her, trooper. Show her what you’ve got.”

“In a minute.” Riyo squeals as Echo wiggles his thumb and watches her lips release more moisture. “I want a taste, too.”

Rex moves away from Riyo’s grip and gets comfortable at the head of the bed, turning the pile of pillows into a throne and watching Echo wrench more moans and moisture from the Senator with his mouth. She arches her back to give him more purchase. He dives between her folds and works his tongue through her inner lips. Her hands bunch the bedsheets into her mouth, her toes curl, and her feet dance in the air. Echo keeps his thumb on her clit and his licks quick and long until her moans drop an octave lower and his spit and her juices drip from his chin onto the bed.

Rex groans and pumps harder at the sight. “That’s it, trooper. Ungh, nice and wet.”

Echo pulls away and laughs, his mouth and chin soaked. “Kark, she’s sweet. Want another go?”

Before Rex can answer, Riyo takes advantage of the reprieve and cries, “I need to come, you two, please!” Her eyes land on Rex’s motions. He catches her gaze and pinches his base, presenting his erection to her.

His voice oozes in her ears. “This what you want, Senator?”

She’s wrecked by their mouths, her eyes dark and wild and her hair askew. In lieu of an answer, she crawls between Rex’s legs and grabs his shaft, shoving off his hand and pumping firmly. Her knees touch his inner thighs, and she sits on her heels to meet Rex’s heated gaze. They pant in unison.

Echo watches them standoff. He makes a note of how they get off on vying for control, Rex the battle-hardened Captain and Riyo the seasoned Senator. He’s not sure how he fits into their power play, but he figures he could at least temper the tension. His cock had become uncomfortably hard again and needed Riyo’s attention.

He slots himself behind her, his knees hugging her thighs, and wraps his arms around her waist. He kisses her shoulders and gently nips at the crook of her neck. Her eyes close, and her shoulders drop, diffusing the deadlock. He presses his front to her back and his cock along her cleft. She smiles and giggles as she tilts her head back onto his left shoulder.

Rex comes forward, keeping Riyo’s hands on his shaft, and kisses the left side of her neck. His knees sandwich one each of theirs. Echo cups her right breast while Rex massages her left with his right hand and her folds with his left hand. They fit like a puzzle and work like a dream.

The heat radiating off the clones sends Riyo to dizzying heights. Her hands rub the sides of their faces as she pants praises into the air. “So good, feels so good.” “Such good soldiers.” “My brave men, my protectors.”

“Beautiful,” Rex croons before laying his tongue flat on her pert nipple. She writhes and squeals in Echo’s arms.

Previous - Next

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Close Quarters

This is for @sumbacky who I told over a month ago that I was inspired by their art and finally got around to writing the dang fic 😂 This is also for @samsseptember's Day 10 "Mission" prompt. Enjoy! 🥰

Close Quarters

| Pairing: SamBucky | Rated: T | WC: 1.4K |

Summary: Sam and Bucky hide in a closet until the coast is clear. Based on Lynette's "stuck in a tight space" SamBucky art.

Excerpt:

Bucky couldn’t help but feel the heat rushing to his cheeks; the blush bloomed and spread as he watched the adorable gap in Sam’s teeth while Sam talked to Joaquín over comms; at Sam’s glistening lips as Sam smiled; gazed into Sam’s deep, rich brown eyes, like two bouquets of True Love Hellebores. “What?” Sam whispered. Cutting through the drum concert in Bucky’s chest. A curious hitch to Sam’s voice. A big smile. A quirk of Sam’s eyebrow. Sam. Watching Bucky. Waiting for Bucky to say something, anything back.

READ THE REST ON AO3!

[inkedmoth]

no one, absolutely no one

me: hey you know what this fic needs, a masquerade ball

[mdzsxchange]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Nie Huaisang/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Nie Huaisang, Nie Huaisang/Wen Ning | Wen Qionglin, Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin & Nie Huaisang Characters: Nie Huaisang, Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, Wen Ning | Wen Qionglin, Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin, Brief Luó "Mián Mián" Qīngyáng Additional Tags: Summer Camp, Qishan Wen Indoctrination (Modao Zushi), Implied/Referenced Torture, Spies & Secret Agents, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Canon-Typical Violence, Fake/Pretend Relationship(s), Developing Relationship(s), Homework, Fix-It of Sorts, Instant Plot Derailment Just Add Polyamory, everyone is poly, Background Lán Zh��n | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Dubcon Kissing, Caught Smooching, Consensual Sex, Open Relationships, character attempts Black Widow style spywork and accidentally achieves a polycule, forward momentum, manipulation at its finest, Friendship/Love, Solidarity, Minor Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín/Niè Huáisāng, I kinda wrote it queerplatonically but take it however u want, slight suggestion of bdsm, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Characters Are Adults, adhd nie huaisang, mentions of wangxian but not yet established, Trapped In A Closet, Have to hide a body, Rooming (Imprisoned) Together at Wen Evil Summer Camp, Hurt/Comfort, this probably counts as crack, Poisoning, sprinkle of betrayal, Background Character Death, Sabotage, Infiltration, kinda psychological warfare?? but sexy, implied ace jiang cheng, allergies as a plot device, nie huaisang has a plan, And Then It Got Out of Hand, Coming of Age vibes too I think, life in a prisoner of war camp, Canon Typical Hostage Situation, Daring escape plans, Pre-Xuanwu of Slaughter Scene (Modao Zushi), Totally Successful Seduction, some spicy espionage, Huaisang is a fantastic manipulator of emotions, NHS you vixen hehe, brief explicit sexual content, Oral Sex, Frottage, ADHD King Nie Huaisang, Borders of Infinity, the most rom com thing ive ever tried to write, idiots to found family, this is very much the Nie Huaisang show, fuck around and find out, breaking news: actions have consequences Summary:

Nie Huaisang's Boyfriend(s) at Evil Summer Camp. Starring Nie Huaisang. Co-starring Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, and Wen Ning. Also featuring appearances by Jiang Cheng and Mianmian.

[dollfacefantasy]

MAKE HIM DO WHAT I SAY ♡

pairing: older bf!!logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: you and logan make a little bet. who can last longer without sex? as much as he wants to deny it, he's starting to think the answer might be you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, brief daddy kink (one mention)

a/n: a commission for my sweet @sleepyluxe who i love so very much <33 this fic takes place after the events of dofp when things are fixed.

Seven days. One week. A quarter of a month. That's how long it had been since Logan and you had fucked.

It was brutal. Some may say he's being dramatic, but that's because they've never had the luxury of you. They couldn't understand losing a paradise they've never experienced. The past several days he's felt like a man wandering through a barren desert, the oasis in sight but never close enough to drink from. Absolute torture.

Unfortunately, this situation came about because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

You'd been getting some work done late last Sunday evening. Just a few plans for the upcoming school week. Your fingers punched away at your computer while Logan lay on the bed twirling a stray cigar between his fingers.

"How many more pages you got?" he asked, boosting his head up to glance at you.

At the sound of his voice, you spun your chair around to face him. "Not that many. Just finalizing a few details for the field trip they're taking the kids on next weekend," you said.

"You're not even going. Why're they making you do that?"

The fat stick of tobacco continued to glide between his digits. One of your legs crossed over the other as you watched him.

"I'm not going because I offered to do all the planning," you reminded him. 

Your eyes stayed on the tantalizing movements of his fingers.

"You know you can't smoke in here, so don't even think about it," you said.

He rolled his eyes and puffed air through his pursed lips as if that was an outrageous warning. Sitting up, he put the cigar back in the drawer on his side of the bed. He rose to his feet and began to cross the room in your direction.

"Maybe you should give me something else to do with my mouth then," he teased, his voice lowering to the octave that reverberated with want for you.

Then it was your turn to roll your eyes. You turned your chair back toward the desk and continued grazing your fingertips over the raised letters.

It didn't deter him though. He kept on in your direction, stopping only when he was directly behind the backing of your seat.

His hands landed on your shoulders, fingers massaging the tight muscles fanning out from your neck. He leaned forward so his head hovered beside yours. You could hear each breath he took. The smell of that cigar lingered around his form even if he hadn't lit up tonight.

"C'mon, babydoll. You've been working so hard. A little break won't hurt you," he murmured, lips pressing against your cheekbone.

"I have to have these done by tomorrow morning. Just give me a few minutes, and then I'll be done for the night and completely focused on you," you'd rebuffed him gently.

But that didn't satisfy Logan. When he wanted you, he got you. He proceeded with his tender touches and luring pecks. You remained focused on your work though. He figured he should vary his approach.

"Just let me make you feel good then, honey. Give you some extra motivation," he whispered. His dedicated hands drifted to your waist, squeezing in a way that teased the idea of lifting you up and putting you on his lap. As good as it would've felt to be full of him, you knew you had to get this done.

"You're so bad," you said with a smile, head falling back a little as his mouth moved to your neck, "You act like you haven't gotten any in decades."

"Is that your way of telling me you're getting tired of me?" he teased.

"No. I'm just saying you're insatiable. It's getting to the point where I don't think you could live without me," you responded with a tone matching his in arrogance.

His eyebrow raised, and he pulled back a little to laugh. "That so?"

"Mhm," you nodded. Your sweet eyes stared him down, begging him to disagree.

Looking back, he wishes he could travel through time again to slap any further words out of his mouth. He should've just agreed! Should've told you that you were absolutely right. That he can't live without you, can't survive this life if he doesn't get to slip inside of you at the end of each day. He should've waited the fifteen minutes it would've taken you to finish your paperwork and then gotten laid.

But he didn't do any of that. He had to keep going and dig himself into a deeper hole.

"Don't act so innocent, princess. You're just as bad as me," he'd said.

"No way," you'd huffed, smirking with amusement, "I want you a totally normal amount. You want me like every second of the day. If you could, I don't think you'd ever let me do anything. You'd probably keep me chained to the bed, yours for the taking at all times of the day.

"Like you wouldn't love that. I'm not the one pawing at you every morning, whining about how bad I need it," he taunted.

"Oh shut up, that's happened like a couple times. Every day you're right in my ear, feeling me up. You practically drag me away from what I'm doing when you wanna fuck," you fired back, "I am nowhere near as bad as you."

And then he'd spoken the three cursed words that launched him into this predicament.

"You wanna bet?"

You laughed more at that and nodded again. "Sure. Because I know I'll win."

And that unofficial vow of celibacy was why the two of you had been dancing around each other for the past week. He was starting to feel like that old love song counting the amount of time it'd been since he had you beneath him last. Fifteen hours and seven days or however it went.

You didn't make this trying time any easier for him either. That night he went to sleep with blue balls. The next morning, he woke up to you getting ready. You weren't dressed in your usual style of clothing though. Instead, you had on a dress, Logan's favorite dress of yours. You'd styled your hair real pretty too, letting it compliment your features in the best way.

As his heavy lids blinked open to consciousness, he watched you fasten a shimmering necklace over your collarbone. It sat just above the neckline of the chiffon fabric that adorned your bust.

You caught his waking eyes with your own in the reflective glass, turning to look at him with a bright smile. 

Despite his bleary vision, he could hear the light steps of you prancing over to him. The mattress dipped with your weight as you sat down and leaned in to kiss his forehead. Your fingers slid through his dark hair just the way he likes, with your nails scratching his scalp a little. Worst of all, that close, the scent of your perfume became all consuming. It hit him harder than normal. He wasn't sure if he should blame you or himself for predicting the trials of the coming days.

He hummed in acknowledgement of your presence and nuzzled into your palm.

"Hey, sleepyhead," you cooed, your voice extra soft and sweet. It was too caring to be seductive, but of course, that's where his mind went anyways.

"Hey, baby," he'd mumbled.

"I gotta go drop off that paperwork, but I'll see you later. I love you," you whispered in return before laying one more column of kisses from the tip of his nose back to his forehead.

Then you'd left, leaving him half-hard and yearning for you. A pattern that would plague him over the next week.

Each day it was some new form of torture. The day after that, you'd worked extra hard in the danger room, coming back to him at night covered in a light sheen of sweat. Your heady natural scent filled the bedroom in moments.

The following afternoon, you wanted to cuddle when you both had some free time. The fact that you draped your leg over his torso, slotting your clothed cunt right against his hip, inches away from his cock, was pure accident of course.

Over the last few days, your games have become less specific. You peppered your speech with innuendo. Looked at him with your fuck-me eyes and spoke in the tone you always used seconds before he ended up bending you over the nearest surface.

He tried to fight back, he really did. He stopped wearing a shirt in your shared room. Every time he talked to you, he made sure to rub your ass or stroke your cheek. He was so desperate he stooped to embarrassing levels of lovey-dovey when the two of you were alone. But no matter what he tried, it seemed like you'd been right. Of your pair, you had the superior restraint.

With each passing hour, his frustration grew.

Today, it reaches its zenith.

The mansion is empty because it's Sunday. All the students and other teachers are out on the trip to the observatory today. You and Logan are the only remaining residents in the school. He ended up not having to tag along with the rest of the group after volunteering to fix the sprinklers bordering the school's patio. Babysitting kids had never been his forte even with all the practice he gets at it now. Simple handiwork he could do no problem.

The two of you take the morning to sleep in. This was a rare occasion where no early meetings or classes occupied your schedules. You stay tangled up together well past sunrise.

Logan is the first to leave the warmth and comfort of your embrace. He pulls himself from the nest of pillows and blankets, stretching his limbs out as he does. He rubs the tiredness from his features before rising and heading to the wardrobe to pull on some clothes.

In addition to his normal black t-shirt and jeans, he grabs the tool belt on his way out to the lawn. He slings it around his hips before walking through the back door. Heading past the basketball court and rows of hedges, he finds the line of leaking sprinklers besides them. It would probably take him a while given that he had to first identify the source of the problem and then recalibrate all of them with the adjustment.

He sighs but gets to work. At least he'd have a distraction from the desires haunting him.

Crouching in the dewy grass next to the little faucets, he begins examining the hard plastic shells. To his surprise, scanning for breaks does attach his mind to the task and give him a brief reprieve. It's quiet outside. Besides a small chirp from a distant bird or a grunt out of him, no other sounds echo over the open space. The sun shines in the sky, but it's not beating down on him. The air tickles his skin with warmth but not to the point of being miserably humid.

All the conditions meet in the perfect middle to keep him calm. It's the most peace he's had since he agreed to this bet between the two of you.

But all that tranquility is shattered about a half hour later when he hears the patter of footsteps against the stone pathway. From around the tall thicket of green foliage, comes you. Your face breaks out into a smile the second you burst into his vision. He would look the same if not for what you'd decided to wear.

You trot over to him across the grass in a pair of tiny black shorts with lacy frills on the hems. They sway with each of your movements, highlighting the shape of your legs. A gray camisole graces your upper half; a delicate white bow sits at the center of the collar, dead center between your breasts. The fit of the garment displays the contour of your chest just right. He feels like he's gonna start drooling before you make it near.

Despite his reaction, the outfit wasn't that provocative. It wasn't like you'd strutted out in lingerie. But he was so pent up that a flash of your ankle in the proper lighting could probably get him hard.

Bounding up to him, you wrap his body in a tight hug. Every curve of your form presses up against him.

"Look at you, working so hard," you praise playfully with a kiss to his cheek.

He laughs it off, returning the hug in an attempt to be normal, so you wouldn't see how vulnerable he was right now, how this was the perfect opportunity to strike. He couldn't let you know that in this moment, he could easily become the prey.

"Were you missing me already?" he asks, rubbing his free hand up and down your spine.

"Mhm. Woke up and you were gone," you reply. You nuzzle the crook of his neck, planting a few electric kisses on his skin.

"I didn't wanna wake you. You're pretty cute when you're sleeping," he mutters.

"Well now I'm gonna be cute out here with you," you say and pull back. You peck his lips one more time before plopping down in the grass behind him.

He glances back at you to see what that means. All you're doing is sitting there. Your legs extend out in front of you, straightened for his eyes to rake over. You lean back with your palms against the moist greenery below you.

"You don't got anything better to do with your day off?" he asks.

That earns him a small pout. "If you want me to leave, I will. I just wanna spend time with you."

He can tell by your tone that your intentions aren't so innocent. You're leading him into allowing your presence. But denying his girlfriend has never been one of the wolverine's strengths so of course, he acquiesces.

"Relax. I'm not telling you to go anywhere," he says as he turns back to his work, "I just don't think this will be that interesting to you."

"Watching you do anything is interesting to me," you joke back.

He rolls his eyes and gets back to work.

At first, things are smooth as before. He continues messing with the small, bendy pipes. You're quiet behind him. Almost too quiet, but he lets it go for now since he thinks he's found the source of the malfunction.

It doesn't take long to patch up. The more difficult part is going to each individual head and fixing the tightness. His fingers twist the little knobs to the correct settings. He then turns to you when he's finally done.

The sight of you feels like a gust of fresh air filling his lungs. You're laid out where you were before, but you've reclined across the ground. One of your arms is sprawled outwards, soaking up the sunlight while the other lazily covers your eyes. Your shadow outlines your figure against the emerald blades below you.

You look luscious and ripe, like a precious fruit ready to be picked and devoured. In any other circumstance, that's exactly what he'd do. He'd spread you out further for him and take you apart piece by piece. He wanted your nectar running down his chin with each savoring lap of his tongue. He craved the feeling of your heat wrapped around him, your walls massaging his shaft during every punishing thrust.

Imagining it now only gets the blood pumping down South to his hardening length.

He runs a hand over his hair and sighs. Why didn't he do that now? What was the point of this stupid fucking contest? It's not like there was anything on the line. The only stake was his pride, which to be honest, he'd already compromised for you multiple times over the course of your relationship.

Unbuckling the leather from his waist, he discards the tool belt. Next he peels his shirt from his body and tosses it to the side.

He makes his way to you on the grass. He drops to his knees and leans forward. His muscular frame cages you in against the ground. Starting at your navel, he drags his nose up your body. He coasts over the valley between your breasts and past your collar bone. His soft exhales breeze across your throat before he finally reaches your cheek. With a gentle pull, he clears your arm from your face.

Your eyes flutter to adjust to the sunlight beaming down on them again. They take in the vision of him so close to you and the way he gazes down with adoration.

"Hey, pretty girl," he says, his voice much softer than it'd been before, "You falling asleep on me?"

His thumb rubs over your jawline while the other strokes the crown of your head. A smile blooms across your lips. You can't help it with how he's behaving.

"No... well, maybe a little. I think you were right. Sprinklers are pretty boring," you say.

He grins and leans in to kiss your lips. With the exchange he hopes to communicate everything he doesn't want to say. I give up. You win.

You reach up and cup his scruffy cheeks. Your tongue swipes against his lips, sensing his longing for intimacy. He allows you in, and you deepen the connection. A long breath oozes from your nostrils.

He presses you down against the ground further as your hands slide over the little white streaks in his hair. Your fingers embed themselves in his locks. You feel his hands sliding down your body. They stop at your hips and give the plush flesh a squeeze.

It's obvious what he wants, but in case there was any doubt, his digits then hook around the top of your shorts and give them a tug.

A giggle bubbles up out of you against his mouth. You pull back to look at him with smug eyes.

"Is that your way of admitting I was right?" you ask.

He grumbles and ducks his head down to start kissing your neck. "Don't get cocky or I'll change my mind."

That makes you laugh more. You yank on his hair and pull him back up to look at you. 

"No you won't," you tease and brush your noses together. Looking into his eyes again, you can see how bad he wants this. "Just say it."

"Say what?"

"Say you're giving in. And that I win. And that you can't live without me."

He gives you a blank stare. Silently, he contemplates if there's any way around this. He wonders if there's a way he can avoid utter humiliation.

"C'mon, baby. Throw an old dog a bone," he grumbles.

Giggling, you shake your head. "Nuh uh. I wanna hear you say it."

He sighs and rolls over, pulling you on top of him. You straddle his hips with learned ease. Your smile glows from this angle. The sunlight above cascades over your frame and only further accentuates your body in your tight clothes. He rubs his hands up and down your sides. His dick is already at half-mast under the denim that covers his lower body. Your heat rests right on top of it, teasing him through the barriers of cloth. It dangles what he could have if he gives you what you want right before him.

The words that challenged you and created this trap for himself came out so easy. Why couldn't these be the same?

To coax him along, you grind down the slightest bit. The pressure's so light and gentle, a mere graze of your mound on the outline of his growing bulge. He hisses at the feeling.

"Just admit it," you say, planting your palms on his chest, "Just say I was right and you were wrong."

He watches you above him, knowing you're not going to drop this. If he wanted this self-invoked dry spell to end, he'd have to make it happen.

You roll your hips down with more force, impatient to hear him comply with your request. A small whimper leaks out of you. He can tell from that sound alone that you're getting worked up. That arousal is beginning to collect between your thighs.

The thought of it makes his need for you almost biological. His hands clamp around your waist and press you down harder. He rocks his up a little to meet your own movements.

"I need you so bad, princess," he sighs, his eyes shutting as he takes in the dull pleasure of you on top of him.

"Then you can say what I told you," you tease.

"What was it again?" he asks as he continues dragging your covered pussy back and forth along his now fully hard shaft.

"Say you're giving in. That I win. And that you can't live without me," you remind him, visibly proud of your victory.

With a sigh, he repeats, "I'm giving in. You win. I can't live without you."

You smile and laugh as if it was the best thing you'd ever heard. Your head falls back with glee before coming up so you can see his face again.

"Actually, can you say that again? I'm gonna grab my phone. That way I can film it this time. I just wanna have a record-" you continue to tease, but you're cut off by your own squeal when he grabs you and flips you back over onto your back. He keeps you quiet by smashing his lips against yours as your back thuds against the grass.

This kiss burns hotter than the last one. His mouth moves with bruising passion as he pulls your shorts down your legs for real. You help him by kicking them loose. His hands roam around over your smooth skin.

He glances down and finds what he thought he felt. No panties.

Eyes flitting back up to you, he shakes his head. "You were gonna give in anyways," he accuses.

"Yeah, but you gave in first," you giggle.

A small growl rumbles in his chest, but he still leans in to pull your tank top up. He brings it across your stomach, letting your breasts fall free as he bunches the material above them. He cups the plump flesh, taking a look at the beauty he holds in his palms. You watch him in the fleeting interval in which you're forced to separate.

"So... since I win, what do I get?" you continue to gloat.

"My dick inside you," he answers as his fingers yank his zipper open and shove down his pants in a similar fashion to your shorts.

"But I'm gonna get that anyways. I think I should get a real prize," you say, aiming to stoke the flames higher.

Your hips get hauled closer across the grass, so fast that you're in danger of having green smeared across your skin.

"I don't think you'll be complaining in a few minutes, ya little brat," he mumbles.

His fist pumps over his cock as he lines it up between your legs. The leaky tip smears some precum over your folds before he slides inside. He groans as he sinks in, cherishing the feeling after the week of its absence.

You're quick to adjust to the stretch. With a sharp breath, your back arches off the grass. He had already snapped back and slammed in again. You knew he wouldn't be patient after being deprived of this. Watching him above you, your eyes study how his chest puffs in and out with harsh breaths. His strong arms extend down on either side of your head, his fists holding clumps of grass between them. 

It's a gorgeous view, but you know it can't beat the feeling.

"Closer..." you whine and grab at his shoulders, pulling him down so he's right on you and smothering your body against the turf, "Missed you, old man."

"How many times have I told you to quit it with that?" he asks as his pelvis begins setting a rhythm.

"Enough to know that I'm never gonna," you say. It's the last thing you can get out before moans shatter your plans to speak.

His warm flesh pounds against yours over and over. Your body rocks with the bounce of him on top of you. It feels so good. The world feels bright again, like you'd transitioned from an existence of black and white to living in color. It was so open out here but also so empty. Like you and him were the only two people on earth.

Your voice tapers off. Words become second to whimpers of pleasure. His hands grope the swell of your ass before returning to your sides for steady leverage.

"We'll have to work on that then," he grunts, "If you're not gonna stop, I'll just have to make sure you can't speak at all."

You preen at the idea, clutching at his muscular shoulders and back. He pants right next to your ear. Each stroke drives deep into you, brushing a spot that had ached for him to touch it again.

"Never wanna go that long again," you babble around whines.

"Me neither, baby. Think you were right. Not being able to feel this pretty little pussy every day almost killed me," he says.

A rush of euphoria flows through you upon hearing that. Your moans become more breathy, more full of need for him. You grab one of his wrists and tug his hand off your hip, pushing it in between your legs.

He knows what you want. His fingers apply some pressure and rub at your swollen bundle of nerves. Immediately, he's rewarded with a whine out of you and a buck from your hips.

"Impatient," he huffs between a set of deep thrusts.

"I won," you retort, "I get to do what I want."

Even in the heat of the moment, he chuckles at your petulant tone. His hips keep rutting against you on the grass. He's sure his next task of yard-work will be covering the mysterious indents in the soil out here.

"I needa cum, Logan," you whine several seconds later, "So close."

"Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need to let it out after keeping it from me for so long?"

Your head bobs up and down in an enthusiastic nod. "Please, please, please."

"Well, it's like you said. You won. So I think you can finish when you're ready."

"Mmmm- o- ok..." you whimper out.

Your hips roll up and down to reciprocate the fast pace of his own. He's battering right up against that special spot inside you that makes your mind blank and your eyes gloss up.

With a handful of whimpers, you cum. Your face scrunches as your cunt tightens around him. His fingers keep up the same rhythm on your clit, swirling around the little bud through your pleasure high.

"That's my girl," he praises, "Let it all out for daddy."

Your body seizes up at that command. Every cell of your being somehow knows to obey. You stumble over words and let them leave your lips half formed.

He keeps driving into you as you're coming down, chasing his own release. You're well into the territory of overstimulation now, all parts of you fizzling like a lit sparkler.  Your thighs quiver against his sides violently. They lock around his waist when you finally feel him slam in and drain himself.

A loud groan erupts from him. He makes no effort to restrain it given that only the two of you are here to hear it. He fucks it into you, ricocheting himself against your center a couple more times and letting every last drop pour into your dripping hole.

When he feels sated, at least for the moment, he reluctantly pulls out. He takes a couple deep breaths as he watches a bit of his cum ooze out of you. It didn't matter though. That wouldn't be the last load you took today.

His body topples over next to yours on the natural ground. You both lie there for a few moments catching your breath before you roll onto your side to look at him.

You just stare for a few moments. Your eyes roam along the shape of his face to the slope of his jaw and the curve of his chest. Leaning in, you kiss the space below his ear.

He responds to the touch by curling his arm around your waist and pulling you to his side.

His head turns to meet your loving gaze.

"I think we have some more time to make up for," he says.

You respond with an eager nod and hop up to your feet. Both of you pull on the basics of the clothes you'd been wearing before and rush back into the mansion, giggling as you stumble through the halls like a couple of lovesick teenagers.

The door to your room stays shut for the rest of the day. You spend the remaining hours you have enmeshed in each other; intertwined with him enough to recover from the lack you'd put yourself through.

Logan doesn't venture beyond the barrier of your shared sanctuary until the sun has gone down and darkness coats the halls of the mansion.  He walks quietly, taking his steps carefully to ensure none of the wooden planks beneath him creak.

All he had to do was go downstairs and grab you some water. In and out. Five minutes. But as he rounds the turn into the room, Scott's already there, looking through the fridge. He freezes and stands there awkwardly in his black tank top and loose sweatpants.

Having heard the sounds of his footsteps, the other man glances over at him. 

"There you are. Didn't see you around when I got back," he says simply.

Logan shrugs, trying to play it casual. He walks across the room toward the cupboard that holds the glasses. The other man's eyes follow him. He can feel that even through the scarlet shades on his face.

"Haven't seen your other half either," Scott continues.

Logan can tell from the tone of his voice where this is going. 

"Don't call her that," he scoffs, forever downplaying his attachment to you, "She's tired. She's upstairs sleeping."

"On her day off? I wonder what would have her so drained," Scott replies. His tone is flat in contrast to the little smirk on his face.

"Don't start," Logan says. He goes to the fridge to fill your cup with water. The trickle of the fluid is the only sound in the room until Scott keeps going.

"I didn't say anything," he says, raising his hands in surrender, "Only that this is the best mood you've been in all week."

"A couple hours without you around does wonders for me," Logan grumbles, wishing the liquid would pour a little faster.

"I'm sure. A couple hours with no one else around. Just the two of you after you've both been stiff the whole week," he taunts, "It's ok to admit you're whipped."

Finally, the cup is full. Logan takes it and turns away, holding one finger up as he walks from the kitchen.

"See you tomorrow, Scott."

"Yeah. Tell her if she's feeling sore, she can skip the early meeting," he says with a little laugh.

[cynicalmusings]

i’ve barely written any hmc today, which suffice to say isn’t great. i thought chapter sixteen would be easy to write, but that is not the case. the main thing holding me up is how to slip details, foreshadowing, exposition, etc. into the dialogue without it coming across as too obvious or unnatural. i’ll get it done eventually, but unless the writing gods shine every ounce of their power on me, it definitely won’t be by the end of the weekend.

[sashketter]

Close Quarters - Part 1

Summary: Frustrated by the difficulty of gathering intel for the Clone Underground, Captain Rex finds comfort in Senator Riyo Chuchi and her bedroom on Coruscant. The two persuade Echo to join them.

Pairings: Captain Rex x Riyo Chuchi (Rexiyo), Echo x Riyo Chuchi (Echiyo)

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Smut. Porn without Plot. PiV, oral (F receiving). Implied established relationship between Rex and Riyo. Mention of Foxiyo.

Notes: The total word count for the whole fic is around 15k. I hadn’t intended to divide it into parts, but even I had trouble keeping it straight as I was writing it in one giant doc. And given these aren’t popular pairings, I want to keep it short for anyone who wants to dip in without committing to a 10k+ fic. No disrespect meant to Foxiyo, I included it because I prefer the idea of Riyo and the clones as sexually experienced, so a little history helps, and I genuinely believe it motivated The Bad Batch writers to characterize Riyo as a clone rights advocate, i.e. they couldn’t give her Fox because canonically, he’s dead by the time “The Clone Conspiracy” takes place, so they gave her every other clone in the galaxy instead lolol And so, in honor of the Senator’s de facto status as mistress protector of clones, I give you this. I am both deeply sorry for and profoundly proud of it.

Parts 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

Rex hurls his helmet across the room. It bounces off the transparisteel and lands between the sofa and the coffee table. He follows after it and sits with a groan on the lounge chair by the windows.

“Feel better?” Riyo stands on the other side of the room and quirks an eyebrow.

Rex looks up, his anger beginning to burn out, and shakes his head. He rests his elbows on his knees, one bouncing to the beat of his heart, and rubs his scalp with both hands.

The passage of the Defense Recruitment Bill had accelerated the clones’ obsolescence. Disgruntled troopers were leaving the Empire in droves, and Rex and Echo were having trouble reaching them. Public assurances from the Imperial Information Bureau maintained that the clones were free to leave and retire peacefully, but Howzer’s intel suggested otherwise.

Rex needed more information before he could decide on a course of action, which meant he and Echo were spending more time on Coruscant than they had planned. They insisted that Trace’s garage was secure, but after witnessing the violent deaths of Slip and her guards, Riyo was convinced that the only safe place for them was her apartment where no one would dare attempt another attack topside. The clones, for their part, thought it best to stay close to their new ally and protect her from any more assassination attempts. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.

Echo stands in the doorway and turns to the Pantoran guards flanking it. “Why don’t you two get some grub? Rex and I will be up for a while.” He seals the door shut and keys the lock on the panel as they leave.

Riyo kneels in front of Rex. She brings his wrists down and meets his furrowed face with a gentle gaze. “It was never going to be easy, Rex.”

He searches her soft features for comfort and finds it instantly. He sighs, closes his eyes, and leans forward to meet her forehead. She follows suit and finds his cheek with hers, their noses slotting next to each other. She massages his jaw with both hands and presses her lips to his temples, his cheeks, and his nose before lingering on his lips and finding an open-mouthed kiss. 

Rex and Riyo had spent enough nights together that she knew how to soothe him.

Echo looks down, unsure of what to do. He clears his throat to remind them he’s there. “We need to rethink our strategy,” he announces to the air.

Rex moves his lips to Riyo’s cheek with a sigh, steadying his breath. “We need to rest.” A full standard year of building a covert network on his own had started to weigh on the Captain.

“Echo,” Riyo, still kneeling, swivels around to face him while Rex buries his face in her hair and his hands in her waist, “why don’t you take a shower? Rex and I need to—”

“Understood.” Echo eyes the floor and heads down the hall. He’d gotten used to making himself scarce while Rex and Riyo “talked.” Not that he begrudged them their time together — he was happy his brother could find relief with someone like the Senator — but he wishes he could find something similar elsewhere. As it is, his one good hand wasn’t providing nearly enough comfort, and he didn’t dare venture out into the lower levels while clone deserters were still being hunted down.

Echo takes his time in the fresher. He’s giving the Captain and the Senator their space, but he’s also enjoying the clean facilities. The Marauder wasn’t equipped with a lavatory, and the Batch rarely stayed at any one location long enough to secure ready washrooms. They often had to make do with the sink at Cid’s Parlor or otherwise incur another charge per hour to use her shower. Echo was just glad he didn’t have to rush.

When he finishes and exits the fresher, he finds the usual arrangement: pillows and blankets piled on the lounge chair by the window, a tray of food on the dining table, and Rex and Riyo confined behind her bedroom door. The apartment is quiet for now, but Echo knows their muffled sounds will float down the hall soon. Rex always assures him that they try to keep quiet, and Echo always assures Rex that Fives had been worse. They both know that all clones are accustomed to being within sight and earshot of each other’s trysts — unpredictable leaves and voracious appetites had often made every nook and cranny of every Republic base a hotbed for all kinds of sexual activity — but they make the effort to respect each other’s privacy anyway.

After eating quickly, Echo arranges his bed on the lounge chair, lies down, and stares at the lights dancing across the ceiling, the low drone of Coruscant’s nightlife speeding past in shadows. He hopes he falls asleep soon, but a part of him waits for the telltale sounds of the Senator. He’d gotten to know her moans well in the past few weeks, and given Rex’s agitated state tonight, Echo knows she’ll sound especially pleased. And sure enough, her moans reach his ears not long after his hand had found his shaft and started pumping. He closes his eyes and pieces together several scenes.

Riyo on her hands and knees as Rex slams his hips into her haunches. Rex flat on his back as Riyo grinds her hips into his pelvis. Riyo on her back and Rex letting his full weight fall into her with each thrust. Riyo writhing with Rex’s head buried between her thighs.

Echo loses himself in his fantasies. He spits in his hand and finds a rhythm to match Riyo’s moans. He tries to contain his breath, but low groans escape. He’s so focused on release that he misses the sounds from the bedroom stop minutes ago.

“Need a hand?” Riyo’s voice floats soft and light from the end of the hallway.

Echo’s eyes snap open, his hand flies to his side, and he sits up to face her. His feet find the floor, and he tilts forward to hide his erection. “Senator, I-I was, uh… mmm…” He clears his throat, looking for creative inspiration, and finds none.

Rex appears behind Riyo. He’s bare-chested with a Pantoran guard’s purple pants hanging loosely around his waist. He squeezes her side through her silk robe and kisses her cheek before heading towards the kitchen. “Everything alright?” The lilt in his voice and the spring in his step announce his lighter mood.

Echo’s trapped motionless by Riyo’s gaze. She smirks and offers a modicum of relief.

“I apologize, Echo. It must be har— difficult,” embarrassment flashes momentarily on her face, “for you to be here while Rex and I—”

“I-It’s nothing, Senator, really. I-I’m used to it.” He rubs his knee, trying to disperse some of his heat through the cool titanium. “Most clones are.”

“All the same, is there anything I can do?”

Rex chimes in as he crosses from the kitchen, a glass of water in hand. “When was the last time you got any action? You can’t get much time away from Omega and the rest of the squad.” He hands Riyo the glass and extends an arm to the wall, framing her as they face the windows.

The clones had never broached the subject before — their mutual reassurances had always been hurried — and to do so in front of the Senator felt like a slap to Echo’s ego. He’s sure that Rex already knows the answer and is just flexing his newly released frustrations and, evidently along with them, inhibitions. Rex watches him expectantly, waiting for a response. Echo looks down, his face starting to warm red, and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I haven’t had much free time since Skako Minor.”

Riyo looks up at Rex who smirks and nods. She crosses the floor, setting the glass down on the corner of the coffee table, and kneels in front of Echo. She looks up and holds his gaze. “Tell me what you want, Echo.”

His eyes go wide, and his face heats up. “I-I just need some sleep.”

Riyo looks down in his lap and back up to his eyes. “Are you sure that’s all you want?”

“Echo, it’s fine.” Rex sits in the armchair on the other end of the coffee table. “We’ve talked about it. Besides, it wouldn’t be my first time sharing someone with a brother.”

Echo shifts as if slapped, shocked less by Rex’s admission — valuable currency among troopers of the 501st were stories of catching glimpses of the Captain's liaisons — and more by Riyo’s calm demeanor. She watches him carefully. Her face betrays no surprise or apprehension, only a warm and steadying openness.

He had had his fair share of exploits before his capture by the Separatists — his promotion to ARC trooper had been accompanied by an increased interest in his downtime — but never with a politician, someone with enough power to render his life moot with a few well-placed words. He pries his eyes from the Senator and addresses the Captain. “Fives?”

Rex nods. “Mm-hmm, a few times. I’m surprised he never roped you into—”

“He tried, but I could never get it up.” Echo matches Rex’s candor, his annoyance flaring into bravado. Rex clocks the shift and smirks.

“If it makes you feel any better, Echo,” Riyo rests her hands on his knees, “it wouldn’t be my first time with a few clones. I got to know Commander Fox and a few others from the Coruscant Guard pretty well.”

Rex scoffs. “What do you say, trooper? Let’s show her how the 501st did things better than the Corries ever could.”

Without averting her eyes from the clone in front of her, Riyo speaks up. “Rex, why don’t you clean up while I play with Echo for a while? Join us when we’re ready.”

Rex hums and stands up, giving a curt two-finger salute to Riyo’s back. “Sir, yes, sir.” He disappears down the hall.

“Think you can warm me up for our Captain, Corporal?” Her hands start to travel up his thighs.

Echo tries to smile but is still unconvinced. He raises his scomp link. “Not sure I’ll be up to the task with this.”

Riyo wraps her fingers around his rotating end and shakes her head. “That’s not a problem.” She leans up and meets his mouth with a kiss that knocks Echo breathless.

It had been longer than he could remember since he last met lips as soft as the Senator’s. He yields to her pressure, her motions sure and firm. She brings gentle hands to his jaw and prods her tongue to the seam of his lips. He groans at the contact, opening his mouth and melting instantly into hers. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed just the simple act of kissing, damp and balmy and inviting. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her up into his lap. He breaks from her mouth and groans when she lands on his hard shaft.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” she puts her weight on her knees and backs up to sit on his, “did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s just,” he tries to shift their bodies but to no avail, “uncomfortable.” 

Not that the sensations of his hardening cock or tingling skin at the Senator’s touch had changed with his cybernetics and prostheses. Those still felt the same and were all the more comforting for their familiarity. He’d had enough time in his new body by now to know its weight and movements and limitations, but he hadn’t tested out sex with his new shins and scomp link. The few times the Batch had had enough downtime to entertain their appetites all occurred during the war when he was still unsure of himself. Rex was right: Omega had shifted their priorities in ways he hadn’t anticipated and prepared for. He could fight his way through countless battle droids and bounty hunters without hesitation, but he faltered at the thought of sex with the Senator.

Riyo giggles, her cheeks turning lilac, and stands up, taking his hand. “Let’s get more comfortable in the bedroom.”

Echo hears the shower running as they pass the fresher. The bedroom ahead glows blue and white in the darkness, Coruscant’s nightlife continuing to cast its fluorescence through the large windows. The bedsheets are strewn, and as the door hisses shut, he can smell the faint scent of sex lingering in the air, a mix of sweat and cum and Rex’s musk and Riyo’s perfume. She turns around and guides Echo by the hand to sit at the foot of the bed. She kneels between his legs and starts to run her hands up the insides of his thighs.

“S-Senator, I’m not sure—”

“You can call me Riyo, Echo, please.”

“Riyo,” he swallows hard, “I-I’m not sure I can,” he inhales deeply and steadies his breath, “perform a-as well as I used to. I haven’t— since the war, I-I haven’t…”

“It’s okay,” she soothes, pressing her forehead to his and ghosting the rest over his lips. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I’ll take whatever you give. But,” her hands had found their way to Echo’s fly and freed his turgid cock from his trousers, “can I at least help you with this?” She gives him two slow pumps, and he heaves a long, satisfied sigh.

“Yes, please,” he growls desperately.

Next

[thatmexisaurusrex]

I have a really cute SamBucky stuck-in-a-tight-space mission fic I'm going to post either later tonight or early tomorrow 😆 be on the lookout for it 🥰

[greengoblinswifey]

girl we need more fics about inho pls your writing is soooo good 😮‍💨

You Belong With Me— The Front Man/Hwang In Ho x Fem!Reader

summary— The Front Man grows protective of you and removes you from the game, keeping you safe in his private quarters. A deep emotional connection forms between you and your bond deepens in more ways than one.

warnings— age gap(reader is 20, he’s in his 40s), fingering, oral(m!receiving), praise kink, hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— thank you, hope you like this <3

In the dead of night, you woke to the rough grip of two guards hauling you from your bunk. You tried to scream, but a hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you. They pulled you down the cold hallways, the walls echoing with the sounds of their pants and your cries. You had no idea what was happening until they stopped before a door you hadn’t seen before. The guards pushed it open, and standing on the other side was Hwang In-ho, the Front Man, the one they had told you they were taking you to. He looked down at you in his mask, unreadable expression, his voice cold and commanding as he spoke.

“You voted out,” he said, his voice steady, “but the majority has decided to stay. You won’t be going back. You’re staying with me now.”

Confusion flooded your senses. You’d voted out to escape the nightmare, but now you were here, in front of him. The air shifted as he noticed your fear, before he spoke again, “You’re safe now. No one will hurt you.”

The guards released their hold on you, but you didn’t move. Fear kept you rooted to the spot. “I don’t understand,” you whispered, the words trembling on your lips. “Why me?”

In-ho’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, then his tone shifted, becoming softer but more firm. “Because I won’t let anything happen to you.” He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “You’re too precious to be out there with them.”

You stayed quiet, still unsure of what was happening, but something about his words made your heart race—not from fear, but from the strange pull he had on you. He was being protective, almost possessive, and it made no sense. But you were too tired to fight it, too drained from everything you had already been through.

For the following days, you remained with him. In-ho wouldn’t let you return to the game. You slept in his room, far removed from the others, under his watchful eye. Every time you tried to ask why, he would simply tell you, “You’re safe here. No one will harm you.”

He never let you out of his sight for too long. During the days, he would be nearby, always watching, ensuring you were comfortable. His protectiveness only deepened as you became more and more accustomed to your new life under his care. You didn’t argue, after all, there was something oddly comforting about his presence, even if it unsettled you at the same time.

One evening, as you rested on the bed, In-ho approached you. His mask was off, and his sharp features were illuminated by the dim light. He crouched beside you, his dark eyes scanning your face making your breath hitch.

“You’ did well,” he said, his voice low and almost soothing. His fingers reached up, gently brushing a few curls from your face, tucking them behind your ear. The simple gesture was so intimate. He was so close now, his warmth radiating off him as he spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ve kept you here because you belong with me, away from them.”

His fingers lingered on your hair, his touch soft but firm. You didn’t pull away. Somehow, his proximity, the way he seemed so protective of you, had a strange pull. “No one will ever touch you again,” he added, possessively. His eyes never left yours, and there was a coldness in his tone that let you know he meant every word.

A part of you wanted to resist, to ask more questions, to demand to be let go. But the way he spoke to you, the way he cared for you, made it hard to find the strength to push him away. He hadn’t hurt you, not like the others. Instead, he had kept you safe.

“I don’t want you to go back,” he said softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek, “You’re my sweet little angel. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You looked up at him, not sure how to respond. But with him, the world felt a little less dangerous. The game, the chaos, seemed far away, as if they didn’t matter here, in his presence.

“You’re not going back,” he repeated, his voice firm, yet his gaze softened. “Not while I’m here. You belong with me.”

And in that moment, you understood that there was no escaping this, no going back. You were his now, and he wasn’t going to let you go. You stayed by his side, no longer a part of the game, but under his protection, whether you wanted it or not.

He leaned down, his presence overwhelming as his lips brushed against yours. It was soft at first, a gentle, almost hesitant kiss, like he was testing your response. You felt his body against you, his hands slowly moving to your back, pulling you closer. The touch felt unfamiliar yet comforting, and after everything that had happened, you melted into it, craving the sensation of being cared for, of being wanted.

His lips trailed down to your neck, and you gasped, the contact sending a shiver down your spine. He paused for a moment, his breath hot against your skin, before finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. A small hum of satisfaction left his lips as he nipped softly at your skin. His hand, still firmly on your back, slid lower, his fingers brushing against your waist before moving gently, teasingly lower and into your panties.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured. “So wet already, just for me.”

You felt his fingers rub gentle circles on your swollen clit, his touch light but electric, making your breath hitch. He paused, as if waiting for your response, his eyes searching yours for permission. “Just let me make you feel good,” he whispered, his voice tender yet firm. “It’s just us here. You can trust me.”

You felt a thick finger slip inside your pussy, the action making you press your lips together so you wouldn’t make a sound. He chuckled then moved back to your neck, licking and nipping as his fingers explored your pussy.

“Your pussy gets wet for strangers, doesn’t it?” he teased.

You whined and hid your face in his neck but he used his free hand to tilt your head to look up at him.

“I’m only teasing angel, and you’re my kind of woman either way,” he murmured.

His finger began thrusting and curling, finding the spongy spot inside you that had you writhing underneath him. He used a thumb to rub circles on your clit, the pleasure unlike any other you had felt. You grabbed his hand, as he increased the pace, feeling something build inside you. Were you really about to cum for him? He slipped another finger inside, curling and thrusting as the sound of your wet pussy filled your ears.

“Cum for me sweetheart, be my good girl,” he said.

You weren’t sure what you wanted anymore, but there was something in his gaze, something comforting in the way he pleasured you, that made it easy to let go and cum for him. The world outside seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you in that moment, where you could be pleasure and safe all at once.

“F-feels so good,” you finally whispered, your orgasm taking ahold of you.

“I know baby, I know,” he retorted, “I can make you feel even better.”

In that moment you didn’t know what he meant. What you did know was that you wanted to make him feel good too. Return the favor in the only way you could.

You could feel his gaze burning into you as you gently unbuttoned the top he had given you to put on that day, your heart racing. You paused for a moment, looking up at him, feeling a slight hesitation. His voice was calm. “Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes soft but intense.

You nodded, keeping your eyes locked with his, your breath catching in your throat. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your chest.

Slowly, you let your movements flow as you continued to undress, your fingers trembling slightly, but you felt a rush of anticipation. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, his voice almost a growl as he took in every detail of your naked body.

You moved closer to him, your eyes never leaving his as you slowly began to unbutton his shirt. The action felt intimate, yet there was something thrilling about it. His breath hitched slightly as your hands moved lower, and you felt the heat of his body against yours as you slowly began to undress him.

“You're incredible,” he said softly, his voice filled with admiration. As you knelt before him, your gaze remained locked with his, and you felt a surge of confidence. His hand gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “You're so beautiful,” he repeated, his voice filled with awe.

He took off his boxers, his hard cock springing free in front of your face. He was so big and thick, the biggest you’d ever seen. With shaky hands you took ahold of him, slowly stroking as his eyes fluttered shut. You spat on the tip, using your thumb to spread your saliva along with the pre cum that had oozed out.

“That’s it, you’re a fucking natural,” he praised.

With your eyes on his, you slowly wrapped your plump lips around him, taking him into your mouth. You slid your tongue along his girth, suctioning your lips to give him the utmost pleasure. He hit the back of your throat and you let him settle there for a second before sliding your lips back up to the tip.

“Fuck, that’s it, just like that,” he moaned.

You licked the tip, savoring the taste of the salty pre cum before slowly taking him half way. “All the way down,” he growled. You went lower, taking his cock into the back of your throat as his fingers tangled in your curls. You began bobbing your head, breathing through your nose as your eyes teared up. He stared down at you, his lips apart as his breathing grew heavier. You were a sight for sore eyes, curls framing your face, tears brimming your eyes, pre cum and spit dripping down your chin and your mouth full.

“You look so beautiful like this, such a good cocksucker,” he murmured.

At his praises you began bobbing your head faster, sliding your tongue all over his shaft. Each time you went down, the tip slammed against your tonsil and he let out breathy moans that made your pussy throb.

“Fuck angel, I’m gonna cum in that pretty mouth,” he groaned.

Your hands went to his heavy balls, massaging them then moving down to take each into your mouth before moving back up to his cock and sliding your lips across the shaft.

“Here it comes, take all my cum in your mouth like a good girl sweetheart,” he said.

You suckled on the tip, stroking the base as you felt the unmistakable feeling of his hot cum shooting in your mouth. You stroked him through it then took him down your throat, swallowing his cum.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” he cooed.

He pulled you up, his hands immediately all over your naked body as he kissed you. He flipped you over so that he was on top of you, his dark eyes piercing yours. He leaned down once more, his lips pressed against yours then his tongue slipped inside your mouth. As his tongue sucked on yours, you felt his hard cock press against your pussy.

“Reach down and put my cock inside you,” he panted.

You did as you were told, your bottom lip going between your teeth at the pure intimacy of the moment. You took ahold of his shaft, dragging it up and down your folds as you moaned before pressing it inside your hole. Just the tip of his cock inside made you feel full and you gripped his bicep to ground yourself.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as his cock deepened. “Tell me how good it feels,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. You could feel your orgasm building inside you, and though every inch of your body was alive with pleasure, you focused on him.

“It feels so good,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. He moaned softly, his hands gripping your waist tighter, guiding you with each thrust.

His lips trailed over your skin, kissing your neck, his teeth grazing gently as he picked up the pace. “You’re perfect,”’he murmured between kisses, his hands never leaving your body, his touch firm but gentle. “So responsive. I can't get enough of you.”

He kissed you deeply, his lips taking control, his tongue gently exploring as he moved above you. Each thrust brushed against your g spot and sent a shiver down your spine, you responded instinctively, your hands gripping his back as your body arched toward him. The rhythm of his movements was steady but increasingly intense, and every thrust felt more intimate than the last.

“Cum for me,” he urged, his voice husky. “I need you to cum on my cock.”

Your nails dug into his strong arms and he held you close, your pussy soaking his cock as your release washed over you. He kissed your forehead, guiding you through your high as you let out soft whimpers.

As he hovered above you, he whispered softly, “Get on your hands and knees.” His hands brushed your back as you obeyed, fingers lingering as he praised you for how perfect you were, how much he appreciated every moment with you.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured, his tone dripping with admiration as he watched his cock disappear inside you. “I’ve never felt a pussy like this.”

His hands moved to your hair, fingers tangling in the coils as he pulled you closer, not in a harsh way, but with a sense of possession, as if he were claiming you. Each time his cock disappeared inside your pussy, you couldn't help but moan softly at how deep he was at this angle, the sensation of his cock sending waves of pleasure through you.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. His hands roamed, squeezing your ass, the praise never stopping, and it only made you ache for more. “I can't get enough of you.”

The combination of his words and the feeling of him so close to you made your body tremble, your moan louder this time, unable to contain the pleasure that built up within you. “You feel incredible,” he murmured again, his touch firm, guiding your ass back to meet his thrusts. He watched as your ass bounced against him, you were so sexy. A masterpiece.

You could hear him breathe deeply as he continued, his admiration never wavering. “You’re everything I’ve wanted,” he whispered.

He rolled his hips to meet your ass then leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “Cum with me,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be enveloped in the moment and you couldn’t hold back anymore. You creamed all over his cock, feeling a wave of warmth and satisfaction wash over you. Right after, you felt his cum fill your pussy.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice full of adoration as he collapsed on the bed and pulled you close. “You’re perfect,” he said, his hands brushing your curls back from your face, caressing you softly. His touch was possessive, yet kind, as if he wanted to protect you from everything.

“You belong with me,” he whispered.

[imaginedisish]

Close to You (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Oh my god. I got so carried away with this. It was not supposed to be this long. Anyway, here's the beach fic, y'all. This one is inspired by "Close to You" by Gracie Abrams...which is an absolute banger. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: The team goes away on a weekend beach trip, and your pining for Logan comes to a head when you're forced to share a room...

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!! Thigh riding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, soft!Logan, feelings, fluff, afab!reader/fem!reader, reader wears a bikini (no descriptions at all, though!), one bed trope (muahaha), friends to lovers, cursing, absolutely some grammatical errors bc this fic is so long, I think that's it!

Word Count: 6,577 this was so self indulgent

You step out onto the concrete and the salt in the air immediately coats your skin. The breeze is sticky and slightly humid, but it smells so good. You can hear the waves crashing against the sand, seagulls squawking above. Laughter on the boardwalk. Carnival music blaring from all the rides. It’s perfect—the sun is high, fluffy white clouds framing the endless blue sky.

“We’re going to have so much fun!” Jubilee cheers, closing the car door as she slides out of the Jeep. 

Jean and Scott step out of their car, parked just up ahead, unloading their bags. “It’s so nice of the Professor to give us the weekend off!” Jean says excitedly, placing her bag down onto the sidewalk and wheeling it up to the porch of the house. “I can’t believe he rented this place for us.” It’s a yellow, two-story cottage with a lemonade porch, adorned with white shutters and a shingled roof.

Logan makes his way to the trunk of his Jeep, pulling out bag after bag. You rush to his side, reaching inside the trunk. “Let me help you,” you mumble as the rest of the team excitedly approaches the house. 

Logan smiles and shakes his head, reaching for the same bag you are. His fingertips brush yours as he takes the bag away, your heart beating in your chest at the sudden contact. “Don’t worry, princess,” he huffs, smirking as he places the bag down in front of you. Heat rises to your chest at the nickname. “Don’t lift a finger. Go inside and check out the place.” He nods his head towards the front door and grabs another bag. 

You smile, throwing your backpack over your shoulder, grabbing two bags, and carrying them to the front door in protest. “Gonna help you anyway,” you say over your shoulder. Logan chuckles as he closes the truck, grabbing the rest of the duffle bags and following behind you. 

He meets your side as you walk through the doors. The walls are pale blue, and the bottom halves are lined with white shiplap. Beechwood covers the floors. The living room is light and airy, white curtains floating through opened windows. The kitchen is off to the side, and to the back is a large open sunroom. Just straight ahead are the stairs. 

Jean and Scott settle some groceries on the counter as Jubilee, Kurt, Rogue, and Gambit head upstairs to see the bedrooms. 

“Hey, guys?” Jubilee calls from upstairs. You can tell by the sound of her voice that something is off. “I thought the Professor said there’d be six beds.”

Jean puts away a bag of chips and steps back into the living room, following Jubilee’s voice up the steps, and disappearing as her feet hit the landing. “How many are there?” She asks, her voice muffled.

“Five,” Jubilee answers. “Three queens and two bunk beds, and Kurt and I took the bunks already.”

“That’s fine,” Jean says, shrugging her shoulders as she heads back downstairs. “We’ll all just be a little tight—closer quarters than usual.”

And that’s when it finally hits you. Three queen beds—and Kurt and Jubilee took the twin bunks. 

You’ll be sharing a room with Logan.

You turn to him and find that his eyes are already on you. “You okay sharing, princess?” He asks, nodding to the steps.

You swallow harshly, trying to mask your nervousness, hoping Logan can’t hear the way your heart beats out of your chest. “Yeah!” You say, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Totally fine with it.”

He nods, smiling softly as he walks towards the steps, his bags in his hands. You follow behind him, the wood stairs creaking with every step you take. 

Jean was not exaggerating; the upstairs of the house is extremely small. There may be four bedrooms—but bedroom is a generous title. Each room is only large enough to hold a queen bed, a single dresser, and a small nightstand on either side of the bed. There’s little to no walking room. One of the rooms—Kurt and Jubilee’s—has just a bunk bed and a nightstand, with a tiny wardrobe in the corner. In the center of the tight hallway is a bathroom with a simple sink, toilet, and a stand-up shower. 

Logan steps into the first bedroom to the left of the stairs and puts his bags down on the ground. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asks, watching as you put your bags down next to his. “I can sleep on the couch if you’re uncomfortable.”

You shake your head, walking over to the window and taking in the view of the ocean. “Don’t worry,” you say, watching kids run across the sand, trying to distract yourself from how close Logan is to you in this tiny room. “We’re adults.” You turn to face him, fighting the urge to let your eyes trail up and down his body. “We can share.” Or at least, you hope you can. 

You can handle this for a weekend. You can force down your feelings—can ignore your massive crush on Logan for seventy-two hours. That’s all this is. A weekend trip. This is doable. You’ve been through so much worse than this. 

“If you change your mind, you can let me know,” Logan says, reaching his arm out towards your shoulder. His knuckles brush against your bare skin, and you let yourself lean into his touch. He’s warm, solid, cozy—

“Let’s go to the beach!” Jubilee interrupts, Logan’s hand falling from your shoulder instantly. “We didn’t come here to sit in a house all weekend, did we?” She jumps away from the door and runs down the stairs. 

 “Kid has a point,” Logan says, shrugging his shoulders and nodding towards the door. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling widely. “Already have my bathing suit on.” Logan smiles back and grabs your wrist, tugging you into the hallway, down the stairs, and out the door. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re sitting on the beach, watching as Jubilee and Kurt splash each other recklessly in the water. Jean sits in a chair, reading a book, while Scott lays on a beach towel, eyes likely closed behind his glasses. Rogue and Gambit walk down the shoreline, hand in hand.

Logan stands up from the beach blanket you share, tugging his beater up and over his head. “I’m going in,” he says, just to you. “Wanna come?” He reaches out his hand again, the same hand that tugged you the whole way here. You bite your lip, nerves building in your stomach again. “Come on,” Logan says, smirking. “I don’t bite.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, and you take his hand, standing up. You let go and tug your shorts down your legs. You look up at Logan as your fingertips find the hem of your tank top, his eyes trained firmly on you. Your stomach somersaults as you pull your shirt up your body, revealing your bikini top, knowing Logan is watching. 

Logan’s throat bobs as he swallows. He nods towards the ocean, wordlessly grabbing your hand again and tugging you along. 

The waves lap at your ankles, and you force yourself into the cold water. Logan seemingly has no problem at all, pulling you along from a few feet ahead. The water is already up to his hips. He looks behind at you, all wide-eyed and happy. 

“You’re not afraid, are you?” He teases, squeezing your hand tighter. Your heart drums against your ribcage at the feeling. He’s never held your hand like this. You try to shove down your feelings, to brush away how having him this close makes you feel, but nothing changes. You want him all the same. 

You take a deep breath and shake your head as the cold water barrels against the middle of your thighs. “No,” you protest. “I’m just freezing.” 

Logan smiles wider. “You gotta get all the way in!” He tugs you further, pulling you closer to him so that you’re shoulder to shoulder. You can’t tell if it’s the icy waves or your proximity to Logan that makes your heart freeze in your chest, that makes you crave the warmth of his body. You want to be close to him. You want him to pull you into his chest and hold you. 

“Do I have to?” You ask playfully, a half-smile turning up at the corner of your mouth. 

He jokingly rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he says, dropping your hand and wrapping his arm around your waist instead. “I’ve got you,” he whispers. You choke on your own breath as he guides you further into the water. “You okay?” He asks. 

“I’m fine,” you mumble, his fingertips pressing against the bare skin of your stomach. Goosebumps pebble your flesh. Finally, Logan guides you all the way into the water, up to your shoulders. It’s a surprisingly calm day—the waves easy and gentle. 

Logan lets go of your waist and treads water, slipping underneath the dark blue current and coming back up—his hair wet, drops of water dripping down his face and neck. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips at the sight. 

“Your turn,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes half shut as he swims towards you. 

Your smile drops as you swim away. Logan grabs your ankle, pulling you towards him. You yelp as he tugs you closer. You turn around and splash him playfully, freeing yourself from his grasp as he wipes the salt water off his face. 

You laugh, still backing away from Logan. He creeps forward, assessing you like an animal stalks its prey. “You’re not getting away that easy, pretty girl,” he huffs. 

What was that? Your eyes widen as those last two words repeat in your head. You’re so distracted that you don’t notice him closing the gap between the two of you. Suddenly his hands are on your hips, dragging you into his chest. 

His grip is like iron around your waist, keeping you in place, your hips pressed to his, your chests touching lightly. You don’t feel the coldness of the water anymore—you can’t feel anything except Logan. 

“What am I gonna do with you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy. The world stopped long ago, his arms wrapping around your back now, pulling you closer. The playfulness of the moment disappears—this is something else, something more serious. Logan brings his face closer to yours, his lips just centimeters away. This is it, you think to yourself. The moment when everything finally changes—

“Hey!” A familiar voice calls from the beach. Logan’s eyes fall closed—an almost defeated look painting across his face. Your head whips to the sand, and the team is standing by the beach chairs. Jubilee waves you and Logan over. “We’re going to the boardwalk! Come on!”

Logan opens his eyes. You think he’s going to push you away, to let you go, but he only holds you tighter. “Give us a second!” He shouts, frustration clear in his voice. 

But Jubilee crosses her arms against her chest. Scott chuckles and walks ahead with Jean. Gambit and Rogue look at each other knowingly, and Kurt teleports to the edge of the water. 

“And just like that…” Logan murmurs, half to himself, half to you. “Moment ruined.” 

You tilt your head, the implication of his words wracking your brain. “What do you mean—” 

But Logan is pulling you along with him to the shore before you can finish asking for clarification. His arms drop from your waist, his hand grabbing yours to guide you onto the sand. He bends down, picking up your shorts and top from the beach blanket the team left out, and passing them to you. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, your hands parting as he shoves his beater up and over his head. Once you’re dressed, flip-flops and all, you join the team and make your way up to the boardwalk. 

Gambit is talking with Logan about something just ahead, trailing on and on, clearly irritating Logan, while Rogue falls back to walk with you. 

“So,” she says softly, her eyes flitting between you and Logan. “What’s going on there, sugar?” She asks, smirking. 

You furrow your brows, trying to hide your smile. “Nothing that I know of,” you say, somewhat honestly. This might be nothing—might just be a friend teasing another friend. A friend whose lips were just inches from yours, so close that you could feel his breath fanning across your face. A friend who dug his fingers into your waist to pull you closer to his—

“Nothing, huh?” She asks, snapping you back to reality. “Because I think he would’ve kissed you if Jubilee didn’t interrupt,” she whispers so only you can hear. 

Heat rises to your chest at her words. “I don’t know. We’re just friends…” You trail off. 

“We’ll see about that, sugar,” Rogue says, walking ahead, tearing Gambit away from Logan. Logan’s shoulders visibly relax once Gambit is gone, and he looks back at you, slowing his steps so that you can meet his side. 

“Hi,” he husks, smiling down at you. 

You smile back, the warmth of his hand suddenly spreading across your lower back. It’s gentle, the ghost of a touch, almost not quite there—more tentative than in the ocean when it felt like no one was watching. But it’s solid and centering all the same. 

“Let’s go on the Ferris wheel!” Jubilee suggests, holding out the ticket booklet that Jean and Scott ran ahead to buy. She tears out tickets—three for each person. Jean and Scott hold hands and walk to the front of the line. Rogue leans over to Jubilee, whispering something into her ear that makes her eyes widen. She nods and pairs off with Kurt. Rogue turns around and winks at you while Logan isn’t looking. 

You look up at him and see that he’s staring off at the sun slowly setting. Pink, orange, and red erupt in the sky, the colors blending, painting across the wispy clouds. “Looks like it’s just you and me,” you say as the others climb into the Ferris wheel gondolas in pairs. 

Logan smirks, his eyes finding yours as you approach the front of the line. “Looks like it, pretty girl,” he husks. There it is again. Pretty girl. The ride attendant slows down the wheel, and you and Logan slip inside the gondola. You think maybe he’ll sit across from you, but he sits next to you instead. 

The attendant closes the door of the gondola, and the ride starts up. Once you’re off the ground, Logan slips his arm around your shoulder, his palm warm against your bare skin. “This okay?” He asks, his lips at the shell of your ear. 

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, your breath catching in your throat as his thumb brushes gentle circles into your arm. You let your head rest in the crook of his neck, and he leans against you, fitting together like puzzle pieces. 

It’s silent communication—knowing, but not saying. You can feel his intention as his arm tugs you closer, his lips at the crown of your head. Your heart beats out of your chest—for the millionth time today—and you know he can hear it. 

You reach the top of the Ferris wheel and look out at the ocean, the sun hitting the water, turning the blue waves to gold. “It’s beautiful,” you mumble, the current rippling against the shore, glistening vibrantly like the ocean figured out alchemy. 

Logan chuckles softly. “I can think of something prettier, you know,” he husks, his lips still pressed into the crown of your head. Your heart thumps in your chest at his words. You lift your head, looking up at him.

His eyes meet yours, a soft smile playing upon his lips. “Logan, I—”

But the gondola comes to a sudden stop, and the door to the car swings open. You’re already back on the ground. The attendant crosses his arms, waiting for you and Logan to get out. Logan rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand and helping you back onto the boardwalk. The team is already off the ride, waiting for the two of you at the exit.

“Why don’t we play some games and then head back to the house for the night?” Scott suggests, his arm wrapped around Jean’s waist. 

Jubilee smiles widely. “Yes! I wanna play the game where you throw the lobster into the pot!”

“Gambit’s gonna win chere a prize,” Gambit drawls, tugging Rogue into his chest. “The biggest one Gambit can find.” Rogue giggles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Jubilee and Kurt run off to the other side of the boardwalk, immediately finding the lobster-pot game. Jean and Scott follow behind, making sure they don’t get into trouble. Rogue and Gambit go out on their own, heading toward the ring toss game. 

You and Logan are left alone. Again. Surely everyone is doing this on purpose. “What do you wanna play?” You ask, nodding towards the array of games lined up on the opposite side of the boardwalk. 

His eyes meet yours, flitting down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. “Whatever you want, darlin’.” You smile, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards balloon darts. 

You approach the booth, and Logan pulls out his wallet, handing a five-dollar bill to the woman running the game. She slides a cup of five darts towards you and Logan, and steps off to the side, away from the balloons. Logan watches as you grab a dart and throw, completely missing the balloon you were aiming for. You groan, rolling your eyes, and grab another dart. 

“Here,” Logan rasps, standing behind you. He holds your hand in his, lining the dart up to a balloon. His other arm wraps around your waist, the front of his hips pressing into your back. “Like this,” he murmurs, pulling your hand back. You let go of the dart when he thrusts forward. The dart pierces a balloon, the pop echoing through the booth. 

You look up at him, his face close to yours, and smile. He grabs another dart, his eyes still focused on you, and throws without looking away, popping another balloon. “Now you’re just showing off,” you say teasingly as your smile grows wider. He grabs another dart, aiming at a bigger balloon this time, and pierces it with ease. 

“Gotta win you a prize, pretty girl,” he says, grabbing the last dart from the cup, and tossing it across the booth, directly into the biggest balloon on the board. It pops—of course—and the game attendant’s jaw drops. 

She shakes her head, walking over to the bigger prizes. “Never seen anyone do that before…” she trails off, pointing to the giant plushies. “You can pick any of these.”

Logan’s arm sneakily wraps around your waist as he waits for you to pick between a giant fox, panda, or dolphin. “The fox, definitely the fox,” you decide. 

The attendant grabs the fox and pulls it down, handing it to you. You squeeze it to your chest, Logan’s grip on your waist tightening. “He’s so cute!” You giggle, looking up at Logan, who’s guiding you towards the edge of the boardwalk. “Thank you,” you say softly.

He shakes his head and looks out towards the water. “It was nothing,” he says, his arm still around your waist as you lean against the railing of the boardwalk. The sun is falling behind the horizon, stars rising in the sky. 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he turns to face you. “Listen…” He starts, his jaw working as his grip on your waist falls away, his forearms bracing on the railing. Your shoulder presses against his, the tension between you palpable. “I’ve been thinking…” But he pauses again, his eyes searching yours. 

“We ready to head back to the house?” Scott asks, interrupting the conversation. Logan’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and he leans forward. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Logan mutters, thinking you can’t hear him, resting his head against the railing. 

Jubilee grabs your arm, holding up her little stuffed teddy bear. “Look what I won!” Her smile drops when she sees your giant fox. “Oh my god, my bear is nothing compared to that! That thing is massive!”

You smirk, glancing over at Logan. “Wouldn’t have gotten it if it wasn’t for him.” Logan lifts his head and smiles sheepishly at you. 

The moon rises high in the quickly darkening sky. You’re not quite sure where the day went. Everything happened so quickly—the hours spent on the sand, Logan tugging you into the water. It was perfect. Beyond perfect. And now it was time to head back. 

The team treks down the boardwalk and onto the street, trailing a few blocks before arriving back at the house. You and Logan walk shoulder to shoulder the whole way there, leading at the front of the group. Logan grabs the key from his pocket, unlocks the door, and you all head inside. 

Jubilee and Kurt run into the kitchen scavenging for snacks. Gambit and Rogue crash onto the living room couch. 

“We’re gonna head to bed,” Scott says, Jean following him up the stairs. “Night, guys.” Everyone mutters soft goodnights in response, and a comfortable silence falls upon the house. 

“Gonna steal the upstairs shower before they get to it,” you whisper to Logan, nodding to Jubilee and Kurt. 

He smirks. “I’ll shower down here,” he says back. “See you upstairs?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” you answer, suddenly remembering that you’re sharing not just a room with Logan, but a bed. You walk away and head upstairs, grabbing your pajamas from your duffle bag and making your way to the bathroom.

You turn on the water and undress. The shower is warm and relaxing, releasing the tension you had spent the entire day holding in. But the peace is temporary—your thoughts drift off to Logan. You imagine him sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, waiting for you to join him. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, and you try to ignore the heat growing at the bottom of your belly. Maybe you should’ve taken a cold shower instead. 

You finish up in the shower, turning the water off and grabbing a towel. You reach for your pajamas, only to realize you forgot your bottoms and your bra. You step into your panties and shrug your oversized band t-shirt over your head. You push the bathroom door open just a crack, and seeing no one in the hallway, you make a break for it, tip-toeing to your room. You slip inside and shut the door. 

Logan coughs from behind you, and you whip around. “S-sorry,” he stutters, standing up from the edge of the bed. He’s shirtless, just like you imagined he’d be, wearing only a pair of boxers. His hair is still damp from his shower. “I didn’t mean to—”

You cut him off. “No, no,” you assure. “It’s totally fine.” You’re worried you sound too eager, too focused on making sure he stays. You clear your throat nervously, stepping towards your duffle bag. You lean down, hoping your t-shirt is still covering your ass as you rifle through your belongings. You groan when you finally realize you forgot to pack pajama shorts. You stand up and make your way around to the left side of the bed.

“Everything okay?” Logan asks, following suit and walking to the right side of the bed. 

“Yeah,” you say. “I, um…” You trail off, motioning towards your duffle bag. “I forgot pajama bottoms,” you finally spit out. “If you’re uncomfortable or—”

“No,” Logan cuts you off this time. “I’m not uncomfortable at all.”

You smile, climbing into the bed and slipping under the covers, and Logan does the same. He rolls onto his side and turns off the lamp—the only light on in the room. The space is engulfed in darkness save for the pale light of the moon pushing through the curtains. 

You take a deep breath; you’re more nervous than you can comprehend. You could simply turn away from Logan, but you’re too anxious to move. Your stomach somersaults as his knee brushes against your thigh. You force your eyes shut, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. 

“I can hear your heartbeat, you know,” Logan mumbles into the dark room, shuffling under the covers. “You okay?”

You swallow harshly, humming a soft mhm, too distracted to form a complete sentence. 

“I know you aren’t telling the truth, pretty girl,” Logan whispers, his hand finding your waist. “I can sleep on the couch, if you—”

“No,” you protest, the words escaping your lips almost uncontrollably. “It’s f-fine,” you stammer. “I’m fine.”

He chuckles darkly. “Then what’s got you so worked up, huh?” Oh. He knows. He has to know. You can hear it in his voice. 

“N-nothing,” you lie, your eyes fluttering open. Logan is closer to you now, his fingertips trailing down to your thighs, to the hem of your shirt. 

“Relax,” Logan husks, his hand slipping back up your body and settling on your waist. He tugs you closer to him. “This okay?” He asks, and you hum a quiet yes. You can feel the tension thickening, feel it readying to snap. He breaks the silence. “Thought about this all day, you know.”

Your eyes widen at the confession. “Th-this?” You ask, your legs tangling with his. 

“Being alone with you,” Logan rasps. Your shirt hikes up as he pulls you into his chest. “Wanted to get you alone earlier,” he says, his hand sliding back down your body, playing with the hem of your shirt before slipping underneath. His fingertips drag along your stomach. 

You curse under your breath, Logan’s forehead pressing against yours. “Logan,” you whisper, his name the only thing you can think of. You’re sure he can smell the arousal building between your thighs. 

“There’s no going back from this. You know that, don’t you?” He whispers, his breath hot against your lips. He’s so close, his thigh pushing between your legs, bumping against your core. 

“Yes,” you sigh. “Don’t wanna go back.” 

Your eyes flutter closed, overwhelmed by how close Logan is to you. “Good,” he breathes. “Because you have no idea how much I need you.” 

His lips crash against yours, his thigh dragging along your core. You moan into his mouth, his tongue swiping across your lower lip. You part your lips, inviting him inside, his tongue tasting yours. 

“Logan,” you whine, involuntarily bucking your hips, grinding down on his thigh. “N-need you too.”

“I know, beautiful,” he soothes, gripping your waist, rolling you onto your back, pushing you into the mattress. “Fucking thought about you all day, always thinking about you.” He slides your shirt up above your tits, drinking you in with his eyes. “Wanted you for so long, pretty girl.” He hovers over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand explores your body.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he palms your left breast, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and then doing the same to the other side. It’s dizzying having him this close. You can smell his body wash—notes of musk and pine and a hint of leather on his skin. 

“Please,” you beg, not quite sure what you’re even begging for. All you know is how badly you want him—need him. 

Logan buries his face into the crook of your neck as his thumb rolls over your nipple, biting down on your pulse point and sucking the sensitive skin between his lips. “Please what, darlin’?” He mumbles, continuing his assault on your neck. 

“F-fuck,” you whimper, your hips rocking against Logan’s. “W-want you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? That what you want?” Logan teases, his hand pushing between your legs, his fingertips finding your clit through your panties. “What if I wanted to taste you first?”

“W-whatever you want,” you moan, grinding down onto his hand. “I’m yours.”

He lifts his head from your neck and presses his forehead to yours. “Whatever I want?” His voice is thick, cocky, almost mocking. “You’re mine,” he husks, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, then to your jaw, your neck. “All fucking mine.” He crawls down your body, trailing kisses down the valley of your breasts, your stomach, stopping just above the hem of your panties. 

Your hips lift off the mattress as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, and he tugs them down your legs, throwing them to the floor. He nestles between your thighs, his breath hot against your cunt. You tremble in anticipation, watching as he breathes you in, his jaw working. You can see in his eyes that he’s holding himself back. 

“Are you sure you want this, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice suddenly soft, his cockiness replaced by genuine care. "Not gonna be able to stop once I start.” But you know he doesn’t just mean in the moment, right now—he means forever. 

“I’m sure, Lo,” you whine. It comes out like a prayer, like a desperate cry, a guilty plea. 

And then he buries his face into your heat, his tongue swiping through your folds. He grunts against you, flicking your clit before stroking his tongue through your folds again. “Fuck,” Logan groans, his face pressing harder into you, his tongue exploring your cunt. “Tastes better than I ever imagined,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his voice pulsing against your core. “So fucking sweet.”

Your hips jolt away from him as his tongue laps at your sensitive clit. His palms quickly slide under your legs, wrapping around your thighs, yanking you back to his face, and holding you down onto the mattress. “Don’t move, princess,” he chides, his nails digging into your flesh. “Wanna eat this pretty pussy.” 

“L-Lo,” you stutter as his tongue draws tight, rapid circles around your clit. You’re already close, his teasing words enough to push you over the edge. But you know he’s nowhere near done—he’s only getting started. 

His right hand loosens its grip around your thigh, his nails dragging down the curve of your ass and towards your folds. His fingertips prod your slit, spreading your slick. “So fucking wet for me, pretty girl,” he praises, his lips wrapping around your clit, his teeth grazing the bud lightly as he sucks. “Want my fingers?” He asks, knowing your answer, but wanting to hear you beg for him. 

“Yes, Logan, please. Need—” 

He’s thrusting two long, thick fingers deep inside you before you can finish your sentence. “Fuck,” he whispers, pulling out and pumping back in—down to his knuckles. He stills inside you, letting you adjust to him. “So goddamn tight.” His tongue laps at your clit. “Gonna have to work you open for me, hm?” He mutters, thrusting in and out now. 

You’re so overwhelmed, your swollen clit already overstimulated. He wraps his lips around your clit again, sucking harder this time, his fingers unrelenting as they plunge deeper with every pump. His tongue draws long, hard strokes around your bud, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

It feels like a wildfire is spreading through your veins, a current dragging you under and holding you down. Warmth blossoms in your belly. “Doing so good for me, beautiful,” Logan praises, his fingers fucking into you. Your walls flutter around him at his words, sucking him in deeper. “Know you’re close, pretty girl.”

“Logan,” you moan, his tongue drawing those tight circles around your clit again. He’s adding more pressure, his fingers dragging along your walls, scissoring inside you, splitting you in two. “Please, need to come…” You trail off, your back arching off the mattress, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. 

“Come for me,” Logan demands, his voice dark and filled with lust. “Wanna know what it tastes like.” His tongue presses harder into your clit, his fingers rocking in and out of your entrance. “Wanna see that pretty face when you let go.” 

And then the tension breaks, white-hot heat pouring freely from the bottom of your belly. Your vision goes blurry as Logan laps at your clit, his fingers still pumping in and out, working you through your high. You moan his name, pleasure ripping through your body in intense waves. 

His pumps relax, his fingers stilling inside you before he finally pulls out. His face is still buried against your cunt, licking long stripes through your folds. He’s savoring the taste of your release, drinking every last drop you have to give. “Can’t get enough of you,” he husks. “Could do this forever.” 

He licks one last long stripe through your folds before lifting his face from your cunt. He’s a mess—your release glistening on his chin, his hair disheveled, his boxers all wrinkled. Your heart beats in your chest at the sight. All this, just for you. 

Logan crawls up your body, hovering over you again, lowering down onto his forearm. “Wanna fuck you, beautiful,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing to yours. “Wanna know what you feel like.” His hand slips between your legs, his fingertips finding your swollen clit and giving it a gentle pinch. Your hips buck against him at the sudden sensation. 

“Wanna feel you too,” you whimper, your arms wrapping around his back. “Want you inside me, please.” 

And then he’s tugging his boxers down his legs, his erection pressing against the inside of your thigh. You can’t see—but you can feel just how massive he is. His tip slides through your folds, spreading your arousal. 

“You know how bad I need you?” Logan whispers, his lips finding yours. He bites your lower lip and kisses away the pain. “You know how long I’ve been thinking about this?” And then he sinks himself inside you, down to the hilt with one smooth, fluid thrust. “Thought about this every day since I met you.” 

Your muscles release and contract at his words. His hips stall, letting you adjust to the size of him. You feel indescribably full. He’s splitting you open, stretching you out, claiming you as his. His hips pull back, his cock sliding out, and he plunges back in, somehow deeper this time. 

“Th-thought about you too,” you stutter, already too fucked out to form a coherent thought. “Always wanted you.” Logan sets a reckless pace as his fingertips find your clit again, working long, languid strokes into the bud, teasing you, leading you on. 

“You feel so perfect,” Logan praises, rocking into you, his cock dragging along your walls. “So fucking warm, so tight. Made for me.” His lips are on yours again, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting you, swallowing your moans. “Never gonna want anybody else, pretty girl.”

His hips snap against yours, his fingers circling your clit faster now. “Just want you, Lo,” you choke, the tension building at the bottom of your belly, a fire burning through your bones. “Only want you.”

“I know,” he whispers, his voice suddenly soft, contrasting with the way he pounds into you recklessly, hitting that sweet spot inside you with every pump of his cock. “It’s you, just you.” You can hear the emotion in his voice, the sincerity, the desperation, the aching longing. 

Your chest heaves against his. He’s fucking you to get closer to you, to be as deep inside you as possible. This isn’t just sex—this isn’t just some tension that needs to be broken. It’s an invisible string keeping the two of you tied closely together. Maybe it was stitched by the Fates centuries ago, laid out carefully, a plan to be executed. Maybe everything that led you to this moment was always meant to be. Because here you are now, his lips soft and hungry against yours, his words tearing through your resolve, his cock buried deep inside you, searching for a way to get deeper. And all you can think is…

This is it. This is what people mean when they talk about love—that word that changes its meaning every time you say it. The word with a definition that always escapes you. You know what it means now. 

“Logan, I’m gonna…” You trail off, that fire in your belly spreading through your body as he rams into you, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing along the walls of the tiny room. His fingers press harder into your clit, pinching softly, and then circling again. 

His cock twitches inside you. “Me too, beautiful,” he hums, his pace growing sloppier, his cock throbbing again. “You’re so perfect,” he praises. “Love you so much, pretty girl.”

And then the tension snaps, electricity buzzing through your nerve endings, fire prickling your skin as you melt into him. “Love you too, Lo.” Your muscles contract and release, squeezing around him, coming undone. 

Your walls clench around him again, and you know it’ll be the thing that pushes him over the edge. “Fuck, wanna come inside you,” he pants.

You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close. “Please,” you beg, and with one more thrust he’s painting your walls, filling you up and letting go. 

You share one breath, panting, foreheads pressed together as Logan’s pumps slow, his cock stalling inside you. His fingers slip away from your clit, his arms reaching under your back as he carefully pulls out. You feel empty without him inside you. 

“Y-you can stay inside, if you want,” you offer as Logan rolls you onto your side, pulling you into his chest. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Is that what you want, pretty girl?” He asks, his lips pressing to your nose now. 

“Yes,” you whisper. He swallows harshly as one of his hands slides down your body, hiking your leg up and over his hip. He lines his half-hard cock up with your entrance, his lips finding yours as he slides back in. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of being full of him again. 

He groans as he bottoms out. “So fucking good,” he praises, his arms wrapping around your back again, tugging you into his chest. 

You lay in comfortable silence, listening as Logan’s breathing becomes rhythmic. Your eyes grow heavy, and you bury your face into Logan’s chest. You can hear his heart beating.

“Love you,” he mumbles against the crown of your head. You can hear the sleepiness in his voice, the exhaustion. 

“Love you too,” you whisper, your breathing matching his, like you’re no longer two separate people, but one.

He presses a kiss to your head. “So lucky I met you,” he huffs. You smile against him. “So lucky I finally figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” You ask, looking up at him. 

He smiles down at you. “What love is supposed to feel like...” He trails off, and you watch as he chooses his next words. “What living is supposed to feel like.�� 

You can feel tears brimming in the corners of your eyes, and you do your best to blink them away. “Me too, Lo,” you whisper, pausing…

“Me too.”

tags: @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @fanfic-writing-barbie @pedrohoe04 @cosmiccandydreamer @movhoney @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @maniuplatour *as always, I'm so sorry if I forgot to tag you*

[wildfloweroutlaw]

Sticky Fingers

warnings: SMUT!! minors dni. some fluff. friends to lovers. switch!azriel. unprotected sex. oral (male and female receiving). underwear fetish. a bit of voyeurism. azriel is an after care king. wing play. shadow play. i really threw the kitchen sink at this one so lmk if i missed anything!

word count: ~7k WHOOPS my fingers slipped.

a/n: reader matches azriel’s freak!! this is more fleshed out continuation of this little piece AND my first ever azriel fic. for the sake of this story, let’s just assume that you can winnow to The House of Wind because let’s be fr, only being able to fly or walk up the 10,000 steps would be such an inconvenience. and to the one person who asked for this @darkbloodsly …. thank you ❤️

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Azriel’s little escapade in your bedroom a few weeks ago had been one of the most exciting things he’d done in quite some time. It was also one of the most violating. After he had returned to his room with your obscenely tiny pair of panties, he had been filled with a whirlwind of emotions. Shame. Guilt. Self loathing. But underneath all of that, the desire remained, unchecked and unbound.

Which is probably why every couple of days since that incident, he found himself staking out your room, waiting on you to leave The House so he could go in and rummage through your underwear drawer freely. He found that you had acquired a very intriguing collection. Several lacy black pairs, a pair that was a deep red and made of the softest silk, a strappy blue pair that he felt perfectly matched his siphons.

He couldn’t help but to let his mind run rampant, picturing you in every single one, picturing himself pulling them off of you. However, today’s discovery may have just been his most favorite of all.

Unsure of how he missed them all the times before, Azriel’s eyes caught on a light shade of pink. Digging to the very bottom of the drawer, he grasped the lovely material and pulled it free.

While not as daring or extravagant as some of the other items in your trove, this pair was sinfully soft and seemed so unlike anything you would normally wear. Instantly taken with the dainty pink shade and the tiny little bow adorning the front, Azriel decided that these would be his prize of the day.

Pocketing the skimpy undergarment, he sent several of his shadows through the house to ensure you were still out running errands. When they reported that the coast was clear, Azriel silently made his way down the hall and back to his own quarters.

A sick thrill went through his body and curled low in his stomach as he closed the door behind him. He pulled your lovely pink panties out of his pocket and studied them once more. Gods he should not be as turned on as he was by a pair of fucking underwear, but they were yours and they had touched you more intimately than he knew he ever would, no matter how often he dreamed of that.

Typically, Azriel held off on this part until it was late at night and everyone had already gone to sleep… but The House was empty for the next few hours and his cock was already painfully straining against his pants.

Fuck it. Pushing off the door, he made quick work of his clothes as he crossed the room to his large bed.

Laying back against his dark, plush pillows, Azriel made himself comfortable, tuning everything in the world out except for the thought of you and these godsdamned panties.

He palmed himself gently at first, the head of his cock already flushed and leaking with anticipation.

He imagined what your hands would feel like against him, how big he would look in your smaller hands, how you would stroke him. Would you prefer to pleasure him soft and tenderly? Or would you set a punishing pace with a tight grip? Azriel knew that he would let you touch him anyway you wanted to, he would let you do anything you wanted to him.

He let depraved images of all kinds fill his mind. He let himself imagine what your soft skin would feel like under his touch, let himself imagine what beautiful sounds he could pull from you. Azriel knew it was unlikely he would ever truly know, considering he had never allowed himself to openly pursue you. However, he supposed he would settle for your panties.

Finding the delicate fabric beside him on the bed, he brought the soft material that carried your sweet scent to his aching member. He shuddered at the first touch and let out a deep groan at the sensation. Several of his shadows trailed down his body, the cool sensation only adding to his pleasure. They always got rather excited when he used your undergarments in this way.

Seeing your panties against him like this always brought about a feeling of wrongness that only served to turn Azriel on even more. Now, watching the pink cloth and that fucking little bow caress his cock, he was fairly certain this could count as a sin.

And damn if that didn’t make his blood pump all the faster.

Fisting your panties against his cock, Azriel let his head fall back, soft black curls splaying upon his pillow. He allowed his mind continue to run wild with thoughts of you, deep guttural groans and soft moans of your name slipping from his lips.

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You opened the front door to The House, finding the place quiet. Which made sense considering Cassian had matters to tend to in Illyria this evening, and you were supposed to meet Nesta for dinner in just a little while. Azriel most likely had plans of his own that he almost never felt inclined to share.

You had been out running errands for the last few hours, but the evening had proved to be chillier than you anticipated. You decided to just run home and grab a sweater, assuming you would probably be out late with Nesta. Kicking off your shoes by the door, you made for the stairs.

As soon as you rounded the corner to your hallway, you were greeted by several of Azriel’s shadows.

Suppose he is here then.

The wispy tendrils wrapped themselves around you and begin to gently tug you down the hall. Confused but curious, you followed along hesitantly.

“Is everything okay?” You knew you would never get a response, but you always had a habit of speaking to Azriel’s shadows. You were actually very fond of them.

Several of the shadows trailed up your arms and twined into your hair. Apparently they had grown fond of you as well. The feeling of them against your skin was always something you enjoyed, and you found their presence to be very comforting.

You allowed them to lead you past your own bedroom door and down the hall to Az’s room. You found a few more shadows waiting outside, and they too greeted you warmly. Tugging you forward, the shadows continued to urge you towards the door. “I-I don’t understand…” you whispered to the wisps of darkness.

“(Y/N).”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, and for a moment you questioned if you were hearing things. But you had heard your name, however faint. You were certain of it.

You raised your hand to knock on the door, not wanting to just barge in to Azriel’s room, even if he had presumably called out to you.

Before your fist could make contact with the wood, some of the shadows darted out, turning the knob and silently pushing the door open. You were certain your heart stopped beating as you took in the sight in front of you.

Azriel. With his head tossed back. Face dusted with pink. Large wings splayed across his bed, eyes screwed shut, plump lips parted, legs spread wide, tendrils of shadows trailing down his body.

And he was stark naked.

Oh gods. You should walk away. You should close the door and pretend you never even came home. But by the mother, he was pumping himself with his hand, hips bucking up in response, and you couldn’t help but drink in the beautiful sight and the lovely sounds tumbling from his lips.

This was wrong. You should not be here. You weren’t sure why his shadows had pulled you to his room, but Azriel’s lack of awareness of your presence made it clear this was not intended. And the longer you stood here, watching like a fucking pervert, the stronger the pulsing between your legs grew.

Suddenly your eyes caught on a piece of pink fabric clutched against Azriel’s… well, extremely large member. You quickly took note of the familiar tiny bow peaking out from his hand and you thought your heart was going to break free from your ribcage and leave you standing here like the fool that you were.

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Azriel was lost in his darkest fantasies. He wasn’t sure if it was the long week he had, or the way you had looked in that dress that fit you just right before you had left The House this afternoon, but he just completely gave himself to the pleasure.

And gods he could smell you, stronger than any other time before. Your lovely scent entrapped within the fabric of your panties seemed thicker, sweeter… headier.

Azriel’s eyes flew open, shooting to the other side of the room and he saw you, standing there. Face tinged with red, eyes wide, and chest heaving against your dress.

And he wanted to die.

With an unspoken command, the mass of his shadows flocked to him, some of them unfurling themselves from where they had been twinning around you, and came to conceal his naked form. of course he had left his clothes halfway across the room.

He pushed himself up off the bed and felt heat crawling up his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. He literally could not imagine a worse scenario than this.

Fuck, you would probably hate him after this. This would ruin your friendship for sure. You would want to move out of The House, far far away from him and his demented perversions. Azriel’s mind, once filled with glorious images of you, was now flooded with a whirlwind of thoughts. And none of them were good.

“(Y/N) I-I can explain-“ Azriel managed to stammer out. How could he explain this? He doubted there was any excuse he could come up with that wouldn’t make him look creepy. Maybe you hadn’t seen the panties? He could perhaps say they weren’t yours, even if you had seen, but he wasn’t sure how long you had been standing there.

“Those are mine.” You simply stated, as if you were telling him the sky was blue.

“I…. Well, I-“ gods be damned, this would be a good time to be able to form a cohesive thought. But his racing heart and overwhelming mortification were short circuiting his brain.

“And you said my name.” You took a step forward into the doorway. Azriel’s shadows were obscuring the majority of his body, and at your words, they seemed to grow all the more restless.

Azriel briefly considered winnowing out of his room and fleeing Velaris- No, Prythian. “(Y/N) I am so sorry, shit, I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry. I-I know this is so wrong-“

You took another step forward. Well, you were already knee deep in this horrifically embarassing situation, for both of you it seemed. You may as well see where this takes you. “You can continue… if you are comfortable doing so, that is.”

Azriel’s heart stopped beating for probably the hundredth time in the last 5 minutes. “I… what?” His hazel eyes scanned your face for any sign of mockery or judgment or disgust.

“I was enjoying the show. Quite thoroughly, I must admit.” Your heart was thundering, and you were terrified of what Azriel might think. But you felt the overwhelming need to own up to invading his privacy, to watching him. To take control of this situation.

And he had very clearly been thinking of you… “If you are alright with it, you can carry on. Don’t feel like you must though. I can also leave if you’d like.” You motioned behind you to the door.

“You… aren’t angry with me?” Azriel’s shadows dissipated slightly, now he was visible to you from the chest up.

“Do I seem angry to you?” You asked, managing a smirk that you hoped made you look braver than you truly felt.

Azriel allowed himself to take you in fully now. You had been shocked, yes, but there was also something else dancing in your eyes. And your scent was slightly different than usual. He took a deep breath in, mind going quiet. You were aroused. “No. I suppose you don’t seem angry.”

Azriel allowed his shadows to slowly leave him, some of them choosing to return to you. A chill ran down his spine as he watched your eyes drink in his bare form.

He took a couple steps backward until he could rest on the edge of the bed.

He searched your face again, wanting to ensure that this was really alright with you. Finding no signs of discomfort, he plucked the dainty undergarment from the bedspread and began to tentatively work the material against his still hard cock. “Is this… what you wanted to see?”

Your chest began to rise and fall quickly again and you sucked in a breath at the sight of him. “Yes…” you sighed out, fingers going to the clasp of your dress at your neck. You quickly undid the mechanism and let the material fall and pool at your bare feet.

Azriel’s eyes widened and he let out a soft moan at the beautiful sight. You weren’t wearing a bra and stood before him in only your underwear, the tiny, lacey black pair that had originally caught his eye the very first time he thieved from your chambers.

What in the seven hells was happening? He decided not to question it, tightening his grip on his member and began to stroke more confidently.

Your eyes were glued to him, wandering from his proud wings, across his gorgeous face, down his heavily tattooed chest and muscled stomach, all the way to his scarred hand fisting your fucking panties against himself.

You had desired Azriel for so long, but he never pursued you beyond friendship. The male was notoriously difficult to read, and you were always too afraid to go beyond simply flirting with him in case he truly wasn’t interested in you. You never in your wildest dreams could have imagined this.

You took a few more steps forward, brushing your fingers against the erect tips of your breasts, sighing at the sensation. The pounding between your legs had amplified to an all out ache, and you were more than eager to find out just how far Azriel would let this go.

You now stood before him, between his spread legs, eyes locked to his hazel ones. You brushed back a stray lock of his dark hair, and lightly ran your fingers across his flushed cheek. “Do you enjoy pleasuring yourself with my panties Shadowsinger?” You let your eyes drift back down to where he worked himself.

Azriel was reveling in your sweet touches and felt there was no reason to attempt to deny the claim now. “Yes.” He groaned.

You felt a sudden surge of power, his words stroking your ego like his hand stroked his cock. “And is this the first time you’ve stolen a pair from my room for this purpose?”

Azriel tried to avert his eyes, still feeling ashamed of his actions, but your hand gripped his chin and turned his gaze up to meet yours. If his senses weren’t currently being overwhelmed with the scent of your arousal and you weren’t staring down at him like you wanted to devour him, he would have thought this was some cruel attempt to get him to confess. “No.” He answered honestly.

You smirked at his admittance and you could feel your panties growing more soaked by the second. You dropped to your knees before him and you could not deny that he looked like a god above you. He was absolutely divine. And your face was a mere foot from his cock. This was not at all how you had expected your evening to go, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

You took in the sight of his swollen tip, shaded an angry color of red from lack of release. His pre-cum had soaked both his member and the fabric of your panties, leaving him glistening in the evening light

“Fuck, you are so hard.”

Azriel moaned in response, as he watched you with curious eyes. He wasn’t sure what you were doing, but he loved that you were here with him, and seemed to be just as turned on as he was.

You inched your face a little closer, leaning between his thick thighs. “Oh Azzie, this seems rather uncomfortable. Would you allow me to help you?” You crooned as you looked up at him through your lashes.

Azriel felt like he could die happily any moment now. That nickname and the image of you, between his legs, staring up at him like that, was something that would stick with him long past the grave. However, a thousand protests rose to his mind.

He didn’t want you to feel like you had to do this. He wanted to tell you that you didn’t need to, that you shouldn’t, because he was unworthy of your touch. But he stopped himself.

Everything told him that you wanted this too, wanted him. As hard as it was to believe, he did not think you would be here, responding so… positively, if you didn’t want to. However unworthy he felt that he was, he felt the desire to be selfish more.

He had dreamed of this for so long, and now the opportunity to have you, in whatever capacity, finally has arisen. He would be damned if he didn’t seize it.

“Yes. Please.” He didn’t care if the plead sounded pathetic. He needed you to touch him. Now.

With a grin that could only be described as devilish, you gently grasped his wrist, urging his hand away from his member. He still clutched the now spoiled pink panties in his hand. You tenderly pulled them from his grip, unbunching the material and letting it dangle in the space between you two.

You studied the damp fabric, glancing between it and Azriel’s face. “You’ve made such a pretty mess of these Az. I can tell how much you like them.”

Beyond words and drowning in anticipation, Azriel could only muster a nod in response.

You tossed the underwear across the room to join your dress. Heart pounding in your chest, you slowly gripped Azriel’s cock. You tested the waters with a gentle, almost teasing stroke and you felt him throb in your hand. You quickly glanced up at his face to see if he was still okay with this.

You found him leaned back on his palms and studying you intently, eyes half lidded and filled with desire. The look of sheer need gave you a shot of courage, and you tightened your grip slightly and increased your pace.

Azriel moaned out your name and your core turned to molten at the sound.

“Does that feel good, Az?” You cooed to him, squeezing your legs together in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure there.

“Gods, yes (Y/N). Touch me however you like… please.” He could not stop staring at you, your gorgeous practically naked form, and how small your hand looked wrapped around him.

This was better than any fantasy he had ever conjured up.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth at his praise, loving how it sounded in his deep voice. “How about this?” You leaned forward and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, sucking gingerly.

Azriel short circuited, his entire body shuddering from the feel of your warm, wet mouth on him. He let his head loll back and his eyes flutter closed as a guttural groan reverberated from deep in his chest. “Fuck I- yes.” He gripped the blankets beneath him.

You hummed against him in response. You always felt that Azriel was too hard on himself, punishing himself for gods knew why. You were determined to spoil him with much deserved pleasure.

You licked him from root to stem before taking him deep, one hand working what you could not fit in your mouth, and the other gently caressing his balls.

Sounds that may have been considered embarrassing to some males, spewed from Azriel. He could not help it, nor did he care to hide them. You were making him feel this good and you deserved to hear that. “Sweet girl, shit- that feels incredible.” He growled.

As you continued your ministrations, Azriel worked a hand into your hair. Not forcing your head down, or applying any pressure, just reverently caressing your locks. He finally peered down at you again, discovering you staring back up at him, head bobbing up and down his length and moaning around him. He noticed you had brought one of your hands between your legs and were grinding your clothed cunt against your palm.

You were going to kill him.

You were going to suck him within an inch of his life, and the sight of you touching yourself to pleasuring him was going to send him on to the after life.

Just as Azriel was about to pull you off of him, you released his cock with a pop of your lips. You stood then, placing your hands on Azriel’s firm chest and urging him backwards. “Lay in the center of the bed for me please, Azzie.” You asked sweetly.

Azriel nodded and found himself scrambling backwards, doing as you said and moving to lay back. Azriel rarely ever relinquished control in the bedroom, preferring to service his lovers to their liking. However, he felt very comfortable following your lead and this was actually really lovely. Well, it was far beyond lovely.

You moved to hover over him, straddling his waist and you felt a thrill surge through your body at the sight of the massive Illyrian warrior beneath you. “Is it alright if I try something else?” You asked, still unsure about how much Azriel wanted from you.

He gingerly grasped your hand, one of the first few touches he had allowed himself since this all began, and guided it to his chest where he pinned it beneath his own larger hand. “Of course,” he rasped, “I told you already. Touch me however you like… I am yours.” The admission was vulnerable, but felt so right to him.

Your heart clenched at his words and you nodded, lowering your hips to his. You began to slowly, but firmly grind your still clothed pussy against his length, loosing an airy moan in response to the glorious contact.

“I bet my panties feel much better like this, hm?” You leaned down to murmur in his ear, nipping at his lobe.

Azriel shuddered underneath you, wings twitching against the sheets. “Y-yes, (Y/N). So much better.” His hands hesitantly reached up to grip your waist, giving you time to protest if you wanted. When you showed no objections, he tightened his hold on you and pulled you down against him, harder. Azriel delighted in the noise he drew from you.

He continued dragging your hips across him, both of you breathless at the sensation. “Gods above, you are so gorgeous…” He let one hand travel up to your breast, stroking a thumb across a hard nipple and smiling to himself when you cried out.

“Would you like to see what you’ve done to me?” You breathed against his neck, a hand tracing circles against his chest.

Azriel nodded, then almost protested when you pulled away from him. That was until he saw you standing at the end of the bed, slowly shimmying out of your panties. His breath hitched to see you completely and utterly bare before him, then sputtered out of him when he took in the way you crawled up the bed towards him.

Kneeling beside him, you pressed the soaked cotton of your underwear into Azriel’s hand. “You’ve turned me into a complete mess Az…” you confessed.

Azriel took in the absolutely drenched material, and let out an almost animalistic groan when he scented your arousal coating the fabric. “All of this is for me? I’ve barely gotten the chance to touch you yet.” He would be lying if he said that wasn’t a major boost to his ego.

He slipped an arm around your waist and turned, pinning you beneath him and slotting himself between your legs. “Let me change that…”

He pressed messy kisses along the length of your neck, sharp teeth grazing over a particularly sensitive area. Azriel reveled in the sound of your breathless moan and the way you pulled him tighter.

He dipped his head to lav at a nipple, rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger before latching his lips around the sensitive bud. Azriel slid a well muscled thigh against your leaking cunt, applying just enough pressure to have you gasping for air.

He did not miss how you rocked your hips against him, desperate for friction.

Thus far, Azriel had allowed you to take the lead, to show him how much you wanted from him, making him feel better than anyone ever had before. Now, Azriel wanted to return the favor and show you how good he can make you feel.

He kissed a path between your breasts and down your stomach, glancing up to find your bottom lip between your teeth and eyes pressed closed. He worked his way lower, and lower, until all he could smell was your heated sweetness.

He inhaled deeply, and let out a long breath that fanned against your sensitive cunt, causing chills to erupt all over your body.

Guiding each of your legs over his shoulders, his hands found purchase on your thighs, spreading you open for him. He placed a couple of gentle nips along the inside of your thigh, before softly asking “Is this alright?”

“Yes. Gods, yes.” You excitedly nodded your head, as if you took too long to answer he may change his mind. Although, a quick glance down at Azriel’s face told you that wasn’t the case. He stared up at you like you were his favorite meal. You lifted your hips slightly, urging yourself closer to his mouth.

He huffed a laugh before pinning you back down to the bed. “Try to stay still for me, sweet girl. Want to make you feel good.” And then his tongue was upon you. He licked a strip right up your center, expertly locating the sensitive bundle of nerves and swirling around it.

White hot pleasure shot up your spine, and you cried out. Hands searching for more contact, you reached down and entangled your fingers in his dark locks, Azriel rewarding you with a low growl when you pulled slightly.

His mouth was maddening. It was like he already knew all of your favorite things as he stroked your clit with the warm velvet of his tongue. Every time you managed to crack your eyes open, you found hazel ones staring back at you, full of hunger and reverence. He kept your hips throughly pinned down, leaving you no choice but to take everything he was giving you.

Suddenly, you felt a cool brush against your collar bone and looked down to find several of his shadows curiously exploring you. The inky tendrils wound themselves around your nipples, the ghost of a touch just enough to drive you crazy, just as Azriel wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked.

Every thought in your head ceased to exist and your back arched away from the sheets. A wanton scream tore its way up your throat and you fisted Azriel’s hair tightly, which only seemed to spur him on more.

“Fuck Azriel, there- yes!” You babbled as his grip on your hips loosened slightly, allowing you to wind your hips against his mouth. And mother above he was moaning into your pussy and… oh gods.

You raised your head and watched him unabashedly rut into the mattress, just as needy as you were.

And that was nearly your breaking point. Seeing this beautiful male, wings spread behind him, letting you fuck yourself on his face, shadows twining around your body. You were not like to forget this as long as you lived.

Right as you teetered on the edge of oblivion, you pulled him off of you quickly. “Azriel… need you. Want to cum on your cock. Please.”

“As you wish.” Azriel rose slowly, chin glistening with your slick, and placed his aching cock where his face had just been.

He leaned down and studied your pretty face intently, sliding one scarred hand to your jaw. He then pressed his lips against yours, the kiss searing his very soul.

This was the first time his lips had ever touched yours, other than that one drunken night when you all had played spin the bottle. Although that kiss had kept him up for many nights, it was nothing like this.

“Can you taste yourself? Can you taste how sweet you are? Could spend an eternity with my face between those beautiful legs…” Az mumbled against you.

“Y-yes. I want you to show me more of what you can do with that mouth another time.” You grinned up at him.

Another time. His heart leapt at that. Azriel had not allowed himself to think past this moment, for fear that this could be the first and only time he experienced you this way. Yes, he could show you everything he knew and more.

Grabbing the base of his cock, he lined himself up with your entrance, and pressed his forehead against yours. He ever so slightly began to push in. You were soaking wet, but you were also extremely tight and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

The stretch burned, but not in a way that was painful, just uncomfortable. Holy gods he was huge. You felt his shadows run up and down your arms in a soothing caress, Azriel’s hand at your waist mimicking their motions.

Once his hips were flush with yours, you both sat utterly still, chests heaving against each other. Azriel fought back the urge to thrust as he allowed your body to adjust to his size. “Are you alright, Princess?” He cooed, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek.

“Yes… Azzie. Please.” You began to squirm underneath him, unable to patiently wait any longer.

“I know, sweet girl. I just don’t want to hurt you.” He brushed a loose strand of hair back that had fallen into your face.

“I appreciate your concern Azriel, but I will die if you don’t move. I need you to move.” You pleaded, fingers digging into his muscular shoulders.

Without another moment of hesitation, Azriel slowly drew out of you before pressing back in to the hilt. He had never, never, felt anything as good as this before. He knew that with just the first fucking stroke, he was losing himself to you

“Fucking hells (Y/N). You’re so godsdamned tight… feel so good on my cock sweet girl.”

You cried out at both the sensation and his words, any feelings of discomfort giving way to burning hot pleasure as Azriel fucked you slow and deep. The normally stoic and reserved Shadowsinger was passionate, shocking you with how intently and thoroughly he was loving you.

Azriel angled his hips, rutting in to you at a slightly faster pace now. He buried his face deep into your neck, panting and moaning like he was young male all over again. He was trying his best to fuck you the way you deserved, but it was already so difficult to not unravel completely.

“Azriel…” you moaned his name like it was a prayer, “gods you’re so big… stretching me out just right. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this.” You pulled his face to yours for another searing kiss, carding your fingers through his soft hair.

Azriel was genuinely surprised that you had thought about this with him, and the confession only turned him on more. He sped up his pace more, pulling back slightly to watch you.

And you stared back at him. You took in the massive wings looming behind Azriel, noticing how they twitched every so often, like they were restless. You remembered one drunken night that Azriel had admitted to you that the rumors about Illyrian wings were in fact true, but that he very rarely felt comfortable enough to allow his lovers to actually touch them.

You wanted so badly to run your fingers down the beautiful membrane. Not only to see his reaction for yourself, but also because you wanted to feel special to him.

Maybe that was foolish, and maybe this whole situation was no more than a manifestation of your shared physical attraction and nothing more. But you could not stop yourself from wanting. “Az… may I touch your wings?” You asked nervously, afraid to ruin the moment.

Azriel drove home a particularly deep stroke, causing you to cry out and tremble around him. His hand came up to guide your eyes to his, and his stare was molten. “I’ve already told you baby, touch me however you like.”

Your heart squeezed at the fact that he felt safe enough with you to allow you to touch him in a way he rarely let others.

You nodded, taking in his words through the haze of pleasure. You reached out slowly, fingertips just inches from his wings. “H-how?” Your hand remained hovering in the air, unsure.

He huffed a laugh that turned into a groan as his hips met yours. “However feels natural to you. There’s no wrong way, just be gentle.” He extended a wing, offering you better access.

You searched his face for any signs of discomfort or hesitancy. Finding none, you simply nodded and ever so lightly grazed your finger tips across the ridge of his wing.

Azriel’s entire body went taught as a bowstring before he shook, the most delectable whimper working its way out of him. His fingers found that sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs and began to draw quick, tight circles against it.

You were certain the entirety of Velaris could hear your sounds of pleasure now. You placed another exploratory stroke on a different part of his wing, and continued when you saw the way Azriel’s eyes screwed shut and his brow furrowed.

“If you keep doing that you are going to make me-“ Azriel was interrupted when the soft pads of your fingers rubbed against a particularly sensitive spot.

His hips faltered, a string of curses tumbling from his lips as he went careening over the edge and into the abyss of ecstasy, crying out your name and hips snapping against yours.

At the feel of his fingers against your clit, his shadows caressing your body, and his warm seed pumping deep inside you, you came completely undone on his cock. Consumed by burning pleasure, all thoughts eddied out of your brain except for Azriel.

For several moments the two of you remained there, chests heaving against each other, both attempting to unscramble your minds. Azriel eventually pulled out rather reluctantly. “Sit tight.” He murmured against your heated skin, before disappearing from sight.

Minutes later, Azriel reappeared with a wet rag in one hand and a glass of ice water in the other. He set the glass on the table before turning back to you, using the rag to clean you up. “Are you alright?” His eyes flickered between your face and his hands.

You nodded, a grin blooming on your face. “I think I’m more than alright Az. Are you alright?” You parroted his question back to him.

“Yeah. Yes. I am… maybe a little surprised that we somehow ended up here, but I’m glad that we did.” He offered you a grin to match your own that showed his dimples.

His hand found your back, helping you to sit up, and he situated you against the mountain of pillows on his bed before handing you the glass of water. “Here. Drink.”

You accepted the refreshing drink greedily, drinking about half the glass in just a few gulps. Offering the drink back to Azriel, you cleared your throat. “I myself am surprised as well. This was… not really what I expected of my evening. Or ever honestly.” You gave a small shrug.

Azriel settled in beside you, pulling the fluffy duvet up to cover you both. “(Y/N) I do really need to apologize for what I did-what I’ve been doing…” he studied his lap intently, suddenly finding the bed spread mighty interesting.

“It was wrong. Very wrong. I shouldn’t have entered your room without your permission, let alone rummage through your dresser and…” he trailed off, feeling red hot shame creep up his neck.

“And steal my underwear?” You finished for him, brows raising in amusement.

“Yes. That. It was an extreme invasion of your privacy, and wrong on so many levels. If you never want to speak of this again, or never want to speak to me again… I would understand.” Azriel could not bring himself to look at you, to see what you might be feeling.

You gripped his jaw, guiding his gaze back to you. “Az… I told you already, I’m not angry with you. I felt like I proved that rather thoroughly, but I will say it again. You are my friend Azriel. None of this changes that fact. If you are open to it, I’d actually like to do more of… this.” You motioned between the two of you and gave him a big smile.

“I-I am definitely open to it. I would like that very much. I guess you could say I’ve had a bit of a crush on you for a while now…” Azriel glanced at you with heated cheeks and a dimple peeking out as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You let out a breathless laugh, the sound making Azriel’s heart jump in his chest. “Well I guess I can now admit that the feeling is mutual.” You snuggled down into the pillows further, cherishing the warmth of his body next to yours.

Azriel turned to you, propping his head up on a fist. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving. I was actually supposed to meet Nesta for dinner.” You glanced to the window in Azriel’s room, noticing that the sun had already slipped below the ridge. “She is probably pissed I stood her up, but there’s no sense in going now… and I’d like to stay with you.”

Azriel grinned at you then. “Well perhaps you would consider sharing a meal with me? We can stay here if you want.”

You agreed eagerly and Azriel offered you one of his large, but incredibly soft shirts to wear even though your room was just down the hall. You cherished the feel of the material against your otherwise naked body, his scent surrounding you, the shirt reaching your knees. It made you feel special.

Azriel had the house whip you up your favorite foods and the two of you stayed in his room for the remainder of the evening, chatting and swapping stories as usual. However things definitely felt…. different between the two of you. But in a good way. In the best way.

You must have dozed off eventually, because you awoke to the early morning sun spilling in through Azriel’s parted curtains. You quickly realized that Azriel himself was curled around you, one arm slung over your waist and your back pressed to his chest.

Feeling you stir, he mumbled a groggy good morning, voice rough with sleep. You would be lying if you said the sound didn’t send heat straight to your core all over again.

You turned in his grip to face him, “good morning…” you brushed a couple of your wild strands of hair back from your face and cleared your throat. “I’m sorry if I have over stayed my welcome. I didn’t intend to fall asleep here last night.” You studied his face for any sign of annoyance.

One side of his lips tipped up in a lazy grin, revealing a dimple. “Nonsense. I’ve enjoyed your company... even if you did snore.”

Your eyes widened for a moment, face growing hot. “I do not snore Azriel! I think I would know if I did.” You protested, brow furrowing.

Azriel’s grin only grew, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “And how would you know that?”

“Well I’ve never had any complaints about it before.” You explained, praying to the gods that you actually didn’t snore the very first night you ever spent in Azriel’s bed.

Tracing lazy circles on your side, Azriel’s eyes perused your form. You looked so beautiful wrapped in his huge shirt, blankets pulled up over your hips, hair askew in a thousand different directions.

“Perhaps they were just too polite to mention it?” His gaze flicked back up to yours, unable to hide his full on smile at your flustered responses to his teasing.

“You could have done me the same courtesy, asshole.” You shoved his bare chest playfully causing a laugh to spill from Azriel’s lips. Despite what happened yesterday, things felt… comfortable.

You reluctantly untangled yourself from his arms, sitting up to stretch. “I better go inform Nesta that I’m still alive. She’s probably assuming someone kidnapped me last night.”

“I pity the person who would try to kidnap you.” Azriel placed an arm behind his head, watching you shuffle out of the bed, secretly wishing you would stay longer.

You snorted. “True. I also better find a peace offering to give her as well, as an apology for flaking on our dinner date.” You turned to Azriel then, drinking in the sight of him sprawled on his back, blankets pooling around his waist, tattoos swirling down his bare chest and arms. Gods, he was delectable and you wanted to jump his bones all over again.

Azriel was staring at you as well, admiring the length of your bare legs and how his shirt hung down to almost your knees. A surge of male satisfaction flowed through him at the sight. “I think that’s a good idea. I apologize for ruining your plans.” Azriel wasn’t sorry in the slightest.

You gave him another big smile, something you found happening very frequently when he was around. “You can ruin my plans anytime you’d like Shadowsinger.” You began gathering your belongings, preparing to make the trek down the hall to your own quarters. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Azriel nodded. “Anytime you’d like.” He parroted your earlier words back to you.

You bid Azriel goodbye and began making your way out the door, your pile of clothes filing your arms, when you heard Az call out your name.

Turning back towards him, you found him holding up your lacy black panties from yesterday, a smirk plastered on his face. “I think you’re forgetting these.”

You gave a one shouldered shrug, one corner of your lips curling to match Azriel’s. “You can just hang on to those for me.” Watching his eyes widen, you closed the door behind you, smiling all the way down the hall to your own room, and already counting down the seconds until you could see the Shadowsinger again.

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EEEEK i had SO much fun writing this!! feel free to let me know what you liked, i always appreciate feedback 🫶🏼.

[p1astr81]

just a prank - op81

in which: Lando has his friends over, and while his roommate is taking a shower, they decide to play a prank on her. Oscar is the one to come to her rescue.

pairing: Oscar Piastri x Lando’s roommate!reader

warnings: uni au, fluff, bullying lowkey, use of y/n, a little objectifying, my first fic on here so pls don’t be rude

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Y/N just got off work, and she desperately needed a shower.

Wanting to become a physiotherapist, she worked part-time at a private secondary school alongside the athletic trainer to make some money while she studied at uni. She was helping one of the football athletes. He’d sprained his ankle earlier in the season, and she was having him do a few exercises to rebuild his strength in that foot.

Long story short, three boys came in asking for her to tape up their knees. Before she could say anything, one of the boys “tripped” and spilled an entire can of Red Bull down the front of her. The nice football player offered his shirt to her, but she politely declined. She’d remained in the sticky clothes for the rest of the day. And as soon as she got home, she jumped in the shower.

Conveniently, her roommate, Lando Norris, forgot to tell her that he invited a bunch of his friends over. So a quarter of the way through her shower, the shared apartment became filled with boys.

“What is taking her so long? I have to piss,” Keegan complained. Lando just shrugged. “Oh!” Carlos exclaimed, like a lightbulb just went off in his head. “Let’s play a prank on her.” He suggested. “Like turn off the lights?” Max Fewtrell asked. “Or turn off her music.” Ginge grumbled. The pop music was blasting, filling the apartment with the vocals of various pop girls.

“I was thinking more like take her clothes,” Carlos said, a mischievous tone about his voice. Lando laughed. “Just say you want to see my roommate naked, mate.”

Oscar thought they should leave her be, but he wasn’t friends with everyone in the room. Only Lando. And he didn’t want to be labeled as a kill joy, so he stayed silent.

“It’s not just me, I think everyone wants a piece of her.” Carlos defended himself, glancing at the others in the room who hesitantly nodded along—well, except for Oscar. “You’ve got your share already, haven’t you?”

Lando shook his head. “Nope, she sees me as a ‘friend’.” He shared, unamused. The room winced at the fact he’d been friendzoned. Carlos got up from the couch, and headed down the hallway where the bathroom was located.

Y/N heard the door open and groaned. “Lando how many times do I have to tell you, you have to knock before coming in.” You scolded, but instead of the usual sassy response you’d receive, it was silence. The door clicked closed, and you peaked your head out, not noticing anything different immediately.

Carlos emerged from the hallway. “Got the clothes, and the towel.” He held up the items proudly. The group of them cheered. Something inside Oscar’s stomach twisted. These aren’t the people he thought he befriended.

after around fifteen minutes, the shower water turned off, and her music followed quickly after. “Lando!” She shouted but got no reply. So she stuck her head out of the door. “Lando! Give me my stuff back!” She demanded. This time, she was met with laughter. She quickly realized it wasn’t just Lando in the apartment. Panic set in.

Her roommate seeing her without clothes on was one thing. She could live with that embarrassment. He accidentally walked in on her changing once before. But by the sounds of it, there were at least five other people out there. The status of their phones—whether they would be recording or not—was completely unknown to her.

She shut the bathroom door, and began scheming. Her first thought was the shower curtains, but the rust had fused the clips of the cheap hangers together. She could use the hand towel, but that wouldn’t cover much. Toilet paper wasn’t an option, as there was so little left in the roll that it would help just about as much as the hand towel. She was left with pleading.

She stuck her head out the door again. “Lando, come on. Just give me a bath towel at least.” All she heard was laughter. “I’ll buy you take-away for a week.” She tried to bargain. Again, only laughter. She huffed. Knowing most of Lando’s friends were pining after her, she tried to bargain with, “I’ll kiss every one of you if you just give me a towel.” There was no laughter immediately, as if they were actually considering it. It gave her a little bit of hope. But it shattered moments later as they began to laugh again.

Seeing as bargaining didn’t work, she was reduced to begging. “Lando, please.” They only laughed harder, but their laughter was soon replaced with cries of disappointment. “Mate, don’t.” “Come one man don’t be a wet blanket.” “Dude she was gonna have to come out eventually.”

Her saving grace appeared at the end of the hallway, her towel in his hands. While the hallway was dimly lit, the floppy hair on his head couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else. Oscar was always her favorite out of all Lando’s friends.

He stopped in front of her. The bathroom light illuminated his face enough for her to see his small smile. “Thank you so much.” Her words came out with a sigh of gratitude. His smile widened as he nodded, his hair flopping along with his head.

She closed the door on him, and re-emerged seconds later with the towel wrapped about her. “Oscar,” she called to the man who was stood at the end of the hall. He turned to her with a raised brow as she caught up with him. She took his arm, passing the group of booing boys on the way to her bedroom.

She brought Oscar into her room and locked the door behind them. “Oh, no. I didn’t do that to get anything in return.” He quickly said, his eyes wide. He did not want her to feel like she was obligated to give him something.

“Trust me, I know.” She smiled. “You’ve always been my favorite out of all of Lando’s friends. You’re the only polite one.” She shared while digging through her dresser for new pajamas. Carlos was still holding her other ones hostage.

“Oh, uhm, thanks.” He scratched the back of his neck. He was looking everywhere except at her. “Turn around for me.” She requested, and he quickly listened.

His cheeks went red when he heard her towel drop. He wanted to take a peak. Like the other boys, he did think you were very attractive. But unlike the other boys would have, he didn’t try to steal a glance at you. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re very good looking?” She asked.

“My grandma called me handsome once.” He shared. Her laughter rang out, the angelic sound floating right to his ears and making his head feel a little lighter. “Funny, good looking, and polite. It’s a wonder you haven’t been locked down yet.” She laughed again.

Oscar didn’t know what to say to that, so he just laughed awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I’m probably making this really weird. I just wanted to thank you.” She apologized, her voice sincere. Oscar shook his head quickly. “It’s not weird, and you don’t need to thank me.” She heard in his voice how nervous he was, and smiled softly at him. “You can turn around now, by the way.” He did, and bit back a laugh at the set of hot-pink pug pajamas she’d put on. “Don’t laugh. They’re all I have clean.” She sighed.

“‘M not laughing.” He stated, though his voice was very clearly on the verge of breaking into hysterics. He couldn’t help it, and after a few seconds let out a little chuckle. “Yeah, alright. You can get back to your friends now. Sorry for keeping you.”

“Eh,” Oscar stammered. “I’m a bit afraid to go back out there, if I’m honest.” He confessed with a nervous glance toward the door. She shrugged. “You could stay here with me. I don’t mind. I was just going to watch a few episodes of Brooklyn 99 before going to sleep.”

He hesitated. “If you truly don’t mind.” She shook her head and scooted over to make room for him in the bed next to her.

Morning arrived, and when Oscar stretched his limbs, he found himself unable to move a great part of the left side of his body. Glancing down to investigate the problem, he found y/n at it’s source. He realized he never left her room last night, and as a result, they fell asleep together.

Slowly, he sunk back into the mattress, doing his best to keep her from waking. She looks inexplicably tranquil beside him. A small smile graced her lips as her head laid on his chest. An arm of hers was draped across his torso, and she had a leg laying cross his, disabling his ability to move them freely. He didn’t mind, though. In fact, he found himself at peace.

Despite his attempt at not disturbing her, she began to stir. She blinked repeatedly, trying to wake herself up. She let out a sigh before lifting her eyelids. She looked up at Oscar through her lashes. “Oh,” she muttered, lazily pulling herself away from him. “Sorry about that.” She apologized. Oscar found her groggy voice somewhat endearing. “I suppose you should get going, then.” She stood, stretching her arms toward the sky.

Oscar nodded. “Only if you let me take you out tonight.” He didn’t know where the confidence came from, and as soon as he got the words out, he began apologizing. “I’m so sorry. I’m not normally- I didn’t mean-“

“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.” She interrupted his fumbling, smiling warmly at him. “I’ll walk you out.”

On their way out, they passed Lando, who was toasting pop tarts. “Have a fun night?” He asked bitterly.

“Calm down, we didn’t fuck.” She rolled her eyes before adding, “If we did, you definitely would’ve heard.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He waved her off. “All the guys aren’t too fond of you now.” He told Oscar, who shrugged. “They’re not the kind of blokes I care to be friends with, anyway.” Y/n smiled up at him.

“Oh!” She hummed, facing Lando. “and you’re going to have to cook your own food tonight. We’re going out.”

Lando rolled his eyes as the toaster popped from behind him.

[carnalcrows]

NO HARD FEELINGS - SQUARE GUARD

genre: smut

pairing: square guard x circle guard m!reader

content warnings: bottom reader, top guard, blowjobs, y/n is not used, facefucking, choking, hair pulling, reader is used as a stress buster, mentions of guns.

word count: 0.8k

A/N: based of this fic (changed triangle to square for increased power dynamics

The silence in the square guard’s quarters was thick enough to cut with a knife. You stood stiffly near the door, unsure of what to expect, your hands clasped behind your back. It wasn’t every day you were summoned by the square guard himself—your superior, the one who barked orders and ensured every task was carried out with precision.

“Relax,” his voice came, smooth but authoritative, as he leaned back in his chair. His mask, angular and imposing, tilted ever so slightly in your direction. “I didn’t call you here for a disciplinary matter.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say. Beneath your own circular mask, your pulse raced. What could he possibly want from you?

“I’ve noticed you,” he continued, rising from his chair. He moved with an unnerving calm, his black-gloved hands clasped behind his back. “You’re efficient. Quiet. Not like some of the others who bumble around like they’ve forgotten the rules the moment they step into this place.”

“Thank you, sir,” you replied quickly, your voice steady despite the warmth creeping up your neck.

He stopped just a few feet away, towering over you, his presence as commanding as ever. “It’s not a compliment,” he said, though there was an edge of something—admiration, perhaps?—in his tone. “It’s an observation.”

You swallowed hard. “Understood.”

For a moment, the room was silent again, save for the soft hum of the overhead lights. Then, he reached up, his fingers brushing the edge of his mask. With a deliberate motion, he removed it, revealing sharp features and an intense gaze that seemed to pierce right through you.

You froze. Protocol dictated that guards never reveal their faces, let alone their superiors. But here he was, unmasked, watching you closely, waiting for a reaction.

“You’re wondering why I called you here,” he said, his lips curving into a faint smirk.

“I… yes, sir.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping just enough to make the air between you feel charged. “I’ve had a long day, and I thought I could use some… company.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in. The subtle shift in his tone, the way his eyes lingered on yours—it was clear what he meant.

“I—uh—”

“Relax,” he said again, this time softer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. “No one’s going to know. And if they do, they won’t dare say a word.”

Before you could process what was happening, he removed your mask, and he closed the gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was anything but tentative. It was firm, commanding, yet somehow inviting. His gloved hands cupped your face, holding you in place as his lips moved against yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

Your mask clattered to the floor as you reached up, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. His lips were warm, his stubble rough against your skin, and the sheer dominance in the way he kissed you sent a thrill down your spine.

The kiss deepened, growing messy and desperate as his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. You couldn’t help the small noise that escaped your throat, which only seemed to spur him on.

“You’ve been driving me crazy,” he murmured against your lips, his breath warm and ragged.

“Me?” you managed to gasp out between kisses.

“Don’t play coy,” he said, his smirk evident even as he pressed another searing kiss to your lips. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

The heat between you was electric, your heart pounding in your chest as his hands roamed, firm but controlled. He kissed you like he owned you, and for the moment, you didn’t mind at all.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your lips swollen and your faces flushed. He ran a gloved thumb over your bottom lip, his eyes dark and unreadable.

He roughly  pushed you down to your knees, and unbuckled his belt. Before you could say anything, his erection sprang out, hitting your cheek lightly.

“You know what to do,” he stated, so you kissed the angry red tip before swallowing his length.

He hissed and threw his head back, which you assumed was a green flag to continue. You bobbed your head up and down his length, while using your hands to massage his balls heavy with his load.

He gripped your hair harshly, forcing you to take him all the way until your nose pressed against his pubes.

You mumbled incoherently around his length, to which he groaned before snapping his hips back and forth into your mouth at a rapid pace.

He sensed that he was about to climax, and his grip on your hair tightened. Knowing not to pull away, you scrunched your eyes closed and waited.

No sooner than a few seconds, he pushed your head all the way to his hilt, the musky scent of his balls hitting you. Your hands gripped on his thighs while he forced you to swallow his entire load, before slowly pulling out.

As you lay there panting and your knees feeling quite numb, you hear the sound of a gun clicking in place.

“I assume you know the rules, any guard caught without their mask is to be…terminated. No hard feelings.”

A shot is fired.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.