THINGS IM CONVINCED CHRIS DOES DURING SEX

Roaming Hands

Parings: Tom x Reader

Summary: You wake up early morning and need Tom

Warnings: Unprotected smut, dirty talk, small amount of anal stuff and talk of it

A/N: This is a request for @true-queen-of-mischief, hope you’re feeling better love. This can be read as a one shot, or as a sequel to Magic Hands. I have it linked next to the Masterlist

Word Count: 850

Masterlist | Magic Hands

You woke early in the morning and grabbed for your phone on the coffee table to check the time, it was only 3:39am. You tried to stretch out, but Tom’s grasp on you was too tight, you could barely move. You felt him stir behind you.

“What time is it love?” He asked; his voice thick with sleep.

“3:40 in the morning,” you yawned, covering your mouth as you spoke.

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｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ cassian x reader x azriel

.・゜-: ✧ :- cassian wants a baby. sm//ut

You couldn't recall how long you've been here. It could be hours. Days. Years. You could spend the rest of your life here and you wouldn't mind. Not as long as you were theirs.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Az and I fucking you until you're with child? Fuck, I want nothing more than to watch as you swell, tits get heavy and filled with milk. As you become a desperate little whore for Az and I. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Az and I filling you to the brim with us?"

You couldn't reply as Azriel fucked your mouth, the choked sounds as he pounded without forgiveness the only response you gave. That and your trembling walls, tightening around him. "And what would you say, Az?"

Cassian fists your hair, jerking your mouth away from Azriel. Azriel lets out a hiss, fingers curling around the air of the table. With a hard thrust, let out a whimper. Cassian's thrusts slowed, the pause had you grinding back against him. The heat in your belly, the one that neither started nor ended in your cunt, throbbed with need.

With them.

During his pause, Cassian waits to see if you need a break. If you need his relentless neverending pace to let up. You shook your head, Cassian's rhythm where he left off.

You were certain you'd have purple bruises on your hips. You knew Azriel would take great care in rubbing a salve on them, in kissing away the soreness after he presses into the fresh intensity of them, reveling in the jerk of your body and the sounds that came from you.

"What?" Azriel demanded. His hips buck against the empty air, the arm pinned high on your back grasping a handful of Cassian's thick arm. You look up at Azriel. "Would you like to see our dearest Y/n with your child? My child? They're fucking marvelous as it is, of course, but Cauldron, I don't think I'd be able to keep my hands off them,"

Azriel heaved, cock straining harder if possible. Cassian released your hair, Azriel taking back his place. You gagged around him. He buried himself to the hilt, resting against the back of your throat. Cassian cursed at the sight. At how well you took them both.

Azriel waited until you adjusted to his size — until you were no longer fighting for lovely oxygen — before his pace slowed. "I think she'll have to earn it," Their conversation — as casual as it would be if they were asking about fucking flowers or the weather — only continued.

Azriel's cock left you thoroughly gagged, unable to offer input of any kind. It drove you insane. Your nails dug into Cassian's wrist. "I think they're doing pretty well now, wouldn't you say? Do you remember there was a time she could hardly take one of us? Now, look at her. A wonderful whore,"

You moaned. The sound was only drowned out by Azriel's pace quickening again. Cassian smacked your ass, the color now tinted with pale pink.

Hot spurts of cum shot down your throat, the salty taste of Azriel filling your mouth. You swallowed. Azriel pulled out, crouching down to kiss the top of your head. He smoothed his scarred fingers through your hair, brushing it out of your eyes. You panted, only able to focus on the pressure Cassian was putting on your clit. The pressure building in your core.

"You're doing so wonderfully, aren't you, Y/n?" He waited until you nodded, kissing you gently. If he could taste himself on your mouth, he made no show of it.

You were so sensitive to the world around you. You could feel each vein on Cassian's cock, each touch Azriel left on you as his hand moved down, pinching a nipple and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. His other hand gently tilted your head to the side, leaving marks in the wake of his mouth as he branded you as his own.

You clamped down around Cassian, crying when you came. Tired, body exhausted, and covered in sweat and fluids from the previous rounds they'd already put your body through. Cassian kept his pace, his hips hitting the back of you as he didn't ease up his touch on your clit.

"Azriel, Azriel, Azriel, Cassian, Cassian, Az, Cass, please—" Their names blurred together, muddled as you begged as another release built within you. Cassian came with a shout, leaning over you and kissing the back of your neck.

You clenched your jaw, nearly bursting into tears when he pulled out of you, entirely empty for the first time in hours. Azriel was already hard again, his gentle murmurings falling onto deaf ears when he stood again, taking Cassian's place.

"We should," Azriel says, all pretense from before was gone. "Fuck her until she can't walk. Until she can't think of anything other than how full of our seed she is,"

Cassian chuckles, tilting your head up, "I think she's nearly there," Your eyes rolled back when Azriel pushed himself into you. Your walls quivered, tightening down onto his large girth.

"What would you like, doll?" Cassian's hazel eyes darkened. "Do you want our baby? Do you want the frenzy that comes with it? You can hardly keep your hands off us now. You'll be insatiable. Do you want that?"

Your cries as Azriel fucked you answered enough.

can you write about dom!poly!marauders x sub!fem reader with them like outside of the bedroom with casual dominance? i hope this makes sense. i love your writing!

cw: fluff, casual dominance, creepy guy touches you near the end

“C’mon, up.” Sirius patted his thigh as he knelt, and you planted your shoe atop his leg. He tied the black laces of your ankle before patting your ankle, telling you to lower your foot. He stood, brushing his pristine slacks.

His hand returned to yours, fingers entangled as he pulled you along through Hogsmeade. Remus had a hand on you, too, right on your lower back. James settled for walking nearby, within arms length. They liked to be touching you at all times, for safety they would say.

Sirius held the door for you as James helped you over the threshold to The Three Broomsticks. The atmosphere warmed you instantly, lanterns illuminating the tavern and hearth glowing. The four of you took your usual seats in the back.

“Bangers and mash for me, and she’ll have apple pie, and a butter beer, please.” Remus ordered for you, giving the waitress a small smile. Of course you could order for yourself, but you never wanted to. The way they would take control for you made you feel small, protected.

When your hair fell into your face, James was quick to pull your hair back, holding it for you while you took a bite. The entire time, Remus kept his paw steady on your thigh, squeezing every once in a while.

After your meal, they took you into Honeydukes for a treat. You browsed the aisles of candy, landing on a box of peppermint toads. Happy with your decision, you went to find your boyfriends. But then, another sweet caught your eye. The brightly colored box of fizzing whizzbees beckoned you forward, hand reaching out to pluck the box from the shelf.

You were only allowed one item, you knew that. So, when Remus denied you, you turned to James. Giving him your biggest puppy dog eyes, you silently pleaded with him. James was strong in his will, crossing his arms with a stern look, telling you no wordlessly. You huffed in annoyance, returning the whizzbees to the shelf.

“That’s our good girl,” Sirius cooed as he paid for your candy, handing you the small bag. “Thank you, Si.” You placed a kiss on his cheek, placing both hands on his shoulder. You reentered the brisk, fall air, the cool breeze chilling your nose. You looked up, watching the smoke that billowed from the chimneys above.

When you looked back down, you realized you were suddenly unaccompanied in Hogsmeade. The boys having wandered off into a nearby shop, leaving you by your lonesome. A boy from your class approached, “Y’look lost, sweetheart.” You blushed uncomfortably at the pet name. “O-oh no my, my-”

“It’s okay,” he slipped a hand around your waist. “Why don’t I help you find your way back to my dorm.” His tone was all too suggestive for your liking, and you knew it wouldn’t be good if-

Sirius snaked a hand beneath your hair to grab your neck. “Is he bothering you, puppy?” Remus, James, and Sirius had returned to your side, crowding around you. Remus removed the unwelcomed hand that graced your skin, squeezing so hard you feared Remus might break his bones. The boy watched as Sirius’ fists clenched by his sides and James’ jaw tightened. He stepped back, strides faltering as he stuttered, “I-I think I’ll just be going.”

“That’s a great idea, mate.” James called out as the boy turned, running back to the castle. They wouldn’t tell you what they were planning on doing to the poor boy later, but when you were passing by the hospital wing one day, you figured it out.

TAGLIST: @ottjord @312903 @advictedtohim @itskailey24 @main-feetoffthetable @qualitybelieverflower @mollysolo @sorayasorayita @sgchamberlain @i-love-scott-mccall @wh0reforthemarauders @thewinterhunter @v4l3nt1n44 @emmaev @greenlyblue @harmqnia @maitaisonthebeach @riddikulusweasleys

Stubborn | Minho

Pairing: Minho x Female Reader

Warnings: blood, near death, cursing??

WC; 2.5K

synopsis: yes, it does take a near death experience to finally admit your feelings

a/n: probably my last imagine before 2021 SO HAPPY NEW YEAR BYE 2020

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

“I’m just saying,” Newt said, arms crossed. “It would save everyone a lot of pain and headaches if one of you just said it.”

“I’m not a liar,” You replied.

“You’re lying to yourself right now,” Newt smirked, watching as your gaze hardened and you smacked his arm.

Thomas jogs up to the two of you, taking one glance at Newt rubbing his arm and you pursing your lips and looking the other way.

“Newt’s right.”

You spin around, mouth open, “How did you?—”

Thomas shrugs, “Call it a third sense, but whatever he said about Minho, you should listen.”

You scoff at the two boys, thoughts running around in your head.

You were in love with your best friend, it was plain as day.

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Laced Around Your Throat

Summary: Your Mob boyfriend knows that the only thing that looks even better than his hand around your throat is his custom made necklace. You’re his girl and the world needs to know it. 

Pairing: Mafia!Steve x Reader, Mafia!Bucky x Reader

Word count: 2.5K 

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, possessive behavior, exhibitionism, voyeurism,  cockwarming, oral (m receiving), fingering (x 2), choking, very brief daddy kink (mentioned once)

 𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘢’𝘥 by the wonderful @whisperlullaby​, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 (𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵) However no permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post any parts of my stories anywhere (reblogs are great). 

Check out my Masterlist and Taglist! Requests are closed 

A/N: Requested. 

Steve runs New York with an iron fist, sharing his wealth and power with his best friend Bucky. His legitimate businesses are lucrative fronts for the state’s largest criminal organizations. Rumors run rampant through the boroughs about the golden hair CEO and the mysterious brunet known only to the public as the Winter Soldier, however, no one dares to say anything too loud.

No one is brave enough to risk his wrath. Louder than the rumors of the mob boss are the whispers about what happens to his enemies. 

He has the police in his pocket, the governor on speed dial, and senators begging for a meeting. 

While people know of Steve Rogers, very few know the man behind his meticulously crafted façade. 

Steve has worked hard to keep his name away from his more nefarious dealings, content to let others take credit for his handiwork. It’s easier for him to rule when people are unaware of everything that he owns. His privacy is more important to him than the notoriety that comes with his status. 

There is one thing, one person, he does claim. 

You.

Oh, Steve loves you. You belong to him. His feral need to claim you that grows more powerful each day. He’s not happy until he’s fucked you senseless, so thoroughly and deeply, that you feel him long after he’s slipped out of your tight warm pussy, his passionate lovemaking leaves you wearing his marks all over your soft thighs and chest. 

It’s a vicious cycle, seeing you marked up makes him want to mark you even more. Hearing you scream out his name as he fucks you makes him go harder until you’re wrecked, overstimulated and limp on the bed. A vicious cycle that you can’t get enough of. Neither can he. 

But nothing compares to how his hand curves perfectly around your throat, your skin painted with bruises from his thick fingers, lips, and teeth. Steve knows only one thing will look better around your throat. 

His name. 

He had the necklace designed by a French artist and handcrafted by an Italian jeweler. The black diamonds woven throughout the collar enhanced the colorful crimson rubies, his name etched in the braided tassel that could be split apart and attached to the ends of the necklace, hanging in loops over your collarbone. 

Or it can be left down, dropping between your breasts, his name twisting with each sway of the chain. When Steve saw how perfectly it fit on you, he knew it was worth every penny, he would spend millions to have more commissioned for you. His girl. 

The night he put it on you, seeing his name on against your skin changed something in him. His alpha side reaching new heights. You watched in awe and heady anticipation as he swiftly removed his clothes, ordering you to stay still. 

“Sweetheart, now is not the time to tease me, I can’t be responsible for what I’ll do.” He swore, his voice deepening the longer he stared at you. 

Steve’s hands trembled with the urge to choke you, his desire to be inside you overwhelming his senses, all he could see was you splayed on his gigantic bed, naked and ready for him. The necklace glinting under the lights; the sight fraying his barely there control. When you tugged on it, murmuring his name, he snapped. 

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Azriel ~ Beautiful*

Azriel x Reader

* = NSFW. EXPLICIT CONTENT.

Summary: An imagine where you and Azriel find yourselves in the same inn that Rhys and Feyre inhabited 100 years earlier. Hidden feelings and declarations may be made.

Warning: light-ish smut, mention of scars and mental struggles/mental health incl. feelings of self-loathing, being worthless and not good enough, being undeserving of love. Please consider your decision to read this if you are experiencing these feelings.

You are loved. I love you.

Word Count: 3537

I shivered throughly in the cold, teeth chattering lightly from behind my frozen lips. Feyre wasn’t kidding when she’d told us this inn was like an ice box - even to the thick skin of the High Fae.

The order from our esteemed High Lady had led to the necessary overnight stay in the same inn she and Rhys had stayed about a century ago. Feyre and I had become fast friends after the war with Hybern, after the Court of Nightmares had been allowed restricted entry into Velaris as part of Keir’s Darkbringers being…loaned to them.

Velaris was everything I had wanted, everything I had dreamed of. Like Mor, I was a dreamer born into the Court of Nightmares and my kindred heart had spoken to everyone in the inner circle - it hadn’t taken long before I became yet another number.

“Are you alright?” Azriel’s low, deep voice curled around me, another shiver eliciting from me as he closed the door to the room behind us with a soft click.

“Just…cold” I sigh, “Feyre wasn’t kidding.”

Azriel chuckled softly - so softly the sound escaped and vanished into the mist of warm breath it elicited from his mouth.

Turning to face the room, I realised there wasn’t much in it - just grey floorboards, grey walls and…one bed.

Feyre.

I growled internally, finally coming to the conclusion that this entire trip was most likely merely nothing more than another of her matchmaking schemes she had become known for over the years.

Feyre Cursebreaker, more like Feyre Matchmaker.

It was no secret that Azriel and I had danced over our attraction for each other ever since we’d met.

It was a source of relief for the entire Circle - most notably, Mor, whom with Azriel’s attention somewhat divided from her, had finally come out to us all about 50 years ago, the final nail in the coffin of Azriel’s pining.

The relief of the entire Court was palpable when those longing glances towards Mor, the awkward tension, Cassian’s odd scapegoat role all vanished - but was almost immediately followed with trepidation as those wandering looks turned to me instead.

In some ways, I could understand their frustration, it was so clear how we felt for each other - but we’d never acted on it, never said it. It was an unspoken acknowledgement that went, for the most part…unacknowledged.

For whatever reason - whether it be my own trauma, my own issues, or the fact he had spent over 500 years pining for the same woman…we-I just wasn’t ready to admit it, to say it, to..act on it.

No doubt why Feyre was subtly pulling the strings behind the scenes to make it happen.

“I did request a second bed” Azriel says, “But the innkeeper said they didn’t have one and…”

“It wouldn’t fit” I shake my head, finishing his sentence, “Not in this shoebox, no.”

Azriel nodded in agreement, head ducking just a little lower, “I will sleep on the floor.”

“You will do no such thing” I scoff, prancing toward the bed and slumping onto it, patting the empty space beside me, “We’ve been friends for 100 years, Azriel, I’m sure we can share a bed.”

“Alright” Azriel agrees tentatively, a ghost of a smile flickering upon his sensual lips…I tear my gaze away from those lips and instead meet his eyes as he flares his wings a little, allowing them the stretch before he would undoubtedly need to tuck them in for the rest of the night to avoid them getting caught on the snags in the floorboards.

Halfway to the bed, he stops and begins to disarm himself, beginning with his Siphoned gauntlets, the weapons adorning his legs and arms and any spare space a blade could fit. Truth-Teller, however, remained sheathed at his side.

As he prepared himself for bed, I lay down on the mattress, sliding back towards where the slant in the roof was, tucking myself under the sheets and curling into a ball on my side, facing him - allowing him the side with more room, more space to stretch those wings out.

Noticing my courtesy, he smiles softly in thanks. I duck my head in a silent ‘you’re welcome.’

It had always been like that with us - able to communicate with smiles and nods and gestures, rarely needing to rely on words.

Of course, Feyre liked to see that as a potential mating bond but that…that was, at this point, a slim possibility. The only thing that could potentially unveil it would be…

I growl softly, this time outwardly, at the realisation. Azriel stops mid way from sliding into the bed, shooting a curious and concerned look at me. I shake my head, confirming its not him I’m growling at, and he continues his descent into the bed, wings flaring out and behind him.

Having sex.

That was the only thing that could possibly reveal a mating bond between us and our position now, in the same bed, the same inn that Feyre had-

Fucking Feyre.

Another low growl slips from me and this time, gestures weren’t enough for Azriel as he said, “What’s wrong?”

This time I didn’t dodge the question, “Feyre. And her incessant meddling.”

Another soft smile from Azriel, “You would think she’d get bored of it.”

“Oh, I doubt it.” I scoff, “Not until every one of us is paired up and as happy as she is.”

The statement seemed to make Azriel slightly uncomfortable - perhaps too close to the confession neither of us had made or would make…maybe ever.

I let the room fall into a comfortable quiet and end up finding myself…staring at him. His eyes, more specifically. Almost identical to Cassian’s, but where Cass’s fire brightened them, flaring like a living ember amongst the brown and green and yellows of his golden hazel eyes, Azriel’s was…like a living golden flame made ice.

The brightness, the colour was all there but amongst the multi-hued tones of hazel, there were flickers of ice blue so infinitesimal I hadn’t even noticed them until now, where I was so close, so wholly focused on nothing but those hazel depths…

A soft, almost silent gasp elicited from me as I realised that as I stared at him - into him, drinking in the colours and hues and shades of his eyes…he was also doing the same to me. The sudden sound, too, brought him out of it and his gaze dropped from my eyes - not wholly away from me, never that, but just…focused less on my eyes and more on my entire face, the way a friend would usually look at another while talking.

My brows creased a bit, the slightest of frowns - why did we bother with this dance? With denying what we so clearly felt?

To distract myself from ruminating too much more on those thoughts or from Azriel requesting to know them, I uncurled myself from my little ball, stretching my arms before me, reaching for Azriel’s forearm.

He slid his arm back slightly, hesitating and wary, the scars upon them bleached a stark white, setting them shimmering as if they reflected that light. I paused my own movements, again meeting his eyes, my gaze questioning, beseeching…requesting. With a small tremor of his hand, he extended it towards me, palm down, right above my own extended hand. An offering.

I took his hand in mine, so warm despite the ice in his eyes, the ice in his shadows I could feel emanating from behind me, encasing the rest of the room in darkness. If anyone were to walk in, they’d see nothing but black despite the power of the full moon’s light.

With my other hand, I brushed softly over those harsh scars, the little light illuminating the space we lay casting them an even paler shade, so stark against his tanned skin. A harsh intake of breath again paused me in my movements - well, it was harsh for Azriel. For anyone else it was barely a gasp but for the silent, stalwart spymaster…it was a loud sound.

Meeting his eyes, another question within them, I wait for his answering gaze, the permission to continue. A barely perceptible nod and I continued my exploration of those scars. Cold - colder than the rest of his skin, shimmering with an iridescent light, and smooth and silky compared to his palm, covered in calluses from weapon wielding.

Before I can make myself reconsider, I make the boldest move I’d ever made with him - bending my head before those scars with a reverent gentleness, I brushed my lips across the top of his hand in a soft, light kiss, the silky-smoothness of his scars like a gentle, cool caress.

“Beautiful” I whisper into the darkness, raising my head to meet his gaze once again.

Raw, undiluted emotion swam within them - so at odds against the cold set of his face, the mask he never let slip - in front of me, in front of Mor, in front of Rhys. Nobody.

A glimmer of silver traced the line of his eye - tears. Tears he wouldn’t shed, I knew that, but the sight of them there…it broke me. So did the doubt tinged with disgust.

“They’re beautiful” I enunciated again, forcing him to hear the words, the truth behind them.

Azriel closed his eyes, hand tightening around mine. I squeezed back and his wings flared in the shadow-kissed dark. I could have sworn they also shuddered delicately.

I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the words I was about to speak. The declaration I was finally going to make.

There would be no more skirting around the feelings we both knew I felt…that he felt.

“Azriel, I-” I swallow loudly, forcing the nerves to abate - even if for just a moment, “I-”

“Don’t say it,” his words were a broken plea, a wrought and destroyed thing, “Please, don’t say it.”

“Why” I breathed, not quite a question, my brows furrowing with hurt - maybe he didn’t feel how I thought he did.

“I’m not worthy of it. I’m a bastard born…nothing” His voice…it destroyed me, wrecked me, shattered me with the pain it portrayed, the full scope of how worthless he felt.

I wished he had just told me he didn’t feel the same. That he just didn’t want to ruin a friendship so personal to him. Or even that he just blatantly wasn’t interested.

Anything but this…self-loathing.

That mask, the one of cold indifference, of calculating calm…it slipped and - faltered completely. That one form of protection he put out to the world, his way of protecting his very soul, now disappeared before me - only for me, perhaps even only now, for this one moment of complete and total vulnerability.

The emotion from his eyes now leaked into every feature of his face, bowing his eyebrows toward his nose in a deep, self-loathing frown, his mouth downturned, his throat bobbing and those tears…one indeed slipped from his eye.

I released one of his hands from my touch, guiding that now free hand to wipe the tear from his cheek, the silvery wetness of it clinging to my finger.

I studied it, the glistening moisture of it that shimmered like suppressed stars on my finger. As beautiful as the rest of him. Perhaps pathetic to think about a tear as such, but it was almost impossible for me to see anything that related to Azriel and not think it a thing of beauty.

When my gaze unfocused from that tear, I went to meet his eyes again only to see his shadows were ensconcing him. He was almost completely invisible, his wings nothing more than blackness. Disappearing before my eyes.

I couldn’t beat it.

“No” I breathe, this time grabbing both of his hands, clutching them to my chest, his scars resting upon my collarbone. I slid myself closer, so close that I encroached upon his shadows, forcing them either to scatter or to envelop me too.

A pause in the shadows movement - considering. With a shuddering breath, I whispered, “Don’t hide from me. Never hide - not from me. Please.”

Suddenly, the shadows surged forward, swallowing us both in their darkness, the moon’s light disappearing as the solid warmth of Azriel’s body chased away the endless cold of them.

His shadows made seeing him impossible and, for a moment, I thought maybe he knew - they knew - what I was about to say next, that he could only stomach hearing me out, allowing me to say my piece if he didn’t have to see the sincerity upon my face…allowing me to see the emotion on his.

“You are worthy” I said, my voice a soft and distraught mess, “By the Mother, Azriel, you are so worthy. You are beautiful and strong and courageous and loyal and I…I love you.”

The shadows stopped their writhing, turning the once roiling darkness into a solid blanket coating us.

“You love me?”

And Mother help me, the uncertainty, the surprise and shock in those words…it fractured me even more.

“Let me see you” I begged. I would not tell him these things with those shadows hiding him from my sight any longer. The shadows stayed. “Azriel, please.”

My wrecked plea was the shadows undoing, his undoing, and they floated back, drifting on that phantom wind to again cover the space between his wings and the door, revealing all of him to me.

“Yes” I whispered, “I do love you. I have loved you for a long while…but you already knew that. We both did.”

The vulnerability seemed to overwhelm him and again those shadows seemed to subconsciously creep closer. Releasing his scarred and beautiful hands from my chest, I let them drop to the bed and slid myself into the last pocket of space between our bodies, my arms sliding between the spaces either side of his face to link around his neck, to hold me unbreakably to him.

“No” I growled, the first harsh words I’d spoken this night, “No more hiding. If your shadows come to claim you, they must now do the same to me.”

He knew I didn’t mean the literal shadows behind him, around him - it was the shadows within him I spoke of.

The fear and pain and self-hate that plagued his every thought, that stopped him from ever pursuing Mor, from pursuing me. No longer would they tell him he didn’t deserve what he wanted, what he desired.

Never again.

It took me a moment to realise he’d restrained the shadows. I met his eyes, to see the emotion there, to realise neither of us had spoken in a while.

“I…” His voice hitched, his breathing uneven and I watched the internal battle behind his eyes of what I said and he felt and what his mental scars and trauma told him he deserved, “I…have always loved you.”

The last four words rushed out like an avalanche, in one smooth motion, encompassed on one breath.

My eyebrows twitched inward, a momentary frown as I fought back the tears that threatened to spill. Instead, I beamed at him, the light radiating from it rivalling the moonlight’s glare behind me.

“You’re beautiful” Azriel whispered in wonder, his attention fixed on that beaming smile - only for him, “So beautiful.”

“Stealing my words now, are you?” I smirk, bringing in some much needed humour to cut the tension of our confessions, the pain and relief that mingled there, “Have you none of your own?”

Azriel’s face contorted into a mask I knew meant trouble, “I don’t need to resort to words”

My toes curled at the possession in his tone, the seductive and sultry promise.

Scenting the change in me, as quickly as the atmosphere of the room was now changing, he smirked, “Not here.”

I pouted and he let out a low snarl, his own hands sliding around my waist to pull me ever closer, flush to his body, legs tangling with mine. I tilted my head upward, exposing the column of my throat in an effort to better meet his eyes with our changed position…and in a silent request.

"Stop that” he growled, the pout still pasted to my face.

“Stop what?” I asked innocently, batting my eyelashes slightly - and having to clamp down on the laugh that threatened to burst from me at the action.

“Everything” Azriel responded cryptically, “Stop pouting that damn lip, for starters.”

I sucked in a breath, habitually pulling my bottom lip into my mouth and biting softly on it.

That was it.

Azriel swooped upon me, pulling that lip from the cage of my teeth to capture it with his, kissing me possessively as he bit down on my bottom lip himself.

I hitched a leg over his waist, the inside of my knee nocking itself into the slight dip of his torso. It felt so natural - fit so perfectly. Azriel released a hand from my waist to hike that leg higher, to pull the rest of my body into the space it left open.

Releasing my lips, he bowed his forehead to touch mine, sighing softly, “I will not fuck you here, Y/N.”

I whimpered softly and felt the evidence of what that sound did to him upon my stomach. My breathing became difficult, each inhale heavier and deeper than the last.

“Your mouth says no” I chuckled, pushing my chest closer to him, feeling the hardness of him grow in response to the added pressure, “But your body…”

“I have no doubt your own body is begging for it” Azriel cut in, the lust roughening his voice into a serrated edge, “I have no doubt what evidence I’d find between your legs”

Indeed.

My toes curled, my thigh constricting across his body with the same pressure I would apply if my thighs were together…but the prick held tight to my leg, stopping me from withdrawing it and providing the much needed pressure I now craved.

“I will not fuck you here.” He repeated, his head bending to brush his silken lips along the exposed column of my throat, trailing upward along the scope of it to the bottom of my ear where they pressed softly to my earlobe.

I shuddered gently against him and inhaled deeply. He was playing dirty…well, so could I.

Unlocking my fingers from each other, I extended a single hand towards that gauzy membrane, catching his eyes with mine so I could watch what it did to him as I brushed a finger along the inside of his wing, the feeling shockingly similar to his scars.

He flinched and hissed, his breath gusting into the shell of my ear as the hands around my waist and thigh tightened, the length of him hardening even more against my stomach. His eyes were set ablaze - not the simmering ember of Cassian’s but an icy fire - a cold so harsh it burned.

“Forgive me for wanting what I want” I whispered into his own ear, interlacing my fingers again as his wings shivered and then settled, “It has been a century.”

“A century?” Gone was the lust from his voice - though he still remained hard against me, that icy flame still smouldering, “You haven’t…”

I blushed at the unfinished question.

No, actually, I hadn’t been with another male since I’d met Azriel. I’d had opportunities, people who were interested but…I could never bring myself to do it.

No matter how many times Azriel took a female home.

“But I-” That guilt and self-loathing encroached upon his expression again and I shook my head emphatically.

Even Feyre Matchmaker had tried to convince me to take the edge off but despite having a need for touch, for taste, for contact - it was all for him. I refused to settle for any less. Even if that meant becoming a eunuch for the rest of my life.

“It doesn’t matter” I assured him, “We had no obligations, no promises.”

At that, he had no argument, no rebuttal. The guilt, however, still shone there, “I never knew how…deep your feelings went.”

“You mean to tell me you don’t feel as strongly?”

“No, of course not” Azriel rushed and I restrained a giggle, “I do feel for you - so deeply. Perhaps I took those females to bed in order to deny what I felt. Because I feel for you so much - so much so I feared maybe we-”

“Maybe we were mates?”

He nodded once.

“Feared?” I question, peering up at him, “Why feared?”

“Because I am unworthy.”

“Azriel-”

“It will take time, Y/N, before that feeling abates.”

I knew that. Deep down, I knew it.

“Well, from what Feyre tells me the only way we can find out if we’re mates at this point is to…”

“I will not fuck you here” Azriel again said but there was no teasing, no seduction - just blatant fact, “When I fuck you, Y/N, I don’t want any kind of audience. Just you and me.”

The sultriness had once again creeped into his voice and I unsuccessfully tried to huff in disappointment…it just came out as a quivering breath.

“Sleep now” Azriel whispered, releasing my leg at long last in favour of stroking my hair, “You’re exhausted.”

“Ha” I let out a breathy chuckle, “You think I could even attempt to fall asleep after all that?”

“Try” he smiled, “After all, the sooner tomorrow comes…the sooner you do.”

I breathed in shakily, toes again curling as I felt his words reverberate through my core, the heat there building.

I had never seen Azriel like this. So cocky and confident and seducitve, so…dominating.

“Right. Sleeping now.” I attempted to joke, closing my eyes suddenly.

“Wait” Azriel whispered and I opened my eyes again at the soft command.

He moved forward, so slowly, and gently pressed his lips to mine. A soft, gentle kiss - the one we would have had after our heartfelt declarations had lust not gotten the better of us.

The heat in my core settled, instead sending a rushing wave of euphoria and light and happiness, soothing me until I…indeed did feel sleepy.

“Ass” I grumbled, as my eyelids slid closed again, this time heavier.

“I told you, you were exhausted” he chuckled, pressing another light kiss to my brow before a different kind of darkness - separate from his shadows pulled me under.

Masterlist

Maze runner ~Cute things you do with Gally~

- - Your very good at bringing out the playful side in Gally

- You always enjoy when Gally wrestles you which eventually turns into a loving hug.

- Gally would always carry you around weather you liked it or not. He would sling you over his shoulder or carry you bride style.

- When harvesting food Gally always has you on his shoulders. You picks all the apples for the top and he picks the bottom.

- Gally loves resting his head on your thighs. There great pillows and he gets a full hour of pleasure as you play around with his hair.

- Gally above everything else loves holding you close.

- He always has his arm around you, when ever he gets the chance.

- Gally prefers holding you around the waist.

- Gally also enjoys bugin you, he will ruffle you hair, pinching you here and there. He enjoys when you start trying to fight him.

- Gally always admired your fiesty side.

- He also loves falling asleep next to you, its just not the same if he's not there.

- He needs to know that your safe and that no body else is threatening your lively hood.

- Gally is so protective.

- Gally is also very supportive, you need something he get it, you sad he cheer you up.

- He will go out of his way to make sure your taken care of. And it doesn't matter how much it cost.

- your his every thing.

If you want more click my masterlist

masterlist - (Click me)

I Can Teach You

dadsbestfriend!bucky x f!reader

word count // 1,858

warnings // SMUT(18+) minors DNI!, swearing, innocence kink, undefined age gap (reader is 21+), use of pet names, oral (both m and f receiving), slight dry humping, mentions of smoking

summary // Bucky teaches Y/n what she missed out on in college

“-And this is my little girl, Y/n.” Your father introduces you to the man in front of you; his eyes roam your body for a second, taking you in. You were too naive to take any notice and instead, give him a warm smile as he places his hand on your arm before giving it a tight squeeze, “Y/n. S’pretty name. I’m Bucky.” You notice his hand lingering a lot longer on your arm than when he introduced himself to the other women at the party. In fact, he had only shook hands with them. But, of course, you shook it off, guessing that it could be because he was closest to your father of all people.

“So, Y/n, how’s it feel to be living back home? Missin’ college yet?” Bucky asks, leaning closer to you so you could hear over the loud conversations happening around you both. “Um, I love being home, actually. College wasn’t what everyone hyped it up to be.” You mumble. Bucky notices the way your hands bunched up the end of the tiny black skirt you were wearing. “Y’alright, sweetie?” His voice was soft as he spoke into your ear. “Y-yeah, just hate these parties my parents throw. ‘Think I might go upstairs and recollect myself,”

“I’ll keep you some company, then. Lead the way,” You frowned. “It’s okay, I couldn’t ask you to leave the party, really.”

“I insist,” He places his hand on the curve of your back. You felt heat rise to your cheeks at his touch, and instead of arguing, you tell yourself he was just being polite, and that you wanted the company. Leading him up the stairs, you audibly sighed when the hallway was clear of anyone from the party; you could feel yourself growing more anxious, though, when you subconsciously lead Bucky to your room.

He takes in the scenery of your small, but elegant room. The walls were painted a cream color with a few band posters scattered on each. Your bed sat in the middle of the room, boxes from college spread out everywhere. “I’m sorry about the mess,” You quickly bent down, pushing boxes out of the way, “I haven’t had the energy to unpack.”

Bucky felt blood rush to his cock as the sight of you bent over, your pink cotton panties peeking out from your skirt, teasing him. He tried to look away, but you had let out a small groan while pushing the last box out of the way, before standing fully and facing the now flustered man, standing with his hands deep inside his pockets. “So,” He clears his throat, “You don’t miss anything about college? Surely, the boys, if not the partying.”

You roll your eyes and take a seat on the edge of your bed. Bucky does the same, sitting close enough for your knees to touch. “No, boys didn’t like me very much- and parties weren’t my thing.” You play with your fingers and ignore the stare Bucky was giving you. “I don’t believe that, sweetie. Boys would very much like you.” He placed his warm hand on your exposed thigh, giving it a squeeze of assurance. You were caught off guard by the gesture but didn’t dare move. “I’ve never even had a kiss before, sir.”

His hands inch up more, dangerously close to your throbbing core; you didn’t understand why you were feeling like this, and with your dad’s friend, of all people. “Have you ever thought about what it’d feel like?” His thumb was tracing circles into your thigh. You spread your legs wider, sending him a genuine, innocent look, “Yes.” You weren't sure whether he had meant a simple kiss or more, but you were willing to find out.

“I can teach you some stuff. I was in college once, you know.” You moan as he presses the pad of his thumb onto your clothed pussy, the pressure adding a whole new sensation you’ve never felt before. You dip your head back, rutting your hips to apply more pressure than what Bucky was giving you, shocking yourself with the action. “My dad could walk in-”

“Shh, nobody knows what we’re doing. Unless you want me to stop?” He jerks his hand away suddenly and your eyes grow wide, “No, please- want more, please, Bucky.” You beg, dropping to your knees in between his legs, your big doe eyes staring up at him. Bucky’s hard cock was pressing against his jeans uncomfortably. He’d be torturing himself if he kept teasing you any longer. “Come er,”

He pulls you into his lap and kisses the corner of your mouth, before placing his lips onto yours. You stiffen for a moment, but relax into the kiss, letting his tongue slip into your mouth. He bites your bottom lip and you moan, rocking your hips against him, the material of his jeans creating just the right amount of friction. “Y’wanna feel good, hm?” He grabs your waist and guides you to rock back and forth against his hard-on, causing a tight pit in your stomach to form. “I’m gonna make you feel good, okay?”

He lifts you up momentarily to lie you down on the bed, lying flat on your back. “This okay?” His fingers dip into the waistband of your skirt, tugging only slightly as he waits for a response. You nod at him and lift your hips so he’d have easier access, and his mouth waters at your dripping wet cunt. “Such a pretty pussy, honey.” He spreads your legs and begins to trail wet open mouth kisses up your legs, going agonizingly slow once he reaches your thighs, close to your core.

You whimper at the feeling of his hot breath blowing air into your heat. “Be patient.” He kisses your pussy before pressing his tongue flat against it; “Oh, my god-” You grab his head, your instincts making you tug him away. He continues to eat you out now, moaning into you as you pull his hair. You felt a wave of guilt wash over you for a moment; here you were, in your room, your dad's friend between your legs as he completely devoured you- all while your parents were downstairs, hosting a party.

The guilt you felt was soon replaced as the coil in your stomach unraveled. “I think I'm-” You whimper, not able to finish telling him as you cum. He swallows up all of you, licking you clean. “Taste so good,” He mumbles, massaging your shaking thighs. You feel your whole body relax into the bed; you were starting to hate that this was the first time you've felt such pleasure. “We should head back soon, sweetie-”

“Can I...suck you off?” You weren't ready to go back out to the party. You wanted to return the favor.

His cock was still pressed against the zipper of his pants, and he wasn't planning on releasing himself now that you were willing. “Take me out, then.” He watches as you happily jump up from your bed and drop to your knees in front of him, your shaky hands undoing his belt buckle and pulling him out. He hisses as you take him in your hands, tilting your head while gazing up at him. You never did this before, but it didn't mean you were clueless. Bucky had started to mumble something under his breath before you took him in your mouth.

“Ah, s-shit,” You swirl your tongue over his tip, then slowly wrap your lips around him fully. You were making your way slowly down the base of his length when he gripped the back of your head and thrust himself into your mouth. You grip either side of his thighs, feeling hot tears brim your eyes as you try to recover. “S-sorry, honey...felt too good.” You silently nod and continue until you've nearly taken all of him in your mouth. It felt so foreign, yet the moans and curses leaving the man's lips gave you butterflies; you loved it.

When you hallow out your cheeks, he grips your hair into a makeshift ponytail, fucking your mouth now that he knows you can take it. “So good for me, doll.” Bucky grunts as the familiar feeling builds up in his stomach, “I'm gonna cum,” He warns, but you take your hand and begin to jerk him off.

Bucky holds your head in place while he shoots ropes of his salty cum down in your mouth. You instantly swallowed the load and pulled back, your mouth popping as he took his cock out. You look up at him with a wide smile.

Bucky wanted to take a picture of the sight in front of him; your hair was mussed from his hands being tangled in it and your mascara was smudged from your tears, “Did I do good?” You whisper, waiting for some sort of praise from the man. “Sweetie, you did fucking amazing,” He wipes his thumbs over your face, cleaning the mess he had made of you.

You swelled up with pride and beamed up at him, you opened your mouth to thank him before there was a sharp knock on your door.

“Sweetie, you in here?” Your dad's muffled voice asks. You quickly swallow the lump in your throat and answer, “Y- yes daddy! I had a headache so I came up here, one second!” The lie fell from your lips and you stood to your feet, finally meeting Bucky’s gaze. He was smirking down at you. “Sorry about this-'' You grab his collar and drag him over to the closet before pushing him in and closing the sliding doors. You then grab your skirt off the floor and quickly tug it on before sliding your panties under the bed. You walk over to your door and open it up to see your father impatiently leaning on the frame.

“Oh, sweetie-” he takes in your appearance, “Have you been crying? if your headache was that bad you should've come to me or your mom,” You quickly shake your head at him and try to hide the obvious blush that crept onto your face, “M’fine, just gonna take a bath and go to bed.”

Your dad squints at your odd behavior, but doesn't question it further. “Alright. Did you happen to see Bucky leave or anything before we came up here?” You raised your brows at him, pretending to think, before shaking your head, “No, not after you introduced us. heard him say something about going outside for a smoke.” You really hoped he was a smoker. “Ah, makes sense- probably talking to Steve out there. Night, sweetie.”

As soon as you shut your door, Bucky steps out of the closet and walks over to you, placing his hands on your waist, “Sure you never hid anyone from him before? you're awfully good at it.” He teases. You shake your head. He leans down and pressed a long, sweet kiss to your lips before winking at you, “Your dad invited me over for the game next weekend. looking forward to seeing you then, sweetie.”

A/N: Let us kick off autumn season with everyone’s favourite pirate! This Imagine is based on requests from @manymanycupsoftea and two anons. This is probably not entirely historically accurate or more than a fluffy piece of even more fluff but… Have fun! 🎃😋

Words: 1913 Warnings: fluff, anxiety (fear of thunderstorms)

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I don’t actually care for anything unless it’s about Sebastian Stan.