Ohh The Way I Cackled At The Latest Stucky X Reader Fic. If You Don't Mind Could You Do Something With

Maze runner boys ~ Reaction to reader with piecing and tatts ~

Yo i got a septum done and i love it so much. It's just so typical cause my friend yet again forced me into doing some stupid shit but i hope you guys like this post. Feel free to messages me if you have any requests.

Hey want to see more check out my masterlist.

Masterlist here (click me)

Minho:

- Minho would have so many questions about your piercing which of coures you would not be able to answer (lol memory loss is a bitch).

- Minho would ask the typical things like wow did those hurt?, How did you get them?, Are they like a part of your body? or Did Chuck draw on u?

- Minho just thinks you look really cool and naturally wants to do more.

- Its not uncommon for Minho to trace over your tattoos as he eyes them up closely.

- Depending on what piercing you have Minho might touch them, like if there on your ears for example.

- This still doesn't mean that he wont look up your nose if you have a nose piercing's.

- It's kinda awkward but its still cute and makes you blush.

- Minho would definitely want matching tatts.

- Minho respects you and your style, simple cause it looks painful but still very cool and different.

- Minho was definitely intimidated when he first saw you.

Newt:

- When Newt say the piercing he did even know, he didn't know what to say or what to do. He knew this is not a normal thing for gladers....

- Newt would try his best not to stare at them to much, he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable.

- Newt would be so careful as he would hate to bump them.

- Newt would also ask the occasional questions but he doesn't wanna dig to much into it.

- He still 100% support your style, he likes the bold statement you bring.

- He can see you surviving the maze, he knows how stupid that assumption is but he just can't help it.

- Newt personally wouldn't good for the piercing but a small tatt representing your love is all he needs.

- Newt would 100% defend you if any of the gladers where to ever bully you or make you feel uncomfortable with there questions or complements.

- Newt also adores all the cute jewelry you put on, he just appreciates how much you've gone through to enhance your beauty.

- Buts its no difference to him, he would still think your beautiful with or without tatts and piercings.

Thomas:

- Thomas was kinda scared if you at the start...you just gave him bad vibes

- But Thomas soon learn't how lit you actually are.

- Thomas and you would soon become insufferable.

- He can't get enough oh your wild personality and devlishly good looks.

- Thomas would be curious and want to see all your tatts and i mean all your tatts even the ones you hide. He knows its pervy but he's just do interested and wants to hear all the stories behind it.

- Thomas would still stare at your piercings not that you wind it yo much.

- Thomas would overly consider getting anything done cause he nervous that its gonna look bad.

- He would much rather stare and you, heck he could do that all day long. If he doesn't get caught by Alby of course.

Gally:

- You Gally found you mesmerising

- He was really digging the look

- Sure Teresa is good looking but your the bomb.

- Gally would mediately feel the a strong urge of attract towards to.

- Gally would strike up cute little bets like who would win an arm wrestle, who would beat who in an actually wrestle or who can lift the most.

- Your not that strong but your smart, you won a couple bets.

- Gally is kinda hopeless when it come to flirting, its more like doing bro things. But you get it and you still enjoy it.

- Gally would respect you and also become a big simp for you. Cause who wouldn't want to have such an exotic beauty.

- Your his Queen and the only one who can put him in his place.

set my soul alight

summary: loki finally has you right where he wants you.

warnings: slight dubcon, very very nsfw. knife play, enemies to lovers because if you’ve ever spoken to me you know i’m about that shit. as always, don’t read if you’re under 18. 

A/N: okay this is like… almost pure filth i don’t even know what to say. but in honor of no nut november being over imma share what i finished writing the second i had an orgasm for the first time in a month. title from supermassive black hole (yes the one from twilight!!)

—

You’ve done plenty of stupid things in your life. Chasing whiskey with wine coolers, texting back people you probably should have blocked – deciding that yes, working alongside the Avengers seemed like a perfectly reasonable career path for the rest of your life.

You could deal with the spies, the weapons dealers, the abandoned Hydra bases you’d raided for intel from time to time. You’d made peace with the fact that at any moment, you could be summoned for a mission you wouldn’t return from. And, well, it’s hard to regret your decision when it’s more than just walking the line between life and death. It’s the bonds you make with your teammates, the lifelong friendships you know will last with people that leap into the abyss right alongside you.

Oslo, Norway. It was supposed to be simple. You weren’t supposed to get caught. Taken. The question of how you got here is unnecessary, simply chalking it up to just another ill-advised decision you’d make in your life. If it lasts.

The God of Mischief stands before you, clear blue eyes raking over your bound form as he observes you. Your wrists are tied up above your head by what feels like silk, your ankles tied with the same material, bound to what feels like a post attached to a wooden beam. You’re upright, head lolling around on your shoulders as you rouse into consciousness. You become extremely aware of the fact that you’re still in the jeans and top you were wearing while you were supposed to be undercover earlier. Undetectable. So much for that.

“You’re awake.” Loki remarks, taking a calculated step towards you. No shit, you think. You drink him in, clad in an all black suit with his hair brushing the tops of his shoulders. He’s still disarmingly attractive, which is an in-fucking-convenient thought for you to be having considering he’d kidnapped you about – from what you can assume by the absent sun outside the window to your left – one or two hours ago. “Good. I’ve missed you, darling.”

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No bc you know something's wrong when EVEN this mf would be a better Captain America than John Walker

Y'ALL KNOW I'M RIGHT

Felix Imagine Part 1

My first Fanfic on here. idk what I'm doing haha. Hope you guys enjoy

You didn't exactly know how you got there. Having been walking home when a sudden darkness, or shadow, overtook you. When you woke up you were laying against a tree. Sunlight shines through the trees and into your face. With a groan you sat up.

"Wha...?" You wondered looking around at your surroundings

Last thing you remembered was walking down the street. You had finished a small hike to find a geocache that was close to your home. But headed back early upon seeing how far of a hike you would have to take.

Panic started to set in when you realized you weren't home anymore. The sound of birds in nature gave that away. The realization cause you to jump to your feet, instantly getting dizzy.

"Where am I?"

Looking around, you spotted your backpack. Quickly shuffling through, you found your phone. Opening it and seeing you had no service. Anxiety started to hit. Your chest heating up, the world seeming to become numb and exposed at the same time.

You threw your phone in your bag before starting to ground yourself. 5 things you see, 4 things you hear, 3 thing you feel, 2 things you smell, 1 thing you taste. You focused on your breathing while you grounded and felt yourself get a grip on yourself.

As you felt yourself start to improve, you heard a twig snap. Your heart pounded as you snapped your head in that direction. Footsteps could be heard from beyond the bushes. Panic rose again as you grabbed your pack and searched for a place to hide. Opting for a thick Bush by the tree. Diving in as quietly as you could and falling towards the bottom. Mentally hating yourself for not picking a different spot when the uncomfort hit.

"...I'm the one with a better throw!"

"Nu uh!"

'They sound like children' you thought as they argued

"Shut up!"

'Not that one'

You jumped slightly at the voice, mentally cursing when you snapped a twig. The kids continued to argue till the other voice shushed them. Your heart pounded as you closed your eyes and wished to be home.

You let out a sigh of relief when the arguing continued and they kept walking. But the relief was short lived when a pair of hands grabbed your ankle and dragged you out of the bush. You yelped at the sticks and rocks scratching you as you got pulled. The sound seemed to shock the attacker, giving you the chance to kick him in the stomach and launch yourself to your feet.

You threw you backpack on as you ran, clipping it to keep it on. The sound of shouting and running from behind you. You didnt dare look back. You knew from experience to run and dont stop, looking back could trip you up.

Hot tears brimmed your eyes from the anxiety and panic. But the adrenaline kept them at bay as you weaved past the trees. You thought you would get away from them when somebody suddenly appeared infront of you. Not being able to stop yourself, you slammed into them. Giving them the chance to wrap their arms around you and hold you steady.

"Pan!" The voice from before shouted approaching "you got her!"

Having been dragged from you hiding spot, kicking and running away, you hadn't gotten a good look at him. He let out a heave from running. Taking a look at you he slowed his approach. You shyed away at a reply.

"You weren't lying. It is a girl"

You looked up at the person and saw who it was. You had heard of him, the infamous Peter Pan. Never would you have thought him to be real. Henry had tried to convince you when you came to Storybrooke. But you never believed him.

"What do we do with her?" A young child asked looking up to Pan.

"Take her to camp. I need to have a talk with the mermaids" He said causing the boys to swarm you and start tying you up "Welcome to Neverland"

the fjerdan & the kerch

kaz brekker x reader - the fjerdan & the kerch

summary: kaz and matthias butt heads over someone they both care for

warnings: roughly follows parts of the ice court plot, matthias x childhood best friend!reader, fjerdan!reader

word count: 2.5k

“Lucky for me, I’ve got another Fjerdan to confirm your information.”

As Y/N climbed the stairs to the deck, her palm sliding along the wooden railing, she could hear Kaz’s gritty voice booming from above. She’d joined the job at the last moment after a last ditch effort of begging Kaz to allow her to join. Of course he was hesitant bringing along someone so fresh, new and untested, but relying upon the intelligence of a Fjerdan fugitive was not something Dirtyhands wanted to do. And so here Y/N was, on a bobbing ship bound for the country she left so long ago.

“Don’t you trust me demjin?” The question was a snarl, one of an animal bound and caged, silently fearful of there being no escape in sight.

As Y/N stepped onto the main deck, light pouring over her form, she felt as though she were basking in the feeling of home. That rough accent traveling on the high sea winds was a jolting reminder of home, of the family she once had. Of the small village she’d once lived in, just a few miles from the coast, wedged between frozen rivers and thick pine forests. She could nearly smell the pine sap in the air, the chilling breeze seeping into her bones.

And as she opened her eyes, she swore she was hallucinating for a moment. Squinting at the blond burly man, she allowed her gaze to roam over his face. Those features were foreign yet so familiar. On the outside was a war hardened soldier, fighting for a country he blindly pledged loyalty too. Fighting too young. But underneath, Y/N could still peer at the little boy she had grown up beside. The lopsided grin on the squarely set jaw, now clenched so tightly he looked like he might snap his own teeth off. Ignoring the shaven head, she could still remember the wavy blond locks he’d had, that seemed to shine like gold during the summer months.

It was Matthias and somehow at the same time, not him at all.

Y/N stood frozen, simply staring at her childhood friend who stared back with a sense of disbelief. All she wanted to do was run to his side, fall to her knees, and hug him until her arms gave out. But she couldn’t. They weren’t little naive children anymore, running through a field of snow as reindeer migrated through the village. Their grubby hands no longer sought out freshly baked cookies on the countertops. She no longer braided her hair like her mother had done, no longer placed a ruby red ribbon in the braid like the one Matthias had given her.

Deep inside, Y/N knew they both changed that night the Grisha had struck their village. An eye for an eye seemed to be the one thing shared between drüskelle and drüsje. When her father had been struck down, heart stopped in his own chest, her mother had fled with Y/N’s hands in hers. Running far far away from that quaint village. Away from their cozy patchwork quilts, made of whatever pieces of spare fabric could be found at the time of their making. Away from the tiny cabin that had been their home, that had provided shelter during blizzards, warmth during the winters. Away from her father lying dead on the ground, eyes blankly staring up at the sky. Away from Matthias, wherever he was.

Staring into his eyes now, she knew something horrible had happened. The blues within his eyes had once reminded her of the spring melt, when clear blue water came streaming down from the snow-capped mountains. It was the sign of new life, of rebirth in Fjerda. Those soft blues were like the little tiny wildflowers that would sprout over the tundra, only to be grazed by horses or livestock. But now, there was no hint of softness in those blue irises. They were hard. Solid like ice that could run for miles underfoot. No matter how long you chiseled away, it was ice. Endless ice. That pale, nearly white, blue - unrelenting to any outside force.

“Y/N,” Matthias breathed out, barely audible over the howling winds.

But Kaz heard that single word, his hawk-like eyes flashing between the two Fjerdans. His jaw was set tight, muscles twitching every few seconds. “You two know each other?”

Nodding, Y/N took another step forward until she was standing by Kaz’s side, whose long coat flapped wildly in the wind like a large black sail, pushing them towards the icey country.

Matthias’s eyes stirred with something Y/N couldn’t quite place her finger on. Was it concern, a longing for their childhood, happiness over their reunion? And when she glanced at Kaz, she couldn’t describe his expression either. His dark eyes, like billowing storm clouds, seemed to swirl with anger, resentment… jealousy even.

“We grew up together in Fjerda,” Y/N clarified, reminiscing with nearly a smile upon her face. “His house was just a few down from mine.”

“How do you know this demjin?” Matthias’s gaze bore into hers as he questioned her in Fjerdan, voice heavily laced with concern.

Heart thudding in her chest, Y/N fumbled over her own words. It felt wholly impossible to describe whatever her relationship was with the Bastard of the Barrel. It wasn’t friendship yet it also wasn’t more… just that odd inbetween. Mutual appreciation?

In Fjerdan, she mumbled, “I met him in Ketterdam. He’s taught me the ropes.”

Scrunching up his nose and crossing his arms, Kaz harshly snapped, “I am right here, you know.”

But the two Fjerdans pointedly ignored him, now in the midst of a silent argument, staring at each other with fiery eyes as they did as children.

“He is not good for you.”

Y/N scoffed as her hands fell into place on her hips. “And you think you know what’s good for me? Years after we went our different paths.”

“He is an evil man,” Matthias snarled. “I can see it in those soulless eyes.”

“Don’t you even start!”

“I was imprisoned, Y/N! All because his Grisha pet claimed me a slaver.”

The last word of Matthias’s proclamation was spoken in clear Ravkan, as perfect a pronunciation as the Fjerdan man could muster. It was a clear message to Kaz as to the topic the two were discussing in their native language. Matthias’s eyes gazed at hers, eyebrows slightly furrowed as though he were begging. Begging for her to see his side, to understand why he was so concerned.

But Y/N simply shook her head, glancing at Kaz and speaking in Ravkan, “There must have been a misunderstanding.”

Matthias’s face grew red, the shade of beets her mother had harvested in the summer months. Standing up, he furiously reached towards Y/N fumbling to grab ahold of her wrist. “These Ravkan and Kerch people are horrible.”

“That is quite enough from you, Helvar,” Kaz snapped once more and with a swing of his cane, brought it roughly down upon the Fjerdan man’s shoulder.

The first day had been rough, taut tension rippling through the air between the Fjerdan and the Kerch as Y/N now liked to call them. The two men that marked the two different lives she had lived. Matthias with the naive girl who not once even wondered of a life outside her little Fjerdan village. The girl who made sticks into swords and rocks into cannon balls. And they’d played on those snowy fields, each commanding their own invisible army and conducting their own duels. Of course, like the little gentleman he was, a quiet and reserved boy, far too timid for the games the other boys played, Matthias had always let her win.

And now there was the current version of her, the one whose life was marked by Kaz. That naive little girl had no clue what to do when arriving upon the docks at Ketterdam, her mother gravely ill from the tedious journey. And when she was left all alone, stranded and lonely, not a person to turn to for comfort on those grimy streets, was when Kaz appeared. Practically a knight in shining armor, someone to guide her through the city that rode that fine line between life and death.

In a way, he’d saved her. Silently directed her along the easier path, placing a few kruge in her pocket when she needed it. Whatever she needed, he provided some way, somehow. That was when her loyalty turned away from Fjerda and it’s gleaming snowy fields, her mind turned away from Matthias. And after that, it was Kaz… just Kaz.

Now as the ship cut through the harsh waters, ever heading more north, she could hardly stand the two men glaring daggers at each other. Part of Y/N thought, if given the chance, they’d willingly throttle each other to death. It would simply be a matter of who could throw the other overboard first. And as mildly entertaining as it sounded, that was one thing she did not want to witness.

By her side, Kaz fidgeted with a large padlock, tossing the rusted object between his hands as he worked those fingers, picking and relocking it. He liked to think he was a figure of confidence going into a job, the commander standing proud at the front of an army, head held high and shoulders pinned back. But really, he was a bit of an anxious mess. Everyone around just pointedly avoided the topic. Kaz always had his thing going. Something to work with his hands, something to exercise his brain.

“Can you show me?” Y/N found herself asking. For the longest time she admired the ways he could work a lock as though it were an extension of himself. How with just a few gentle clicks, like a puppet master pulling strings, anything would open to do Kaz’s bidding.

Kaz nodded, one corner of his lips turning up into what could resemble a smug smile. Outstretching her hand, she wrapped her fingers around the padlock he’d dropped into her palm. The metal was smooth under her touch, polished but tarnished by the rough patches of rust. It was like a little secret held within her hand.

Matthias, whose head was turned towards the churning waves, staring off into the distance for any sign of the icey coastline, chirped sarcastically, “In Fjerda, breaking into locked places is a crime. Is it not that way in Kerch?”

Y/N sent a scathing glare in his direction, just like how she used to when they were children. A smug grin sprouted upon Matthias’s lips, the same boyish look he had as a child. Even back then, they butted heads - the type of friendship anomaly where both were so different, yet so frustratingly alike. A sudden urge rose inside Y/N to poke her tongue out at the boy, but she didn’t. Instead, she rolled the padlock in her hands, cradling it like a precious jewel.

“Picking locks is an art,” Kaz began, folding both gloved hands in his lap as he learnt forward. “It takes time and practice, but it’s all in the hands. Locks are no different from people. With just a nice, light touch, a flick of the fingers, you can bend the object to your will.”

Gazing up into Kaz’s eyes, she thought he was more like the locks than anything else. Vehemently guarded and yet, the softness was still there. Way down beneath the tough exterior, vulnerable secrets held closely to the heart. If only she could scratch away at that, expose the truth beneath so she could know. Know Kaz for who he truly was, not this scary legend around him. But rather the true Kaz, the part of him that reigned over the motivations, the values, the reasons why he did what he did.

That was all she wanted in the world. To get to know Kaz. To learn the secrets of his trade, model herself in his image. To be talented enough to pick locks, twirl guns, and throw knives. To be someone worthy of being a Crow.

Each of the members of their group took turns peering through those glasses to examine the prisoner wagon rattling along the road on its way to the palace gates.

“This is genius,” Jesper breathed out, his eyes wide as he stared through the glasses.

All of them were jittery, adrenaline running through their veins that was nearly as cold as the Fjerdan ice. It chilled them to their core, but also stirred something inside. A deep wanting, a desire to make this whole job a success. To walk out of Fjerda in one piece, return to Ketterdam where their hands would be full of kruge.

“This is idiotic,” Matthias grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. His nose wrinkled up in disgust at the rather unappealing food placed in front of him, but Y/N would be willing to bet her life, some of that disgust was also meant for Kaz.

“How so?” Inej inquired as her thin frame practically leaned over the railing, staring at the prisoner wagon that slowed to a roll by the guard’s station.

“It would be,” the Fjerdan man admitted. “If Kaz knew everything about the Ice Court.”

An icey silence fell over the group as Matthias looked happily smug, a devilish grin upon his lips as he stared at the high walls of the Ice Court. The Crows all glanced at one another, fear sparking in their eyes at the thought of the Fjerdan destroying their heist.

Clenching her fists, Y/N sat up higher in her seat as she stared down her childhood friend. “Matthias if you don’t tell us, I swear to Djel I’ll-”

“He’s bluffing,” Kaz casually announced, wholly unbothered by Matthias’s little drama show.

“What?”

“Your dear Matthias wouldn’t risk withholding information to put you in danger. And he’s certainly not clever enough to think of blackmail.”

“Demjin,” he muttered under his breath, not daring to glance at Kaz’s face.

“Can you two just stop it?”

Both men practically jumped in their seats like nervous rabbits, staring at Y/N, and everyone else curiously watched the confrontation.

“I can’t go on with the two of you at each other’s throats,” Y/N begged, glancing between both of them. Matthias shifted uneasily in his seat, glancing back yet again at the large stone walls lying just down the road.

“A truce, please? You don’t have to like each other, or even think of one another as friends. But please just stop snapping.”

Tense silence hovered in the air as Kaz and Matthias both eyed one another, their jaws tense and heads held highly with confidence as if both were Kings on a chessboard. But ultimately both nodded, giving in to Y/N’s plea for the same reason - to please her. Neither wanted to see her upset, eyes wide and voice wavering as it was now. They both treasured the times when she smiled so widely that her eyes sparkled. Both aimed to see her happy, as carefree as a butterfly crafted of the most intricate hues and patterns fluttering in the wind.

Perhaps the Fjerdan and the Kerch weren’t so different after all.

Kaz Taglist

@oliviasslut @ameliathackray @purplewcrld @subjecta13-thefangirl @aysegust @amberash05 @beatitlikeabongodrum @mindofasupernova @kaitlyn2907 @renataligorio @xcharlottemikaelsonx @ladydaemon @just-a-new-start @nlnlpanini @kaqua @chaoticneutral3 @thedelusionreaderbitch @spawn0fsatan @vintagebitc @itsnotquimey @datrie @aliiiyyaaah @morganayenneferburnham @magravenwrites @kykymyeon @fandomstuffff @whatiswrongwithpeople @bilesxbilinskixlahey @imagines-and-preferences1216 @dreamer-writer-fangirl @alice-the-nerd @rika90 @for-bebbanburg @ancientbeing10 @everwhovian @theoroseo @jaystaysinside @moony-is-bae @ms-awkward @glowstick-lesbian @xetherealbeautyx @lillypotter00 @black-kitten-imagines @shortimaginewriter @ohfuk @aleksanderwh0r3 @yummyfanta @gallysonegoodlung @bicyhot1 @notplutos

guys my age

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pairing: steve rogers x reader

summary: having a crush on your father’s best friend shouldn’t be an issue, until that friend is steve rogers and he has you pinned against the wall.

word count: 4,070

warnings: age gap, implied absent mother, oral f receiving, language, fingering, sex, praise kink, slight degradation kink, dom! steve, daddy kink and some dirty talk.

author’s note: has been a while since i wrote a smut fic for steve so… here u are. as always reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! :) my work is not meant to be reposted or stolen, this is the only place i upload my work and if you steal it i’ll have early 2000′s chris eat your toes

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Umm hi I don’t know if you still take ACOTAR requests anymore but if you do can I request an azriel x reader where he’s in love with her and is afraid of rejection but he doesn’t know that she loves him too? 👉🏻👈🏻

hi nonnie, i’ll always accept an acotar request, hehe! did this in headcanon form, hope you don’t mind <3 it’s quite long and a little rough around the edges, but i hope you like it! ps. tumblr mucked up the formatting, some dot points don’t want to be indented. i hope it still makes sense x 

when your and azriel’s paths crossed, it was the mother at work again. after mor, azriel didn’t think he’d ever have the strength for love again. the aching and the pining had taken their toll, and the appeal of the mating bond had faded. to feel it all again, to risk his heart like that again - he couldn’t. and yet, the mother saw fit that he would. 

+++

he first met you in the palace of hoof and leaf, and it didn’t mean anything at the time; a stranger’s kindness, or if he indulged his cynicism, a hawker’s ploy. you were a commoner, a milkmaid who came to sell your products in the markets. he’d been at the neighbouring stall, waiting for the clerk to put together the only tea brew in prythian that could placate his migraines.

“sir, mr. shadowsinger, sir,” you called, “could i offer you a sample of my goat’s milk? maggie-may is very special, her milk can be just as good as a healer’s work, i swear it. try it, try it, sir.” 

azriel looked you over, glad that cassian wasn’t here to make that particular moniker stick. one brow raised in dubiety, he nodded and held out his hand - might as well, he thought, tired and getting ever more desperate for his tea. this didn’t show outwardly, of course; azriel’s face was as neutral as ever, his shadows coiling about his talons. your gaze was expectant as he tried the sample, and while it was a little too earthy for his taste, he nodded all the same. perhaps it had encouraged you too much, because then you asked: “could i perhaps persuade you to buy a pint?”

azriel had no interest at all, yet he couldn’t help but notice the detail: your fraying sleeves, the imperfect glass bottles, the beginnings of dark circles under your eyes. and yet you were smiling, you were sweet, being very generous for someone who had to presumably make a living selling fresh products. not for the first time, azriel made a purchase that only someone of the inner circle could afford, and one that didn’t really benefit him. “i’ll take several,” he said, looking at the handful of wooden caddies, mostly still filled with milk bottles. “i’ll take it all.” 

the clerk then handed azriel his brew while you stood there, wide-eyed and speechless, working through a range of emotions. at first you thought he was mocking you, but when he turned around again, fiddling with his coin pouch, you realised he was serious. “but, sir— maggie-may’s milk sure is delicious, but only in moderation— i couldn’t expect someone to buy it all—”

“as much as you’d let me, then,” he amended, being mindful not to impose or patronise. you bit your lip, trying to tally up the ultimate price, trying to gauge whether this man could even afford it. two gold, you said, trying your luck. azriel merely fingered his coins, placing the expected two and an additional three on the counter. he must’ve noticed your shock; you had frozen, after all, perhaps even stopped breathing. “since maggie-may is so special,” he drawled, earning a disbelieving laugh from you. 

that night, cerridwen, nuala, and elain were very confused at the sight of bottles and bottles of milk laying in wait on the kitchen counter in the house of wind. the note - clearly by azriel’s neat hand - read: use within five days.

+++

from then on, you always engaged azriel when you spotted him in the market. you could never forget his generous first purchase, and so while he waited for the tea master to finalise his special brew, you would entertain him with an endless supply of free samples of new products. over the years, azriel saw your business extend from milk to also include cheese and soap. he learned unnecessary things about your cattle, such as the supposed social dynamics and - mother forbid - adultery that mr. sweet pea the goat seemed prone to. over time, azriel grew comfortable enough to share some of his stories and observations, the things he’s seen in other courts. it took a while to realise you had become more than his mere acquaintance, and perhaps it was because you were outside his usual spheres of the inner circle and his spy network. to have someone outside was new, and a little jarring at times. the different experiences, the contrasting perspectives - it was refreshing, and reminded azriel how far he’d come since his miserable youth. when he was with you, the stakes weren’t so high, the conditions not so dire. you were a spot of calm, a reminder that life could be something other than the court’s defense. 

+++

one time when he visited - his tea no longer a requisite for him to make an effort to come in - you were noticeably subdued. “mr. sweet pea passed away,” you revealed, eyes wet and voice thick. something about that seized his heart, his shadows growing restless. “he was so special.” you actually said that about each of your cattle, something that azriel had started to find endearing, because he knew you really believed it.

social tact was not a strength of his - azriel knew he tended to be rigid and too formal - so he stumbled over some stilted condolences. it felt awkward and impersonal; azriel couldn’t empathise with the death of a pet, but he wanted to make it hurt less. he still remembered what the late goat had looked like the last time you had brought him in - an old thing, with a long beard and a mix of brown and black fur. strong, impressive horns, one which had a sizeable chip missing. 

so that night, he did what he could and sketched that image he had in his mind, of mr. sweet pea looking very wise and ponderous, if a little tired. azriel’s time as spymaster had bestowed him a keen eye and dexterous fingers, allowing him to make the necessary sketches to give his colleagues a clearer picture when necessary - of maps, of creatures, of profiles. they tended to be a little rough and raw, nothing particularly artistic. he thought the same of his current piece, and hesitated over whether it was good enough.

when he finally gave you the sketch the next day, you went very still. he started stumbling over some excuses, but you soon interrupted him with a shaky breath. “this is so thoughtful, azriel. thank you so much.” 

+++

azriel grew bolder, and interactions started to occur outside the markets. he’d invite you for tea, indirectly revealing one of his interests. he was a hard man to read, his expressions subtle when not stoic, but you learned. outside of professional matters, he was rarely straightforward, and tended to express his emotions in delicate, layered ways. his care for you was in the way he listened, how his attention never wavered when you were speaking with him. it was how he kept you close when you two navigated busy streets, how he lifted a wing over your head for cover when it rained, how he was content to spend time with you at your stall - sometimes for hours - despite his preference for quietude. 

+++

when work took him away, you two would exchange letters. azriel didn’t realise how dangerous a thing it was, because you quickly became a very intimate and constant part of his life. the act of writing tricked him, making it easier to truly express his thoughts - there was no pressure of navigating the immediate reaction, no incentive to keep his words short. you managed to draw so much out of him. he was mindful of each letter of yours he received, keeping them safe and tied together with an old ribbon of yours he’d saved before you could throw it away. he would never admit it, but work abroad tended to be overwhelming: while secure in his network’s quality of intelligence, being in another’s territory always meant having to deal with various variables and vulnerabilities, usually unknown. maybe your letters would have made it all a little more manageable if they didn’t elicit such longing within him. your words made him smile, yes, but they also made his heart ache. he missed you.

+++

after a lengthy assignment in the dawn court, azriel was relieved to be back in velaris. his shadows swirled and whispered around his shoulders, eager to feel your presence too. he knew they fascinated you, how playful they could be sometimes. yet, azriel couldn’t find you at your empty market stall. it was odd - you hadn’t mentioned moving in your recent letters, and he couldn’t find you in any of the other market squares either. soon his shadows grew restless, embodying the concern that was rising.

he employed his spy network to find your farm, hoping it wouldn’t be too intrusive to just show up unannounced. you had mentioned some details in passing before - it was a modest place, with a small house and a meagre hill of grass to feed a handful of goats and sheep. the door was answered by two worried faces, who took one look at azriel and grew even more distressed. “our son— it’s not our son, is it? it can’t be— he just—”

“i’m here to see your daughter,” azriel interrupted, too preoccupied to remember polite niceties. they were confused, guarded, but let him through. the hallways were narrow, his wings often knocking against the wall sconces. he listened as they explained your condition - an illness had befallen you, leaving you bedridden for days. apparently a healer had told them it’ll pass with rest and water, and with that reassurance, azriel forced himself to remember his place. right in front of your closed door, he willed his shadows away from his face, called upon his familiar impassiveness. turning around to face your parents, he amended, “may i see your daughter?” 

your room was dark, the curtains drawn. his heart raced as he heard your laboured breaths, and something pulled at him when he saw the small desk in the corner, an unfinished letter atop it. “azriel?” you whispered, voice sounding so small. “is it really you?” 

he neared, taking a cautious seat on the side of the bed. you were shivering, but the thin sheet covering you stuck to your skin with sweat. “yes, it’s me, sweetheart,” he said, the endearment slipping out before he could stop it. his throat closed up immediately after, but your vague movements suggested you didn’t even realise, and that you weren’t all there. he could see the feverish blush high on your cheeks, even in the dim light.

“you’re too big for this room,” you mused softly, making azriel smile despite his worry. indeed, he had to bend down to avoid hitting his head, and keep his wings tucked in uncomfortably tight. he took your hand in his, and even in your feverish haze, you could register the roughness of his scarred hands, but they always handled you gently. “why didn’t you tell me in your letters?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. your discomfort was clear in your frown, in your downturned lips. noticing the basin on the bedside table, he took the damp rag on your forehead and dipped it into the cool water, wringing away the excess before gently placing it atop your head again. 

“i… didn’t want to trouble you with… with something trivial. a few more days and… and i’ll be back to work.” a weak smile pulled at your mouth, and azriel gathered both of your hands in his again. he shook his head at your line of thinking.

“your health isn’t a trivial matter to me,” he said, leaning close and cupping your cheek. in hindsight, it was so obvious that he had been in love with you far longer than he thought. it was all so rueful, the fact that he had let it happen again. despite it all, he pressed a kiss to your hand, trying to ignore how it trembled. your smile strengthened then, tracing a finger over his brow and down the bridge of his nose. azriel took a deep breath to savour the touch, and soon you two were merely watching each other, azriel wondering what thoughts were running through your slightly added mind. your lids eventually started to droop, however, but still he stayed even when you fell asleep, taking care to change the cool rag when necessary. his shoulders slumped when his head fell into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut tight. with such a revelation, what was he to do from now on? 

+++

azriel didn’t think he could be a good lover to you - even if he so very much wanted to be. his job took up so much of time, and it required him to be secretive. azriel wouldn’t ever be able to share everything with you, for the sake of keeping you safe. even if he could, there was just something in his nature that kept him reserved and pushed others away. there were so many things he’d rather leave in the past, and so many more that he wished he hadn’t been part of. there was that, but also his loathsome scarred hands - a reminder of those darker days. no matter how gentle, his touch would always scratch and scrape. once you took notice of how neglected they were, left to dry out and sometimes even scab, you took to work to concoct a nourishing lotion. “you have to be gentle with yourself, azriel,” you had once told him, gently applying the salve to his hands. they were rough but warm against your skin. “you do so much.”

+++

and so, everything he did with you was tinged with a hint of sorrow. he couldn’t bring himself to confront you with the severity of his feelings, but he also couldn’t quite remove you from his life - you had become a friend. you eventually noticed that he started to let his touches linger: when he hugged you, he’d curl arms and wings around you, enveloping you wholly; when you were near, his shadows would stretch toward you, as if revealing a hidden desire. when you reached for his hand, he would always grip it firmly, and when you came very close for some unimportant reason, his gaze would always linger on your face, flicking so often to your lips. 

+++

one night you had invited him over to the farm, wanting to introduce him to the latest addition of your household: a baby goat, just over a week old. she was as white as snow, and kept nibbling at your hair as you held her in your arms. “what should we name her, azriel?” you had asked, too preoccupied to notice how tense he was, hands in his pockets. “i was thinking of marjorie, or maybe miss marjorie… hey, what’s wrong?” his face was unusually expressive, his shadows roiling about his talons as if in distress. putting down the goat, her legs still clumsy and gangly, you stepped closer to azriel, reaching out. he shook his head, trying to school his face but you knew him by now. your shoulders slumped, recalling his strange behaviour over the years - he was present in most ways, but avoidant in others. “i wish you’d talk to me, azriel,” you murmured, taking his hand and hoping he wouldn’t mind the dirt. “you mean so much to me.”

it all bubbled up then in that small barn, the light dim and the smell of earth pungent. you let out a rueful laugh, rubbing your eye. “i’m in love with you,” you said, very quietly at first. immediately you felt so naive to be doing this. the fact was that azriel came from a different life, one that saw him as a leader of the court, who worked with powerful and beautiful people, fae who were richer and stronger and vastly more interesting. azriel’s mere presence in your life was extraordinary enough. and yet, you had found yourself falling in love despite the impracticability of it, found yourself admiring his kindness, his quiet generosity, his strength and resilience and dry humour. you shifted, looking right into his eyes. even if your love was unrequited, he deserved to be told - if only to let him know that he indeed was loved by one more.  “i’m in love with you. i don’t— i don’t expect you to say it in return, but i can no longer keep it to myself. i love you.” 

that threw azriel. he had fantasised of course, indulged in the scenario. but now, as you waited for his response, his thoughts stuttered. what? he wanted to say, unable to believe what he actually so very desperately wanted to believe. you grew nervous as the silence lengthened, azriel’s face as stoic as ever. you shook your head, covering your mouth in regret. “i’m sorry, i— i shouldn’t have said anything—”

he gripped your shoulders tight, gaze intense and voice low. “i also love you.”

“why do you say it like it’s a bad thing?” the solemnity which had tinged your relationship for some time was subtle, but you had felt it, and it had bothered you. 

azriel’s hands came up to cup your face, and he quickly shook his head. “it’s not,” he said, he urged. “it’s not, it’s not.” and then his lips met yours, chapped and rough, kissing you slowly, thoroughly, firmly. the conviction made your heart melt, and you gripped his wrists, feeling his racing pulse and caressing it, kissing him back, standing on your toes, letting him steal your breath. “i love you so much, sweetheart,” he sighed against your lips, nose brushing against yours. you went to reply but then azriel had claimed your mouth again, one hand snaking around to your back and the other to the nape of your neck. the light shifted behind your closed eyes as his wings came down to envelope the both of you, and your fingers reached to tangle in his hair, to trace the shells of his ears.

when you two parted again, his grin was lopsided and a little wry. “i just couldn’t believe it,” he murmured, his eyes shining with emotion. why not? you wanted to ask, wondering what it was that had held him back for so long, but decided to delay it for another day. all you could do was hug him tighter, just glad for the sight of his smile and the feeling of his relief. glad for his happiness.

Do Your Job.

Pairing: Chris Evans x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Requested: Nope

Warnings: None

Summary: Y/N doesn't know how to say no. And Chris doesn't like that.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Angry!Chris in this fic, kind of Naive!Reader... Enjoy

---

Chris watched with a clenched jaw as the woman winced upon hearing her boss. He didn't like her boss, at all. "Y/N! Why haven't you made my coffee yet?" he screamed at her, despite standing only a few feet away from her. "I-I was… I was helping Peter…" she tried saying and Chris' hands balled into fists when the man took a few steps towards her, pointing a threatening finger in her face.

"Does he pay you? Huh? Are you his assistant? Now get lost and get me some coffee, fast! No excuses!" Teary-eyed after being screamed at, Y/N whirled around and walked out of the room. Chris wanted nothing more than to just grab that asshole's neck and squeeze until the life poured out of him. "Hey, everything okay?" He snapped out of his thoughts and turned to his co-star, Michelle Dockery.

"I, uh, yeah… yeah, I'm fine, why?" Michelle didn't miss his grumpiness. "Come on, you were sitting there like you were imagining someone's murder," she snorted, plopping down on the couch next to him. "His," Chris huffed, nodding his head towards Y/N's boss who was speaking to one of the extras on set. "What did he do?" Michelle frowned and turned to look as well.

"That man does not know how to treat his assistant."

It was the last week of filming Defending Jacob. Y/N had caught Chris' eye on his first day at work; she had him wrapped around her finger in the first week. She was super beautiful, very polite, kind and helpful. She cracked funny jokes and whenever she entered a room, it seemed to get a little brighter and livelier. Chris wanted to ask her out, but chickened out whenever he tried to approach her.

They hadn't talked, ever. Sure, sometimes he'd catch her looking in his direction during breaks and in-between shoots, but he never thought anything of it. He was Chris Evans, people were gonna stare. But, in the first month of filming, Chris realized that the woman had a bad habit— she didn't know how to say no. Ever. She never, ever said no to anyone. And that annoyed him.

Y/N, can you come here for a bit?

She would get up without question, and follow the voice. He once saw her sitting down for a quick lunch and she had only had one bite before someone called for her. And he had watched as she kept her lunch away and walked towards the person. That had made him unbelievably angry, because even after her work, she didn't eat. She gave up on lunch. He had come very close to talking to her that day.

His pent up frustration increased day-by-day, as more and more people started using Y/N's overly helpful nature to their advantage. He noticed how she ran around from place to place all day, how she'd practically collapse on a seat the moment she got a break and would softly groan when she heard her name not even 15 seconds later. And the worst part? None of the people she helped were polite.

Once, he saw Y/N helping someone with her dress and the moment the job was done, the other woman had walked away without a word, talking to some of her friends. He saw how Y/N had just stared at the woman, blinking, expecting a thank you but receiving nothing in return. He noticed the disappointed sigh she heaved after and left to do her other work. That incident had just made him want to hold her and never let go.

That brought them to today. Chris and Michelle dropped the topic and chatted about something else until he saw her from the corner of his eye. Then he turned to see her fully, watching as Y/N handed the cup of coffee to her boss. That man had the audacity to give her a glare before he walked away, sipping on the coffee. This time, even Michelle noticed, and her jaw dropped.

"What?! That bastard!" she exclaimed as a teardrop rolled down Y/N's cheek. Chris' heart broke at the sight, his eyes closing when someone behind him shouted her name. Her hand instantly flew up to wipe her tears and she smiled to herself before turning in his direction. And for a brief moment, their eyes met. She gave him a quick smile before jogging past him towards the person who asked for her.

He couldn't even smile back.

---

"Cut! Break time."

Chris eased out of his tense position and rolled his shoulders before walking away, trying to find a seat. His feet ached from standing. He soon found a seat and sat down, taking out his phone. He went over some texts, until he heard her name being called. Then his head snapped up, because the person who had called for her was her boss. He glanced around until he saw her a few feet away from him.

She had her headphones in and was holding her phone horizontally, which made him realize that she was either watching YouTube, a show or a movie. And she was on her break. "Yes?" Y/N replied, taking out her headphones. "Get me another cup of coffee," the boss mentioned offhandedly, "It's my break." Chris glared at that. Make it yourself, asshole.

"But sir, it's my break too…" Y/N insisted softly. And without knowing, Chris' feet carried him towards the two. "So? I pay you, Y/L/N, there's no need to be such a brat. I'll have you fired in no time, you— Mr Evans?" Everyone around them froze as Chris placed his arm on Y/N's shoulder, darkly glaring at her boss. "She told you she's on a break," he spoke coldly. "Mr Evans—"

And the knot inside him finally broke.

"She's on a fucking break! Let her get some rest! She has been running around all day, doing things for your lazy butts—" he addressed everyone loudly, "—and none of you even thank her! Do you know what an angel she is? She continues helping you even after you treat her like scum! It's just some fucking coffee, if you're on a break, make it yourself! For God's sake, leave the woman alone! All of you, if I ever, ever hear her name being called around here again, it's over. I'll make sure you're off the set before you can even say sorry. Now get lost!"

He didn't mean to be so loud, nor so angry. But it just happened, months of frustration, months of anger released all at once. Y/N's boss stared at Chris for a few seconds, blinking, before muttering a quiet sorry and leaving. Everyone silently got back to work as Chris took in some deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. That's when he felt a small hand covering his.

He looked down and saw Y/N smiling at him, tears wantonly running down her cheeks. "Thank you so much," she whispered and his heart raced. "Absolutely no problem, darling. They were the assholes, using you to their advantage like that, so fucking disrespectfully… You have got to learn how to say no," he chuckled, dropping his hand from her shoulder. "I do, don't I?" she hummed, her lips twitching in shame.

"We'll work on it, I promise." He gently cupped her cheeks, wiping away her tears. Y/N gulped, trying her best to hide the effect his touch had on her. She had a crush on him, but like, who didn't? "How? It's the last week of filming," she pointed out with a small, sarcastic laugh. "It doesn't have to be the last week of us talking. How about we have dinner tonight, 8?"

Was he actually asking her out?!

"Yeah, yeah 8 sounds good," she replied near instantly and he gave her an amused smile. "Great. I'll meet you later, okay?" As he started walking away, she called out, "Mr Evans! My number!" And he walked back to her. They exchanged numbers, sent each other "hi" to make sure they had the correct number and Chris walked away again, ready to film the last scene of the day.

He was in an unusually good mood, having finally asked her out. She said yes.

He was also pleased at the end of the day, not having heard Y/N's name being called out even once after his outburst. Sure, after her break, some people had requested her assistance but they talked politely to her, saying thank you when she was done and smiling. Chris approved of that, after all, it was her job.

And, in the blink of an eye, it was 7:30 pm.

Chris was at home, fixing his hair. They had agreed to meet at his place, not wanting the media to find out. There, he had already ordered some pizzas and had beer ready, a movie paused on the TV. Chris finished messing with his hair and went downstairs, quickly patting Dodger's head. He sat on the couch and waited, busy scrolling through Twitter until he heard the doorbell ring.

When he opened the door, he saw Y/N. And his breath caught in his throat; she looked absolutely stunning dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, a cute little smile plastered on her face. "May I come in?" she laughed a bit when he just stood there, staring at her in awe.

It turned out to be a really good date, the perfect start to a perfect relationship.

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a like if you enjoyed!

｡･:*:･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.

congrats on 1.5K! can i request a threesome with dadsbestfriend!bucky and dadsbestfriend!steve 🥵

JOIN MY 1.5k SLEEPOVER!🧚‍♀️

[dadsbestfriend!bucky x fem!reader x dadsbestfriend!steve]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* word count; 381 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[a/n; YOUR MIND!!! this will be 1940s AU, and i'm giving the dad a random name lol]

warnings; SMUT! MINORS DNI, +18, age gap (reader is in her 20s), dirty talk, insinuations to threesome, if uncomfortable please don't read. press keep reading for smut :)

fridays were your favorites.

and not because you'd have dessert with your girlfriends, or landed a date with a nice boy to drive up to the drive-in theater.

butterflies swarmed in your belly the second you stepped foot into your house, grinning at the sight of your father hosting a cook-out for all his buddies from the war.

"[y/n], come 'ere!"

you giggled at his calling, rushing over as he embraced you, introducing you to everyone, but your eyes were glued to a pair of ocean blue ones.

"that's the pretty little doll i prayed to come home to, steve, a fuckin' gem," bucky took a swig of his cold beer as his best friend chuckled, scanning you shamelessly, noticing the mischievious glint in your [e/c] orbs.

"gorgeous, but john wouldn't think twice to kill ya', that's his angel," the brunette scoffed with a following smirk as he saw you disappear back inside your home before nodding to him discretly.

"come on, punk, let me show you something,"

"sweetheart!" you squealed the moment bucky sneaked into your room, wrapping his thick arms around you as he inhaled your rose-scented locks.

"i missed you so much, jamie," you whimpered as he began nipping at your neck but you jolted away the second you caught a glimpse of another man in your room.

"baby, you know steve, right?" nodding shyly, your heart hammered against your chest as the masculine cologne invaded your sweet room tempestuously.

"you're gonna be a good girl for us, right? gonna show stevie how wet you get, how pretty you look stuffed with my cock," his lustful whispers were drowned out with his hand reaching beneath your modest dress, rubbing your slit through your panties, smearing your wetness.

"tell stevie to touch your pussy, doll," your eyes met with the blonde's wild ones, mesmerized by the way bucky shedded you of your clothing, shuddering at the sudden breeze rushing through your window.

"please, touch me, stevie," he stepped forward, gasping as you yanked his hand towards your slit and coated his fingers with your leaking juices, dragging whimpers from your gaping lips as steve instinctively toyed with your swelling clit.

"don't make a sound, kitten, we're not leavin' til we fill this pretty pussy with our cum.