hiken-no-stark

[hiken-no-stark]

THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER 1.04 — The Whole World Is Watching

[hiken-no-stark]

[hiken-no-stark]

The Princess Diaries (2001) dir. Garry Marshall

[hiken-no-stark]

jealous!lieutenant riley makes brain go brrr

warnings : suggestive content, filthy mouthed simon & a molecule of praise

──────────୨ৎ───────────

jealous!lieutenant riley who nearly cracks a molar when laswell teams you and kyle up for an upcoming mission.

jealous!lieutenant riley whose fingers twitch towards his gun when she mentions you’ll have to act as a married couple.

jealous!lieutenant riley who, for the entire week leading up to the gala, barks at rookies nine hours a day and spends his evenings at the shooting range—allegedly imagining someone very real as the target.

jealous!lieutenant riley whose mouth goes bone dry when he sees you wrapped in an expensive floor-length chiffon dress that accentuates every gentle dip and feminine curve and—fuck but he’s half-hard already.

jealous!lieutenant riley whose eyes stay glued to you the entire evening, his thoughts straying much further than his simple assignment of guarding your six.

jealous!lieutenant riley who, the second the base’s gravel crunches under the slowing tires of the car, is wrapping a burly arm around the slope of your waist while actively glaring at the diamond on your finger.

jealous!lieutenant riley who backs you up against his quarters’ door, his amber eyes burning like molten lava as they rove the length of your legs in a slow trail upwards.

jealous!lieutenant riley who finally claims your mouth, glides his hot tongue against yours, nips your neck and kisses your shoulders—all while he slides the subtly glittering gown off, exposing more and more of your soft skin to his hungry gaze.

jealous!lieutenant riley who lays you out on his bed—your nimble hands fisting his sheets, your silky hair in a halo on his pillow, and your pretty legs hiked onto his shoulders as he lowers himself between the plush of your thighs.

jealous!lieutenant riley who only drifts back up once he’s had his fill, chin glistening from your slick and pupils almost swallowing all the bronze of his irises.

jealous!lieutenant riley who lines himself up with your puffy entrance, bracing his tattooed forearms on each side of your head as his fingers slip into your silky hair.

jealous!lieutenant riley who kisses your dampened forehead, before letting his stubbly cheek rasp against your blushing one, his hot breath bleeding into a drawl at your ear.

“'m goin’ to fuck that ring right off of you, dove. now spread y’legs and be a good girl f’me.”

[hiken-no-stark]

SEBASTIAN STAN PHOTOGRAPHED BY MATHIEU RAINAUD FOR L'OFFICIEL MALAYSIA

[hiken-no-stark]

I’ve been thinking a lot about fantasy/medieval settings and arranged marriage….

Gaz is not excited for your union because he anticipates being forced to choose. He expects that only one Kyle may live— the devoted husband, or the devoted comrade. And of course, vows dictate that he choose the former. That he leave battle behind as soon as you wish it. That his brothers in blood no longer be given indefinite roam of his estate. That you will look upon them with disdain if they take his attention away from his marital duties— his duties to you, to your family and future. No wife wants her household to be as a tavern, with soldiers coming and going as they please and making merry late into the night.

He couldn’t be more wrong. You take great care in weaving a new cord— binding for his sword hilt in the colors of your family crest and his. You take up careful pride in the maintenance of his armor— scolding him in his delay to bring it to the smithy for restoration. You perch on his lap and sip mead and wine from his cup while he and his squadron tell tales late into the night— if their welcome has worn out after many weeks, you certainly don’t show it. In fact— when they all return weary and lonely of touch from the soft hands of a lady when their tour is over, you take no issue bringing them comfort. Kyle is pleased to see you on your knees, back, and stomach for men whom he would lay his life down for, and think of him in kind. His only condition being that only your lord husband can finish inside of you.

Johnny is not excited for your union because betrothal means one thing to him: chastity. He’ll not be able to wet his cock until your wedding night, and knowing his luck, you’ll be like the other prudish ladies of the court— only willing to lay supine and serious out of a sense of duty, to provide his heirs, and never purely for pleasure.

He feels his heart could burst from his chest with simmering love, heated to the surface and about to boil when he feels your fingers drift over his crotch during a dinner following your engagement. When you grope and squeeze, looking up at him from the corner of your eye. When every garden date in the rose maze ends with your skirt hiked and him on his knees devouring you while your thighs shake. When you sneak in during a long bath in the middle of the night, having just returned from a weeks-long battle, sitting to face him in his lap and grinding the lips of your hot cunt against his twitching cock while you scrub his bruised and soiled skin before angling him to enter. If you were to be blessed with a child a little early into your union… who would be the wiser?

Price is not excited for your union because he isn’t looking forward to being lovelorn in his own marriage. He’s the type of man who falls easily, he knows— but noble women are cold, especially to an older, battle hardened man they’ve never met before in their lives. He knows the love will come between you, but he anticipates months or years before he will win your unwavering trust, attention, and affection.

He finds himself pleasantly surprised when you curl into him at the feast following your wedding. Your chair moved to be as close to his as possible, leaning against him and sighing in bliss. You cutely fiddle with the rings on his hand while you wait patiently for him to feed you another bite of fruit, kissing his cheek in gratitude and nuzzling your face into his neck. He can feel your mirthful giggle vibrating your lips against his skin. The night you share is nothing short of ecstasy, and he wakes to your head on his chest, legs tangled together.

Simon is not excited for your union because he knows what he is. A low born bastard. His success in the king’s army has seen his rank rise, his title, his means— but it hasn’t changed what people see him as. A violent boar, born into mud. When Price secures a match for him and insists he accept, he has no doubt that you’ll sneer in his direction like the rest of the noblewomen.

Only for him to hear whispers on the day you arrive at court. Fitting, that they’d offer up a bastard to a beast. Suppose they were desperate to have her married off. What a perfect match. You looked down in shame, afraid to meet their gazes. You looked every part the noble lady— well groomed, good posture, dressed delicately and elegant… but nothing would outshine the circumstances of your birth. Father a noble, mother a common scullery maid. Suddenly, Simon cannot bear the thought of letting you tread these waters alone. He wants to take you from the world that judges you, and keep you tucked somewhere safe for him to admire.

[hiken-no-stark]

Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER 1.05 — "Truth"

[hiken-no-stark]

HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON (2025) dir. Dean DeBlois

HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON (2010) dir. Dean DeBlois, Chris Sanders

[hiken-no-stark]

 — Доброе утро, Солдат. ([subtitled] Good morning, Soldier.) — Я готов отвечать. ([subtitled] Ready to comply.)

[hiken-no-stark]

The Falcon and The Winter Soldier 1.03 — "Power Broker"

[hiken-no-stark]

[hiken-no-stark]

Whatever happened with Walker, it wasn’t your fault. I get it. It’s just that shield’s the closest thing I’ve got left to a family. So when you retired it, it made me feel like I had nothing left. Made me question everything: you, Steve, me. You know, I’ve got his, uh, I’ve got his book. And, uh, I just figured if it worked for him, then it’d work for me. Bucky Barnes in RAINBOW COLORS (insp)

[hiken-no-stark]

this was so unnecessary. im fucking crying

[hiken-no-stark]

[hiken-no-stark]

Ok, I NEED the second part of Alpha König, maybe just fluff, but when reader is in heat and he gives them a whole box of ACTUALLY good stuff, and it ended with reader trying to drag him to their nest scented with heat. I NEED MORE. PLEEAASEE IM DYING (from @nn@)

OKAY I HAD A THOUGHT. LIKE JUST HEAR ME OUT.

Heat sucks on base. You're alone, locked in your room, buried in a pile of blankets you stole from lost and found.

But this year is different. You were claimed this year, a perfect little box on your doorstep. Your head feels heavy at the thoughts.

So you get your little nest (which is moreso a burrow, it's a colder year this year and omegas are known to adjust their nesting styles accordingly, or so König researched) built, but something is missing. A feeling of security, that is. Your insides claw at you, you don't feel safe enough. There's no alpha protecting you.

So after a painful night, at three AM your senses glaze and you're in heat. So what do you do? Put a blanket around your shoulders like a cloak, and stalk the halls. You're a small omega, so you get through until you're at König's door. That's when you start scratching and whining at it being locked.

The whining continues for five minutes, tears starting to form until König opens the door hastily.

"Ja, Ja? What is it?" He looks around, not expecting to see you, kneeling infront of the door like a kitten.

He mutters something unintelligible in German as you stand up, grabbing onto the waistband of his pajama pants and tugging him all the way back to your dorm, the grumbling stopping as he watches your instinct ridden movements.

You shove him into the burrow, locking the door, staring with those big eyes. He stares back, unsure of what to do.

"Is... Is this okay?" He asks, moving slowly to get comfortable. Your eyes, still big, never leave him as you nod, crawling in, and not just in, but onto his lap.

Your face finds its way under his mask, disregarding how it protects his scent gland as you shove your face into his neck.

His mind is literally swimming with thoughts, face red, scent thickening. Then all he hears from his sweet little omega is a purr, then all he feels? The omega desperately pushing herself against him, nuzzling to scent him.

It legitimately takes him a minute to register that this is not a dream, that you're scenting him. Then, his arm snakes around your waist, petting your hair, cooing to you about how you're a good little omega, how perfect you smell.

You end up asleep all curled up on his lap, whining a little until he pets your hair, and you whine again until he lays with you.

The entire week ends up a blur of comfort and sex. He's scented your entire room thoroughly, you've made sure to bite and lick and kiss at every spot possible. He's yours, which is surprising for an omega.

[hiken-no-stark]

Rate young Roger Taylor from the 70s out of 10

9/10 BROS LITERALLY SO PRETTY IT HURTS‼️

[hiken-no-stark]

Simon finds out he has a breeding kink.

Now, the prospect of it was just a joke at the time, you and a few friends had been diving into the dirty topics of your relationships over a few drinks.

There’s no harm in a little gossip after all.

But when one of those friends piped up with the fact that their man had the biggest breeding kink on the planet…it had you thinking how Simon would react should you pull that card in bed…

Just a harmless little joke right?

Wrong.

This man utterly loves you, you are everything in his life and he worships the ground his pretty woman walks on.

Whilst he knows there are no actual risks of pregnancy simply due to you being on birth control…the moment the words “Let me make you a daddy.” Tumble out of your mouth so casually when you returned home…

Oh it had him seeing red.

This man would never purposefully hurt you, you both know it. But the possessive itch the mere thought of getting you pregnant properly gives him has him bending you over the arm of the sofa before he can even check your secure enough.

He wouldn’t even bother taking your clothes off, he’s too impatient…too greedy. Instead the bottom of your dress would be shoved up around your hips and your underwear shoved off to one side in a rushed movement.

Now. Simon knows how important prep is, he’s not exactly small and he doesn’t want to hurt you. But the sheer ferocity in the way he dropped down behind you and pressed his mouth to your cunt was borderline feral.

He can’t get words out, even if he’d normally be spewing out the most erotic filth…all you’ll be getting from him is these hungry sounding groans like he’s barely holding himself together.

And the moment he knows you’re prepped enough? He’s ruthless. Plunging in as deep as you’ll take him with an almost pathetically desperate moan leaving his lips.

But even when he came, when you took everything he could give…he still kept going, he’d be merciless, unforgiving. Aching to give you everything you could ever want from him.

“Gotta make sure it takes lovie. Gon’ keep fillin’ this pretty cunt up till we have a little one.”

Even if he knows it most likely won’t happen.