#so i translated it as /i like you so much i could explode/

[stormyoceans]

do you think even if jigsaw no longer lives with them puen sometimes calls talay papa?

OH YOU KNOW HE DOES WE'RE TALKING ABOUT THE MAN WHO IN THE PAST UNIRONICALLY CALLED HIMSELF 'DADDY' TWICE AND PRETENDED TO BE TALAY JUST SO HE COULD CALL HIMSELF 'P'PUEN'. JIGSAW MAY HAVE GIVEN HIM THE CHANCE TO CALL TALAY 'PAPA' AND HIMSELF 'NONG PUEN' BUT HE DOES NOT NEED AN EXCUSE TO KEEP DOING THAT

like not to be that person but when i tell you that puen is one of the flirtiest AND horniest characters in television history who's most likely into roleplay....... idk how to explain it but in relationships with an age (or social) gap, the use of 'phi' can carry a lot of intimacy and romantic undertones (a recent example of this is cher calling gun 'phi' and gun completely short-circuiting at that in a boss and a babe). this is not the case for puen and talay since they are the same age and equals in every aspect of their lives, so the fact that puen goes out of his way to jokingly put that gap between them just makes all those scenes sound EVEN FLIRTIER THAN THEY ALREADY ARE

also not to overanalyze everything, but i think there's something to be said about puen calling talay 'tee rak', which is a perfectly acceptable but maybe impersonal term of endearment, when he is drunk in episode 3 and 'pretending' to flirt with talay in episode 4, and then switching to more.... allusive ones like 'phi'/'papa' paired with 'nong' after they actually confess to each other

ANYWAY. jokes and ramblings aside, i can DEFINITELY see 'papa' sticking around even after jigsaw is gone and it's just the two of them. the term has an affectionate, equal side to it (because they were both 'papa'), but can also be used in a very flirty very teasing way (puen is into all of this far more than talay, however if talay ever called him 'papa puen' i think 'short-circuiting' wouldn't even begin to describe the things it would do to puen's brain sfjksgfj)

[iamthedukeofurl]

Scott Pilgrim is, I think, the best example I can think of for establishing a setting's Nonsense Limit. The setting's Nonsense Limit isn't quite "How high-fantasy is this". It's mostly a question of presentation, to what degree does the audience feel that they know the rules the world operates by, such that they are primed to accept a random new element being introduced. A setting with a Nonsense Limit of 0 is, like, an everyday story. Something larger than life, but theoretically taking place in our world, like your standard spy thriller action movie has a limit of 1. Some sort of hidden world urban fantasy with wizards and stuff operating in secret has a nonsense limit around 3 or 4. A Superhero setting, presenting an alternate version of our world, is a 5 or 6. High fantasy comes in around a 7 or so, "Oh yeah, Wizards exist and they can do crazy stuff" is pretty commonly accepted. Scott Pilgrim comes in at a 10. If you read the Scott Pilgrim book, it starts off looking like a purely mundane slice of life. The first hint at the fantastical is Ramona appearing repeatedly in Scott's Dreams, and then later showing up in real life. When we finally get an explanation, it's this:

Apparently Subspace Highways are a thing? And they go through people's heads? And Ramona treats this like it's obscure, but not secret knowledge. Ramona doesn't think she's doing anything weird here. At this point, it's not clear if Scott is accepting Ramona's explanation or not, things kind of move on as mundane as ever until their Date, when Ramona takes Scott through subspace, and he doesn't act like his world was just blown open or anything, although I guess that could have been a metaphor. there's a couple other moments, but everything with Ramona could be a metaphor, or Scott not recognizing what's going on. Maybe Ramona is uniquely fantastical in this otherwise normal world. And then, this happens

Suddenly, a fantastical element (A shitty local indie band finishing their set with a song that knocks out most of the audience) is introduced unrelated to Ramona, and undeniably literal. We see the crowd knocked out by Crash and The Boys. but the story doesn't linger on the implications of that, the whole point of that sequence is to raise the Nonsense Level, such that you accept it when This happens

Matthew Patel comes flying down onto the stage, Scott, who until this point is presented as a terrible person and a loser, but otherwise is extremely ordinary, proceeds to flawlessly block and counter him before doing a 64-hit air juggle combo. Scott's friends treat this like Scott is showing off a mildly interesting party trick, like being really good at darts. The establish that Scott is the "Best Fighter in the Province", not only are street-fighter battles a thing, Scott is Very Good at it, but they're so unimportant that being the best fighter in the province doesn't make Scott NOT a loser. So when Matthew Patel shows off his magic powers and then explodes into a pile of coins, we've established "Oh, this is how silly the setting gets". It's not about establishing the RULES of the setting so much as it is about establishing a lack of rules. Scott's skill at street-fighter battles doesn't translate to any sort of social prestige. Ramona can access Subspace Highways and she uses it to do a basic delivery job. It doesn't make sense and it's clear that it's not supposed to. So later on, when Todd Ingram starts throwing around telekinesis, and the explanation we're given is "He's a Vegan" , you're already so primed by the mixture of weirdness and mundanity that rather than trying to incorporate this new knowledge into any sort of coherent setting ruleset, you just go "Ah, yeah, Vegans".

[shanastoryteller]

i know supernatural is the show of missed opportunities but man. the trials really get to me - what a perfect way to reboot and reset this show that you're artificially extending for ratings. it could have been really, really good, actually

so the trials of god is a way for someone to gain the ability to seal the gates of hell and the gates of heaven

they have the translation for hell, they know that slamming the gates of hell shut means calling all the demons back home and locking the key. it's logical, then, to for them to believe the same is true of the one for heaven - that it calls all the angels back home and locks them away where they can't do any more damage

peace, for the people of earth, outside of the influence of angels and demons. that's got to be worth it, right?

so while sam is completing the hell trials, they get the angel tablet, kevin gets translating, to figure out the angel trials. or maybe metatron helps nudge them along to figuring it out, since him being the big bad here isn't really relevant and they are in a bit of time crunch

canon doesn't tell us what the heaven trials are, except that the first one involves a ritual using the heart of a nephilim. they make it sound like they're carving it from their chest, but what i would do is

have a nephilim offer you their heart from their chest (gain their loyalty in a binding ceremony)

create grace from freshwater (there is no rain that falls anywhere on earth that is safe to drink and god said let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters)

find a human soul to guide you to heaven (babel fell but the stairway was built and those with wings have no need of stairs)

so sam is in the midst of the hell trials when dean sort of accidentally on purpose completes the first heaven trial and then the brothers are on parallel train tracks heading in the opposite direction

sam works to close the gates of hell

dean works to close the gates of heaven

demons and angels both working to stop them

sam completes the trials. he restores crowley's humanity and he dies and the gates of hell are closed

but that's not the end

metatron says they can close the gates if they're willing to pay the price. canon says the price is sam's death, but frankly that doesn't make any sense. what's the death of one human against the horrors of hell? and remember, metatron doesn't know the winchesters. maybe another angel would make this comment, knowing how the winchesters have weighed the safety of the world against their brother and left the world out to dry, would think this a price worth warning for. but metatron wouldn't bother, wouldn't even think of it, if that was the only price

the gates of hell close and malevolent spirits explode across the globe, evil spirits and angry ghosts causing death and destruction everywhere

hell serves a function and now the gates are closed and every evil human soul is forced to stay on earth, causing as much destruction as it can

that's the price for closing the gates of hell

except. except. aren't the hell trials interesting?

kill a hellhound. rescue an innocent soul and return it to heaven. purify a demon and restore their humanity.

the trials are not to prove if someone is worthy of closing the gates of hell. it's to prove they're capable of setting hell to rights

the trials are if things got too out of hand, if things were taken too far, and hell had to be put back in it's place. sam dies and ends up exactly where azazel wanted him - ruler of hell. all the demons and souls are trapped with him and what he has to do, while he has them all there, while they can't escape, is exactly what he did to get there

he kills the hellhounds, leaving only those meant to patrol hell. he releases every innocent soul bound there. he purifies the demons one by one, who he either releases as innocent souls or who to pledge to do their job as demons of hell - punishing evil, containing evil - in penance for what they did before (how do i even begin to make up for what i've done, crowley had asked, and this is the answer)

meanwhile, dean, heartbroken, completes the heaven trials and dies

and the gates of heaven slam shut and all the angels are stripped of their grace and expelled from heaven and dean finds himself in charge of an empty heaven

the trials are for when things have gone too far and heaven must be rebuilt, after all

good souls pile up, no one who dies able to truly leave earth, and given enough time they become twisted things that must be hunted along with the spirits of evil men and women who cause chaos from their last breath

dean has work to do. he has one angel - the nephilim whose loyalty he earned in the first trial - and this is what he has to do. he recruits more, to replace the ranks, he creates grace and hands it out judiciously. he sends them to guide the good souls home, using the stairway that the former angels wouldn't be able to use even if they wanted to, and each good act and deed earns them a little more grace. former angels throw themselves into the fight for humans, because they know it's the only way that dean will return their grace to them and lift them back into heaven

and in fighting for them, in living like them, they learn to love these creations of their father that they'd despised. they see what he saw and the thought of destroying this place in a civil war becomes unthinkable to them. they are once more the angels god intended them to be

in this, dean and sam fulfill their destiny as lucifer and michael's vessels. not in letting them in, but in pushing them out, in doing the work each was intended for but refused

only when there is only evil human souls being punished and caged, only once the demons are once more working to run hell and earn their release to heaven, does sam reopen the gates of hell

only when there's a full choir of angels once more, committed to their cause, only once there are souls working with reapers as it once always was, does dean reopen the gates of heaven

they're called the god trials for a reason. above and below, sam and dean act as god, putting things back in their intended places

they could stay. they should stay. keeping house, making sure it all goes smoothly, eternally keeping earth safe from angels and demons both

they're called the god trials for a reason. not even god could resist the paradise inbetween that he'd created

dean doesn't know if sam is going to return to earth. he might stay in hell, and if dean becomes human once more, then what's the point? he'll live and die a human, get stuck in heaven, and be forever separated from the brother he loves

sam doesn't know if dean is going to return to earth. he migh not be able to, might be stuck doing his work - sam assumes if the hell trials did this to him, then the heaven trials did the same to dean, and the idea that dean could have failed the heaven trials after he dies doesn't even cross mind. if he returns and dean's not there then he loses it all, he never again gets to see the brother he loves

but when, exactly, haven't they been willing to risk everything for each other?

dean falls as lucifer fell, throwing himself towards earth

sam rises as michael did after the fall, pulling himself towards earth the same way michael once pulled himself to the top of heaven

what's the use of being a god without his brother, after all?

dean and sam are reunited on earth, human once more

no more angels, no more demons, heaven and hell functioning once more as they should. we're back to basics, a clean slate, all of the rest remade and set aside by their own hands (it's literal and a metaphor, the way the show could have remade itself with the trials, after setting aside kripke's plan while at the same time recognizing that the design of it - two brothers who love each other going across america and fighting evil - is the thing that made it worth watching to begin with) and now it's them again, brothers forged in blood and sacrifice and love, and a new appreciation for the humanity they gave up and returned to

and then we get my beloved monster of the week with no stupid too high stakes, convoluted bullshit involved, beyond the occasional angel who dean refused to reinstate and demon tracking down miscreant souls and, every once in a while, a person or creature or something in between squinting at them and going - weren't you two gods?

nah, they say, all corn fed grins and the dimples their momma gave them, we're brothers

[shyoko]

can i suggest something? can you do an ot7 enhypen story where the girl makes a prank saying that "their dicks are too small" btw i love you don't explode 😭😭

☆Prank saying that "their dicks are too small".☆

This writing is my own; no copies, adaptations, or translations are allowed. I hope you like it. (English is not my first language.) 

✦ 2.3K words✧ adult cont! teasing* Masterlist˚ Taglist✧ Requests “Open”₊‧ ✦𓂃  ✦Taglist: @lezleeferguson-120 @nuki-riki @ijustwannareadstuff20 @vvenusoncasual @miellette @enhacolor @xxkatsusjinsux @somieverse @ourshin

A/n: I hope you like it very much. I love you too. 🩷🩷

✦Adult content✦

Heeseung☆

Heeseung moved his fingers deftly over the keyboard, stringing together attacks in his video game. His hands moved with mesmerizing speed, awakening a burning desire in you. You knew you shouldn't interrupt him-all his friends could hear him through the headphones-but... if he kept quiet, there would be no problem.

You approached, and upon noticing your presence, Heeseung turned his face. His gaze met your innocent smile, all too aware that he was hiding something.

“What is it, honey, do you need something?”

“You!”

Your friends' laughter burst out of their headphones. Heeseung sighed, muting the microphone.

“I finish this game and I'm with you, okay?”

But then he turned it back on and, with dangerous confidence, blurted out:

“She's so desperate.”

The guffaws were not long in coming.

Oh, this was a war.

You knelt under the desk and pulled down his pants in one motion. Heeseung flinched, his eyes darting between the screen and you.

“Honey...” he murmured in warning.

You smiled before speaking loud enough to be heard.

“Your dick looks small.”

Laughter erupted instantly.

Heeseung reddened, but when his dark eyes bore into yours, you knew the truth.

It wasn't embarrassment. It was anger.

And he wasn't about to let it go.

“Can you two concentrate on playing and stop laughing you assholes?”

He laid his eyes on you, and only you. And before he said a word he roughly lifted you up and glued your chest to his desk leaving his hooves right next to you so his friends could hear everything.

“Come on honey, if you apologize maybe I'll think about fucking you silly right now.”

You stirred in his arms trying to find his touch. 

Which he did with no problem sticking to your ass hard, feeling his entire length so close but so far away from you.

“S-sorry” you whispered.

His hand slapped you. 

“Who's the one who fills you so well? Who? Come on say it, sweetheart.” 

he laughed dryly as he felt your body tremble beneath him.

 “You, j-just you.”

 “That's right, just me.”

Certainly your friends had a show that night. 

jay☆

After a heated make-out session, Jay received a call from his company. They informed him that he was to attend a brief meeting to discuss some relevant issues before his return.

“Fuck...” he muttered in annoyance as he hung up.

After stealing a couple more kisses from you, he reluctantly said goodbye and walked out.

Minutes later, your phone vibrated with a message from him:

“This is torture. I feel so tight in my pants.”

“Damn, this is so embarrassing.”

“I hope no one notices.”

You smiled, amused, and decided to play a little.

“It's okay, baby. I'll take care of you when you get here.”

“Besides, you shouldn't worry...your dick isn't big enough to be noticed.”

Okay, maybe the joke was too much, but you were dying to see her reaction.

It wasn't long in coming.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you sure about what you're saying?”

“Because I'm not the one screaming my head off about how good my dick feels.”

“I'm not the one who gets desperate to have it inside her, to the point of sending audios and pictures begging for attention.”

“Nor am I the one who waits for me many nights naked and open, begging for me.”

“So tell me, are you really sure of what you're saying?”

Your face burned as you wrote hurriedly:

“Oh, for God's sake, shut up right now!”

“Shut me up.”

“And while you're at it, rest that throat.”

“Because when I come, the last thing you'll do is be quiet... So look forward to my return.”

Your body shuddered at the implied promise.

The night would be a long one.

Jake☆

Jake's long, skillful fingers moved deftly over you, provoking a myriad of sensations that took your breath away.

Your soft gasps filled the room, mingling with the sound of his labored breathing. “God, baby...” he murmured with a smug smile, enjoying the way you reacted to his touch ”You're so wet for me.”

His words further ignited the heat coursing through your body.

“Do you think you're ready for me yet?” he asked softly, in complete contrast to the intensity of his movements.

Your mind was blank, caught up in the pleasure... until suddenly, he pulled away, leaving you with an empty feeling and a silent protest on your lips.

“Shh... it's okay, baby. You'll feel even better now” he whispered, his tone laden with promise.

He positioned himself against you, the tip of his dick at your hole ready to go deep, but before he could continue, an idea crossed your mind.

“‘Baby...” you whispered, with feigned innocence. “I prefer your fingers, they're much longer.”

The silence that followed was almost palpable. Jake blinked, processing your words.

You had just implied something that was far from true.

His jaw tensed and, in a single motion, he caught your wrists in one of his hands, lifting them above your head.

“Stop teasing” he spat with a scowl, his intense gaze riveted on yours.

“I know you love my hands, but you know damn well you're dying for it to be my dick inside you right now.” 

“I said I prefer your fingers-”

You didn't finish the sentence.

A loud gasp escaped your lips as Jake entered you, he was deep inside you, his hips delivering thrust after thrust.

“How about now, baby?” he murmured against your ear, his voice velvety in perfect contrast to the way he enveloped you.

His gaze descended to your belly.

“Look where I am...” he whispered, with a satisfied smile. “Are you sure you prefer my fingers?” he pointed to your belly where the outline of his dick was noticeable.

Your only response was a shaky moan.

Jake laughed softly, leaning over you as his fingers slowly traced your skin.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this...”

Sunghoon☆

Your hands slid gently down Sunghoon's body as you descended little by little, tracing him with light caresses. Deftly, you unbuttoned his pants and slid them down along with his boxers, exposing the evidence of his desire.

You gently wrapped your fingers around him, feeling his warmth against your skin.

“Mmh~” a small sound escaped your lips.

Your mischievous gaze settled on him before you blurted out, with feigned innocence:

“You seem smaller than I remembered.”

Sunghoon froze, his expression hardening instantly.

“Excuse me?” his tone took on a dangerous edge.

“I'm just saying I remembered it bigger, honey.”

You smiled, giving away the lie.

His eyes narrowed, and before you could react, his fingers tangled in your hair with a firm grip.

“You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, princess.”

“Now I'll keep that damn mouth busy so you'll stop talking nonsense” He tugged at your hair, forcing you to look up at him.

“Understood?”

You averted your gaze, silently challenging him.

His grip tightened.

“I asked if you understood. Answer. Now.”

Your breath trembled.

“ U-understood...” you whispered.

A deep chuckle escaped his lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Good girl” he murmured with satisfaction before firmly guiding your head until it bumped against his dick.

You didn't need any more directions. You knew exactly what to do.

Your lips began to spread soft kisses, causing her breath to hitch. You played, you teased, you enjoyed the anticipation, but Sunghoon was not one to tolerate that kind of torture.

“Stop teasing” his gravelly voice made it clear that his patience was wearing thin.

“Open up” It didn't take you long to do as he asked by letting him enter your mouth. Quickly your eyes filled with tears from the rough thrusts he was delivering to your throat.

His fingers brushed your cheek with deceptive tenderness, wiping away the moisture built up in the corners of your eyes.

“Now, why don't you start by apologizing to me?” he whispered, his tone mixing gentleness and authority. “Before I decide to teach you what it really means to play with me.”

The air grew thick between you.

You definitely wouldn't come out of this unscathed.

Sunoo☆

You and Sunoo wandered aimlessly through the store, exploring each aisle leisurely.

When you reached the children's section, your eyes fell on tiny Spiderman print boxer shorts. The thought made you smile mischievously.

“Look, baby. For you” you joked, holding them out in front of him.

Sunoo frowned, clearly offended.

“There wouldn't even fit a part of my dick-” 

You didn't give him a chance to finish. Quickly, you covered his mouth with your hand, before he blurted out something like that in the middle of the children's section. 

“Sunoo!” you whispered in disbelief. “Are you listening to yourself? You can't say that in here...”

A laugh crashed against your hand, sunoo grabbed your wrist and pulled it away from his mouth pushing your hand down. 

Sunoo had placed your hand right on his erection, startling you. You froze as you felt the warmth of his body under your touch.

His hips moved gently but desperately against your hand, trying to soothe the big problem that was growing by the second inside his pants. 

Sunoo leaned toward your ear, her voice barely a murmur laden with intent.

“L-let's go...” he whispered, urgently, tugging gently on your wrist as he headed for the exit.

The ride to the car was silent, but the tension between the two of you was evident.

As you sat in the passenger seat, Sunoo exhaled with a shaky sigh, her gaze meeting yours.

“Take care of me...” he asked in a low tone, his expression reflecting a mixture of anticipation and restrained desire.

 He opened his pants and pulled his dick out without pulling them down, just leaving enough room for it to come out. 

Your hand slowly slid down his thigh, enjoying the anticipation in his eyes. Finally you circled his length eliciting a half-hearted sigh. 

Definitely, the wait until you got home would be too long, as you wouldn't get home without him finishing first.

Jungwon☆

You were on the couch, pretending to be on a call with your friends, just to see Jungwon's reaction.

“He's very cute, the only bad thing is that he's not very big let's say” you said with feigned indifference, making sure he was close enough to hear you.

You waited for some kind of response, but Jungwon ignored it completely. Two hours passed and he didn't even mention the comment, which made you think that maybe he hadn't heard it.

Instead, in the evening, when his lips took yours, you realized how wrong you were.

His kiss didn't have the usual sweetness; it was more intense, more demanding. His tongue pushed its way in firmly, while his hands roamed your body with a possessive touch.

Clothes piled up on the floor, your hands took over everything until he ended up on your breasts. You were ready for more, for him, but just as he was about to continue, he suddenly pulled away.

“Where are you going?” you asked, puzzled.

Jungwon looked at you calmly, but his tone was anything but innocent.

“To the living room. I don't think my dick will satisfy you, so you'd better take care of it yourself.”

You froze.

“N-no, wait...” desperation seeped into your voice as you stood up and pulled him to you. “It was a lie, I promise.”

Jungwon tilted his head, enjoying your reaction.

“ Darling, it's no problem. I'm sure you can manage without me.”

But before he could take another step, you clung to his neck, your lips searching for any way to stop him.

“Please...I was stupid” you whispered against his skin. “I can't without you...”

Your eyes were glazed over, and he noticed immediately.

Without a word he took you in his arms and placed you on the bed towering over you.

“You look so sweet crying for me...” he murmured with a satisfied smile....

He leaned over you, his gaze dark and full of intent.

Finally, he gave you what you so desperately needed, making sure you learned your lesson.

Ni-ki☆

You shed your clothes at the same time as Ni-ki, feeling the warmth of her hand taking yours as she guided you into the shower. The water began to fall, sliding down your bodies as steam enveloped the atmosphere.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips.

“What's wrong?” asked Ni-ki with a smile, not understanding the reason for your amusement.

“He looks so adorable when he's asleep...he looks tiny” you said, pointing down mischievously.

Her smile faded instantly. His eyes darkened and, without warning, his hand closed around your neck with a firmness that made your breathing quicken. In one swift movement, he spun you around and pushed you gently against the wet shower wall, pressing his body against yours.

A gasp caught in your throat.

“I remind you that this dick” his deep voice echoed in your ear “is the same one that leaves you shaking every time. So stop talking nonsense...or you'll go a month without it.”

The heat radiating from her body, added to the contrast of the water sliding across your skin, made you shiver. Her hips brushed against you with intentionality, her grip on your neck intensifying from time to time, as if marking each word with her touch.

Every second that passed, you could feel him growing up right behind you seeing more clearly the effect your joke had had on him. Ni-ki grabbed your wrist and forced you to turn around, facing his chest, noticing the difference in height between the two of you.

He moved even closer, forcing you to lower your gaze.

And then you saw it.

The size difference was overwhelming. How in just a few minutes he had been able to grow to the width and length he was now.

“Well, baby?” he murmured with a sly grin. “Does it still look adorable now?”

Your pulse shot up.

You were definitely in trouble.

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLEFT ALONE * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where, after a difficult week, Matt takes out all his stress on Y/N, causing great damage to their relationship.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　fighting, yelling, cursing, dark thoughts. ANGST!

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

"I don't know where you want to get with that, Matt." Y/N sighed, closing her eyes tightly for a few minutes before opening them again, keeping them fixed on the road in front of the car. She had her head resting on her right hand, and her elbow braced next to the passenger door window.

Matt, as usual, had gone to pick up Y/N from work after her shift, but he was surprised to have to wait for an hour in the car for his girlfriend to finally be released, as her boss had demanded that she had to work overtime.

Despite being wrong, Matt felt furious.

His week was more than hectic with the start of sales of the 6 million clothing collection, as he and his brothers had to spend hours autographing photos of themselves that would go with each order. In addition to - by Nick and Chris's choice -, the three of them were the ones who hand-packed the first ones, which resulted in Matt having to stay awake until late hours, and waking up early everyday to fulfill his other tasks.

With all that, having to sit in his car for an hour, with only his phone and in such an uncomfortable seat seemed to increase his irritation, and he couldn't help but start an argument with his girlfriend, feeling like a pressure cooker about to explode.

"I'm just saying that you don't stop at home anymore. You just work all day, as if it was your number one priority in life. And now you've started this nonsense of working overtime!" Matt accused, gesturing exaggeratedly with his right hand while keeping his left one on the steering wheel.

"It's not like I asked to work overtime, Matt! You and your brothers have worked in a grocery store once, you know how it works-"

"Don't you dare bring up Chris and Nick's name. They have nothing to do with your lack of responsibility within a relationship." The boy took his eyes off the road momentarily, giving her a cold look that sent shivers running up her spine.

"Matt, you're being ridiculous! I understand your week has been tiring-" Matt cut the girl off again, shaking his head nervously.

"No, you don't know nothing, Y/N!" His tone was arrogant, a tone that the girl didn't remember ever hearing from him. "I'm exhausted because of my own work, and I still have to come and pick you up every day! And now you make me stay stuck in this car for an hour, waiting for Miss Perfect here to decide to leave." His voice gradually increased in volume.

Y/N could already feel the sensations of the ugly crying that was about to come, taking a deep breath and counting to 10 in her head.

"Then don't pick me up anymore, Matt! You were willing to come every day after my work just until some days ago, but if it's so hard for you now, don't come anymore." Y/N replied, her tone lower than her boyfriend's but still carrying much stress.

"How can you be so ungrateful?" Matt shouted, slamming his hands against the steering wheel violently.

"Matt, look, I'm sorry- Hey, keep your eyes on the road!" Y/N ignored the pang she felt in her heart at the brunette's words, fear rising through her veins as she saw the car move further away from the main road, as a result of his lack of attention.

Her eyes were wide as she raised her hands, ready to grab the steering wheel if necessary.

"You know what? I'm done." Matt spoke through gritted teeth, turning the car sharply to the right until it stopped on the side of the road.

"What are you doing? Matt?" Y/N asked, her breath coming out shakily as her eyes traveled down the dark, deserted street, to her boyfriend's face, which seemed to be covered in a gray cloud of hate.

"I'm done with this. If you don't want to take responsibility for your own mistakes and don't understand the seriousness of this relationship like I do, then maybe it's not worth the effort." He unlocked the doors, crossing his arms and keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his nostrils flaring as a result of his hard breathing.

"M-Matt, don't do that." The girl tried, swallowing hard.

She reached out her hand towards him with the intention of gently touching his arm, but Matt pulling away roughly, as if she were a plague, made her stop abruptly for a few seconds, her hand slowly lowering.

“I need to think, Y/N.” He shook his head, resting his elbows on the steering wheel and laying his head in his hands, closing his eyes tightly. "Get out." He demanded sharply.

Y/N's eyes widened, her heart stopping momentarily.

"W-what? Are you crazy? Look at the time, Matt. How am I going to-"

"Get out." Matt interrupted her, not once looking up. His tone was flat and cold.

Y/N looked at him for a few more seconds, as if waiting for him to apologize and say it was all a sick joke. But that never happened.

She quickly pulled the car handle, grabbing her purse and getting out of the passenger seat. The cold night air hit her body with force as if needles were piercing her skin, eliciting a strong shiver from her members.

Her hand pushed the door hard, closing it, the sound echoing like a dull thud. Her eyes watched the car restart not even a second later, screeching away.

Y/N remained still for a few seconds - or minutes -, watching Matt's car disappear into the distance, her hope of him turning around slowly disappearing.

"Come back." Her voice sounded so broken, just like her insides. "P-please."

She spun around, taking note of the street completely deserted of cars or humans, the only source of life being the streetlights.

The girl quickly hooked her purse onto her right shoulder, crossing her arms tightly around her torso and beginning the steps of the long walk she would have to take to get home - if she even could call that place her home anymore. The possibility of Matt kicking her out after the events made her legs tremble.

Her throat started to hurt from the crying that she was still holding back. The emotions rising in her chest were like bile in her throat; It burned and hurt like never before. Her heart felt like it was being crushed by a human hand, and it didn't take long for loud sobs to escape her lips, her eyes stinging from the hot tears in contact with the freezing wind.

It was minutes of walking without stopping, her feet ached from the tension in her body, a result of the intense cold and the several times she turned back, checking if she wasn't being followed.

The familiar street soon took over her blurred vision, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. Thick tears were still rolling from her eyes, but her sobs had stopped, being replaced by small sniffles.

Y/N shuffled down the sidewalk, passing the houses neighboring hers, before finally stopping in front of her front door. Her hands, practically frozen by the cold, opened her purse in a quick movement, rummaging through the smaller pockets, looking for the key.

She closed her eyes tightly when she couldn't find it, vaguely remembering just throwing it in the glove compartment of Matt's car that morning since she was in such a rush and still eating her breakfast.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she fished out her phone, cursing under her breath when she noticed that the battery was almost all gone. Just her lucky day.

She quickly unlocked the screen, going into her contact list and clicking on Chris's one. The boy answered on the second ring, surprising Y/N.

"Y/N? Thank God, where are you guys?" Chris's voice sounded relieved. Y/N frowned, her mind creating thousands of horrible scenarios as to why Matt hadn't gotten home yet.

The path she took, which took her almost 30 minutes of walking - or more, since she was walking slowly due to the cold - would not even take 15 minutes by car.

"C-Chris, open the door for me. Please." Her voice was broken, her teeth chattering as her body felt the temperature drop even more now that she stood still.

"Are you out there? Alone?" He asked exasperatedly. The sound of his bed shuffling sounded from behind, probably the result of him getting up.

"Yeah... Just hurry, please." Y/N repeated, her tone completely vulnerable.

The line went dead at the same instant. Her right hand - which was holding the device - moved away from her ear quickly, her eyes only finding the negative battery icon.

She threw her phone into her purse again, her eyes prickling with new tears that wanted to flow. Her mind created terrible thoughts about herself and her day, and all she wanted most was to sleep and perhaps never wake up again.

The sound of keys sounded on the other side of the door seconds before it was abruptly opened. Chris's figure appeared, his wide eyes carrying immense concern as they roamed Y/N's body, seeming to search for any injuries.

"Oh my God, you're freezing." He confirmed when he noticed her shaking, gently pulling her inside, before closing the door again. He rubbed his hands over Y/N's arms, which, even though they were covered by the fluffy jacket, were still extremely cold.

The warm air from the heater inside the house welcomed the girl's body gracefully, surrounding her like a thin blanket. She sighed, closing her eyes momentarily.

"Where the hell is Matt? I thought he was going to pick you up." Chris asked exasperatedly, helping her take her purse off her shoulder, hanging it on the rack next to the door.

Y/N felt her eyes fill with tears again at the mention of her boyfriend's name. An ugly sound of choked sobs escaping her throat caught Chris's attention, who stopped his movements and turned his eyes to her.

"Oh no, what did he do?" His tone was gentle as he approached, pulling her into a tight hug as he watched her shake her head in denial repeatedly, her lips trembling. "Let's go to my room, you need a hot shower and fresh clothes."

Chris slowly stepped away, keeping one of his hands on Y/N's shoulders, guiding her through the kitchen and down the stairs towards his own room.

The door was already open - being left like that when the boy rushed after receiving her call -, the two of them just passing through it before Chris closed it, keeping the hot air trapped between the four walls.

"Go take a shower, I'll get you some new clothes from your closet, okay? There's a clean towel in the cabinet under the sink." The boy indicated, watching his sister-in-law nod weakly, a low "thank you" escaping her lips before she could enter the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

It didn't take long for Y/N to step out again, already dressed in the Fresh Love sweatshirt set that Chris placed on the sink - just by putting his arm between the door and the frame.

Even though she wanted to melt like hot water and go down the drain just like her tears that fell imperceptibly, her feet hurt too much to support her weight for even another minute, begging for a rest.

Chris was sitting on the right side of the bed, his back against the headboard and his legs above the duvet, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, seeming to be waiting for her.

The sound of the bathroom door closing attracted his attention, and he quickly locked his cell, putting it on the bedside table before tapping the empty space next to him, silently calling Y/N to sit there.

The girl walked to the indicated side, lifting the duvet and sitting on the mattress, staying in the same position as Chris, but with her legs covered.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" He asked calmly, watching her closely, trying to read her expressions, but seeing only an ocean of pain in every line of her face and eyes.

"Matt left me in the middle of the road." She swallowed hard, shaking her head while closing her eyes tightly. "We had a fight. My boss demanded from me to work overtime and I forgot to tell Matt, so he ended up waiting for me for an hour in his car. He was tired from the day and the week, and I think the stress built up on both our sides, and he just started yelling at me." Y/N shrugged, sniffing momentarily, trying to hold back her tears.

"Wait, he left you in the middle of the road, alone and in the cold? To come home walking?" Chris's eyes widened, a look of disbelief occupying his blue orbs as he tried to process the information.

"Yeah." The girl's voice sounded low and vulnerable, her head lowering and her eyes focusing on her hands above the duvet, feeling embarrassed by her boyfriend's actions. "I tried to intervene at some point, but he was so mad." She took a deep breath, biting her bottom lip hard, the pain almost numb next to the one she felt in her heart. "I don't know what I did wrong, Chris." Her voice broke, a dry sob escaping her throat.

"I'm so sorry for my brother's actions, Y/N." Chris sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. "I promise you did absolutely nothing wrong. Don't let those thoughts get the best of you."

"I just... Maybe I'm not really giving our relationship enough credit. Or maybe I'm not enough to fit into Matt's life patterns and busy days." She douted, playing with her fingers as a nervous act.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep? I imagine how tired you are and it's late. We can talk about this tomorrow, but try to clean your mind for now, okay?" He suggested.

Chris helped her lay down after receiving a nod of agreement, adjusting the duvet over her body. The girl moved her head, laying it on his left thigh, seeking comfort. He quickly put his hand on her hair, stroking the area calmly, lulling her into sleep.

After making sure she was already dreaming, the boy moved her slowly - so as not to wake her -, laying her completely on the mattress before getting up. He sat down in his gaming chair, crossing his legs on the seat.

Chris closed his eyes tightly, massaging his temples, trying to reduce the tension there. His eyes remained on Y/N's figure, caring for her sleep like a worried older brother, longing to have the power to erase the entire event from the girl's memory.

Matt would hear from him when he arrived.

© vanteguccir

[crowsofdarkness]

Mask Kink. Enough said.

Russian translations will be at the end of the blurb.

18+ CW(mask kink, Masked Bucky fingering his prisoner, Stockholm Syndrome, Bucky speaking Russian because 😮‍💨)

*originally posted on my old blog*

Soldat.

His name was muffled in your hand as you bit down on the inside of my palm, trying so hard not to say it out loud. You couldn’t let him know how much you were enjoying this. Cool metal fingers pumped in and out of you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of pure bliss.

“Takoy mokryy," Soldat praised, his voice muffled behind his mask.

Even though you spoke English, you were still fluent in Russian, along with a few other languages. It came with the territory of the job.

The room was dark, barley lit by the pale yellow light above your cot. It casted both you and Soldat in a glow, those dark eyes breaking through as they stared up at you.

It had been like this for weeks. Every night you were visited by The Winter Soldier, or as you called him Soldat. He captured you in hopes to break you down to revel who you were working for and who sent you to kill him.

Well, try to kill him anyway. No one can kill The Winter Soldier.

It only was until the other day, where your interrogations turned into something more sexual. You found yourself getting excited for his visits and both of you could feel the tension building. It all blew over when he wretched your hair back, pulling hard at the roots and you let a moan of pleasure slip that Soldat realized that these kinds of interrogations wouldn't cut it any longer.

When he showed up without his mask last night to bring you yet another trey of stale bread and oatmeal, you said fuck it and crashed your lips to his, just to see what he would do.

He kissed back with even more of a fever, nearly overpowering you to the ground.

Soldat still wouldn't let you go though.

With your wrist chained to the bed, you arched your back off the cot as best you could when he slipped another metal finger inside of your tight cunt.

"So close," you choked on a breath while looking at him between your legs.

Dark tendrils of hair covered his raven eyes as Soldat kept his masked face between your legs, almost teasing you that he wouldn't burry his tongue in your cunt with his metal fingers.

"Kto tebya poslal?" Soldat demanded to know.

You shook your head, refusing to answer but when his fingers began to slip out of you, a whine fell from your lips.

"Please," you begged him while running your free hand through his hair. "Let me cum. Please."

Now his face towered over yours and you sucked in a breath at seeing the mask up close. You wanted him to do so many things to you while he wore it. Very quickly, you cast your eyes down to his cock, which was pressing hard against the pants of his tactical uniform.

Every night you dreamed of what it felt like, what he tasted like.

"Bud' khoroshey devochkoy i skazhi mne, kto tebya poslal. Togda ya pozvolyu tebe konchit'."

With three fingers inside of you, Soldat's pace was unforgiving as he fucked your pussy without letting up. The base of your spine tingled before exploding in ecstasy, your orgasm crying out in the room.

"SHIELD sent me," your chest rose and fell as your body slumped against the bed.

Soldat made a noise behind the mask, almost a tie between a purr of satisfaction and a groan of annoyance.

"Eto moya khoroshaya devochka." Was all he said before he pulled his metal fingers from inside of you, them glistening with your arousal, and his large frame left the room.

TRANSLATIONS:

Takoy mokryy-So wet.

Kto tebya poslal?-Who sent you?

Bud' khoroshey devochkoy i skazhi mne, kto tebya poslal. Togda ya pozvolyu tebe konchit'.-Be a good girl and tell me who sent you. Then I'll let you cum.

Eto moya khoroshaya devochka-That's my good girl.

[puffleyia]

After Hours || Theodore Nott

Theodore Nott x fem!reader || 2.3k words

Warnings: Unprotected & clothed sex, p-in-v, Theo speaking some Italian (hope the translations are accurate..) yeah, i'm a sucker for that.

Summary: Exams are two weeks time from now. You've made a deliberate effort to steer clear of your boyfriend, Theo. One unfortunate night, he ends up dragging you into an empty classroom and teaches you a lesson worth remembering.

Author's notes: Hellooo, requests are open ! It's a blast writing ab Theo !! I've only gotten back into writing recently after not writing fics for a good while. sorry if i'm slow at churning out fics. I'm busy!

It was roughly two weeks before examinations, and professors have even stopped giving out homework as to focus students’ time on reviewing for their respective subjects. You’ve been studying your ass off in the library day and night, sometimes offering your friends to join in as well. Though, they quickly get bored as they soon offer to do much more interesting things  than studying such as having a go at wizard chess, or exploding snap.

It took a lot of self control not to join them, and it took even more not to just put down your book and see Theo. You had been purposely avoiding him because he would always end up distracting you, one way or another. You always catch him stealing a glance at you, and you would almost squirm at the way he looked at you; severely in discomfort as the tension between you two only continued to rise due to the lack of interaction.

It felt suffocating to say the least, so you even began trying not to even breathe in his direction. Needless to say, the bastard still had his ways. He would sometimes sneak up behind you in the library, as you pore over the shelves, inviting himself in as he grabbed your waist and buried his face in your neck. Another is when he would attempt to ensnare you right after your classes. 

In the end, you always found yourself ending up hiding away in your common room. You would get past him just by the skin of your teeth each time, as he used his cunning words and a dangerous tone that was like poisoned honey.

You thought, or, more like hoped it would be a quiet night tonight, staying up past curfew hours at the library and praying none of the professors nor prefects would catch you. Though perhaps you were too engrossed in Advanced Potion Making to notice the echo of footsteps that slowly grew louder as it drew nearer to you. Your ears simply blanked it out as mere white noise.

It had not even registered yet in your head until you felt an arm wrap around your shoulder, as someone sat beside you. You didn’t need to look to know who it was, as you could see him faintly through your peripherals. “You’ve been so distant lately, amore,” he says, his tone unhappy and laced with a hint of something else you couldn’t quite make out underneath it. 

“Sorry, Theo, I-I’m only trying to focus on the exams at the moment. I mean, not in a bad way but, if I spend time with you, I’ll only end up distracted,” you say, trying to clarify yourself to him. Maybe it would’ve been a good idea to tell him sooner. He sighs, “I guess I’ll just have to–” he gets cut off as you both stiffen at the sound of someone approaching.

He hastily places a firm hand over your mouth, silencing your protests, and shoves your book, notes, and quill into your arms. Before you could object, he then relocates you two into an empty classroom, hastily and skillfully sneaking around the halls to get there. It looked unkempt, and it seemed as if it were not used regularly either. He finally released you from his grasp as you gasped for air. “Theo! What the he–” you say, as he quickly covers your mouth again. “Shh, you’re gonna get us caught, principessa.” He says in a low voice, in a near-whisper before he lets go again. “Ahem,” you clear up your throat before you speak, “I-I believe I should get going, Theo.” He furrows his brows at that, frowning slightly. You head towards the classroom’s door, before he grabs you by the waist from behind and pulls you in.

“Who said you were leaving, hm? Are you trying to avoid me again?” He says, as he moved the both of you to sit on one of the chairs. You remain in his arms, unable to get out despite your attempts to wiggle out and you end up on his lap. “Theo.” You say firmly, trying to assert yourself to let him know you really are serious about studying. “Mm, fine, since you’re so stubborn. Tell you what, how about I study with you?” He says suggestively, his voice making you feel things you were not supposed to. Not right now at least.

“Really?” You say skeptically, raising an eyebrow. You place your stuff down, with a dull thud as it is placed on the table. Sounding slightly annoyed, he says, “What's with the attitude, hm? Are you doubting me?” “F-fine, then,” you hesitantly agree, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wants to be. Alone with him.

“Brava ragazza,” he says, as he rests his head on your shoulder whilst flipping open your book. You can not help but faintly squeeze your thighs together, you didn’t know most of the time what he was saying when he spoke to you in Italian, but you found it incredibly hot when he did. Your actions do not go unnoticed by him, though he was not going to do anything yet. You pick up your quill, your eyebrows knitting together as you attempt to focus on taking your notes. 

“Tell you what, I’ll ask you a few questions to help you. If you get it right, I won’t do anything. If you don't…” He says, his voice trailing off as he does not continue what he was going to say, though the timbre in his voice gave enough implication. You gulp and nod, your throat bobbing as you swallow. You knew you did not really have much of a say, Theo’s done a good job of cornering you. Not to mention the fact he knew you were slightly struggling with potions, too.

“Right then, amore, can you tell me how Golpalott’s Third Law influences the effectiveness and stability of potions?” He asked amusedly, his foot tapping the floor rhythmically. “Uhm,” you say, muttering in an attempt to answer, “Uh, well, it’s... um, when you have a potion with, uh, lots of different poisons, right? So, um, the antidote... it's not just, um, the sum of... wait, no, it's more than that! Yeah, um…” You begin feeling your mouth go dry as the tension in the room fills the air. You feel your heart thump loudly against your ribcage.

“It’s when you have multiple poisons mixed together in a potion, the antidote needs to be more potent or comprehensive to counteract their combined effects.” He says, cockily smirking as he corrects you. Your breath hitches as he takes off your robes and his, tossing it aside as he hikes up your skirt and gropes you. “Theo!” You gasp at his actions. He buries his face on the crook of your neck, as he breathed in your scent before he began kissing it.

“Cazzo,” he mumbles before he spat out another question, “What are the common ingredients and methods used to counteract the effects of different poisons?” You feel the tent in his pants growing, his cock pressing against your clothed cunt. “I–” You manage to get out before biting your lip, stifling a moan. You had reviewed this, but lust simply clouded your mind for you to formulate a cohesive answer.

“Um, er.. D-dittany, for uhm, venom,” you say, as Theo continued teasing you, grinding his hips upwards so that you could feel his dick. You moan at the friction on your pussy, feeling your panties get wet. “I..” You slur, unable to say anything further. “Cockdrunk already, cara mia?” He lets out a guttural laugh, bending you over the table and grabbing your hips roughly as he continues grinding his cock on your pussy. 

“Don’t forget, Bezoar, for example–” he grunts, “–is a stone found in the stomach of certain magical creatures like goats. It's known for its ability to neutralise many poisons when ingested. Then there's the Antidote to Common Poisons…” He corrects you, adding more strings of information you probably needed. Though, it was not as if you were paying attention, as you were moving your hips hungrily back onto his dick, only being separated by thin fabric. 

“Merda, might as well just fuck you if you keep getting my questions wrong, principessa.” He says, his voice dangerously low as you hear the clink of his belt unbuckling and the distinct sound of his fly unzipping. You look over your shoulder, watching him intently as he pulls down his dark grey boxers and frees his cock. “Theo, please,” you whine, as he smacks your ass and pushes your panties aside. “I thought you were too busy studying? Maybe I should just leave you to that,” he teases you, tapping his dick on your cunt and rubbing it in between your folds.

“No, please,” you plead, and desperately you pressed yourself onto his cock. “Beg, cara mia,” he husked condescendingly, enjoying humiliating you as he continued teasing your wet pussy. “Please, mmhn–” you moan, “I’m sorry, Theo. I-I need it, please, need your cock,” you whimper, flushed from embarrassment as he finally slipped the tip inside you. He pressed inside, at a gruellingly slow pace. 

“Cazzo, una puttana così sporca, aren’t you huh?” You could not place your finger on a single word he said in Italian, but your pussy definitely could. He groaned loudly as he grew impatient, shoving the rest of his dick into you. His groin pressed flush against your ass. You moaned loudly at that, and with a swift motion, he reached out and clamped his hand over your mouth. “Shh, cara mia,” he whispers sultrily in your ear as he quickly silences you, unwilling for the both of you to get caught.

You let out a few muffled sounds against his hand as he began thrusting into you, slowly drawing out his cock as he slammed it back into you with such force that the table beneath you shook. “Such a slut aren’t you? Merda,” He rasped as he uncovers your mouth, “yes!” you say, as he’s eliciting vulgar moans from you each time he fucked his dick back in.

He slithered his hand down onto your pussy, rubbing your clit. He leans in, grunting, as he kisses your nape. He sucks on your neck, trailing down to your back, leaving red marks as he sealed each one afterwards with a kiss. “Ti senti così maledettamente bene, amore,” he groaned, only setting his pace rougher as he hit a particularly deep spot inside you, hitting your cervix. 

“Oh fuck, Theo,” you whine, as you tried to remain as quiet as you could. Your hands firmly grip onto the edges of the table, your nails digging into it, as he fucks you into oblivion. Tears brim at your eyes, as close them shut. Some teardrops cling onto your pretty lashes, and some flow down your cheek, falling down, staining the pages of your book. He loved watching you cry in pleasure, observing your expressions as he drove himself into you.

He loomed over you, using a hand to cup your jaw to force your head to look up at his face. “Open your mouth, cara mia.” He said, an authoritative tone that rolled off his tongue like butter. You oblige, parting your lips, your tongue lolling out as you do. He spits in your mouth, the hand holding your chin clamping your jaw shut afterwards . “Swallow.”

You do as he says, swallowing his spit as he lets go of your jaw and your head hangs down soon after. With that, he fucks you rougher, his pace frantic. You become nothing short of a moaning mess, he returns his hand to your clit and strokes it rhythmically in time with his thrusts. You let out small whimpers and whines as you feel hazy and drunk on his cock. 

Theo, in an intoxicated trance, mutters a string of curses and praises in Italian. You cry out his name in ecstasy with every jab at your sweet spot as he ploughs into you. You feel a familiar warmth pooling at your stomach, only feeling more pleasurable by the second. “Theo, m’gonna cum, T-Theo,” you babble almost incoherently. He leans in briefly, and in a gravelly tone, “Cum on my cock, cara mia.” He says, letting his breath trickle down your neck.

Spasming around him, you dissolve into pleasure as you see stars. You selfishly clench around his dick, as if you wanted to milk him dry. Cumming all over his cock, you quite literally bury your face into your book, in an attempt to muffle the loud moan you let out as you do. 

His thrusts grow languid and sloppy, hips stuttering unrhythmically as his climax nears. “Want me to cum inside you, principessa?” He husked, now digging his fingers into your hips as he chased his high. “Yes, yes, mhn–” you chant, unable to think straight. “Theo, please,” you pleaded. 

With one final thrust, he groans loudly and buries himself fully inside you and stuffs your pussy with his cum. You felt his cock pulsing inside you, both of you panting as he rode out his orgasm. “Fuck, atta girl,” he says breathily, praising you as he pulls out of your cunt. He watches as you softly moan as you feel white globs of cum trickle out of your folds, dripping down your thighs.

He hastily tucks his cock back into his pants, pulling your skirt back in place as he walks (more like carries) you back to your common room that night before he headed back to his. Well, it was safe to say you definitely got nothing done that night, though he makes it up to you the following afternoon by actually helping you study with potions.

[ominouspuff]

Kote’s House

Kote’s first house is a pathetic thing, and he is incurably proud of it. The twi’lek he purchased it from very evidently could not make up his mind what to do with a man that grinned while he haggled, but it was the first time Kote had haggled over a purchase of his very own. He had thoroughly enjoyed it.

The house is built for one being, and a compact being at that, but Kote doesn’t have much. Moving in is quick, and most of his efforts during the next few days after go into attempting ambitious repairs for things he doesn’t know the first thing about. 

His plumbing is an issue, he knows. Something is getting blocked up. Somehow while trying to fix the kitchen tumbler, his fresher spout explodes.

He hadn’t kept his new house a secret from anyone by any means, but it is still surprising when Fox barges in through his jamming front door. He finds Kote on the floor in his cramped kitchen while the fresher rains water in the adjacent room, laughing so hard and so crippled with delight that he can’t get up.

He tries to explain how wonderful it is —

“I-I have to fix my plumbing on my own, vod—”

—but judging by Fox’s single raised eyebrow he knows it doesn’t translate.

Fox, it turns out, is moving into the neighborhood. Kote doesn’t ask about the house Fox already has — the house he has visited, which is very nice and fancy — or point out that Fox’s contract there cannot possibly be up, which begs the question of why he’s here in Kote’s neighborhood — except that Kote already knows the answer to that question. So he doesn’t ask.

Fox doesn’t show him any grace or forbearance, though.

“Don’t even know how to fix a damn pipe, front lining show-off—” His brother snarls, but it is muffled; his top half had to go down beneath the floor they’d pried up to get at the plumbing issue.

“So that’s what they had you doing all these years.” Kote says, because he really is in a criminally good mood. He barely ducks the foot-long pipe Fox throws at his head, feeling giddy.

He makes dinner that night in thanks. Fox stays, ostensibly because now that he’s fixed the fresher he intends to use it, because his new house isn’t hooked up properly yet to all the supply lines and power grids. 

They choke on homemade tiingilar (vode-style; Kote can’t pretend at the real thing yet) so heavily spiced it’s got grit to it that sticks between the teeth. It’s disgusting, but Cody had bought fifteen different spices and while usually he likes to keep his approach to the unknown more cautious, more methodical, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more than use them all at once for the first time. 

Wolffe joins them not long after; brings a few others along by recommending the apartment he picks out, so that soon most of the complex is taken up by vode, Kote hears, but he doesn’t visit yet. Everyone’s too busy coming over to his house, it seems; filling up his kitchen and asking why he hasn’t fixed the trash disposal yet, why he doesn’t have a couch, doesn’t he know they’re all the rage among civilized folk?

Kote fixes the trash disposal with Rex, who is better at it than he is but says it’s only due to Skywalker’s influence on managing all things mechanical. 

“How is Skywalker?” Kote asks, and gets more than he bargained for over the next hour. At first he’s a bit off-put, because he’s trying to get dinner sorted again and he’s not been very fond of Skywalker at the best of times, but Rex is snorting out a story and laughing and it’s contagious, so Kote just resigns himself and settles in to enjoy.

Skywalker has little ones, now. Obi-Wan is the only one that can get them to sleep. Ahsoka is distressed; she knows better, but every instinct in her is apparently in agony over the little ones’ inability to eat meat yet. She obsesses over nutrients in their diet — which, given what tiny natborn humans primarily ingest in the early stages, makes for some slightly awkward conversations.

Rex helps with dinner afterward, and they take turns being incredulous over natborn baby facts, shoving around one another in the tiny, uncomfortable kitchen.

“What’s your next project?” Rex asks at one point, glancing sidelong with a cheeky look, and Kote levels his vegetable knife at him (he’s got a vegetable knife. Specifically for vegetables. It’s a very new concept). 

“I make everyone’s dinner on Tuangsdays.” He says. “I’m productive.”

Rex’s sharp-toothed grin turns thoughtful. “Yeah” He says. “Everyone loves coming here, you know. You could be the new 79’s.”

Kote knows. He plans and plots, and puts more work into researching recipes than he’s put into any research whatsoever in months. It feels a bit like coming out of a shore leave; his thoughts quicken and his excitement grows. He hunts down a market. He brings a bag. He shops, bargains, and returns victorious.

He sends out a few comms., and can’t help but shake his head and grin at how different the responses are. 

What a marvelous idea, Cody. His general — ex-general — says.

Yus pls, Ahsoka sends back, with some sort of strange tooka vidclip that dances with wiggly gyrations Kote can only assume indicate excitement.

Where is your house, Anakin says, blunt and to the point, and Kote can appreciate that. 

He sends the address. He cooks all day. The sun sets, and Fox and Wolffe arrive, already bickering, Rex trailing behind with a long-suffering look sent to Kote, begging commiseration.

“Ugh, don’t you ever stop smiling, now?” He gripes when Kote just grins at him. 

“Nope,” Kote says, unrepentantly.

He leaves the soup on the stove, simmering, and takes his cup of caf to the window. He leans on it, breathing in cool air, and just listens — listens to the squabbling as Wolffe gets on Fox’s case for not washing Kote’s dishes correctly the last time they visited. Hears the soft thumps of Rex sneaking into the cramped room Kote has set aside for plants and the sole pet he has; a pastel goullian, fins swaying ever so gently, permanent scowl in place. Thinks he catches, distantly, the sound of his remaining three guests (Padme couldn’t attend, and had made him feel very awkward by how thoughtfully she apologized for it) plodding up the hill. 

“Cody!” Ahsoka cries, coming into view and waving. 

Kote’s cheeks have stopped aching from all the smiling he’s gotten used to, so it’s easy to let another through.

[winterarmyy]

Welcome Home, Daddy

The aftermath of when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.

Summary: Bucky was over the moon when he discovered that Y/N was pregnant with his child. But, when the danger that lurks in dark threatened to steal his family away, a fellow soldier decided to come home.

Note: Highly recommend to read 《 Welcome Home... Soldat? 》 for backstory. But, you can also read this as a stand alone (though you might miss some call backs on the soldat's behaviour if you skip)

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader

Words: 7.1k++ (bare with me, please)

Warnings: graphic violence, torture, blood, gore, deaths, dark undertones, sudden fluff, tiny bit of angst, google translated russian, and just so much detained anger exploding around, soldat is just deadly yet adorable in this one (i can't even handle it, and i'm the author), this event takes place far in the future after what happened in 《 Welcome Home...Soldat? 》

A/N: Looks like we have the winner for the poll 👀 Who's ready for our lovely soldat to make his appearance again? I know I'm not, but here we are. So, strap in and let's do this!

P/S: Also, I might as well make this as my submission for the seven writing event hosted by @nickfowlerrr 💌 Check out the event masterlist and support the writers by reading and reblogging their stories!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

They say the wrath of a fighter may threatened a heinous war but the wrath of a lover will let the earth drenched in bloody gore. And if a fool was daft enough to tore a lover from his other half, then they might just court themselves right into the hands of death.

And this couldn't be more true, especially if we consider the crime that the soldat was currently committing. Surely, the blood pooling on the floor will forever leave a grim mark that'll haunt the people who ever witness it.

"Where is she?" the soldat prompted the frail woman, limping on the chained chair. Despite the horrid situation, he sounded rather calm when he spoke.

How unfortunate it was for Elle to be associated with Hydra yet to also be so exposed to the dangers of the ghost himself, the Winter Soldier. Hydra may have their suspicion about the soldat making a move, but she didn't expect that she would be involved in the mess of this ordeal.

The cold metal of the soldat's vibranium fingers, particularly his index and thumb, latched themselves on another one of her nails. Her mouth slacked open but no sound was able to be formed when the soldat mercilessly ripped her nail right off her finger.

And oh, the pain was beyond any kind of injury that she had ever experienced, not a even a bullet through her flesh could be compared to this agony of a torture.

He harshly grabbed Elle by the back of her neck, forcing her to watch the blood leaking from the reddened flesh of her fingers, "I asked you a simple question, су́ка (bitch). Where the fuck is she?" The soldat's patience had been running thin and rage had clouded his judgements.

He needed to find her. His precious Родная (darling).

No matter whose neck he needed to slay or whose blood that have to be shed dry. He had to bring his darling home; no matter what it takes.

Unfortunately, it had been almost a month since he lost her.

And no one saw it coming.

Who would've thought that the old Hydra compound that the team raided were meant to be a part of a plan to weaken the Avengers. It was just a distraction filled with unexpected traps and triggers. By the time they flew home, the team were already tired and injured as the result of the raid.

So imagine the desperate struggle and utter panic that Bucky had to go through the moment he stepped his foot into the comfort of their home and had to witness Y/N's exhausted figure fighting for her life.

Hers and the baby's inside.

After hitting the 2 months mark of pregnancy, Bucky decided that Y/N shouldn't be involved in any high stake mission anymore. At first, she only laughed to his statement, thinking he was surely joking but when his stern expression didn't flatter, that was when she reliazed Bucky was not open for negotiation.

Y/N knew it was way too early to settle into her maternal leave but after having a long conversation with Bucky, they both agreed to keep her missions strictly on low-risk stakeouts and desk works at the tower.

It was supposedly be some kind of a precaution for her, to keep her and the baby safe, away from any type harm that might come their way. But, that certainly back fired.

When Bucky's burning anger had pumped him full with high stream of adrenaline, it was as if he went into an auto pilot; a murderous one at that. And soon enough he managed to take down half of Hydra's best agents that joined the mission of collecting Y/N from the tower.

For a moment, it seemed like luck was on their side, at least it felt like it.

It lasted only until Bucky saw how harsh the kick of the enemy landed on Y/N's hip, and how she managed to shield her stomach seconds before her body slammed down to the ground.

That was when fear crawled into his pumping nerves and the roots of it ran extremely cold.

And that was all it takes for Hydra to distract Bucky then immobilize him on the spot with a replica of the Sonic Taser developed by Stark Industries a few years back.

Bucky grunted painfully in protest of the high pitched sonic frequency from the device that overloads his nervous system. His body couldn't help but to slowly paralyzed its movements as his skin turned pale and the strain in his blood vessels became visible.

On the opposite side, Y/N could be seen being forcefully dragged away by a few of the Hydra agents that was left. There were couple of nasty injuries torn all over her body yet she was still stubborn on fighting back.

While she was being pulled farther away from him, she shouted his name loud and desprete, "Bucky!" Hot tears broke from the corner of her eyes as she desperately reach out her hand.

It felt as if she was right there when Bucky's hand was reaching back towards her. Like, a little bit of a push would've been enough to catch her but alas fate was not planning to be merciful.

Bucky's menancing eyes never left her wavering ones as Hydra tortured Bucky by stealing a part of his soul from him; and no one really knew how his heart clenched and torn to the fact that he was helplessly useless when Y/N needed him the most.

And when he only managed to scream back Y/N's name, he was forced to watch her wailed as she was unwillingly being taken away.

The moment when Bucky drowned himself in regret and rage, that was when the Winter Soldier took over his consciousness.

Unfortunately for the soldat, his mortal body was already worn out from all the intense fight that happened prior; he was knocked out right after he took over the body.

But in those few seconds before the darkness consumed him, the soldat managed to catch a glimpse of his darling. He saw the image of her; teary and bruised in the hands of those who created him. The very same monsters who uses him for despicable things.

That was all that he needed to see in order to break those chains around the dark pandora residing deep within his being.

The team was absolutely not ready to deal with the soldat again, this time without Y/N to tame him. Especially when his demands were unrealistic for them to fulfill.

It's been nearly 3 weeks since the incident and they had failed to locate Y/N; repeatedly. Even if they did manage to get some kind of an intel, all the of bases they had raided were basically bunch of abandoned spaces that Hydra used to occupy.

So of course the soldat was agitated. He had every right to be, more so when he thought of the increasing risk of his darling getting hurt in the hands of Hydra. And at this point, those scumbags were just messing with their minds. Especially with his.

"Listen, we're doing our best here, soldat." Steve tried to reason with him but it only fueled the burning flames within the soldat, "ты делаешь недостаточно! (You're not doing enough!)" He spat harshly that he didn't even noticed that he uses Russian language. It seemed like the unkempt irritation had conquered the chaos of his mind.

So that very night, the soldat decided to do this on his own; thus he ran away from the tower in search for his darling. He had to. Especially when he knew precisely why the Avenger was not able to find Y/N as quickly as they should be.

It was because they were the good guys. They were the heros, they were the light. And the soldat was not. In fact, he was the very opposite.

Unlike the Avengers, the soldat was not planning to play  nice and soon enough he managed to find a lead.

Which bring us to this very moment in which he successfully snuck into a Hydra agent's home to interrogate her.

But, in contrast of those Hydra troops that attack the Avengers Tower a few weeks ago, Elle was not even involved in the mission of retrieving Y/N. She was actually on a solo mission to infiltrate a certain high school to collect informations on Peter Parker. Hydra suspected that he might be involved with the new hero appearing in Queens.

However, even if she was not a part of the team mission, she knew bits and pieces of the overall plan, especially the whereabout of the main character herself, Y/N.

However, the appearance of the Winter Soldier in her temporary house was completely unexpected.

It felt like it was just few moments ago that the intel on Y/N's location reached her ears. Then, she distinctly remember the glimpse of those murderous eyes glaring into her soul. Next thing she knew was everything went pitch black.

Even if it was temporary, however it felt so surreal.

The darkness surrounding her.

The bone rattling cold.

It felt like death itself.

But unfortunately for her, the soldat was far from stopping.

Elle was fraying at the edges while the soldat crouch to her level. Even if she could barely reconstruct the unclear and blurry images through her dazed eyes, however, that didn't stop the soldat from maiming the dying woman's soul through his unforgiving gaze.

"Wake up..." he growled as he yanked her face upwards, "...we're not done yet."

It took a while for Elle to finally adjust to the light, after being in the dark for – how she felt like – so long.

After the light hits her vision, the striking pain came next. The pulsing pain surrounding of her right eye, her broken nose, her busted lips, her bleeding skin; neck, chest, arms, and almost every part of her limbs.

Everything were – slowly but surely, in each cuts and bruises on her skin – blooming its pain into existence.

How can she skipped all of this when she lost her consciousness?

Perhaps that was how she managed to stay alive as long as she had. By running away from the misery; from her reality.

Elle whined in pain but her voice suggested that she might already torn her throat apart when it sounded more like a broken grunt. Her disoriented gaze fell into her aching fingers, each were missing its nail; the tips of them was where the icky blood trickled from and had shaped a pool of blood on the floor where she rested.

The dim lighting from the room reflected on the surface of the deep-red puddle, revealing the resemblance of it to a mirror. And the blurry image looking back, was the soldat, with a sinister expression on his face.

This game, that they're playing.

It hardly seems fair to one of them. To be tortured if not speaking the truth? That's simply unjust; but if we're talking about fairness, then none of those injuries could ever be compared to the pain Y/N might be going through at this very moment. Every second of Elle's useless stubbornness was costing Y/N's safety.

And the soldat didn't like that. Not one bit.

"You mentioned Spain? Where exactly?" In one swift, harsh motion, the soldat thrust his knife through her thighs, "FUCK!"

The loud scream of pain that tore from Elle's throat was probably the last coherent word that she uttered as the torture continued.

The soldat pulled the knife out and stabbing it into the open wound, he listened to Elle's gasp for a moment, relishing her breathless pleading and the tears now openly streaming down her face.

He stabbed again, twice, each was quick and deep, not caring about the blood that spurted out across his face.

At this point Elle was just a puddle of blabbering mess; streams of saliva pouring out her mouth, sobbing, gasping for air; mixture of grunts, moans and whispers of curses and pleas were all spouted incoherently.

Anger.

Frustration.

Rage.

Wrath.

Even hatred.

The soldat was feeling it all.

It was consuming him, devouring any sanity that was left of Bucky's moral values. The eerie glint in the soldat eyes suggested that he was not planning to stop until she gave him what he wants.

God, if it wasn't for chilling atmosphere around her, Elle might just mistook that she was actually in hell.

"Pyrenees!" She cried out. The soldat instantly stopped when she confessed. He waited for an answer and right on cue, she spoke again, breathless and almost silent as the fear that engulfed her prior refused to release her from its haunting grip. And truthfully she doubt that it will ever let her go, "T-there a secret base n-near the Irati forest."

She exhaled a shaky breath as she pleaded, "S-so please. Please stop this." The was tired of the pain and the numbness that came after. And the soldat knows it.

The room was left silent momentarily, as if he was actually considering her plea but alas he already had plans for her all along, "Shame. You should've killed yourself before I came here."

As he finished the last word, the soldat viciously plunged his knife deep into her neck, digging the sharpness of it through the delicate flesh until it reach the base of the blade.

Elle gasped in response, her hands scrabbling around in effort to break free, to stop all of this. But considering the situation she was in, there was nothing she could do about it other than to take it as it was given to her.

When the motion finally stopped, the soldat simply walked away from the scene as if it was a complete norm for him to behave as he was. He didn't even thought of cleaning the mess he left behind. Or hide the corpse somewhere.

Isn't he afraid that he might leave his tracks for the police to find?

Why would he?

This has been his life for decades on end. His sole purpose of living was to kill. So best believe that the authorities will never be able to link the soldat or Bucky to this crime.

Not today, not ever.

Through the days that Y/N was locked deep within Hydra's base, she hadn't been treated the worst. In fact, the sick and twisted agents and residents in the facility was more than willing to care for her.

This was all because they wanted her baby.

It was always sickening to hear them referring her child as merely a tool for their success. And the way they worship Y/N like she was a gift from God to fulfill their purpose, was beyond insanity.

"Oh, to have the privilage of bearing the offspring of the Winter Soldier. To be able to create the perfect weapon, unlike the father. It is just honorable."

It made her stomach churned with pure disgust whenever she heard those types of comments floating around her.

Besides the eerily digusting behaviour of the agents, there was also the regular check-ups and the lab tests that she needed to attend. Out of all the things she had to endure these past few weeks, the medical check-up has always dreaded her the most.

There was this constant debate within her troubled mind; of the possibility of Hydra manipulating her baby's health and genes by inserting unknown substance into her.

"Come on, mama. On the bed." The doctor said as he patted his rubber gloved hand on the surface of the rigid single bed.

She always found it vile that the people here calling her by that nickname. It tickled her throat in a way that she wanted to puke all the tasteless gunk that they had fed her with.

As she laid on the bed and let the process went on as it usually do, the doctor suddenly stopped everything that he was doing. At first she was weirded out by the irregular act of the man, but when she felt the vibration on the ground and the rushing footsteps from the floor above her, she knew exactly why the doctor suddenly froze on his spot.

And the emergency siren that shortly blared after, had only confirmed her speculation.

But mostly, it was the panic in the doctor's eyes that gave him away; then when Y/N noticed the man scrambled to search the drawers from one of the cabinet, she knew that he was up to no good.

The second that the doctor's hurried his steps towards her with a syringe in his hand, Y/N's body immediately recoiled. She quickly stopped him by grabbing his wrist and twisted it back until the syringe dropped from his hold.

The man cursed under his breath and decided to take her by force when he grabbed a handful of her hair, almost dragging her out of the bed. Y/N shrieked painfully while her hands blindly grabbing the silver tray by the bed next to her.

She then slammed it hard against his head, and watched the contents on the tray fell and scatter onto her. She took quick skim over all the tools and saw a potential weapon for her defence; a scissor.

"Stay still, mama. Or the baby will get hurt." The doctor foolishly threatened.

Maybe it was her defence mechanism or maybe it was just her motherly instinct kicking in but something just snapped inside of her when he said those words. There was this incredibly strong urge to either fight or take flight.

Of course she could easily slipped away and make a run for it but she just couldn't risk it. Especially when her baby's life was currently at stake. So, after a short moment of hesitation, she swiftly grabbed the scissors and surge it through his ribs. The man wailed in pain as he staggered off the bed and fell onto the floor.

You'd thought a single yet firm stab through the guts was enough to quench Y/N's need of fighting back but no. Apparently, the haywire of her nerves had drove her feral and she needed him to be soulless by the time she walk out the room.

That had forced her to nearly jumped on him like a predator pinning on a meek prey and the lack of struggling on the victim's side had only gave her full control to dominate him.

Then all of the sudden, the doctor felt another strike of the pain, digging into the flesh of his chest.

He woefully cried in extreme pain while Y/N did not utter a single word or let out any sound, she stayed silent as she thrusts the scissor in and out his flesh.

Each surge was vicious than the previous. Each stab was gradually speeding up as the motion increases it's number of repetition.

She completely let her emotions took over her sanity.

Until what's left in the room was only the sloshing and splashing sound of blood seeping through every thrust, as she continued to violate the body of the corpse.

Until the calm puddle of blood on floor rippled as the tears that broke from her eyes dropped on it's surface.

And when she realized that the doctor was long dead, that broke Y/N out from her feral state. Realizing what she had done; she shakily loosen her grip on the scissors and scrambled off from the lifeless body.

Her breath was near erratic; it was a chaos of unsteady rhythm as her words was lost at the tip of her tongue. She jolted in shock when the commotion in the facility got louder than before, reminding her that Bucky was there to save her.

Y/N felt a sob choking in her throat as her hands searched her stomach to coax the child in her womb, "It's okay sweet bean, daddy's here for us."

Have you ever heard how ear-ringingly loud it is when it's hailing? How the sounds of the frozen raindrops hitting – the top of your car or the roof of the shades of an outdoor café table – can completely mute your words for anyone to hear?

That has nothing compared to the thundering sounds that echoed throughout the whole facility. The shots were fired from multiple range of stolen guns, all were coming from one moving figure.

The once clean grey and white painted walls of the hallways, were now stained and splattered with the color of crimson. The usually empty hallways, were occupied by the dead bodies of fallen Hydra agents. And the distinct scent of well-kept lair, were effortlessly replaced by the unpleasant and pungent smell; a mixture of blood and sweat.

It was a clear trail of the Winter Soldier's deeds.

This place was supposed to be pristine, but now feels more like how it should be; hell.

While the enemies were roaring into their death, the soldat on the other hand was very much the opposite.

Unlike his foe, it took him very little work from the tips of his tongue and much more on the tips of his gun. When the enemies barked like a dog, the soldat pounced like a wolf; silent and resilient.

By nature, the soldat had never been a patient man, especially when it comes to people harming his darling.

Sure, maybe he can tolerate and play along with people who messed with him, but if one were to touch even a strand of hair of his beloved, then they practically reserving themselves a first class ticket of a one-way trip to hell.

And that unhinged tendencies of his only worsen when wrath was the one reigning his mind while hatred was its ruler. His mind was nothing but a chaos of rampage and vengeance. Seeking nothing but blood and death of his foolish foe.

At this point of time, with the amount of life he had taken from the moment he step foot into the gate of the base, to the very stairs he was currently climbing, one could probably matched his heart rate with the rhythm of the shots formed by the bullets he shot.

Magazine upon magazine he reloaded his gun and waste no less than zero bullet as every shot made was accurately deadly and terrifying fatal to his prey.

As the soldat's feet reached half way up the stairs, a Hydra agent's voice spoke from the lower level, "She's on the LG2, we need a team to come and collect her as soon as poss--" A bullet went straight through the top of his head before he could finish his sentence.

And that was the soldat's last ammo.

While he mentally took note on the intel, his feet was quick to jumped into action and made his way down to LG2. As he entered the hallway, his wild eyes wondered around to steal another gun from a dead man's body.

But he rose into a stand, he felt a tip of a cold steel nudged at the back of his head.

Some would call out the soldat's mistake for letting his guard down in the middle of a battle, but another would definitely ridicule the stupidity of that fool's guts for even thinking that the soldat couldn't counter-attack his weak threats.

However, none of the two man managed to made any move towards each other when there was a faster, more accurate trigger was pulled from someone else, from across the hallway.

And that action left an aftermath of the fool's body to drop flat on the floor, quickly finding it's perfect spot with between the other pile of corpses scattered around.

When the soldat turned around, the sharp of his gaze softened almost immediately.

There she was standing there, in the pastel blue of her 'prison' attire. Her hair was a bit messy even if it was tied, and her complexion looked slightly pale with fatigue but to the soldat, she was glowing like angel; despite the blood on her clothes or the gun in her hand.

She was right there.

His heart.

His love.

His darling.

Her eyes were red and puffy, as if she had been crying for days. Her pouty lips trembled when the soldat stepped closer and closer towards her, tears threatening to fall as if she haven't done that during all the weeks that she had been here.

The soldat's steps grew faster.

So does Y/N's.

Tap taping until they were almost running towards each other.

Until the moment they reunited in the middle.

Catching each other's lips in a desperate and insatiable kiss, the soldat pulled her body tight around the waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Both whimpered in a yearning moan, both still had their guns hanging on one of their hands.

So many feelings at once, relief and grief, with each of them had a different story to tell.

The couple kept breaking and mending the kiss ever-so-passionately as if they weren't in the middle of the grave-less cemetery; as if they weren't in the center of the piling corpses.

Briefly opening his eyes, the soldat could see a shadow running towards them. When Y/N heard the footsteps from her back, she knew they need to pull away, but the soldat was firm and stubborn with his hold.

So instead of letting her break the kiss, he groaned in disapproval and pulled her lips back to his. An angry growl vibrated against her lips as he continued to explore her wet and warm mouth.

Caught off-guard she melted to his silent demand, almost forgot that the enemy was right behind her. But, she should've know better when the soldat loosen one of his arms from the embrace and pointed his gun towards the target.

His finger pulled the trigger almost as easily as his teeth tugging into the bottom of her lips. And suddenly the sound of a body collapsing behind didn't matter anymore.

When the soldat felt that he had enough of the sweetness of her kiss, he finally pulled away, at least for now. He whispered dearly, "Родная (darling)..." he cupped her face in his large hands and rested his forehead on hers.

She thought she heard it wrong, but did he just called her darling? It took her a few second to piece it together and realized that this man was not Bucky, that he had relapsed into the Winter Soldier again, "Soldat?"

The soldat smiled and leaned forward to steal a chaste kiss on her lips, "Yes, it's me, мое Родная (my darling)" he cooed as he swept her by her feet, off the bloody ground and carried her in his arm, "I got you, Куколка (little one). You can rest now."

"We're just wanted make sure she's alright."

"You can follow us if you want so just please--"

"Soldat! You're going to hurt her."

The familiar voices leaked through Y/N's ears as she was drifting through her dreamless slumber. Soon enough, the loud commotion of her surrounding woke her up from the deep sleep.

The words that the Avengers were yelling out became clearer as she gained her consciousness, and the ever-changing movements of the soldat, evading every step the Avengers made to get closer to him, made her aware of the way she was resting in his arms; perfectly cocooned in a form of a bridal carry style.

The soldat halted on his spot when Y/N opened her eyes to see what was going on, "Soldat?" She blinked multiple times as she adjusted to the lights. The menacing frown of the soldat melted into a much softer expression, "Родная(darling), you shouldn't be awake yet." He craddled her closer to him as he cooed.

Where is she? How long was she out? When did she changed her clothes?

"What is happening?" She asked as she peered over his shoulder to see Natasha sighing in relief, "Sweetheart, thank god you're awake."

Y/N then looked over to Steve, "You've been gone for weeks, y/n. We got news about your rescue yesterday, and you guys just arrived home. Now, if we could just to take you to the medbay and get you check-up, that'll be great." He briefly explained.

"Yeah, that's all we want isn't it? But, someone just had to be sappy and refuse to let anyone touch you. You know, how it is with the soldier." Tony quickly intercepted.

The soldat didn't pay them any attention now that his darling was awake. He was merely focusing on whispering the sweetest things as he traces delicate trails of kisses on her forehead, her nose, her cheek, basically all over her face.

Sam took it as opportunity to get closer when the soldat was distracted on suffocating Y/N with kisses. But he should learn by now how alert and agile the soldat can be, especially when he have Y/N close to his proximity.

So, when Sam took a step closer, the soldat recoiled almost immediately, putting quite of a distance between them.

"Man, if Bucky has a staring problem, then the winter soldier over here has a hogging problem." Sam accusingly pointed at the soldat, only getting grunts as a reply.

Looking at the current situation, Y/N pondered for awhile. As much as she wanted to get herself check-up, it was also wise to not pressure the soldat to give her away.

Considering what she witnessed at the Hydra base, Y/N knew the risk that comes when we let the soldat dwell in anger for too long.

So she consulted the rest of the team to back down for now, and let the soldat do what he wants. Y/N promised them that she will conviced the soldat to let her get a check-up as soon as possible. But for now, they really need to trust her words.

At first every one of them was reluctant to let her go but in the end they agreed to her suggestion.

When the team spread out and gave some space for the soldat, he didn't waste any time and marched straight to where their bedroom supposed to be. As soon as they arrived at their safe space, the soldat almost threw Y/N onto the bed and swiftly drew a knife from the holster of his thigh as his predatory eyes searched the room.

He refused to move even an inch away from where he stood and remained close to Y/N; shielding her figure with his own.

It was very faint, but the soldat could sensed that they weren't the only ones in the room.

Y/N eyed him curiously, wondering why the soldat was still on edge when he wasn't supposed to. So, she hopped off from the bed and stood on her feet before reaching out to hug the soldat from behind.

"You can put the knife down, soldat. It's just us here." She coaxed but the soldat refused to believe her. He pulled her by the arms, breaking her hug in the process and hold her close to his chest, "There's someone else here."

His actions was rather rougher than he intended it to be; even Y/N was startled by the sudden movement, "Oooff, careful there, soldat. You might give the little one a fright." She chuckled softly as she give her belly a loving rub.

And suddenly his attention was completely focused on Y/N now. Usually his frown symbolized irritation, but this time there was a clear confusion in his eyes. The amount of appalled blinking of his eyes increases when the puzzle pieces in his head started to merge.

The soldat knew that he heard a third heartbeat in the room; that was why he was on alert for threats but apparently he had been closer to the source than he thought was.

In fact, it was right his arms. Or maybe a little bit lower, somewhere around his torso.

Y/N didn't say anything, she simply nodded and smiled up to him as she continued to rub her belly.

When the conclusion finally hits him, the soldat dropped the knife in his hand at the same time he fell on his knees. His gaze never broke from hers, not even a split second, until he was face to face with her tummy.

The soldat leaned one side of his ear closer to her and the thumping sound of the third heartbeat got louder. The discovery had caused him to jolt away as shock decorated his features. He titled his head upwards to Y/N with the same wide, confused look in his blue eyes.

"It's okay, love." She giggled amusingly when the soldat repeated his previous actions. He leaned in and jolted back again as if he couldn't believe what he just heard was real, "Is it... his?" The soldat asked as he implied his existance to be separated from Bucky.

There was a hint of sadness in Y/N's expression when he said it like that. There's been many long conversations that she and Bucky had about the soldat after his first relapse.

Though Bucky was still unsure of his own dissociating self, Y/N on other hand believed that the soldat, this particular man whose drenched the earth with blood just to save her, the same man whose currently on his knees to hear a heartbeat of an unborn child; he deserved a little kindness in his life.

"Yes..." Y/N answered truthfully before she continued, "...and he's yours too."

And that surely knocked the air out of the soldat's lungs, he couldn't tell if she was telling him the truth or was just trying to kill him; either way the butterflies in his chest was suffocating him from the inside.

The soldat couldn't speak a single word; because he didn't know what to say. But there was this beam on his features, light in his eyes, softness on his smile when he dreamily stared at her growing belly.

Y/N took him by his flesh hand and place his palm on her stomach, then she spoke tenderly to the baby inside her, "Wanna say hi to daddy, sweet bean? Say, 'Welcome home, daddy.' "

She knew it was silly, because obviously the child in her womb shouldn't be able to speak, and he was not yet developed enough to be kicking his feet. Hell, they don't even know his gender yet.

But how could she not say it when the soldat looked so damn happy when she did. He looked so peaceful and has this daze and some of those twinkling hearts in those steel-blue eyes of. The soldat sighed in pure joy before he leaned to kiss her stomach.

And as it turns out that was all she needed to do to persuade the soldat to letting her see the doctors. He was there through the whole process, refusing to let go of her hand. It was such a good news to hear that the baby was healthy and there wasn't any foreign substance that might contaminated her during her times in Hydra.

After getting proper medical care and some food in her system, the soldat immediately carry her back to their room to settle down. While she laid on the bed, making up for the lost time to finally get the mental rest she desperately needed, the soldat on the other hand, had made himself comfortable by lying his head on her stomach.

He just couldn't stop; as if he was hypnotised by the melody of the baby's heartbeat. His hand snuck under her shirt, lifting the fabric up to reveal the belly where their miracle resides.

Y/N's droopy eyes followed his actions as she watched how carefully the soldat approached her. Out of habit, her hands absentmindedly rake through the softness of his hair as she held him by the head.

The soldat dotingly caressed the child's sleeping chambers as he leaned closer to it, "...Hi there, little one." he greeted with a quiet and loving whisper.

Immediately, a smile beamed brightly on Y/N's face when the soldat proceed to pamper her belly with countless of tender kisses, "...it's daddy." he introduced himself, as if the baby was able to understand him.

The silence that came after was so sweet and comfortable. And Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to have this without the soldat. She tucked a piece of his loose strand of hair behind his ear when she spoke gently, "Thank you for saving me, soldat."

He briefly lifted his head and smiled up at her, "You know I can't live without you Родная (darling). I will always need you." He declared a truthful confession before turning his attention away. His lips grazed on the skin of her belly as he mumbled against it, "And you too, little one."

Y/N could burst into tears just from this interaction alone but she try not to. She doesn't want to look back at this moment and remember how much she wept, so she blinked her tears away while she watched the soldat spoiled the little buddle of joy inside her with so much endearments.

Even though it was always a happy memory for the soldat when he spend time with his darling, but this... this was rare. And he wanted to cherish it for as long as he could.

The soldat laid on his ears again when he peered from where he had his head rested, his deep gaze captured her attention, "Has he been taking care of you good, darling?" He asked.

The soldat probably had no idea how Bucky adored her; if anyone paid enough attention they might even caught him worshipping the very ground she stepped on.

A breathy chuckle escaped from her mouth as nodded with a drunken grin, "He's the best." She hummed approvingly, "Best husband, and best daddy too." She exclaimed brightly as she glanced at the ring on her finger; it was barely visible through the thick of the soldat's hair.

Surprisingly, the soldat didn't react negatively to her remarks, instead, a proud smile curved on his lips as the pride in his chest overflowed and leaked all through his very being, "Good." He simply said.

The smile lines on the corner of his eyes didn't flatten even when he closed his eyes. For a moment, he tried to silenced everything else around him and focused on the fluttering sounds of the baby's tiny heart.

It might have been the thick haze of lavender smoke in their head or the swarming butterflies in their chest, that they didn't even notice the fatigue that had been slowly taking over them, until the tenderness of their caresses were barely moving.

When the heaviness of her eyes weighted the lids, she sleepily asked the soldat, "Will you still be here when I wake up?" Truth to be told, she was afraid that all of this was just a dream; an escape from reality of the cruel captivity.

The soldat briefly opened his own tired eyes and cooed softly, "I'm always with you, Родная (darling)." And Y/N took it as a promise for her desprete soul to cling on; a ray of hope for her to hold onto, if she ever wakes up in that cell again.

Not long after, both of them lost to the lure of somnolent and their soul quickly drifted into the peaceful dreamland. Soft snores were filling the quiet of the room as their mortal body continued to entangled themselves with each other.

It was safe to say that if Steve would ever barge into the room, he'd probably maxed the storage of his phone with photos of the soldat smushing his face on Y/N's belly as she perfectly curled around him.

Maybe it was the sunlight leaking through the window or maybe it was the intense gaze she felt burning on the skin of her face. Eitherway, it certainly disturbed her from her sleep.

When her body stirred, Y/N realized that she didn't need to open her eyes to know that last night was not a dream, especially when she can feel a pair of familiar arms wrapping around her waist under her shirt.

Y/N slowly peeled her eyes open to see a recognizable ceiling. Her eyes then trailed to her side and met a pair of blue of eyes staring back at her. Her gaze searched for the soul within him and found the semblance of Bucky reflected in his eyes.

Still dazed from sleep, she continued to watch him blinking at her, slowly and silently, like a cat declaring their love to their human. But even then, he couldn't hide the afterglow of the tears on his face.

"Bucky, honey. Have you been crying?" Her voice rasped from lack of use, yet her tender fingers find themselves crawling across his wet cheeks. 

It was as if her voice was a trigger, and tears quickly reformed in Bucky's eyes again. Y/N gently pulled him to her chest, one hand threading his hair and another rubbing his back as he sobbed in her arms, "It's okay, Bucky. We're okay." She continued to coax him lovingly.

They spend most of the early morning holding each other close and dear. Then when the tears started to lessen, Bucky finally pulled himself away from her. Y/N wiped the excess tears on his cheeks but he caught her hand underneath his; he relished in the relief of her presence when he sighed to her touch.

Bucky's gaze wobbled in the pool of tears in his eyes but he was still determined to speak his mind  "I'm so sorry, doll." He apologized, "I couldn't stop them. Even with this damned serum in me, I still couldn't protect you; both of you." If his defeated voice didn't convey his truth, then the tremble of his touch should be enough.

And Y/N's heart simply shattered for him; what did he meant by that? He did save her though. The winter soldier or Bucky. It didn't matter who but she was here now because of him. She was safe; they both were, "But you saved me, did you not?"

"But, I didn't. The sol--" Before Bucky could even finish his sentence, Y/N quickly cuts in, "The soldat is always going to be a part of you, Bucky. And if he saved me, that means you saved me too." She reassured him.

Seeing the hesitation in his eyes, she continued to persuade him, "And if I could speak for our child, which I absolutely can because I'm his mother, then he would say that he is proud that his strong daddy managed to beat the absolute shit out of those bad guys."

Bucky blurted out a hearty laugh, "I don't think it's good to teach our baby to curse when he is still in your womb, mama." His laugh gradually reduced to a chuckle when he wiped the remaining tears from his eyes.

Y/N simply shrugged to his suggestion, "It's not like he wouldn remember this anyway." She smirked playfully.

Another chuckle managed to slip through Bucky's lips before he lowered his face to her tummy, "And you? How's your play date with Winter, hmm sweet bean?" He mumbled as his lips planted on her skin.

Besides the heartbeat of his child, he could also hear the tiny twitching of the baby's limbs moving ever-so-slightly, "Yeah, I bet he spoiled you with lots of kisses and cuddles, huh? Like he did your mommy?" He continued to coo against her belly, unaware of the shock on his wife's face.

"Winter?" A small smile cracked from the corner of her lips. Yes, she was shocked but that doesn't mean she wasn't pleasantly surprised by it.

Bucky didn't even bother to look up at Y/N's face as he was busy blowing raspberries on her stomach, "If he's going to keep popping up in our lives then we might as well call him something else other than 'soldat', don't you think?" He simply said, marking one last kiss on the small growing bulge on her belly, before working his way back up to her face.

Y/N's heart swelled to his gesture and when he laid his head next to hers, she carefully took him by his cheeks, pulling him in for a gentle kiss, "I think he'd love that, Bucky." She whispered against his lips, feeling his smile in return.

Bucky nudges forward to catch her lips again; kissing her slow and sweet as if his whole world has been waiting for this moment. And when the kiss naturally broke, he tempted her with something he knew she couldn't resist, "Now, how about we grab you both something to bite, hmm?"

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: The use of the title in the fic is suprisingly wholesome despite the insinuation of it, don't you think? Lol. Btw, thank you so much for stopping by and read my work. Leave your thoughts behind for me, I'd love to hear from you!

[dorabellingham]

Kissing in the rain

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: when you're arguing and you leave him talking to himself, but he follows you

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a gray, rainy afternoon in Madrid. The sound of rain beating against the windows of the house was constant, almost drowning out the tense voices inside. You and Jude were standing in the living room, arguing about something trivial —this time, it was about which route to take to get to a family appointment, but it could have been about anything else. In the last few days, it seemed like everything was a source of friction between you.

—I told you, the route I chose is faster! Why do you always have to complicate things?

You exclaimed, crossing your arms and looking at Jude in frustration.

Jude, on the other hand, seemed equally impatient.

—Complicate things? I’m just trying to help, but you never listen! Every time we have to decide something, it turns into this.

—Turn into what, Jude? I’m not asking for help. I just want us to get there without fighting!

You were clearly tired of that argument, but at the same time, you couldn't stop arguing.

The rain outside was getting stronger, the sky seemed heavier and heavier, reflecting the tension. The eldest Bellingham rubbed his face with his hands, taking a step back.

—You know what? You're always cutting me off, always making it seem like I'm the problem.

You huffed and turned your back, heading towards the door. You weren't going to stand there, arguing, when all you wanted was peace.

—Cutting you off, Jude? Stay on your route. I'll go alone.

You opened the door, and the cold air of the rain entered the house, messing up your hair and making your skin shiver. You knew it was stupid, that you were going out in the middle of the rain for a silly reason, but sometimes your emotions took over everything. Without looking back, you walked out the door, leaving the boy alone.

Outside, the rain was falling hard, soaking you in seconds. You walked fast, almost running on the wet sidewalk, raindrops running down your face, mixing with the tears you wouldn't admit you were shedding. You were angry, frustrated, but most of all, tired of how things always seemed to be out of control lately.

But after a few meters, you heard his heavy footsteps behind you.

—Y/n, wait!

He shouted, running towards you, completely ignoring the fact that you were both getting wet to the bone.

You stopped, but didn't turn around immediately. You stood there, in the middle of the street, feeling the cold rain fall on your body as you waited for Jude to reach you. The sound of the drops was the only sound that filled the silence between you for a moment.

He reached you, breathing heavily, his soaked hair making heavier drops of water run down his face.

—Babe... we need to stop this. —He said, his voice hoarse, as if he was tired of fighting so much. —This... we're always arguing over nothing.

You finally turned to face him, your eyes shining with anger and sadness.

—So why don't we stop? Why does it always have to be like this?

He was silent for a moment, running his hand through his wet hair. The rain continued to fall, harder, as they stared at each other.

—Because... because I care too much.

Jude finally answered, his voice low, barely audible over the sound of the storm.

You looked at him, surprised.

—What?

—I care too much, Y/n. That's why we fight. I want everything to work out, I want us to be okay... and when we start arguing, I just lose control.

He admitted, his frustration evident in his voice.

You were quiet for a moment, absorbing his words. Maybe you had underestimated how much your boyfriend cared, how much he wanted things to work out between them. You always saw him as the calm guy, the one who kept his cool while you exploded with emotion, but maybe he was just as lost in this relationship as you were.

You were about to answer, but before you could say anything, Jude took two big steps towards you and pulled you close. Without hesitation, he kissed you with an urgency you hadn't expected, as if he was trying to end all the fights, all the frustration, in a single gesture.

The rain continued to fall around you, and you felt his body against yours, warm, even in the middle of the storm. You let yourself be carried away by the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling Jude’s large hands holding you firmly.

The world seemed to stop in that moment. The fights, the friction, the arguments —everything disappeared the instant Jude’s lips met yours. And for a moment, you realized that what you were doing now was much more important than anything you had discussed before. That was what mattered, what you had with each other, the connection that, despite all the differences, always brought you back together.

When the kiss finally ended, you were both breathless, but he still held you close, your foreheads pressed together.

—I’m sorry, babe.

He whispered, his eyes fixed on yours.

You smiled slightly, your hands still holding his face.

—I’m sorry too. —You said, your voice soft. —I think we just need to learn not to let small things become a problem.

Jude nodded, letting out a soft laugh.

—And maybe we should wait to argue until it’s not raining?

You laughed too, shaking your head.

—Yeah, that might be a good idea, honey.

You stood there for a few more seconds, just looking at each other, as the rain continued to fall around you. You knew there would still be fights, there would still be times when you would disagree, but in the end, what you had together was greater than any argument.

—Shall we go home?

Jude asked, finally pulling away a little, but still holding your hand.

You nodded, and you began walking back, hand in hand, soaked from the rain, but with lighter hearts. This might have been the stupidest fight you had ever had, but in the end, it had served to remind you both that, no matter how much you argued, you were still in love.

Heyyy! I'm sorry for the delay in bringing this one shot, it's my first time having an iphone and all this is very strange to me but soon we'll be back to normal :)) Do you have any suggestions for new themes?

[eringobragh420]

➔ Pairing — Damian Priest ♡ f!Reader ➔ Summary — Damian’s girlfriend is pissed off. ➔ Word Count — 2.3k ➔ Warnings — NSFW. D/s undertones, rough, unprotected p in v, slapping, cum. 18+ ➔ Notes — Spanish translations are at the end of the story provided by Google Translate. ➔ Taglist — If you'd like to be added, please click here! ➔ Support — Buy me a coffee! ☕ ➔ MASTERLIST, KINK LIST

“Don’t fucking touch me, Priest,” she says, yanking her arm out of his grasp before shoving his stupid, giant body as hard as she can. He stumbles back a couple steps, arms spread, palms to his girlfriend, and the unadulterated befuddlement painted on his face is enough to make her head explode.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” Damian chuckles.

“What’s wrong with me?” she screams. Damian’s smirk is gone in an instant and his muscles stiffen, bringing him to his full terrifying height, but she can’t back down now. Not after what she just saw. Fuck him and the click he claims. “The fuck is wrong with you?” she continues yelling. They’re drawing attention—well, she is, anyway—but she couldn’t care less. She wants these people—his friends, coworkers, bosses, fans—to know exactly how much Damian Priest sucks, what kind of man is, what kind of boyfriend he is.

“Come here,” he grumbles, snatching her bicep, squeezing hard enough she knows there will be a bruise left behind, and he lifts, nearly bringing her feet off the ground, making it completely impossible for her to escape this time. She feels like her shoulder is dislocating the closer they get to the locker room, and she’s nearly flung into the door when it opens unexpectedly.

“Everything … okay here?” Seth Rollins asks, chocolate eyes passing back and forth between the couple.

“Everything’s fine,” Damian roars, swinging the tiny woman inside the empty locker room. As she goes by, she lifts her middle finger at Rollins, who instantly backs away, hands up, not wanting any trouble. Damian releases his death grip on her arm before kicking the door closed behind him. “Okay.” He sets his hands on his trim hips, shrugging, big eyes and raised brows. “Seriously. What’s your problem?”

Her lips purse as she massages her arm and considers his question. On one hand, she’s pissed because the asshole should know what he did. On the other hand, she could accuse him only to have him deny it, and then what does she do? On the other, other hand—a much smaller, less significant, barely existing other, other hand—there’s a chance she’s wrong, and while it would be good news, she would be embarrassed, and their relationship would be damaged … if it isn’t already. But then the image from earlier flashes in her brain and, not only does she want to die a little, she believes she knows the truth, so decides to stay the course.

“You’re—” She clears her throat because suddenly it’s scratchy and it hurts much like the pain in her chest. “You’re cheating on me.”

The allegation hangs heavily in the ether. She feels stupid actually saying the words. She never, in a million years, would have believed him to be the type, but she knows what her eyes saw. Rhea Ripley—the incomparable, exquisitely beautiful—Rhea Bloody Ripley in Damian’s strong arms, her muscular legs wrapped around his waist. They weren’t kissing, but they might as well have been, and somehow, in her crumbling mental capacity, that alone served as plenty of evidence for an affair.

“What?” Damian asks, the tone of his voice lowering several levels. “I’m—” He pauses, shaking his head. “You think I’m cheating on you?”

“Yeah, Damian, you’re fucking cheating on me,” she replies with more force than she thought she was capable of.

He nods, plump lips forming a deep frown. “And you thought acting like a psychopath in front of everyone we know was the way to handle it?”

“I don’t hear you denying it,” she seethes, nostrils flaring. Her skin crawls at the thought of the two of them together. She wants to vomit imagining a life without her Papí. She just can’t fucking believe they’ve ended up here.

“I shouldn’t have to,” Damian replies, bending over to her height. “You’re talkin’ nonsense!”

“I saw you, Damian. I fucking saw both of you.”

He shakes his head, shoulders coming up to his ears as he considers her statement. And then it dawns on him—she watches in real time as the lightbulb flashes on above his stupid man bun. “Are you talkin’ about Rhea?”

Her mind is blank, erased like a math problem on a chalkboard, leaving her heart in control of her body—and right now?—that heart is fractured, splintering, promising to disintegrate at any given moment. She feels her feet moving of their own volition, closing the space between them. She stands before him for half a moment at less than half his height before reeling back and slapping him across the face. The palm of her hand erupts with fire, tears she’s been battling since the moment she witnessed the embrace now streaming freely down her contoured cheeks. Damian stands frozen, looking somewhere over her head. The muscles in his jaws flex as he clenches his teeth, inhaling long and hard through his nose. He opens his mouth to spin a web of lies, so she slaps him again before he can get started. She’s crying now because of the pain in her hand and the pain behind her ribcage, so she slaps him once again because it’s his goddamn fault. Damian catches her wrist as she makes another attempt, and this is a brand new pain.

“Mírame!” he bellows, backing her up until she slams into the nearest wall. She loses her breath a bit, but Damian places his free hand behind her head to prevent any impact. His grip on her wrist is unrelenting as he holds it against her chest. She is miniscule in this awkward embrace, her eyes looking everywhere but where he wants her to. But when he bends his knees and dips down to her level, ducking his head until he’s in her line of sight, she’s forced to meet his gaze. “I’m gonna make you pay for those slaps in a minute …” he cautions. His hand starts applying pressure to the back of her head. “But first I have to tell you, because for some reason you need to fucking hear it, I’m not cheating on you.” 

She swallows, having her breath stolen again because she feels the truth of his words vibrating her bone marrow. She also feels the shame and embarrassment of being wrong. With her free hand she struggles to unclamp his vice-like grip from her wrist, and having had enough of her shit, Damian grabs both wrists this time and smashes them into the wall above her.

“Do you hear me?” he carries on, with quite a bit more hostility than she’s used to, shoving his knee into the wall between her legs. His knee pad becomes a cushion for her pussy—he’s still in his gear, still sweaty, because she accosted him right after his match—elevating her to the toes of her sneakers, and she is completely at the mercy of Damian Priest.

“Yes,” she says through clenched teeth.

“Good. Do you believe me? Hmm?” Capturing both wrists in one hand, he cups her chin with the other and touches his cheek to hers. “Do you believe that I’d rather die than hear someone else call me Papí?” It’s actually an incredibly sweet confession, but the venom in his tone scorches the honey in his words.

She believes him. By all that is good and holy in this world, she believes him and she is equal parts mortified, thankful, and contrite. She’d allowed her imagination to run wild because of an act of love between close friends, never once considering having a civil conversation with either of them about how it clearly made her uncomfortable. Did she just cause a rift in their relationship? Contaminate it with her jealousy? How many people is she going to have to apologize to? Seth, for sure, although he usually deserves any middle finger aimed in his direction. Christ, what’s she gonna say to Rhea?

“Damian,” she whispers, doing everything she can to not sound pathetic, and if her own ears are to be trusted, she is failing miserably.

“No,” he interrupts her, “you started this. I’m gonna fucking finish it. Now answer me.”

She grits her teeth, rolling her hips unconsciously because the position he’s put her in isn’t all that comfortable, probably by design, and suddenly she remembers how and why she’s propped on her boyfriend’s thigh. Even the slightest friction renders a groan from her. Damian tilts his head, eyes unforgiving, a sable shade she’s never seen before, and she regrets having made any noise at all, no matter how unintentional. His cheek is transforming into a furious vermillion, and the guilt that washes over her is nearly unbearable. She has no hand left to play, not that she did in the first fucking place, and she resigns herself to the punishment she’s about to receive. Well-deserved punishment, she understands.

“Yes,” she breathes, his eyes boring into her, chipping away any residual resolve she might have left inside.

“¿Si, que?” he booms, as if he expected the incorrect response. His anger hasn’t abated.

She can’t feel her fingers anymore and she’s struggling to maintain balance on Damian’s thigh. The slightest lean this way or that sends jolts of pleasure throughout her body, and it’s a losing battle trying to keep the satisfaction off her face. “Yes, Papí,” she says, “I believe you.”

He eyes her for a long moment, searching her face for any clue she might be lying or still angry. She keeps her own eyes open and on him, seemingly baring her soul before him, feeling more vulnerable now than she has in her entire life. At last he pushes away from her and the wall, releasing her wrists, removing his thigh from between her legs, and maybe she misses that last part a little bit.

“Now take those off—” He points at her denim shorts. “—and bend the fuck over.” And then he moves his arm to the right, pointing at a giant WWE trunk on wheels wedged against the corner of the room. She knows her place, and she has her orders.

She kicks her shorts toward him, standing before him in nothing but a pair of Nike hightops, a white thong, and a t-shirt-turned-tube-top that demands the audience to ALL RISE. He doesn’t even look at her body before nodding toward the trunk, and Jesus Christ, she’s in so much trouble. She passes him while rubbing her wrists and when she’s standing less than a foot from the trunk, she realizes she’s too short for this fucking thing too. She glances at Damian over her shoulder, and he’s stomping toward her, and her heart jumps into her throat. She hops onto the trunk, tips of her shoes barely kissing the floor just like when she was straddling Damian’s thigh.

The smack to her right ass cheek echoes throughout the locker room, same with the slap to her left, and she yelps.  Damian grabs her hair and pulls, arching her back into a spine-busting half-circle. He lets go, but before she can fall forward, one of his huge hands clamps over her mouth and holds her in position. With the other, he wrenches at her thong to pull it aside—she hears the material rip at the same time—then bends her leg at the knee and props it onto the trunk beside her.

“You know, the jealousy is kinda sexy on you,” Damian comments. Now she feels his hand working at his pants as it bumps against her sore ass. Then comes a different kind of smacking as he swats the sensitive skin with the underside of his rigid cock. He traces the head along both cheeks and along the crack, on down until she feels the huge, blunt head at her soaking entrance. “But don’t you ever fucking slap me again.”

Without warning, he is wholly sheathed inside her, his hips slamming into hers. She cries out from behind his hand, clutching his wrist with one hand as the other claws at the trunk in a desperate search for leverage to launch herself away. Damian is not a small man, in any way, shape, or form, so he’s always allowed her a few minutes to get used to his size. Not this time. This is her penance. He squeezes her hip, in full control of her body, and he’s simply using her pussy to get off now, without regard for her pleasure. She feels almost like a fleshlight, but her hormones are confused because she’s wet as fuck and, whether he likes it or not, she’s liable to get off just from him fucking her.

Damian stretches across her backside, her spine still bowed, and his teeth scrape across the shell of her ear as he grunts, “Say you’re fucking sorry.” He removes his hand from her mouth.

She gulps oxygen before panting, “I’m sorry, Papí. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He kisses her sweaty neck and sighs, hanging his head over her shoulder in unison with slowing the pummeling of her pussy. “I’m sorry, too. Lo siento, mi vida.” His rhythm starts speeding up following several moments. “But I am gonna cum in this pussy,” he advises, standing up straight, gripping both hips. “And you are gonna walk outta here with it dripping down your thighs.”

“Yes, Papí.”

“Because I fucking love you.”

She groans, bucking back against him. “I love you, baby.”

One final thrust and he makes good on his promise. He even squeezes the base of his cock to make sure every drop is inside her before pulling out. He’s much more gentle with her now, his enormous hands sliding up her back to her shoulder and arm so he can assist her into a standing position. As soon as she turns to him, she grabs his face and pulls his lips to hers. Their kiss is long, deliberate, and by the time they’re finished, his hands are cupping her face and hers are clutching his neck, and goddamn it, she’s so fucking stupid. But love makes people do crazy things.

“Now what do I do?” she asks, holding up the tattered side of her thong. Damian inspects the damage, then takes the lacey material in both hands and rips it into several pieces, which fall one by one to the floor.

“Problem solved.”

જ⁀➴°⋆ Mírame — Look at me જ⁀➴°⋆ Si, que — Yes, what જ⁀➴°⋆ Papí — Daddy જ⁀➴°⋆ Lo siento — I'm sorry

[judesmoonbeauty]

A Day With Jude Jazza: Chapter One

"4:00 - Before Dawn & Early Morning"

Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

[Before Dawn. Jude’s POV]

(Why’re ya here?)

Just before dawn, I finally made it back to my room and when I entered, I saw Kate sleeping on the bed.

(Guess she couldn’t hold out ‘n fell asleep.)

When I sat down and touched Kate’s cheek, she smiled in her sleep,

Jude: …..Sleepin’ ‘n lookin’ all happy, what’re ya dreamin’ of princess?

My hand gradually grew warmer, and then Kate started to mumble.

Kate: Jude, Ju……

(Didja wake up?)

Kate: I’m buried…in paperwork…..

Jude: …..Pff.

I unintentionally burst out in laughter at the unexpected sleep-talk, all while Kate was still groaning,

Jude: Workin’ even in yer dreams.

Feeling spent, I took shower, changed my clothes and got into bed.

I pulled Kate closer to me, and her warmth instantly lulled me to sleep.

Jude: I’m exhausted….

I closed my eyes together with the warmth.

[Early morning. Switches to Kate’s POV]

(Oh no, I fell asleep….)

As the sunlight hit the back of my eyelids, I was struck with anxiousness.

I heard the mission would run late, so I tried to sleep in my room, but that didn’t work out,

So, I tried to wait for him in his room, but I fell asleep.

(It smells like Jude.)

When I looked up I noticed I was being gently hugged.

And then I saw his sleeping face.

(Oh my gosh, he’s asleep…?!)

His usual scowl is gone, sleeping with a peaceful expression, and then my own sleepiness disappears.

(I can’t believe that I woke up BEFORE Jude…!)

I rarely get to see his sleeping face because he goes to bed later than me and wakes up before me,

And even if I could see it, he wakes up instantly, so this is a first.

(It’s most likely because he’s so exhausted from getting back so late.)

Kate: ….Good job, Jude.

Jude: Ngh…….

When I whisper, his eyelashes quiver.

At that moment, a wandering hand gently pinched my cheek.

(Ah….)

Amethyst eyes met with mine.

Kate: Jude,

Jude: …..Yer bedhead’s terrible.

Kate: Huh?

He grabbed my hand that quickly tried to reach my hair, and smiled softly.

Jude: Just don’t show it t’other guys.

His hand caressing my cheek, his gaze, everything is affectionate and gentle,

I smile when I think how I’m the only one who gets to see an expression the exact opposite of his usual one but —

Jude: Yer irritatingly cute today too…..

Kate: Wh-wh….WHAT?!

Jude: Huhh? What’s wrong with sayin’ what I think. Just accept it, yeah.

It seemed like I forgot to breathe, when those sweet words dropped like a bomb,

Kate: What time did you get back?

(If I react, I’d definitely be laughed at and teased…..!)

Having been teased so much before, I thought about the consequences, and so I asked calmly.

Jude: …..Dawn.

But what caught my eye was his face buried in the pillow as he sleepily responded,

(If I do my best to wake up early, then I can get a thornless Jude to say sweet words,)

(Plus, I can see some pretty cute things….)

Just then, I decided to make it my routine to wake up early —

Jude: Yer overthinkin’ things.

Kate: I-I’m not overthinking.

He hit the nail on the head as my eyes wander.

As he watched me, he let out a small laugh —

Jude: Pff, yer so easy t’read.

The sweet, soft voice makes my heart beat so hard I think it will explode,

Kate: …..Thanks for working hard on your mission.

Since today has only begun.

Kate: And, good morning Jude.

He gently smiled, pinched my cheek a little and then stifled a yawn,

Jude: [Yawn]…..Mornin’ Kate.

—This is the story of a day with Jude Jazza.

DIABETEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSS.

[Event Master list] [Next - ⏱♡ 13:00 - Working at Raven & Lunch]

Dividers: @.adornedwithlight

Tag list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul @goustmilk @kraiyne

[harukyuu2]

hiii how are you? I hope you’re doing alright<33 So can you do a Nene Kusanagi!reader x Ivan, Till, and Luka hcs like I can imagine reader going behind characters back whenever there’s a stranger and someone they don’t know? and reader being shy towards people except character 😭🙏🏻

that’s all and ty take care!! ^^

୨♡୧ ▸ "A star that hides !!" - Ivan, Till and Luka x Shy!Reader

!! - Reader has the same personality as Kusanagi Nene, headcanons, Fluff, gn reader <3, tried to write Luka with more emotions like wiege(??, reader meet them as a child

༊*·˚Till ▸

☆ I think it was hard for you two to talk at first since Till isnt the most talkative one and with you being shy...he'd probably spy on you until you notice him!

☆ Once you two are close and you hide behind his back? Oh my god, he is exploding in all different emotions— feeling proud, embarassed, happy...

☆ If you dont want to talk, then he doesnt either. But he'd still do it for you— just dont expect a long conversation. Your Till isnt great with socializing either; he'd much rather the two of you avoiding people most of the time

☆ He finds solitary places for the two of you to stay and do whatever you prefer— even if, most of the time, you end up sleeping on his lap or playing a game your guardian gave you while he practices on his invisible guitar or composes a song

☆ Is quite amusing for him how youre not shy with him, so he encourages you to be like that on stage too! to try your best to win so you can stay on his back all you want

☆ At the end of the day, Till will try his best to keep you in a comfort zone. You two prefer to avoid Aliens and humans unless its necessary!

༊*·˚Ivan▸

☆ You wanna hide behind his back? Yeah, dont even ask, boy has been waiting for you to do it since ages— Its a dream of his since the first time he saw you

☆ Ivan talked and followed you everywhere as kids, until you just accepted him in your life! You picked his interest, now he forces himself in your space

☆ type of relationship: "This is reader, reader loves their personal space. This is Ivan, Ivan ALSO loves reader personal space!"

☆ No worries, he's got your back during conversations with other people. But sometimes, he'll drag you into them— partly to tease your shyness, partly because he wants you to overcome it. Being shy is a disadvantage on stage, and he doesnt like the idea of you losing

☆ Your personal translator for the Aliens when you dont feel like dealing with them. Just murmur to Ivan's ear that you dont feel comfortable talking and he will find a way out for you while handling the conversation

☆ Still, he doesnt like seeing you struggle with confidence since its a major risk for you— so he'll probably push you to overcome it with small training sessions and plenty of praise. Ivan loves patting your head!

༊*·˚Luka ▸

☆ You probably thought he hated you at first— the way he looked at you so directly as a child, with no emotion at all. Dont ask what kind of magic happened, but somehow, you made him laugh. And now, here you are, with a new friend— if you can call it that...

☆ No matter how silent the situation is between you two, Luka as a child stated youre his "favorite clone" and that you will stay on his side <3

☆ Hide behind his back? He finds it weird, but wouldnt refuse you to do it. If you wanna stay there, just do it! He may call you out on it but because he is confused by the action

☆ Still, he would take you to places where you have to be a little more confident since you have to learn and stop being stupid— you have to live even if it mean harsh words for you to get better at it

☆ Silent naps with you veeeeryyy far from the Aliens— even if it rarely happens and its not that far tbh, he enjoys it with his heart, more if the one sleeping is him and youre playing a videogame or composing

☆ If he could, he'd keep you in a jar— safe, always, and only for him! But since he cant, he does his best to keep you going, even if he's not sure how to praise or encourage you properly <3

[fawnpires]

TORN ON YOUR HEART — KÖNIG.

(in short: a concept about your husband, könig, wanting to ruin his pretty wife - and her pretty makeup.)

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ contents: poorly google-translated german, husband!könig, slight dumbification, size kink & difference, body worship, soft dom!könig, manhandling, face-sitting, possessive sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, stomach bulge.

"Let me ruin that makeup off your face, mein kleines reh." his accented voice muffles from underneath you.

With his large anatomy in contrast to your much small-scaled body, it was without a doubt that the flat palms of his hands secured at the flesh of your thighs could keep you right where he wanted you to be. The veil of your husband's hood had been pushed up to a right enough amount to where his hooked nose had been exposed as well as his mouth where there was a visible scar starting at the right side of his lips that curved upwards to his cheek and possibly even up into his eyes — which were still shrouded behind the covering veil of his face, only two eyeholes teared in them to reveal the hazy blue irises that peek up at you when you were currently situated at his exhibited mouth.

"Köni! Mmph, baby... it's too much." Your voice comes out but nothing but a sole tone of a quivering tone, bare thighs sheen with sweat at this point while your chest rises and falls with each heaving breath. A mind fogged of entirely him and the pleasure he brings upon you, it causes you to have lose track of time; meaning that your trembling figure has rested on König's face for quite some time, but an obscured head of ecstasy forbids any kind of coherent thought to cross your head about anything outside of this dome of rapture. "I can't do a lot more, m'sensitive..."

"Awe. Come on, liebchen, don't be like that." König said, giving a small pause in between his words to lap more at your soaking cunt which he positions himself underneath; the warm muscle of his tongue causing your eyes to willingly roll back in your head while your thighs squeezed at his masked head with a bit more pressure, a faint squeal leaving your mouth from the mere pleasure of it all. "Just hold back a little longer, then you'll get your big reward, okay? Can my pretty girl do that for me?"

Voluntarily, you nod your head all of desperation to his words — nothing but absolute commitment to make the larger man underneath so proud of you in the moment. At your non-verbal response, a faint phrase of "süßes mädchen" came muffled below you as the motions of his tongue became more rapid without breaks. One of his hands had combined with the movements of his mouth, a circling thumb pressing on the nub of your clit which only sent your mind into a more in-depth condition of personal ecstasy. Your head was now fully thrown back, vulgar sounds of moans and whines falling from an agape mouth while a heated sensation began to birth at your lower abdomen. One of your hands plants itself right next to the bedsheets nearest to where your head laid while the other had a flat palm to his hooded head, your fingers twitching as I had started to lose myself more.

"König, fuck!" You whined out in a more high-pitched tone than intended, pools of sweat sticking to the soft material of your laced bra — chest puffed out which only pronounced on how heavily you were breathing, giving König the view of a lifetime; your breasts cradled above in the feminine-designed cloth of your bra, white and lining with a lace trim around the edges. The more his tongue sloppily lapped at your drooling cunt, the more that familiar sensation grew in intensity at your lower abdomen; the one that felt all tingly, like sparks were threatening to explode right there and now.

His eyes linger onto the soft plush of your breasts before peeking through your thighs up at your face before speaking: "Ah. That's it, kleines Reh, lose yourself to me." the man mumbles into your soft skin, palming at the flesh with his larger hands as the ministrations of his tongue could only speed up without break. The sensation at your lower abdomen approaches towards an end the more his tongue slid up the puffy lips of your cunt, bumping up right against the nub of your swollen clit along with the tip of his nose. Small whispers and mumbles of praises, which were barely audible, came from König as some sort of accommodation to the reach the final stage of an orgasm — he knew you were sensitive, and he knew damn well that the useful combination of both his voice and larger touch could make you easily fall compliant to him; your brain easily so stupefied into a state of only existing bliss.

By now, the tears that brimmed at the slightest corners of your eyes were ruining over the mascara that tinted your lashes — faint black streaks rolling down the sides of your face, the whites of your eyes mostly visible as they rolled back into the inner barriers of your head. Your hips had started to grind down onto his mouth while your trembling body had begun to get more responsive to him. "M'god... I'm gonna cum..." you whined out softly into the air, voice slightly hoarse from all the noises that creeped up your throat.

"Oh, you're gonna cum?" König asks, feigning a mocked innocence with a now more huskier voice and a growl to it. "Then go ahead, nobody is going to stop you, schatz." he adds on with a slight hiss, his hands moving from being wrapped to your thighs up towards your hips, then the soft skin of your stomach, then to your bra-confined breasts. He pulls off the delicate fabric and tosses it over to the floor, leaving you now completely bare above him.

Given his confirmation you don't hesitate to oblige with them — your body trembling a little more violently as you succumb into the tingling sensation that had expanded inside of your lower abdomen, pouring out without delay as you felt your orgasm finally burst into reality. Both of your hands moved to grip the bedsheets established at his head, holding them between your fingers in a near death grip while you rode out your climax. After a duration of a few more lasting seconds, you come down from your high; body coated in a light sheen of sweat, mouth widened to catch your breaths, and your grip loosening up at the sheets. Your head tilts in a downwards angle to get a better look at your mountain of a husband, steadily moving yourself down to sit on his bare and sturdy chest to gain a better perspective of his face.

König hadn't even given you a chance to catch even the slightest view of the aftermath of himself before his hands were back to your hips against, forcing you off his frame. He moved to lean up against the headboard, still holding you hostage in his more stronger grasp at your waist until he settles you in his lap. In his head, he almost thought of you as a fragile doll while you found placement on him; so much smaller in size, so easy to move around without a struggle with his more substantial clutch. His then leans into you and presses his mouth up against yours in a swift movement leaving you no time to think, breaching your mouth with his tongue that still had the aftermath of your orgasm residing there. Fingers trailed up the inner section of your legs before tickling at your thighs, slowly moving upwards to your sensitive cunt. His index and middle finger drag a slow line up your puffy lips, causing you to moan softly into his mouth while your tongue shyly wraps to his.

Those two fingers of his decide to no longer exist on the outer region of your cunt, plunging inside instead in a stretching method. A gasp is earned into his mouth as your body falls frail against his chest, back slightly arching at the sudden pressure inside of your aching cunt. You felt his fingertips drag at your inner walls the more they pumped in and out of you; it had first started off slow and careful, but they increasingly grew a little more violently with desperation. Your makeout session with König had gotten more heated and explicit, his tongue crowding your mouth and tasting every crevice that he could possibly reach to. His free hand held you steady on his lap easily as he took note of your hips bucking at the movements of his fingers pumping with more brutality. He can't help but chuckle to himself at your needy condition as he found it quite adorable, the sound resonating within his chest.

As he withdrew his head back from you, a thick line of saliva bonded at his tongue and had been shared into your mouth in a sloppy manner. He continues to move his fingers in and out of you without stop, your body squirming as your head was angled to look at him — but never breaking off eye contact with him. König grips that one side of your waist a little tighter, fingers speeding up to an intense rate while your inner thighs were now soaking of your leaking pre-arousal.

"A-Ah... König. Please, I want you." You whined out underneath your breath, the constant stretch of his fingers opening up your cunt was a bit painful but it didn't take long for them to subside into a stinging pleasure.

"You want me, do you?" He asks in response to your whining request, but never allowing his fingers to falter from their built rhythm.

You took a few seconds to pant out before replying. "I do, please... want you to fuck me."

Your words were like a shot of adrenaline to him, a sudden primal urge listing at his necessities. His exposed, scarred lips give you a smirk — one without teeth, but showing a smug kind-of expression to them even if you couldn't fully view his full face. He slowly extracts his fingers from your cunt before moving to the only article of clothing that was on his body at the moment, his pants. Underneath where you sat on his lap, his hand found the buckle of his belt and undid it from the hoops of his tactical pants. There was a distinct noise of a zipper coming undone as well as the rustling of pants to get off. Without even looking down, you felt it; there was no separation of fabric between the two of you anymore, just bare skin. Bare and sweaty skin against each other.

His erected cock rested against your inner thighs, only fueling the amount of eagerness you had that had lead up into this situation. Hands were placed at both sides of your waist while he guided you a little up above his lap to turn around and lean up at his chest, hovering over his cock. He lowered you just the right amount so your cunt could rub up against the head of it — smearing his precum around your swollen lips and clit, more wetness starting to pool down your thighs. König elicited a deep sigh and you bit your lip, full-on whimpers escaping past the bitten flesh.

"Want it so bad, oh, please..." The words slipped out into the usual whine of your tone, nails digging into the skin of your palms at the sense of his precum soaking your cunt. "Need t'feel you inside of me..."

"I know, mein Reh, and I will." he responds through a quick breath, carrying on with moving your hips so that your cunt was rubbing up against the head of his cock. "Don't worry that head of yours, my pretty little wife will get what she wants."

Those were his last words before sheathing himself entirely into your smaller anatomy, the more extreme stretch of his cock compared to his fingers had made you squeal out at the first thrust. You squealed as you felt him fill you up, make you full; allowing your cunt to swallow him up until he was right at the base. He was warm when sheltered in your inner walls, but you had felt you were being impaled in a good way. He kept a firm grip on your hips as he fucked up into you, starting off with slow yet powerful thrusts that made a loud squelching noise — but it wasn't long for him for his carnal wants to take over, slow thrusts becoming animalistic and eager. You supported yourself laying at his chest while your head slightly sloped back to rest at his shoulder, moans leaving your mouth at his vicious onslaught on you.

His fingers imprinted tightly into the skin of your waist as grunts began to emerge from behind his veil, his hips moving quickly against your soaking cunt. He rested his forehead against your shoulder as curses in his native language were muttered under his breath, muscles already layered with a sheet of sweat while pounding into you. His cock brushed up against your cervix with each of his pushes, inner walls pulsing as you savored the moment. Skin slapping against skin and personal sounds of ecstasy had started to reverberate against the room's walls, a divided choir of unadulterated material. His movements got more aggressive, more quicker as the both of you were left with no room to speak anymore; only grunting and moaning, incoherent words along with wet skin smacking so delightfully in a connected way.

You felt his hands transport from your waist to cup your breasts, still keeping you in a solid hold if you had wanted his fucking to continue. Large palms kneaded at your flesh while his head at your shoulder was turned towards the side of your neck, pressing small kisses there while he proceeded with splitting you open on his cock.

"This pretty body is alles meins, you hear me?" he manages to get out between grunts and heavy breaths. "Nobody else, just me... it will always be me." It's not like his words were some heavy lie to use you for your body, but they were genuine and came from his heart; the beauty of your anatomy was truly a treasure to him, and god consider him the luckiest man alive to have a woman possessing such angelic features as his wife.

"Mmhm, yes, all yours." you said through a foggy head full of rapture, head cocked to the side to give König better access to your neck.

His lips formed into a smirk at your words before he grabbed at your hips again, kissing and sucking marks of love into your neck while he pounded into your cunt; feeling himself on the brink of a climax as his grunts grew heavier, more pronounced with your cunt clenching around him like a vice. Your moans grew in volume as you felt a familiar heat start to ride at your lower abdomen, back arching into a curve off his chest as you slightly leaned your upper half forward — basking in the severe intensity of this moment. A more saturated wetness starts to drool down your inner thighs and onto his lap, the skin of his thighs glowing in your abnormally dripping arousal.

König moves one of his hands to the sweep of your stomach, taking notice of the obvious bulge that swells through the soft, sweaty flesh. His fingers inch their way on top of that protruding bump which appears more prominent each time the head of his cock pushed up against the barrier of your cervix, pushing against the area. Your eyes widened at the almost overbearing feeling, more arousal dripping down your thighs.

“-Eep! K-König! Hngh, please.” you said in a whining voice as you could only writhe against his touch, eyes glazing of tears that sourced from an overwhelming arousal, a second climax forming at your lower abdomen and threatening to spill over any second now.

“Mein gott, you’re so tight.” he growls, thrusts becoming less steady but more hostile; fingers pressing down harder on himself that showcases through the skin of your stomach. “Mmm - Scheiße, doing so good, almost there.”

It was a fact you weren’t going to last once he spoke those very words to you — his husky voice, his nonstop thrusts assaulting at your cervix, and his mouth presses wet saliva-soaked kisses to your neck; you couldn’t help but spiral into your second orgasm of the night, squirming at his lap and allowing everything to pour out. It was wet, everything was wet — his lap and bare muscular chest, your legs, the sheets of the bed. Your naked back was pressed to his chest as you immediately felt weakened by the experience. Soon enough, his own release followed your own and you felt every inch of him in your guts.

Your stomach was warmed and full, both of your skin sticky and blanketed with sweat. While he rested at the headboard, your head was idle on his shoulder — taking in his natural scent while you could only gaze absentmindedly at the sharp features of his face. He adjusted his head to stare back into your eyes, his left arm slowly coming to pat and wipe at your messy face with his thumb; streaks of mascara staining that thumb in an almost clay-like material, the sight causing him to chuckle lowly.

“Oh, süßes Reh. Who knew you could be even more gorgeous with a ruined face?” he whispers in a hoarse voice, giving you a small smirk which pressed to one side of his lips - leaning in shortly to press a small, gentle kiss to your cheek.

[educatedsimps]

— they're in love with your laugh

i just KNOW hq characters would be so in love with your laugh like you could literally have ANY type of laugh and they'd fall even more in love with you. this is just how i think they'd react when they hear your laugh or i guess when they realise they really love your laugh? yeah, it's just fluff. enjoy :)

≪ back to fics masterlist

he would say "i love that" out of nowhere. "what?" "your laugh" "weirdo" (but he's a cute weirdo). SHAMELESSLY stares at you with a giddy smile on his stupid lovesick face and literal hearts in his eyes. also if you're like sitting at a table or something, he'd put his elbows on the tables and tuck his hand under his chin while he stares at you. bro is Down Bad Pro Max, trust me.

↳ nishinoya, tanaka, HINATA, oikawa, hanamaki, KUROO, konoha, tendō, ATSUMU, terushima, hoshiumi

he's kinda awkward so he'd just start blushing and smiling secretly to himself. your laugh is like a melody to him and he swears he could listen to it on repeat forever. makes him realise that he's so in love with you and your laugh that he would do anything just to make you laugh like that for the rest of your lives.

↳ KAGEYAMA, yamaguchi, yachi, KINDAICHI, ushijima, kita, sakusa

he's the quiet type who would just look at you with a soft smile when he hears your laugh and he just feels a sudden surge of happiness in his chest. his heart is so full when you laugh and he feels so damn lucky to have you. he know he wants to spend the rest of his life listening to your laugh, which is exactly what he plans to do. also the amount of love in his eyes is UNMATCHED.

↳ asahi, ennoshita, kiyoko, IWAIZUMI, mattsun, kunimi, kenma, AKAASHI, kawanishi, suna, osamu, i can also kinda see sakusa here

he would laugh softly to himself and fail MISERABLY at hiding his smile. so he's just looking at you with the widest, happiest smile on his face and now you're both laughing together, though you don't know why he's smiling so much. neither of you even remember what you were laughing about in the first place and now he can't resist kissing you and showering you with so much affection because he can't believe this ANGEL is actually his. he never thought he could love someone - let alone someone's laugh - this much.

↳ daichi, SUGAAAAA, semi, aran, komori, HIRUGAMI

bokuto's heart feels like it might explode at any moment and he's about to cry with how much love he has for you. you'd probably be standing next to him (also a lil confused) as he's going through an emotional roller coaster just he heard your laugh. "Y/N I LOVE YOUR LAUGH" "my what-" "YOU'RE MY ANGEL, I SWEAR" and cue a fountain of happy tears!

and for you tsukki simps, he'd tease you when you ask him why he's suddenly blushing. "admit it, kei, you like my laugh." "no, i don't. it's annoying." "you loooove my laugh-" "i don't know what you're talking about, y/n." "then why're you blushing, big guy?" "shut up, shortie." would also ruffle your hair before walking away with his face, ears and neck the same shade as a tomato. cute.

a/n: i don't even wanna count how many times i wrote "laugh" in this one like the word's starting to make absolutely no sense to me but i hope you enjoyed it???

© educatedsimps 2024. do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarize any work from this blog on tumblr or any other platforms. if you do, the simps will hunt you down. likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[inzuinzudesu]

Please zoom in to see small Kakashi! 😭 He kinda disappeared 😭😭😭

Text translation: "Infinite Tsukuyomi" (無限月読)

Drew these in mid-July - when I started doing digital again actually 🤔

Took inspo from the Balut - a street food in my country; I hear a lot of people are grossed out by it?? Don't know if this is controversial, but I personally love the dish. Essentially grew up with it after all!

Wanted to draw something that feels a bit creepy but still has a sense of mysticality to it???

Meh, don't know if the feeling got across or not

I thought since Halloween is coming up, might as well post this haha

About the process of drawing these!

These were very fun to draw! I messed around a lot with photoshop to achieve this glowy dusty effect?? From the brushes to the blending options, and maaan the filter gallery 😭😭 Such fun tools to play with.

The main brush I used to achieve the dusty effect is called "KYLE Bonus Chunky Charcoal", in the Kyle Dry Media brush set. If you can, I recommend checking it out! There are definitely other ways to achieve this sort of effect, though. You can probably just use some sort of scatter texture brush and it'd work just fine. Studying is all about trying things out, right? This is like my first experiment with this type of effect, and I was happy at the time. Now looking back, these could most definitely turn out better, no? I really went overboard with just the effect and forgot everything else. The blood and the plate looks horrible man. If you look closely, you can see the sketch lines haha! I got lazy!

Also, for Obito's pose, I relied heavily on a reference I found on pinterest 😭 I wish I'd changed the pose more tbh, it looks really boring.

And I gotta say, these just look underwhelming in this smaller size. Like reaaaaaally underwhelming. Would love to show you the big version, but oh well! 😭😭😭

Brain vomit time!

I love the prospect (??? is that the right word) of Obito being all god-like and powerful after Tsukuyomi, having control over everybody's dream worlds?? And like he jumps from dream to dream, but stops at Kakashi's and picks it apart???? Observing and tormenting Kakashi with his childhood form that has both sharingan???????

Kakashi would probably be confused with Obito's appearance at first, asking questions like "What are you up to this time, Obito?", but then wouldn't receive any answers??? Like little man would just stare at him creepily, and Kakashi would push this to the back of his mind for a while???

Umm below is the technical stuff, I guess??

My headcanon is that the time span in the dream world is the same as the real world. Meaning, 30 years in the dream world feel incredibly real, with no gap of memories. It's essentially a different timeline. Whether this makes sense or not, who knows haha!

Let's talk about the dream events and how they affect Kakashi! Due to Sakumo and team Minato still living, this Kakashi probably wouldn't be as lax nor sad as in canon?? The relationships and personalities would be different huh???? I'm having a headache thinking about this, so let's just say that: 1. Sakumo lived because the villagers weren't as harsh, but the animosity still remained. Kakashi still developed this obsession with rules, but he doesn't blame his dad as much. 2. Kannabi happened, Kakashi was given the sharingan, along with Obito's ninja way. Team Minato thought that Obito died for a while, but Obito is 'rescued' by Madara, same as canon. 3. Rin would still be targeted by Madara, but Obito came in time to help with the situation, blocking Kakashi's chidori from connecting with Rin's chest, but also knocking Kakashi away. Then, a Mist enemy took advantage of the situation to attack Kakashi, injuring him gravely, to the point where everybody thought he died. With this, Obito activated his Mangekyou and exploded on the Mist enemies, killing them all. Meanwhile, Rin tried to heal Kakashi, just barely saving him. As Obito had dealt with the enemies, there was no need to rush back to the village, and the Sanbi wouldn't be released till then. And so, they waited for Minato to come and help with Rin's seal. (About Obito's Mangekyou activating with Kakashi's death - would that be too far-fetched? My reasoning is that Obito would think that it was his fault Kakashi died, because it was Obito who knocked Kakashi away into the enemy, no?) 4. Because there's no one to become 'Madara' now that Obito came back to the village, Naruto is born, Minato and Kushina live.

5. The Uchiha massacre doesn't happen.

(Everything is incredibly convenient, because I don't have the brain power to make it otherwise, please help 😭😭) -> In conclusion, this Kakashi resembles the Kakashi of the real world, but less depressed and self-destructive??? He loves his living comrades. My man still has a massive obsession (more like crush lol) with Obito by the way, just like in canon. He just doesn't show it.

-> About Obito of the dream world (I'mma call him Dreambito), he is all sunshine and brightness, but he exhibits some dark thoughts and deep rage from time to time due to the residual effects of Madara's seal on his heart. The seal has been removed though. And he has this obsession with Kakashi's safety, as he almost pushed him to his death once, albeit accidentally.

-> I was debating whether to just start this dream world at the point where Obito got crushed, or to start it at the beginning of Kakashi's life. In the end, I went with the latter, cuz ya know, I like the idea of Kakashi living through a whole life all over again, just to finally come to the realization that it's all a dream. Does that make any sense at all??

Obito (child form - 13) first appears in front of Kakashi at the start of the Naruto series, when Kakashi has officially become the teacher of team 7. (Let's not change this okay, my brain would fry haha I'm not gonna deny that the idea of Obito and Kakashi becoming co-teachers of team 7 isn't incredibly fun though)

After the first encounter with this child Obito, Kakashi begins to have flashes of memories from the real world, and he hallucinates about people's deaths - mostly about the members of team Minato. This young Obito is always in the corner of his vision, most of the time silent, sometimes saying things like "You trash" to Kakashi whenever he encounters Rin, who is whole and grown up in this world.

Kakashi exhibits more destructive behaviors as this goes on, the line between the dream events and the real events slowly blurring. He takes more dangerous solo missions out of the village, and shows strong signs of PTSD, just like in canon.

The two Obitos would contrast each other?? Like Dreambito would be all concerned with Kakashi's decline in health (both mental and physical) and goes to confront and comfort him, many times over because that's how it is with them??? Dreambito might even move in with Kakashi, being the obsessive and protective Uchiha that he is. Meanwhile young Obito would be an absolute asshole, saying all these horrible things to poison Kakashi's mind haha

At this point, Dreambito'd be in the last stage on the journey of becoming Hokage, gaining the all the trust from the Uchiha clan, the village elders and the villagers as a whole. I don't know about Rin, though? Should she be romantically involved with Dreambito or no? Would Kakashi dream that??

I think Kakashi's dream would somewhat focus more on Dreambito being happy and satisfied, to be honest. I know there's Sakumo and team Minato as a whole, but as a degenerate shipper, I love the obsession between them🥺

I don't think Obito would directly interfere with what Kakashi is dreaming about, i.e. changing Dreambito's behavior, or like the political situation of the villages (?). But he would most definitely insert himself in Kakashi's psyche, no? Mess it up real good.

Kakashi would slowly realize that he is living a dream world, after all the flashes of memories that Obito generates in his mind. He would most definitely deny it at first though, I think? And then it would reach a point where Kakashi remembers everything from the real world, but he has also lived through 30 something years of the dream world, meaning he'd be in his 60s?? Does that make sense or no?

And so, while Kakashi now knows that everything is a dream, his feelings for everybody in the dream are real. If that's the case, is it really that important anymore that he escapes the Tsukuyomi? Can this dream world really be called fake at this point? Is there even anything in the real world for him to return to?

What's to say 'the real world' isn't a dream at this point?

-> Kakashi would completely close in on himself after this. He still does things that he would normally do, but it'd be all an act. He would feel completely isolated.

-> Dreambito would notice and confront him again, now that they live in the same house??? Kakashi would like say everything is fine and try to act more convincingly, but Dreambito would still know something's wrong????

-> Obito is observing from afar, who knows what his motivation is at this point.

Because this is Kakashi's dream world, I suppose he would have the power to change this world to his will, now that he's aware? This is like a lucid dream situation???

The people in the dream have their own will up until this point, but Kakashi can somewhat change their behavior if he really wants to, whether it's subconsciously or not??? Example: He can probably will Dreambito to kiss him or something lol

So on and so forth!

Man, I'm having waaay too much fun imagining the pain. There are probably like a thousand things that doesn't make sense haha! I do wonder how this sort of storyline should end though, does anybody have any ideas? Personally, I prefer slow burn with a (sort of) happy ending, but ya know, angst all the way is good too! I can't write, but I love thinking about all the things that could happen 😭😭 English isn't my first language, so this might have felt weird to read at some point haha

If anybody wants to develop this, please feel free to do so! And if you've read this far, thank you for reading this absolute brain vomit of mine! I love to yap, as you can tell haha Have a good day!