#scented pens make the world go round

[maybewren]

It's so fascinating how small habits can be developed from one easily forgotten interaction.

#like how i keep a thing of deodorant in my bag because ive had two friends forget it and feel real embarrassed before #or how i keep a nail file in the smal bag because i have a friend who does his nails but sometimes they get stabby and are bad sensory #or how i stick a pencil or pen in my ponytail because i knew someone who did it once and thought it was smart #or how i know someone who keeps scented hand sanitizer with her because one of her friends smokes pot sometimes but hates having hands smell #or how i keep a variety of period products in a bag despite only using pads because i have friends that prefer tampons and get caught lackin #just. simple things like that is what makes ghe world go round. #maybe speaking

[hisui-dreamer]

a calculated kiss

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x gn!reader

Synopsis: When Leona Kingscholar makes an effort, you best believe he wants a reward.

Tags: crushes, banter, crack, math is mentioned, slight pining, bot proofread

Word count: 1.4k+

Notes: this fic idea came to me in a dream and boy what a nice dream it was hehe

Masterlist

The room was a labyrinth of towering book spines, stretching up to the ceiling and beyond. The air was heavy with the aroma of old paper and ink, giving the room a musty, soothing smell. The dim lighting cast a tranquil aura upon the room, transforming it into a sanctuary amidst the frenzied bustle of the school.

It was the perfect place to take a nap.

As Leona rounded the corner, his nostrils flared with a familiar scent that set his heart alight. He turned his head, following the aroma to its source, and there you were, hunched over a table with a look of intense concentration etched onto your face. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over your face and highlighting your face. Your furrowed brow and the way you squinted at the worksheets on the desk told him that you were deep in thought, lost in a world of your own creation.

For someone who walked into his life without warning, he found it surprising how quickly you had wormed your way into his heart. You were like a sudden gust of wind that swept into his life, catching him off guard, and he couldn't help but be enchanted by the way you danced and twirled, carrying with you the promise of change and new beginnings. Like a rare and delicate flower, you had miraculously bloomed in the midst of winter, bringing him a warmth and vibrancy that thawed his heart, inviting him to bask in your radiance.

With a nonchalant gait, he strolled over to where you sat. His lips curved into a smug grin, his signature expression that often preceded his teasing remarks. "Oi, herbivore," he quipped, dripping with amusement. "What's got you so bothered?"

You whipped your head up in response, mumbling his name in disbelief. "Leona... It's nothing really, I'm just having some trouble with this assignment," they admitted, holding up a sheet of paper covered in scribbles and crossed-out words. "I can't seem to get it right."

He raised an eyebrow in a curious fashion, a spark of genuine interest ignited within him, momentarily illuminating his otherwise impassive features. With a sharp exhale, a sound caught between a scoff and a chuckle, he leaned forward, his commanding presence drawing you in. "Hah, it can't be that bad. Show me," he offered, his voice a rich timbre that rolled off his tongue like honey.

As he scrutinized the paper, his sharp eyes darted back and forth across the page, his mind working at a breakneck pace. "Math, huh?" he mused, his lips curving upward in a hint of a smirk. "Hmm, this stuff is easy."

With a abrupt surge of energy, he dove into the work, his fingers deftly dancing across the page as he explained the problem with ease. You could hardly believe your eyes as he pointed out mistakes and offered suggestions, each correction executed with effortless grace. It was as if the numbers themselves were at his command, bending to his will with each swift stroke of his pen. "There, just like that."

"Wow, Leona, you're really good at this!" you exclaimed. "I never would have been able to do this without you!"

His lips curled upwards into a triumphant grin, his chest swelling with pride. "It's just some simple math," he replied confidently. "Now," he said, his hand darting out to snatch the worksheet from you in a blur of motion, "give it a go on your own this time."

At your incredulous expression, Leona huffed. "What, did you think I'd be doing your work for you?" he teased, his voice tinged with playful mischief.

You shook your head wryly, though your lips curved up in a smile. "I was hoping you would," you said, nudging him playfully. "But I suppose I'll have to do it myself."

Leona chuckled, enjoying your playful banter. "You'll be fine," he reassured you. "You won't learn if you don't do it yourself."

You let out a sigh, a hint of reluctance in your voice. "I know," you admitted, the weight of the task ahead of you starting to settle in. "But it's just so overwhelming sometimes. I don't even know where to start."

Leona leaned back in his chair, his viridescent eyes never leaving yours. "Well, break it down then," he suggested, his voice calm and reassuring. "What's the first step? What do you need to do?"

He guided you through the process, breaking down the assignment into manageable chunks, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for his help. Slowly but surely, his playful teasing gave way to genuine interest in your progress. He listened attentively as you shared your thoughts and ideas, offering advice and encouragement along the way.

As you gazed upon the once-blank notebook, now brimming with neatly-written answers, you were struck with a surge of pride and accomplishment. It felt as if a refreshing breeze on a sweltering summer day had washed over you, invigorating your very being. The weight of your academic responsibilities lifted, replaced by a sense of contentment and satisfaction that settled deep within your soul.

"Thanks, Leona," you said, your voice filled with heartfelt gratitude. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Leona's mischievous grin illuminated his face as he cockily replied, "Well, I think I deserve a reward for my services, don't you?"

You raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Oh really? And what kind of reward were you thinking of?"

Leona leaned in closer, the scent of his cologne mingled with the scent of the room, creating an intoxicating mix that made your head spin. His voice was a velvet whisper, weaving a seductive spell that sent a flock of butterflies aflutter in your stomach. His breath warm against your ear, he posed his question. "How about a kiss?"

Your cheeks instantly flushed as you stared at him in shock, not expecting his bold request. Leona couldn't help but chuckle at your reaction.

"Well… okay," you answered meekly.

His eyes opened wide like a startled fawn, but as he opened his mouth to speak, your delicate lips brushed against his, and he was struck by a wave of sensations crashing into him like a surging tide. The kiss was tender, a symphony of sweetness that sent electric jolts down his spine and set his heart racing like a galloping stallion. Leona could feel your warmth seeping into him, your tenderness enveloping him like a comforting blanket.

When you finally pulled apart, Leona blinked, before he started laughing, his body shaking with mirth. "Hahahahaha! Who would've thought a herbivore like you would have the guts!"

You shook your head and smiled, your cheeks still slightly warm. "You're the one who asked for it. But thank you for helping me with my homework. It means a lot to me."

He chuckled, like a melody of soft bells in the distance, drawing even closer until his forehead rested gently against yours. His warm breath danced across your skin. "It was my pleasure," he murmured, his voice low and husky like the deep rumble of a cello. "I wouldn't mind lendin' you a hand again, you know. As long as there's a little somethin' in it for me, of course," he added, his smug grin returning in full force, like the bright and mischievous glint of a cat's eyes in the dark.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his playful demeanor. "Always looking for a reward, aren't you?" you teased.

He shrugged, his eyes glinting mischievously. "What can I say? I like to be motivated."

You laughed, enjoying the banter between the two of you. As much as you enjoyed his company, you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest at his words. "Well, if you're looking for a reward, maybe I can think of something," you said, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

"Oh, I'm sure you can," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart thumped like a drum as you peered into his emerald eyes, brimming with an insatiable longing that made your insides twist in a knot. In a flash, his lips met yours, and you were enveloped in his embrace, his arms a shield that enveloped you. It felt electric, sending sparks flying through your body. It was as if the heat and fervour that had been simmering between the two of you had finally erupted into a tempest. As you melted into his hold, you couldn't help but wonder what other rewards he wanted from you.

But really, you could never deny him anything.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland leona #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingsholar

[sunboki]

one of my blurbs going out to han and his masterpieces.

*if you don’t notice, I have each of his songs from SKZ-REPLAY mentioned here. They’re italicized.

Han blankly stares outside the window of the train, hills rolling into an endless abyss of shadows. Meanwhile, you’re comfortably snuggled against his hoodied-shoulder—the cozy yellow fabric he’d borrowed from Changbin’s closet enough to lull you to a peaceful slumber. Plus, Jisung’s scent had now replaced the once Changbin inhabited smell. Dreamland was nice this way.

Peering curiously over his shoulder, you manage to block out enough writing to realize he’s indeed jotting down lyrics. Very Han-like.

“You’re writing a song?” Your voice sounds sleepy, sleepier than you anticipated but evidence of your napping session. Thankfully the run of the train’s wheels numb the strange sensation.

“Mhm. I got it, an inspiration. I like this moment, ‘wanted to write about it.” Jisung gazes down at you, round and emotion filled brown eyes gentle. He’s having a moment again. Where he drinks in everything he gets to experience with you, drinking the sweet taste of the candied fruit to its fullest.

“Don’t look at me like that, it makes me feel like I’m dying.” You complain, although it’s more of a plea. Hoping to erase the wistful expression off his face. Looking at you like you’re the only person in the world.

He only smiles, dipping down to capture your lips together kindly. Endlessly close. There’s a sort of lilt to this kiss, nearly desperate but not voicing it.

The pen inked on a page of that lined leather notebook he carries along with him display all the thoughts coddled in those big brown eyes. And sometimes, you wish he wouldn’t reveal them to you.

It’s almost too much, too much words with too little time. You want to be with Jisung forever and he does as well, but as you whined before; it makes you feel like you’re dying.

“I love all of you y’know. Han Jisung.” The quokka groans at this, bashful to be called his full name. He then gathers your dazed form in his arms, head now propped on the top of yours—allowing you to watch him compose whilst snuggled against him.

There’s a silence filling your section of the train. Comfortable. A sharp wisp of his hand alerts you, brows knitting. The dot he places at the last word tells you he’s finished, glancing up to meet his eyes once more.

Oh, how pretty Han Jisung is. Mochi cheeks and honeyed orbs that seem to glow at the right angle. Not to mention his lips, undeniably kissable. Han is surely alluring.

“This is dedicated to you. So I won’t have to wish you back. Keep your love in my lyrics. I get why I’m here on this earth. Meant to find you, meant to love you. All of you, just like you love all of me.”

You remember that. That time Han became scared of losing you, scared of losing his purpose. Hidden in the lyrics of one of his pieces, HaPpY. Although now, things are different. He knows.

Saccharine sweet.

“‘Not an alien?”

He laughs.

“Not an alien.”

#han jisung x reader #han jisung #jisung han #han fluff #han angst #han jisung angst #han x y/n #han x reader #han x you #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz angst #stray kids angst #han jisung fluff

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Chapter 3: To Learn is to Know

A/N: Enjoy!

Warnings: not a lot. Info dumping I guess 🤣

Word Count: 4.8k

Masterlist

When you got back to the cabin Hux went and stood near the fire pit looking out at the forest that bordered on the edge of your little garden.

“It’s still out there,” you called to him and he turned slightly. “The thing you landed in.” He looked back at the trees, hands clasped behind his back as the wind flared the tails of his greatcoat.

“Do you remember where?”

“Well it was dark,” you huffed at the weight of the bags before turning and kicking the rear door of your truck shut. “I’m sure we’d find it.”

He took a moment before almost reluctantly following you inside. You handed him the clothes and told him to go and make sure they fit. Moving around the kitchen you put away all the food and made another coffee before flopping down at the table and opening your laptop once more to stare at the blank document. You typed a sentence and instantly hated it, deleting it you tried again only to wince at yourself. The first sentence was always the hardest and let’s face it, your mind was elsewhere.

Your eyes flickered up when the bedroom door opened and you inadvertently inhaled sharply at the sight. He had the smart shoes on, comfortably covered by the hem of those smart black trousers. You found yourself straightening in your seat, your gaze travelling up to the impeccably tucked in black shirt, the belt looped perfectly and was sitting nicely on his hips. He held his arms out as though testing the length of the sleeves before adjusting the cuffs with his long fingers to make them more comfortable. He’d left the top button undone, his hair drifted over his brow and you saw with a flip of your stomach he hadn’t shaved even though you’d grabbed him a razor.

“Do I blend in?” He asked haughtily.

“Yes,” you had to clear your throat and try again. “Yes, you look…” handsome? Just my type? Gorgeous? He looked up at you waiting for you to finish your sentence. “Good,” you finished lamely. Sinking down in your seat you bit your bottom lip as the scent of the aftershave you’d bought him wafted across to you making your entire body tense. “Do you like it?” You coughed subtly again trying to rid yourself of the husky tone to your voice. Your reaction was ridiculous.

“If it is your planet's custom to dress in this way then I have no choice.”

“Yes. Yes, it is our custom.” You tried to concentrate on the screen but it blurred as your eyes lost focus.

“Your clothes look more comfortable,” he pointed out, jealously eyeing your chunky knit cardigan and black leggings tucked into your thick thermal socks.

“Well I’m a Princess I can wear what I like.” He huffed lightly through his nose and went to stand at the window, looking at the outside world. He put a hand in his pocket and you felt yourself melting at the fine image before you, which was ridiculous.

“I need something to do,” he announced suddenly.

“What kind of things did you do in your down time on the ship?”

“I didn’t get down time,” he snapped. “What are you doing on the datapad?”

“It’s not a…” you were going to correct him but honestly it was pointless. “I’m trying to write a book but I can’t shift my block.” He came to look over your shoulder, his eyes roaming over the laptop and you desperately tried not to react to his closeness and sniff him.

“I wish to learn these,” he said, running a hand lightly over the keys. “Your written language is different to mine.”

“Wait,” you looked up at him with a surprised look. “It is?”

“We write in Aurebesh and speak Basic.”

“I speak English and write in English.”

“How…original.” You rolled your eyes at his dry tone.

“Let me dig out some pads and pens and we can get started.” You had some lined pads and a leather bound journal that someone had got you as a gift but you never got round to using it. Running upstairs and grabbing a couple of pens you skipped back down the stairs finally feeling like you weren’t the stupidest person in the room for a change. This put you both on an even level and you were going to show him you weren’t entirely useless. You made some coffee for you both, highly aware he watched what you did with a vigilant eye. The smell of fresh coffee made you smile as you settled back down at the table, moving the laptop out of the way and he accepted the cup you had filled for him. Sliding across the pad and pen you didn’t miss the slight set line in his lips, the subtle flex of his jaw and you knew something was wrong.

“What’s up?”

“Up?” He enquired, his nose wrinkling in a way that expressed his utter displeasure at something, which you kinda liked.

“Apologies General. What seems to be the problem?” You asked, trying to match his accent and he frowned clearly deciding if you were mocking him or not.

“I haven’t written for quite some time. All the higher ranking officers are taught of course. But I am afraid to say it is a skill I have let slide.”

“What do you do then?” You asked with a slight frown.

“Well everything goes into the datapad.”

“So you don’t write anything? No little notes or reminders, a shopping list?”

“No, no little notes, I don’t need reminders and I don’t need to do any shopping. The droids cook and the lower staff deal with all that.”

“How the other half live,” you mumbled. “Right well this is a pen and this is paper…” you watched as he curiously lifted a single sheet, the paper slipped through his fingers and drifted back to the bulk of the pad.

“How does the ink not bleed through such thin sheets?”

“Because it’s not that kind of ink. Watch,” you leaned over your paper clearly writing out the alphabet in capitals and you could almost feel his curiosity grow. “Now you,” you said pointing to his pad and he picked up the pen, twisting it between his pale fingers before finding a comfortable hold. He was slow, much slower than you but each mark on the paper was precise and finally he sat back. You put both pads together comparing the different alphabets. “You have 34, we only have 26,” you observed.

“These ones are combinations like cherek and enth.” He pointed to a combination of ch and ae. You listened as he spoke, drinking in everything he told you, watching the way his eye flitted over the paper only to hold your gaze in the next moment. You forced yourself to focus and not get lost in the intensity of his pale green eyes, or the way he subconsciously brushed his red hair out of his face. You had no idea how long the pair of you sat there comparing words and letter combinations until your stomach rumbled and you were forced to look at the time.

“We should eat,” you suggested leaning back in your chair and stretching. “Oh I did find this though.” You passed him the leather book. “Maybe you could make it into a journal you know, write about your time on Earth. So you don’t forget.” Me. You wanted to say it but something made you stop.

“That is very thoughtful,” he murmured and you turned before your face could give away how pleased you were. He moved over to stoke the fire like he’d seen you do before and you busied yourself in the kitchen making some pasta for dinner, trying not to watch him as he settled in a spot on the sofa already writing. He stayed there the whole time you cooked, curiosity niggled at you but you were fairly sure he was sketching something as well as making notes. Biting your lip you found yourself moving onto your tiptoes only to turn abruptly when he sat back with a sigh.

“Dinner,” you announced as you plated the food up and he came over to the table, the book under his arm when you laid the food and drinks down.

“There is one thing I do enjoy about this planet,” he commented. “It’s your cooking.” You felt the heat flare up in your body and cleared your throat slightly.

“My cooking is nothing special.”

“The food is much nicer than what I’m used to.”

“That’s what you get for letting droids cook,” you mumbled. To your surprise he nodded in agreement.

“You’re probably right, also our supplies are limited to the bare essentials. Just things the body needs to survive and nothing more.”

“It sounds rather miserable up there.”

“On the contrary. It’s the only place I’ve ever belonged. Leading the charge on planetary liberation. My troopers have the best training the Galaxy has ever seen, we aim to serve and provide. We offer aid to less wealthy planets, planets who cannot sustain themselves, planets on the brink of civil war and governmental collapse. Some planets are ravaged by crime, the Hutts, Crimson Dawn, Guavian Death Gang…”

“A death gang?” You exclaimed, swallowing the food too quickly and coughing abruptly.

“No one can withstand the might of the organisation I helped build,” as he spoke, his eyes misted over slightly. “Even the Resistance, no matter how hard they try.”

“How did you come to lead?”

“I was born into it. I took over from my father after he…unfortunately died.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you said quietly. The loss of your parents still hurt you even after all these years.

“Don’t be. My father was not what you would call ,conventional.” Frowning, you sipped the wine before asking your next question.

“How so?” He pushed some food around his plate, a tiny sneer lifting the corner of his lips.

“I don’t think I know you well enough to have that conversation,” he repeated what you’d said to him before and immediately you understood. You wanted to ask more questions but you’d both forced an unspoken rule on your trauma. Because that was no doubt what it was for him and he was probably the type to never admit it.

“What do you have for currency?” You asked, changing the subject and he attacked the topic with relish.

“The widely used currency is Credits. The Outer Rim territories use something known as Wupiupi. The First Order is aiming to unite the Galaxy under one organisation so then things like inter-currencies would be obsolete.”

“Your organisation?”

“Of course,” he responded quickly. “What about Earth?”

“We have so many different currencies, each country has its own form of money. We here in America have dollars but over in England they have pounds and in Europe they use the Euro. They are all worth different amounts too so what is, say, one dollar here would be something else entirely in China.” Hux drank in every word and you imagined he was itching to make a note of it in his journal.

“All on one planet?”

“Yeah, why is that so hard to believe?” You asked, drinking some more wine.

“Nothing surprises me about this planet anymore. It’s so…different.”

“I would have thought you’d be used to different?” He seemed to ignore your question and carried on talking almost to himself.

“It’s almost like many planets have amalgamated on one rock and all learned to coexist. Fascinating.”

“So is Basic the most used language?” You wanted to keep him talking, to learn as much as you could even though none of it sounded real at all.

“There are too many languages to even know where to start. Each race has its own language, the Hutts have Huttese, the Twi’leks speak Ryl, Rodians have Rodese.”

“These aren’t…humans?” His jaw tightened and now you felt like you were annoying him, but his need to educate you drove him to keep talking.

“No. Humans are the most wide spread race in the Galaxy and what the Imperials and now the First Order are made up of.”

“So to find a whole undiscovered planet full of them is pretty shocking,” you chuckled, taking a sip of wine.

“That is certainly a resource I did not consider.”

“You can’t call humans a resource!” He drank from his own glass, his eyes on his plate.

“No I suppose not,” he finally murmured. The rest of the meal was finished in an awkward silence and you tried not to think too hard about who was sitting at your table. But everything he said was outlandish and unrealistic and yet he was so sure of himself. Getting up you held a hand out for his plate and he passed it over, watching as you moved over to the sink. You debated what to do next, you didn’t fancy sitting up in your room.

“Do you want to watch some tv with me?” You asked him drying your hands and seeing he had some notes in his journal already, all neat and precise.

“What kind of holovids do you have?” You shrugged, motioning for him to follow and flopped down on the sofa while he carefully sat in the armchair.

“What do you fancy? We have factual, fictional, magical, some based on real life. What did you watch on your, you know? The ship.”

“I never had time to waste on the holonet so I never got into anything. Mitaka used to tell me about something but the details escape me.”

“Mitaka? You had friends?”

“He was…is my Lieutenant.” You flicked through the channels trying to fight the urge to put something spacey on because he’d no doubt moan or point out some inaccuracies and you just wanted to relax.

“How about NCIS?”

“If you’d like.” You swung your legs up, pulling them to your body as you smirked lightly. Man could be a politician with his vague answers.

You got through two episodes before he opened his mouth, pointing out how they seemed to clearly break rules and protocol left right and centre. You leaned back to watch him gesticulate wildly at the tv, his third glass of whiskey balanced on his knee. It struck you how odd this all was but also how easily the pair of you had slotted together in your little cabin. Yes he gave the impression he was eccentric almost and some of the things he said blew your mind but you were enjoying having him in your space. Sometimes you wondered if he was just as lonely as you on that big space boat and that’s why you’d just settled into an easy rhythm so quickly.

You were starting to feel tired but he still seemed wide awake and you wondered if he slept. Glancing over at your laptop an idea formed in your mind and you strode over to pick it up off the counter. Hux looked up, interest flickering in his gaze.

“This is a computer, if you click here you can get the internet up and it has everything you could ever need to know about….Earth. Us. Humans.”

“I am a human.” Right.

“I meant Earthling humans you’re a…an arkanisian?” You winced as you butchered your way through the word.

“Arkanian.” You nodded, fully accepting the correction.

“I’m going to go to bed, feel free to browse what you like. Goodnight General.”

“I’d say, Armitage is just fine.”

“Armitage.” There was just the faintest clench of his jaw but it was swiftly followed by a forced smile which you guessed was progress. You trudged upstairs hoping he didn’t get into too much trouble while you slept.

—

The next day was cold, the threat of rain rumbled over the horizon and you scurried downstairs to rebuild the fire. Your steps slowed as you took in the scene before you, the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit your nose and you saw the fire was crackling nicely.

Armitage was sitting at the kitchen table, his hair slightly tousled and he clutched a cup of coffee in his hands. He was still on your laptop, his eyes wide as he read the screen but what shocked you the most was Millicent. Your oaf of a pet was taking up his entire lap and he was running his long fingers through her soft downy fur. They both looked up as you stepped off the last step, one set of green eyes and one set of gold.

“Not the tooka you were expecting?” You asked, surprising yourself that you’d even remembered anything he said.

“Much more pleasant than a tooka. Also I figured out your caf contraption.” His voice sounded tired, a slight gravelly undertone and you shivered from the sound of it.

“Have you slept at all?” You asked even though you could guess at the answer. His shirt was looking a little disheveled, the top fastenings undone but he looked very relaxed for the first time since he’d arrived.

“No, I've been reading about Earth, your people, your history. Your lack of understanding.” You choked on the glass of water you were drinking but he ignored you. “You’ve only travelled to your moon? You send probes out into space and you still find nothing yet you have a telescope that can see other galaxies? How do you live like this? It’s so basic.”

“Basic?” You gasped still trying to clear your lungs of water.

“No droids, no intergalactic travel and yet you have all these sci-fi programmes that are all utterly preposterous. As if there are stargates and all the other stupid notions you Earthlings imagine. The only one that’s the closest to actual space travel is Star Trek.” He looked up at you from his rant taking in your slack jawed expression and let out a breath of annoyance.

“You really have been up all night.”

“The First Order would implement regulations that could make this a prosperous planet indeed. Mainly your food trade, you don’t really have anything else you can offer the Galaxy.” You sank into a chair still trying to process everything he’d previously said.

“You think we have nothing else to offer?”

“Your technology is rudimentary, your travel is archaic. The knowledge you possess is basic at best. I've seen some underdeveloped planets in my time but this is something else. I mean not even any planetary defence? How do you protect yourselves? How have you gone unnoticed for so long?”

“When you’re quite done insulting my home world,” you murmured, hiding your face in your hands as you leaned on the table. He snapped his mouth shut, still stroking your cat who purred shamelessly into his ear as she headbutted his cheek. “So you've come to the conclusion you’re stuck here?”

“It would seem so.” He looked resigned, his fingers tightening in Millicent’s fur but she just purred harder.

“You should probably go and sleep.”

“I find sometimes it is not a necessity.”

“Suit yourself. I thought we could take a walk today and see if we can find your pod.” Millicent mewled from his arms but made no move towards the bowl of food you were preparing. “Millie. Breakfast!” Her tail swished and she glared at you but still made no move away from Hux. “Stupid beast,” you sighed. “What did you think?”

“Do you have tools?”

“Of course I do. What do you think is in my shed out there?”

“In all honesty, I dread to even contemplate what could be out there.”

“Come and see for yourself but I would, ah, suggest a change of clothes.” He looked down at himself just as Millicent moved.

“Why?”

“Because we’re going into the forest and your nice shoes and thin trousers are not going to cope. I’d suggest your boots and the blue jeans I got you.”

“Is that what they’re called,” he grumbled, dislodging Millicent much to her displeasure.. You pulled your coat on and headed outside to the shed. The lock was slightly stiff but you were used to it, giving it a wiggle and finally the light of day flooded the small space. You had inherited all your dad and grandads tools and you didn’t have the heart to throw them away. You weren’t sure what tools he’d need or why so you just pottered about until he appeared like a looming shadow at the doorway. You swallowed discreetly at the sight of him in the t-shirt and Levi’s grateful that his greatcoat hid how form fitting they were on him, tapering off into his tall black boots.

“Welcome to my shed. What are you going to need?” You felt a little thrill at the way he meticulously picked up almost everything, eyeing the end or flicking his thumb over a certain tool. He looked to be running an internal monologue as he made his way round, passing screwdrivers and spanners of varying size, cable cutters, pliers, also a mini hook and pick set. You carefully put them in a canvas tool bag you found holding it open as he slipped more tools in. You heard him muttering to himself at one point as he concentrated, murmuring about parachutes and thrusters. You were not a very practical person, you had enough knowledge to get by, maybe put up a shelf and make furniture but this was next level and you felt your curiosity rise to new heights.

“I think that’s everything I might need.” He followed you back outside and you pointed in the general direction you remembered from that night.

“What are you going to do?”

“The technology within the escape pod belongs to the First Order,” he paused speaking for a second and all you could hear was the crunch of your feet over the stick ridden ground and the clank of the tools in your bag. “It could be dangerous in the wrong hands.”

“Right, alien tech. Gotcha.” Looking up at the trees you felt slightly disoriented in the day but you were fairly sure you could easily find your way. “Try and be quiet around here,” you whispered, peering through the trees. “There’s a bear that lives in these parts. I don't know how he’d feel about us visiting today.” You noticed that Hux moved with a fluidity you hadn't seen before. He suddenly became quieter than you, his eyes piercing the gloom between the trees and even his coat seemed to know not to snag any twigs and make extra noise.

“You need to teach me to do that,” you muttered.

“There is much I could teach you.” You rolled your eyes and continued to lead him deeper into the trees. The tracks from your truck the other day stopped abruptly but you carried on, picking your way and finally seeing the smooth alloy side of the capsule.

Armitage crouched before it, running a critical eye over the pod, the door was open still and you could see where nature had explored it. Muddy tracks were all over the glass and metal, even on the inside which you finally got a decent look at. It was large inside, able to house at least 6-8 people, seats lined the sides and one seat was near the front which you guessed was for a pilot. A panel of dials and buttons with what you assumed to be flight controls filled the front of the cabin.

“The parachute didn’t release. Being in the hyperspace lane must have fried the mechanism…how did you get me out?” He asked curiously.

“You don’t remember landing?”

“If I did I wouldn’t be asking would I?” He bit at you in exasperation.

“Well I saw it land, I followed the path of trajectory and when I got here you opened the door and rolled out. I ran back for my truck and managed to get you back to the cabin. You weren’t very responsive but you listened to some things I asked you.”

“Such as?”

“Can you hear me? Are you alright? The usual for someone who just fell out of the sky.” He looked up at you almost puzzled for a moment before rising gracefully to his full height.

“You didn’t ask me where I was from or question me for information?”

“Armitage, you’d just fallen out of the sky! You were bleeding and clearly suffering from concussion. Why would I then interrogate you?!”

“Knowledge is power.” He adjusted his gloves before ducking down to get into the pod. It frustrated you that he always seemed to assume the worst, almost as though he’d never been shown a kind hand. You got the impression this was a man that had to claw his way through life, fighting for every moment. You followed him, gingerly stepping inside and trying to take in everything at once. You were in a freaking spaceship! You touched the black panelled sides flinching when one opened automatically.

“Oh I’m sorry!” You cried out lifting your hands up as the panel fully opened and exposed what was inside.

“Bacta.” He told you absently. “It’s a med kit.”

“This is the famous bacta you tell me about whenever you get the chance?” He ignored you, ducking down under the control panel to rip open a section, wires of all different colours spilled from inside and deftly he began to unplug wires, separating some out.

“Clippers,” he demanded, holding his hand out and you complied with a soft sigh. You crouched down and just watched. Being the daughter of a practical man who almost built his house from the ground up you were aware of how skilled Hux actually was. He knew his way round this ship like he had a mental map in his mind and soon pieces were beginning to pile up between you. Dials, wires, buttons there was barely anything left on the control panel by the time he sat back in the seat.

As time passed you felt your attention drifting and you had taken to sitting near the door scrolling through your phone, still toying with the idea of telling Sage what was happening right now. You hadn’t heard from her in a couple of days and it was unusual but no news was good news you supposed. Next he moved around emptying the compartments letting out a huff of annoyance at a small cylinder in his hand. He pressed the button but only static sounded and he tossed it into the pile.

“What’s this?” You asked, freeing a black piece of fabric from under a seat. “A hat?”

“Yes. My hat.” You put it on, putting the hat at a jaunty angle you looked up at him and pouted slightly as you posed.

“How do I look?” He gave you a slight smile that turned up the corner of his mouth and you had to give him a brief one back. He looked so nice when he smiled.

“Like you’d fit right in,” he murmured, holding his hand out for it. Reluctantly you handed it over watching as he swiped a thumb over the insignia on the front. It matched the one on the sleeve of his coat.

“I feel like I’m going to need to get the truck to take all this back.” He glanced up and just nodded before going back to what he was doing. “Alright then,” you mumbled, turning and leaving him to his brooding.

To your surprise he helped you load the truck, you expected him to treat you like a worker and carry everything but he seemed to be relishing this task even if he barely said a word. You slammed the trunk shut watching as he positioned branches and leaves strategically over the pod to hide it from view.

“You say no one comes out here?” He asked firmly.

“Absolutely no one.” Hux looked around grimly, pulling a face of displeasure.

“I am still loathed to leave it here.”

“I promise Armitage, the only thing that could happen is a bear will find it and hibernate in it.”

“Not possible, the door only activates from the inside.” He followed you to the truck sliding in next to you.

“How do people get you out?”

“It’s to stop people pulling you out, what if I had landed on a hostile planet and the natives wanted to kill me? I could have stayed in the pod until my ship arrived and I would be rescued.”

“You talk about fighting and death like it’s a way of life,” you muttered.

“It is.” You debated asking him more but from the look on his face he was done talking.

#metanoia #general hux x f!reader #general hux x reader #general hux x you #armitage hux x fem!reader #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you

[pannpann0]

you’re the one that I got

xiaoyang, < 500 words, rated T

vague high school au, inspired by no one but you/no one but you + invincible track mv (stream besties), purely #vibes

“Everyone thinks I got in a fight.” Yangyang grins, shameless. He clearly thinks the lingering bruises look cool.

Dejun rolls his eyes, steadying Yangyang’s cast in his grip, across his knees. “Everyone thinks you got the shit beat out of you.”

“I fought back.” A shrug in Yangyang’s voice, a toothy smile pointed to the sky. Dejun’s too deep in concentration to humor him further. He’s tracing a long Sharpie line around the curves of get well messages scribbled along the length of Yangyang’s forearm, crammed by the stiff crook of his elbow, down to Guanheng’s giant H.A.G.S splattered multicolor in the center.

He breaks off the line from there— a new one shoots off to Yangyang’s wrist, somewhere where Kun’s admonishing scribble would be, somewhere in the world he is, instead. Another rounds down right beneath Yangyang’s wrist, where Ten’s neat block letters would rest. From there, he could probably draw out lines from any which way, to new points that will branch again like ink bleeding on the plaster, Yangyang’s veins underneath. Wherever the two of them are right now, it probably beats sitting back home here in the old stomping grounds, but Dejun thinks they would enjoy it here today, at least. After class, light rain, cool concrete, a clean earth scent. Yangyang’s shaggy hair splayed out on the makeshift sleeping bag beside Dejun, like a wild orange dandelion. Sicheng’s line stops right at the edge of the cast, where fading scars Yangyang’s knuckles peek out under.

Soon enough, Yangyang’s own line will shoot off somewhere, now that he’s realized something beyond abandoned buildings nestled in overgrown grass. Dejun’s has his own ready to form, pooled in the tip of his pen. There’s no actual space left to map its path.

“Man, you’re kinda fucking my shit up.” Yangyang’s head lifts to the side, inspecting Dejun’s handiwork. He lifts his arm, so Dejun’s grasp can slip down his slender fingers.

Yangyang never asks for anything directly. He pushed every classmates’ well wishes to the corners of his cast to make room for Dejun’s own whims. He curls those fingers inwards then, so Dejun won’t let go. And he would not ask Dejun to follow where he goes, every one of Dejun’s secrets and dreams and half-formed thoughts heavy in the pocket of his uniform joggers.

He needs someone to connect his line halfway instead, for Dejun to look into his eyes, and press his lips on Yangyang’s scars, his joints, the tips of his fingers, where x marks the spot.

#xiaoyang #yangxiao #nct fanfic #nct fic #wayv fic #wayv fanfic #bringing back livejournal-esque drabbles in honor of wayv’s throwback era

[oopsallfanfic]

When We Were Young [Playing With Fire Short Story]

Chinami Tsukishima started her day in the ramen shop like any other day, she'd clock in early, help prepare the stock for tomorrow, and begin on prep in the main restaurant. It was just like any other day. Little did she know she was going to meet the love of her life that night.

As Chinami finished preparing a bowl for a customer she looked up over the steam of the kitchen to the main dining room. There he sat, a strong broad-shouldered young man, stubble strapped his strong jawline. His grey eyes glistened in the dim lights, and his shoulder-length curly hair looked as black as night. 

Akira Hamamoto felt her gaze fall on him, he looked over to the kitchen to lock eyes with the thin young woman staring at him. She was jostled by a coworker nudging her to get back to work. Their eye contact broke momentarily, but she looked over to him once more before diving back into work.

As Chinami continued working she couldn't help but glance over to the handsome man sitting at the counter. He was looking down at his watch. She looked at hers, it was flipped over on her wrist so the face was always down, she wouldn't be off of work for another hour or so. Should I ask him to wait? Chinami thought, No, that's ridiculous, I don't know this man. He doesn't know me, why would he wait? Chinami looked over to Akira once more before shaking her head and getting back to work.

Akira checked his watch, the shop wouldn't be closing for another hour, maybe he'll come back to visit her another day. No, that's ridiculous, Akira said to himself, Don't be a chicken, just wait for her after work.

Chinami waved and said goodbye to her coworkers as she stepped out the door. As she rounded the corner to the main road just in front of the shop, she noticed a tall muscular figure standing right under the light of the nearby bus stop. She recognized the man's face, standing now he was much taller than he seemed inside. 

Chinami and Akira both made their way to each other, Chinami could feel the heat rise to her chest as they got closer. They met halfway, not saying anything at first, the two of them were too nervous for their own good. Chinami shook off her nerves and stood a little taller.

"Good evening," Chinami said, bowing, "My name is Tsukishima Chinami, you dined with us earlier today, right?"

"I-Uhm, yes, I did," Akira stumbled over his words. This is ridiculous, this was a bad idea. It’s creepy, right? He cleared his throat and bowed, "G-Good evening, my name is Akira Hamamoto."

"Did you enjoy your food, Mr.Hamamoto?" Chinami asked him.

"Please, just Akira is fine," He blushed and rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, "Only my employees call me that sometimes."

"Well, Akira," Chinami rubbed her arm nervously, "If you enjoyed your meal, maybe I could make you something else sometime?"

"Like dinner?" Akira's face turned beet red as his eyes widened in surprise.

"Yeah, silly!" She said a little more confidently now.

Akira gained his composure back and straightened himself out, "Yes, I'd like that very much."

"Wednesday at 6 pm," She said as she grabbed her purse, searching for a piece of paper and pen. She wrote down her address, phone number, and the time of their date. "My place, don't be late."

Akira took the paper as she began to walk towards the train station, Chinami shouted at him while walking backward, "I better go, I'm going to miss my ride! I'll talk to you later!"

Akira stood there, the scent of pork broth and cinnamon lingering behind. I wonder if she recognized me at all, He thought to himself, She doesn't look the type to keep up on the world of heroes though.

Akira Hamamoto, Japan's #5 Hero, stood there with a smile on his face as he thought about the confident young woman who he just met making ramen in a small shop. He decided then that he would make her his wife one day, and make her happy until the end of their days. Akira folded the paper into his wallet and headed back home.

#fan fiction #fan fic #a03 fan fic #a03 fan fiction #a03 #my hero academia #mha #mha au #mha college au #slow burn #friends to lovers #self insert #y/n #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya #katsuki x reader #shoto x reader #shoto todoroki #short story #short fiction

[barbourlindahl2]

Hermès Constance Luggage

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#constance bag replica #replica constance bag #replica hermes constance #hermes constance bag

[stu-dying-forlife]

✨2020 Quarantine Challenge✨

☁️ - Week 2, Thursday (4.2.2020)

🎧 - Complainer by Cold War Kids

📸 - Take a picture of the pens/highlighters that you could not live without

These little dudes are what keep me afloat. The purple is scented, it smells like...some kind of fruit. It’s a super generic fruity smell but I enjoy it! 

We’re gonna pretend that I posted this yesterday, I had it all ready to go and forgot to switch it from save draft. Forgive me for I have sinned 

~Meg

#2020 quarantine challenge #covid19 #mine #my life #pens #highlighters #scented pens make the world go round #forgot to post yikes #studyblr #studyspo #college studyblr #college studyspo #study inspiration #realistic studyblr #new studyblr #history major #education major #history education

[amywritesthings]

JUST OLD HABITS.

THE FAMOUS LAST WORDS SERIES.

gif credit @ pedrohub

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Ex!Co-Star Reader ( Dieter x You )

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: Hollywood knows the famous enemies-to-worse-enemies saga that is you and Dieter Bravo. When you find out he also got pitched a role in Cliff Beasts 6? You’re pissed. Dieter’s just horny.

Warnings: SMUT, Adult language, Ex-flings, Mentions of cheating, Oral (f receiving), Hate sex, Unprotected sex, Dirty talk, Praise kinks, Pet names, Power Bottom!Dieter

A/N: This is literally just bonafide smut one-shot with a pinch of plot. I did not edit, I did not beta, so God help all of us. Who even is this guy again and why are we so thirsty for him?

( Read on AO3 ) 

PREQUEL: SAME OLD MISTAKES, ACT ONE.

PREVIEW:

“We’ve done, what, four movies together? A sequel stack and two standalones?” he begins. “It’s been, like, six fuckin’ years, babe — sorry, shit, ma’am? I don’t know what you want me to call you. Babe’s a habit. But I thought it’d be nice.”

“For you.” You point in a verbal punch. “Because you want to get in my pants again.”

Dieter gives a small shrug of honesty. “We made our best movies that way, didn’t we?”

“Fuck off.”

JUST OLD HABITS.

You thought you were better than this. 

Cliff Beasts? And it’s not even the direct sequel, but six fucking installments in?

Your agent swears all of the big stars are doing this cash grab, it’s already got incredible buzz on Twitter, but to your ears it screams two words and two words only: washed up. 

Congratulations — you are now within the realm of actors that are one step closer to joining Dancing with the Stars, and you have two left feet.

You could believe she’s offering this job to save your feelings: chatter about you being in the next Cliff Beasts is better than the world heavily debating who was in the wrong in your very recent and very public breakup.

The last two weeks have been exhausting. This is just the icing to the cake.

When you ask who else is on the project, the look on your agent’s face tells you everything you need to know. She shifts in her chair with feigned disinterest, listing off names you’ve only heard in passing — oh, that one guy who did the funny SNL skit three years ago — and you wait with shaking fists in your lap for the name you know she’s avoiding.

“Justine, just say it,” you demand, dead-panned despite the simmering anger in your gut.

Justine pales, making brief eye contact before shuffling back to the papers on her desk.

Dieter.

Dieter Bravo.

Dieter fucking Bravo.

Yeah, that’s why they asked you to be in this project. Not because you’re washed up, but because the public is going to lose their live-blogging minds at the idea that two long-standing enemies will be starring in the same godforsaken shitshow.

It’s the money-making power duo, back in action and suffering for it, and you can already see the online bets debating if Cliff Beasts 6 will even make it to post-production without one of you storming off set.

“And that’s not all,” Justine quips quietly, tapping her pen into the stacked contract.

You leave your budding rage for a split second to tilt your head, eyes rounding.

“That… isn’t it?”

“He, uh…”

Justine’s nose scrunches, apologizing before the words leave her tongue. You stand, leaning forward with palms pressed into the desk.

“He, uh, what, Justine?”

“He left you a fruit basket and his new address, if you wanted to — uh, let me get the card.”

White-hot rage fills your system, bleaching your train of thought.

So he knew. He already knew you were being considered for this cast and figured he would intervene, rubbing salt in the wound. Were you the only one in the dark?

You don’t realize Justine’s left her office until the scent of fresh fruit fills the room, forcing you to glance over your shoulder. Justine stands in the doorway, face completely covered with strawberries and mangos and who-the-fuck-knows on sticks, cinched together in a wicker basket with a lilac bow.

Your favorite color.

You’ll fucking kill him.

At the center of the obnoxious display is a half-folded card with your name on it. You cross the room to pluck it from the basket, hastily flipping it open.

Babe,

Look at us. Back at it again.

If you wanna make new memories with the same old mistakes, check the back of the card.

See u soon. 

- D

Flipping the card over, the heat creeps up the back of your neck when your gaze glides over a hastily written address. 

Yeah, you were considering a rental at the same fucking apartment complex for this shoot. What an unfortunate coincidence.

“How long ago did he send these?” you ask hotly, waving the card in the air.

“This morning,” she responds behind the fruit basket. “Did you… Are you going to go?”

“Of course I’m not fucking going.”

 .

 .

 .

 .

You do.

Oh, you do, only two hours later when Justine’s taking her lunch break to talk to her newest up-and-coming actress freaking out for her audition. 

It’s enough of a distraction to get in your own car, speeding down the highway to follow the address on your GPS. Over and over, his flimsy and all-too-cocky note plays in your head.

The most you’ll do is sock him in the face, then depart to grab a drink alone in your hotel room — just like old times.

Six floors up, you stalk down the hallway and slam a closed fist against the door three times. Shoving the same hand in your coat pocket, the door opens with apprehension a minute later — only to fling wide open when Dieter Bravo stands on the other side, recognizing your face.

“Hooo-ly shit.”

“Don’t,” you warn.

The grin spreads across his lips, fingers flicking down the daytime sunglasses to peer at you.

“Guess you got my congratulatory basket. Was it sweet? It looked sweet.”

“I didn’t eat any of it,” you quip, jutting your chin. “Can I come in for a second? I feel like we should establish a couple of ground rules—”

“Ground rules?” Dieter interrupts, pulling a face while simultaneously standing out of your way. “The fuck do we need ground rules for? Are you that afraid of falling in love with me, babe?”

You step in, boots clicking across the floor and into the threshold of this already lived-in apartment. Clothes are hanging up everywhere. Script pages litter the ground with scribbled notes. A swirling scent of cologne invades your nostrils that smells entirely too much like him.

“Rule number one: don’t 'babe' me.”

“Boring.”

“Rule number two: did you know?”

“Know what?” he asks, gently shutting the door behind you. He shoves his hands into his gray sweatpants pockets, a stark contrast to his neon green Hawaiian shirt.

“That they were asking me to be a part of Cliff Beasts?”

“Hell yeah,” he answers, nearing with a nonchalant shrug. “I asked.”

Your expression drops.

Justine didn’t mention that part, either. Motherfucker.

“You asked?”

“Yeah, said you’d be a perfect fit or what-the-fuck ever. Why talk about you and that sad sack of shit that cheated on you when everyone could be talking about you and me?” 

The involuntary blink of rage passing across your features must have spooked him, because Dieter nears with his hands up like he’s corralling a scared animal.

“Hey — hey, no, I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”

“But it did, Dieter.”

“Let me start over.” 

His hands come to his chest in prayer, head dipping for some humility points. You stand with your arms crossed over your chest, brow quirked and waiting.

“We’ve done, what, four movies together? A sequel stack and two standalones?” he begins, still nearing. “It’s been, like, six fuckin’ years, babe — sorry, shit, ma’am? I don’t know what you want me to call you. Babe’s a habit. But I thought it’d be nice.”

“For you.” You point in a verbal punch. “Because you want to get in my pants again.”

Dieter gives a small shrug of honesty. “We made our best movies that way, didn’t we?”

"Fuck off."

You scoff, rolling your eyes and turning forty-five degrees from him.

“And I’m a great rebound.”

He’s somehow made it from the other end of the living room to right in front of you, hands still pressed together. Dieter ducks his chin further, trying to catch your eye.

“The best fucking rebound and you know it. I didn’t even know the guy, but I knew he was a mega piece of shit. And this coming from King Shit himself. So let me out-shithead him. We’ll make this movie, we’ll make a ton of money, and we’ll…”

He trails off, gaze dropping from yours to stare at your lips.

“...Christ almighty, you’re stunning.”

Although you’re this close to pushing past him to leave, you can’t deny that the attention is flattering. After two agonizing weeks of tag after tag, your name slandered in the social media slug for a decision that wasn’t yours to make…

“Is that a line you’re rehearsing from the script?” you ask instead to save face.

Dieter perks. “I can ask for rewrites if you want it to be.”

“You’re a mess.”

“You can’t be a mess if you send fruit baskets. That’s like the height of having your shit together.”

The snort leaves faster than you can suppress it. Dieter stands taller, eyebrows high to his forehead as he reaches between you, holding your elbows gingerly.

God, history really does repeat itself.

Every time there was a failed romance or a date gone wrong, he was always there. Dieter Bravo, the everlasting playboy, the arm candy in a pinch. Whenever you needed it — needed him — he was always up for it. Granted, you can say Dieter’s always up for anything if his dick has anything to say about it, but there is familiarity here.

And it always starts like this: a fight, a promise to be better, and the soft touch you’re starved for. A quick fix to an ever-present problem.

He knows how to play you like a fucking fiddle.

 “Dee…”

“What?” his voice drops an octave, head tilting to avoid your face entirely as he buries his face into your neck. You suck in a sharp inhale, opting to stare at the ceiling. Dieter nuzzles at your skin with his nose, pressing a light kiss. “Tell me, what is it?”

Despite yourself, you sway and lean into the pre-emptive kisses. Your arms gradually unlock from an iron-clad grip to loosen down your torso. 

“We shouldn’t do this.”

“The movie or the sex, because I agree with one of those responses.”

The laugh bubbling in your throat is genuine, abruptly stopped by the way his teeth nip at your neck. God, he really does know you in the way so many never have.

“You know what I mean.”

“You don’t gotta do anything, babe,” he murmurs, using his hands on your elbows to swivel you towards the couch. “Just let me.”

“That’s never any fun,” you answer, nose scrunching the minute you say it. Dieter stops momentarily to draw back and look at you, really look at you, as his expression darkens to something of desire.

You miss being wanted.

(In a way, you miss him.)

“Yeah?” he breathes for consent, wetting the seam of his lips.

God, you’re going to regret this in twenty minutes. He’s never going to let this go on set.

(Neither will you, because just as it always happens, he’ll be your dirty secret for a six-week shoot.)

“Has old age slowed you down?” you tease, cocking your head.

Dieter takes the playfulness and runs with it, crouching to snatch your thighs under his arms. He hoists you up, navigating the two of you to the couch. With a flop you sit into the cushion, and he crowds your space with teenage eagerness.

“Absolutely fuckin’ not,” he concludes, pawing for the buttons of your jeans. With dexterity he pops one, then the other, and tugs your panties and denim down your legs. You laugh, lifting your hips to aid in his endeavors.

“Jesus Christ, hel-lo. ” Dieter maneuvers his hand under one knee to spread your legs wide for him. He swallows thick, like a dehydrated man in the middle of the desert laser-focused on the only source of water. “Y’know, I really missed her.”

As much as you hate to admit it, you’re already wet. The sight of him alone brings back memories of being bent over vanities in trailers, desperate hands finding purchase against walls, quickies in-between set changes.

Yeah, he is the greatest rebound. He’s unfortunately the man who knows you best.

Sliding from the couch, Dieter is hellbent on keeping eye contact when he kisses the inside of your knee. You suppress a moan, desperate to maintain some upper hand in these stakes. 

Dieter, on the other hand, doesn’t need grace. He’s never needed pride. He wants the right now, the high, and you chase him for it.

He drags his lips along your inner thigh, kissing with intent every time — six, to be precise, for every year you’ve left him high and dry on read.

You hate him. You really hate—

This right here is Dieter Bravo’s favorite thing. The feeling of someone being at his mercy, the taste of them, the way your legs shiver when he finally runs his tongue along your slit — according to him, there is nothing like eating pussy, and there is nothing like you.

Where Dieter is lazy in learning his lines and showing up to set on time, he is not when it comes to where it counts: in the bedroom, in the shower, and evidently on his couch. He locks both arms around your hips to press them down, tentatively swirling his tongue around your clit.

Your hips buck automatically, whimper exiting your throat as your hands thread into his hair. You tug the way he used to like, causing him to moan against your core. The vibrations force your toes to curl, head bent back on his couch as he finds a rhythm to your noises. Encouraged by the enthusiasm, Dieter continues to lick, swirl, flick without an ounce of mercy on his mind.

It’s been ages. Six years too long since he ate you out like this, like he was drowning and thanking you for it.

The other boyfriends you had were timid, reciprocal, but Dieter is game.

There is nowhere else he would rather be.

The minute he closes his lips around your clit to suck, your hips fight against his grip to fly off the couch. He hums in a chuckle, letting go with one arm in order to snake his hand between you. One finger teases at your entrance, barely sliding in, and you feel like your brain has left planet Earth.

“Fuck, Dee, can you— stop teasing.”

He briefly pauses to look up at you, facial hair glistening. “There’s another word you can use, babe.”

“Please?” you grit, teeth clenched as you chase him.

Dieter just grins. “There she is. Good fucking girl.”

You ask, he delivers. He slides a finger in with ease, curling to find that spot in you that will make you sing. He puts his mouth back to good use, relentless against your clit as he adds a second finger to his game. Your limbs shake as the waves climb higher, higher—

You don’t even realize you’re whimpering his name under your breath until your orgasm hits you like a freight train.

Dieter greedily takes anything you can give him, swirling his tongue as he pumps two fingers with precision. You push at his head when it becomes overwhelming. He obliges, but not without staring with a smugness you want to kick clear off his stupid face.

His chin sits on your knee, a smile spreading to grin as you find your breath. “Still got it, huh?”

“Don’t get an ego,” you huff, shaken in your ascent on the couch.

“Too late, babe. That doesn’t go away.”

Your gaze drops to find his hand already fisting his rock-hard cock, sweatpants half-hanging off of his ass to get there. His nostrils flare in the attempt to keep up his nonchalant composure, but you can see the little cracks in his persona. 

He wants this. He might have wanted this more than you.

“How badly do you want me to fuck you?” you ask, and something burns behind his eyes.

He swallows to find his voice, nodding with a belated answer. “You want to—”

“Ride you?” He groans at the bluntness of your interruption. “Yeah, yeah I do.”

“Fuck, babe. Been so fucking long…”

You slide off of the couch to meet him on the floor. Remaining on your knees, he falls back and hastily removes the sweatpants from his legs. Crawling to him, Dieter continues to lose his cool with every passing second, hand squeezing his cock at attention.

Your knees slide to his hips, straddling him and nudging the tip of him at your center. Dieter’s head falls back, but you catch it with a harsh grip on the hair at the nape of his neck. He stills with a grunt, fully ready to fall apart at your mercy.

“This doesn’t become a habit,” you remind him, teasing the tip of him by gliding him along your wet fold.

Dieter begins to shake his head, but you tug harder — changing the direction to a nod.

“Baby, this — fuck — always becomes a—”

In one delicious descent, you slide onto his length and bottom out, causing him to choke on his words. Your breath hitches, the stretch from him setting your nerves on fire.

You really did need this, after everything.

You really needed him.

Dieter, it appears, needed it by the way he babbles the filthiest things into your shirt as you finally roll your hips and move against him.

“Such a good fucking girl, always a good fucking girl for me, always ride my cock like a fuckin’ champ, no one ever does it like you do it to me, only took the goddamn movie so I could be buried in this pussy every — fuckin’ — day—”

You rise on your knees, riding his cock the way you used to back when you didn’t mind so much when he called you pet names. Back when you’d spend hours like this in his trailer, in his hotel rooms, in the back of a limo at red carpet premieres. 

Back when Hollywood didn’t feed into the narrative that you hated every inch of his guts.

Your former co-star bucks up into you, wrapping arm around your waist to take over the rhythm. You keep one hand on his chest, the other using his shoulder as an anchor as he fucks up with a desperation six years in the making.

All you can do is hold on and accept it, allowing him to stretch you to oblivion as your second orgasm creeps in.

Sliding a hand down his chest, you reach between to furiously rub circles against your clit, moaning into his ear as he growls nonsense of praise into your shirt. As if it’s a movie scene itself, you both fall apart at the same time — he bucks up into you, coming apart as you squeeze around his cock for all he’s worth. 

You cry out his name, earning a broken whimper of your own along his tongue.

Resting your cheek on his head as you come back down from the high, Dieter pants to catch his breath beneath you, peppering small kisses along your clothed chest. 

Neither of you say a word for minutes on end, simply existing in the bubble of what has happened — and what you can’t take back.

Then Dieter speaks up with a hint of euphoric satisfaction, always aiming to ruin the moment.

“Like I said, babe: just old habits.”

#dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #the bubble #pedro pascal #dieter bravo fanfiction #fanfiction #LMFAO I DONT KNOW WHAT I'M DOING? #HERE'S MY FIRST ONE SHOT... BON APETIT

[aemonds-sapphire]

Coffee Run - Hawks x Reader (Smut)

Summary: Hawks simply wanted to enjoy his coffee in peace, but you had needs of your own, especially knowing he was entering his rut. You know what they say... be careful with what you wish for, because you just might get it.

Warnings: NSFW. Rut!Hawks. Feral Hawks. Public sex. Breeding kink. Pregnancy kink. Lactation kink (brief mention). Featherplay. Slight overstimulation.

Word count: 3.7k

Hawks was nearing his rut. That much was clear. Keeping up an easy going appearance was what he excelled at, until he hit that particular time of the year. Until he was forced to take that medication that would suppress his primal instinct to breed.

But rarely anything in this world came without bearing unpleasant consequences.

“I’ll just have the usual. Thanks.”

The young waitress then turned to you expectantly. “And you, miss?”

You pondered for a second as you eyed the pro hero sitting in front of you. To anyone oblivious to the changes occurring in his body they might think he was just not a morning person.

An idea popped in your mind all of a sudden.

“I’ll have a strawberry lollipop,” you finally said, causing Hawks to briefly lift his eyes from the phone in his hand. “What? I have a sweet tooth.”

The waitress nodded and walked away. He was still glaring at you, one fuzzy eyebrow slightly arched.

“Just that? It’s not a proper breakfast.”

“Neither is coffee, yet here we are.”

He shrugged at your response, shifting his attention back to his phone.

Coffee was his personal mood booster. It was dangerous to demand anything from a rutting Hawks until he had drunk an unhealthy amount of it.

The sun was barely out, and that was exactly why he’d choose this café. Only a few people would be there, which meant he wouldn’t have to deal with loud fans walking up to him and asking for selfies or autographs... or even hugs. It was perfect to hide from everyone how moody and snappy he could get in times like these.

But you figured he still wasn’t taking the medication. He always dreaded it because of how groggy and lethargic it’d leave him.

“You okay?”

He had his index finger flicking up and down on the screen. “Sure.”

But what Hawks didn’t know was that... well... you knew what why he was acting so unlike him.

Soon after, the waitress came back with a large cup of coffee and your lollipop that you promptly snatched from the tray with a smile.

Hawks mumbled a quick ‘thanks’ and you watched him take a few gulps of the hot beverage, while you removed the wrapping.

He sighed in pure relief as his huge wings vibrated from the instant pleasure. “I really needed this.”

You also reckoned he needed something else.

Sliding the round candy in your mouth, you propped your chin on interlaced fingers, regarding him quizzically.

“Is that all you need?”

The apparent innocent question had his golden eyes meet yours. However, you needed them to travel south, so you parted your lips seductively and dangled the lollipop from one corner of your mouth to the other with your tongue.

Bingo.

Hawks’ eyes dropped to your mouth in an instant, taking in the sight of you skilfully twirling the stick while letting out some lewd wet sounds.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? I love sucking...” you said innocently.

The cup in his hand cracked lightly from his tight grip, and a faint frown settled on his beautiful face.

“You sure you okay?”

For someone who was able to maintain an wavering smile not matter the circumstances, Hawks really was falling behind his reputation. Maybe it wasn’t wise for you to keep pushing him like this. All the innuendos and teasing would eventually get him to snap.

You kept on sucking and licking the hard candy happily, eyeing your boyfriend with utmost interest.

He took another sip of his hot coffee, and you noticed his pupils were slightly dilated. Undoubtedly, the visual of you sucking on something was a enough to spark his arousal.

“Hmm... this tastes so good...” you moaned softly, fluttering your eyes shut for a brief moment. “Want to taste it?”

When he didn’t reply, you decided to take it up a notch. You kicked off your shoe and moved it to touch his leg.

He arched an eyebrow.

Slowly, you began sliding it up his leg and only stopped once you’d reached his inner thigh.

“Stop...”

You let the round candy caress your bottom lip, making sure he could see strings of your saliva sliding down to coat your tongue. Mustering a bit more courage, you dragged your feet until it reached his crotch.

Hawks was hard as a rock.

“You’re so warm...” you whispered, rubbing your foot against his cock.

You could tell he was about to snap.

“Hawks? Honey, look! It’s Hawks!”

You quickly turned your head to look at a young couple that was approaching your table. It couldn’t be avoided. Even in the early hours there would always be someone who was a fan of Hawks.

Hawks was forced to regain his composure, and you figure it was taking every single fibre in his body to produce his trademark unwavering grin.

The woman seemed a little hesitant at first. “Are we interrupting something? I’m so sorry... we are big fans.”

“You are such an inspiration to us,” the man added with excitement.

“Thank you!” Hawks beamed, his beautiful features never betraying what was going on under the table. “Want an autograph?”

She quickly nodded, rummaging through her purse to get a pen. “Our baby will love you, too. We’ll make sure of that.”

Hawks visibly swallowed. “Baby?”

“Yes! We found out we’re going to be parents last week.”

You side-eyed him closely. Inwardly, you started cackling in delight, knowing far too well this was one of Hawks’ most intimate triggers. It was far too obvious that being in his rut made it all much worse for him

“Congratulations! How is everything going?” you inquired sweetly, applying gentle pressure on his covered erection with your toes.

He shifted in his seat, doing his best to cope with the sudden stimulation coming from you.

The woman seemed taken aback by your kindness and quickly bowed her head while handing the pen to Hawks.

“Oh, the morning sickness can be quite draining, but otherwise I can’t complain.”

Her partner handed Hawks a copy of a magazine that had him on the cover. He blushed awkwardly. “She keeps it in her purse in case we run into you so we can get an autograph.”

“That’s awesome,” he said genuinely, his voice slightly strained as he drew his signature on it. “Thanks for the support.”

The couple retrieved the magazine and bowed to both of you before walking away.

“That is so cool...” you said, twirling the lollipop stick in between your thumb and index finger. “I wonder what it feels like being pregnant.”

Hawks moved your foot away from his crotch. “Bathroom. Now.”

Your mouth fell open at his sudden outburst, sliding your foot back into your shoe. “Why?”

He rose to his full height as his red wings quivered slightly. “I’m done with you.”

Placing the hard candy back on its wrapping, you gulped as you followed his lead. The café had started to get more clients, and some of them shot a few glares at the winged hero.

The waitress was eyeing both of you. “Is everything okay?”

Hawks shot a brief smile. “She’s not feeling well.”

He certainly had a way to have things go his way.

She looked at yo worriedly. “Should I get help?”

Hawks hurried you into the bathroom, before adding. “She’s with the number two pro hero. I’m all the help she needs.”

Point taken.

Hawks pulled you into a small cubicle, shutting the door with a kick. You heard the lock rattle and you took the opportunity turn around to face him. His massive wings struggled to fit inside the confined space, which caused him to look more menacing as they coiled up against his body.

“You’re rutting.”

His pupils were fully blown and you briefly saw something flash in his eyes. “Of course you know.”

“I know a lot of things,” you cooed, dragging down one hand to squeeze him through his pants. “You’re not taking your medication.”

You’d been dating Hawks for a few months now, and you found out that he went through a rut every year by mere chance. It didn’t take long for you to connect the dots after hearing a phone conversation between him and someone from the commission — you assumed it was a doctor —, who insisted that Hawks had to take the hormonal suppressant medication to lessen the effects, allowing him to function properly.

“I don’t fucking need it,” he snarled at you through gritted teeth.

“I think you do... if you’re so willing to fuck me in a public bathroom,” you whispered seductively, giving his cock a gentle squeeze. “I wonder what made you snap... was it the conversation about pregnancy... or—“

Hawks had had enough of your running your mouth, and with little effort on his part, he flipped you over so that you were now pressed against the bathroom sink, a tall mirror capturing your surprised expression along with his feral one.

“No, little bird...” he growled, hooking his gloved fingers in the belt loops of your pants. “I am not gonna fuck you. I’m gonna breed you.”

It was a dark promise, and one you knew he could keep. After all, that was the purpose of a rut: to breed. Every single cell in his body was prepared for this, and you couldn’t bring yourself to pretend this sudden shift in Hawks’ demeanor didn’t make your pussy clench.

Your hands were supporting your weight by gripping the edge of the cold material of the sink, and you tentatively leaned forward in an attempt to brush against his crotch.

Hawks slid one hand to your front, effectively undoing your pants. “You’re ovulating... fuck...”

That caught by surprise. “What...”

He shifted his body on top of yours, so he could nuzzle your neck, capturing your scent.

“I can smell it... fuck...fuck... you need to be bred...”

In one swift motion, he yanked your pants down. Hawks was usually so much more gentle with you during sex; this was definitely something unexpected, but that you couldn’t stop yourself from yearning.

On the other hand, you considered his words for a moment. Did he really mean it? Did he really want to knock you up, or was this just his hormones talking?

Either way, this was turning you on beyond belief, and you decided to egg him on.

“You want to breed me?”

He was nipping at your neck, causing a few of his moans to be heard. You could feel the hard print of his cock pressed against the curve of your ass, and as you bucked your hips instinctively you felt his own meet you halfway, setting a slow rhythm.

“I need to knock you up... I need you tummy all swollen with my baby,” the young man kept mumbling more to himself than to you, but you couldn’t get enough of it. “I need your... your...”

A gush of wetness leaked out of your pussy as you felt him fumbling with his belt. Through the reflection in the mirror, you could see a faint blush settling on his face, increasing his handsomeness by a tenfold — you didn’t even know how that was possible.

“My what...” your voice came out in a low mewl, keeping your hips swaying at a steady pace.

Hawks undid his pants at once, and gave your ass cheeks a few slaps with his leaking cock.

He gripped your hip tightly. “Let me see your tits...”

You kept yourself balance on one hand as the other dragged the fabric of your shirt up, rolling it just above your breasts. Hawks released his cock, bringing his hips forward to have it slide between your round cheeks; you could start to feel the wetness coating your skin and standing your panties as he kept humping you. His free hand moved to grasp your bra, jerking the material down and finally exposing your hardening nipples.

Hawks heaved a deep breath, resting his chin on your shoulder as he looked at your body through the mirror.

“Can’t wait until they get bigger... full of milk... leaking for me...” he brushed his gloved thumb across your sensitive nipple, causing it to harden even more. “I bet it will taste so good... so sweet... you know I love sweet things.”

Your mind was going blank from all the pleasure being delivered to you at once. From his cock slowly fucking your ass cheeks all the way to the way he was glaring at you through some public bathroom mirror while spitting out the filthiest things you had ever heard him utter.

He snapped his hips hard for a split second, almost causing you to lose balance, forcing you to grip the sink with both hands, eyes still fixed on the way your breasts bounced softly along with each shove from him.

Slowly, he dragged his hand to your lower abdomen, massaging it with spread fingers. “Fuck... I need to feel it getting swollen... gonna knock you up so good.”

Streaks of precum were sliding down your cheeks, leaving wet trails behind and sending jolts of pleasure running down your spine.

“Sorry, but I’m gonna make you cum fast,” he suddenly said.

You weren’t really sure why he was apologizing for that, or even how he intended to achieve such feat. Hawks was more than capable of pleasuring women, but even the most skilled man certainly had his limitations when it came to how fast they could make a woman reach her high.

Even so, apologizing for giving someone an orgasm probably ranked up high with the likes of “Sorry, but I’m going to give you a new house” or “Sorry, but I’m going to give you an unlimited supply of money”. Out of all the things he could feel sorry for — like desperately banging you in some public bathroom, for example—, that one should be the least of his concerns.

As if reading the skepticism splattered across your face, he gave you a knowing smile, and before you could even wonder what he meant by that you felt something poking your covered clit.

What the...

“Hawks!”

You didn’t expect desperate Hawks to play fair, but this was on another level. The fabric covering your soaked pussy was being pulled to the side, and in no time a velvety object started proving your pulsing clit.

He was using his feathers.

Now you knew what he meant by making you cum fast, the bastard. The sensation was overwhelming, and you vaguely wondered why he had never tried this before.

“Shh... I need you to cum first, so I can have your pussy milking my cock,” he pressed a kiss on your neck. “Be a good girl and keep your voice down.”

With one hand still caressing your tummy and the other squeezing one breasts softly, you tried hard to bite back your moans as his feather kept stroking your clit as he commanded.

You started panting heavily, drunk in pleasure. “I... I... Hawks...”

Seeing that you weren’t going to be able to keep quiet, he brought the hand on your breast to clamp it over your mouth.

“You’re so ready for me... I can feel the vibrations through my feather... you’re throbbing so much for me, baby...”

And it was the absolute truth. Your were absolutely sure his feather was already drenched in your juices, but you didn’t care at all. A few more flicks and strokes sent your hips into auto-pilot, trying to get more friction.

Long and drawn out moans erupted from your throat only to be muffled by his gloved hand.

You could feel something in your core swirling and shifting and through the haze of passion, you could tell it was the tension building up inside you that was reaching a dangerous peak.

“Good girl... t-that’s my girl... getting ready for me to breed her...”

His dirty talk served as the perfect incentive for you to get closer and closer to the edge. You saw your vision begin to tunnel and suddenly you fell headfirst into the explosion of pleasure that had your arms and legs shake violently, and you thanked the heavens that Hawks’ body was pressed against yours, or you’d have sunk to your feet.

But before your pussy could stop contracting around nothing, you felt your body being pushed forward and in one quick slide, his cock was buried deep inside you.

Hawks’ hips faltered for a second as he adjusted to your tightness. “Fuck!”

The feather brushing your clit stopped its ministrations, and as your field of vision started clearing, you saw it hovering in front of your face. It was completely covered in your juices and a few droplets dripped onto the sink. His hand fell to grip your hip, and your lips immediately parted in a silent scream as overstimulation took over.

“Keep it open... lick... lick it...” he groaned, his voice strained and shaky as his cock endured your contractions.

You extended your tongue out, allowing is feather to drag along it, pooling your wetness on your tongue.

Hawks’ reflection shivered before your eyes at the newfound source of pleasure. “F-fuuuck... just like that...”

His wings fluttered as so did the feather stroking your muscle, and even though your orgasm had already subsided, the never ending stimulation from his thick cock hitting deep inside you was just too much.

“I’m gonna lose it! Fuck!” he nearly cried out, ad you could only pray that no one could hear him outside.

Your knees bucked weakly as he snapped his hips into you once, twice and again closing in on his own release, but the moment you ran your tongue over the sensitive extension of his body you knew he was done for. He bucked up to meet your hips in an especially sharp thrust and you could feel the hot gush of his cum deep inside you, coating your trembling walls, mixing with your own juices.

He hadn’t lasted long, but you weren’t at all surprised, considering how much the vast array of different stimuli that he was subjected to in such a sort amount of time.

A few seconds ticked by, and he finally began pulling out, you pussy reflexively clamping around him as if to make him stay.

“Stop clenching like that before I get hard again...” he warned, giving your ass a soft smack as he slid out completely with a loud slurping sound.

You whimpered softly as emptiness filled you instead. As you were about to straighten yourself, you felt a blob of cum threading to spill, and Hawks promptly kept you leaning forward.

“I didn’t just fill you with a big load for you to waste it all,” and with that, he dragged the tip of his cock along your leaking pussy and pushed it back inside. “There you go... all stuffed again.”

The head of his cock didn’t stay inside you for long, and once he slid out you reached for paper from the dispenser hanging on the wall.

He grabbed your arm. “No.”

“I need to clean myself...”

“No, you don’t,” Hawks whispered sweetly into your ear, and you felt him tug at your panties before letting the fabric slap your over sensitive clit. “You’re gonna be a good girl and keep it all in.”

Your eyes widened in shock. Certainly, he didn’t mean that....

“Hawks... I can’t walk around with your cum dripping from me,” you stated as a matter of fact.

You saw his reflection in the mirror; he had a devious smile dancing on his lips, making your insides coil in sudden realization.

“Didn’t you want me to breed you? Then keep my cum inside your tight pussy,” he began, planting soft caring kisses on the side of your neck in between. “Think you can do that for me, beautiful?”

Feeling your panties sticking to your swollen lips with the aftermath of both your juices and drops of his cum made a shiver run down you entire body.

You nodded once.

Suddenly, he bent over slightly to grasp the waistband of your pants, quickly dragging them up your thighs.

“Time to go,” he huffed as one of his gloved hands brushed along his unruly golden locks of hair. “This was just meant to be a quick coffee run.”

There was a faint smudge of pink crossing his nose and resting on both his cheeks. He looked positively less tense, with his blush being the only indicator that he had just emptied his balls deep inside you.

He unlocked the door and exited first, but not before shooting his Hawks-like smile at you. “I’ll be going ahead to pay and deal with the fans.”

You chuckled as the door closed, and turned to look at your reflection in the mirror while adjusting your clothes. “Well... don’t look at me like that. He’s impossible to resist, especially like this...”

After you were done washing your hands, you took a few steps immediately feeling a few drops of cum dripping onto your panties. You clenched your pussy hard in the hopes of preventing more from spilling.

This was not going to end well.

Taking a deep breath, you walked out and were met with the waitress. “Oh! Are you alright now?”

Yeah, I just got fucked hard and I have cum leaking from me. “Yes! Thank you, and sorry for leaving like that... I really wasn’t feeling well.”

She nodded in understanding, stepping aside to let you walk into the lobby only to see a loud commotion of people piling up around something. Big massive turfs of scarlet feathers quickly gave it away and you smiled fondly.

Hawks.

A few girls standing nearby were giggling to each other, catching your attention.

“Oh my... he’s so much more handsome up close,” one said with a dreamy sigh.

“His wings are so pretty...” the other murmured.

Yes. Hawks had that effect on nearly everyone he crossed paths with. In one way or another, people had the tendency to fall fo him and be drawn by his quirky personality. Even if at the end of the day, once he got home, you could see the wearing effects of having to keep up with this society’s standards.

As the crowd began to disperse, he waved a hand at you.

“It was so nice to have you here, Hawks,” the young waitress blurted out as you two made your exit. “Please come again!”

The number two pro hero bowed his head and gave her a thumbs up. “I’m sure I will. Very soon,” he winked at you.

Very poor choice of words.

-

Masterlist

#hawks smut #hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #mha hawks #bnha hawks #tw: breeding #tw: lactation #tw: pregnancy #takami keigo #mha smut #bnha smut #hawks scenarios #hawks imagine #hawks headcanons #hawks x y/n