#I don’t know shit about sw

[seducing-vampires]

sooo can I watch the acolyte with no Star Wars knowledge orrrr?

[oreolesbian]

[wasiandude]

The trip to the beach.

A collaboration with @misctf .

Steve was the most cliché of the word "nerd" with only 5'4 tall, with pimples and with irritating little voice he was the target for the jock boys in his university. But despite being victim of sneers and bullying, he was the happiest student in college, he always smiled, helped people and was quite studious. So the mockery towards him mattered little to him. Today was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, Steve was studying hard in his room, he didn't have any plans for today and he didn't care to have one either, his parents were not home so he enjoyed being alone quietly until someone knocked on his house door.

"Who could it be?" Steve sighed, “I’m really behind on my work.” He looked at the essay he was in the midst of completing, “I should...” The second knock was louder, “Must be important.”

Steve quickly made his way to the front door. As he went to open it, he paused. He could hear the boisterous laughter from the other side, the frequent use of the word ‘bro’, and a few belches. His stomach dropped.

“What could they possibly want?” Steve thought miserably, “I should really...” He sighed. It wasn’t in his nature to just ignore someone. What if they needed help?

“Oh shit! Look who it is! What’s up lil’ bro?” Garrett laughed, emphasizing the word ‘lil’. He put his arms behind his head, his biceps bulging.

“Uh hey.” Steve stammered, “Uhm, I...I...” His mind was racing, trying not to stare. Garrett was rather good-looking- dark hair and eyes, his chiseled face framed by a well-groomed, short beard. And looking further down, it was obvious that his years on the baseball team did wonders for his body- all of which was framed nicely in his tight tank-top, “Sorry, just studying today.” Steve blushed, mentally admonishing himself for making it so obvious that he had a thing for the star pitches on the team.

"Studying?! Lil’ dude, come on.” Garrett groaned, nudging one of the other jocks, “Seriously dude, how lame. How about this? We came here to invite you to the beach.” He placed his firm rugged hand on Steve’s shoulder and grinned, “Lil’ dude, it’s gonna be fuckin’ lit. Cheerleaders, booze, you name it. When’s the last time you did something like that, huh lil’ dude?”

Hearing this, Steve raised an eyebrow. None of these things were as appealing to him as Garrett likely thought they’d be. Although, the naively optimistic part of Steve wanted to imagine this could be the start of a friendship with Garrett. Part of him yearning for closeness with the jock. But Steve shook his head before adjusting his glasses- on what planet would he ever be friends with Garrett?

"I don't want to be rude or offensive, but why are you inviting me?” Steve questioned, “Jake and Logan were just bullying me the other day.” The two jocks behind Garrett snickered, earning them a disapproving look from Garrett.

"I know... Dude, but believe me we want to make peace, me and my bros promise we won't make fun of you again!” Garrett replied, no hint of insincerity in his tone, “Besides, it's Saturday and being at home? It's boring as hell."

Steve sighed, mulling over the offer. Would it be nice not to be bullied by these meatheads? Yeah. Would it be nice to spend time with Garrett? Yeah. Did he really think they’d make peace after this? Steve sighed again- the rational part of him saying to shut the door. The other saying to give these bros a chance.

"Okay, okay... I’ll go.” Steve said, the uncertainty of his choice evident in his voice.

“Oh sick lil’ bruh, but like, don’t sound too disappointed.” Garrett laughed, slapping him on the back and knocking the wind out of his small frame.

“But really, I’m doing this to make peace.” Steve insisted, “No funny business.” He tried to sound confident and stern. Garrett smiled and gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up, “Oh and..." Steve bit his lip, “This is so embarrassing but it’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach. I don’t really have any appropriate swimwear.”

"That shouldn't worry you bro! Give me a second." Garret grinned, “You’re just in luck, lil’ dude.” Garrett seemed way too excited, “Check out these!” His bro reached into a bag and handed him some green shorts with a bit of blue and gave them to Steve. "Here! These shorts belonged to one of our bros. Well former bro. He went on to bigger and better things.” Garrett sighed, “Internship or some shit. Brains and brawn, can you believe it?” The other jocks snickered.

Steve looked at the shorts and made a face of disgust. Did Garrett and his bros really think he would wear someone else’s shorts? Why did they seem to have them ready too? Steve awkwardly grabbed the shorts, and looked back over at the group of jocks.

"Garrett... I uh." Steve could see the look of excitement in Garrett’s eyes. Like he was proud of something, “I don’t really feel comfortable wearing another guy’s shorts. And besides, these aren’t going to fit me."

“And why not, lil bro? I wear my bro’s stuff all the time.” Garrett grinned, “I understand that you don't have the same muscle mass as us, but they’re shorts, shorts look good on everyone."

"Yes... but..." Steve sighed- how was he going to make these oafs understand his discomfort when they clearly had no shame?

"Dude, just get changed. We’ll wait here for you." Garrett grinned, “Come on bros, I’ll get the car started. I got a bomb playlist.”

Steve watched as they walked back to their car, all chuckling and talking about their beach plans. And before long, loud obnoxious music filled the air. Steve cringed, worrying what his neighbors might think of the loud music.

“The faster I get this on, the faster we get out of here.” Steve figured, walking back to his room.

Once there, he quickly undressed and examined himself in the mirror. He frowned as he examined his short and lanky frame- his skin pale from the hours spent indoors studying. His brown hair a curly mess atop his head. Nothing compared to the healthy tans and meaty muscles Garrett and his bros sported. Steve shook his head, ignoring these negative thoughts. Instead, he turned his attention to the pair of shorts in his hand.

"This is so disgusting...” Steve mumbled, taking a whiff of them, “Oh god, did they even wash this?” Steve was instantly teleported back to his high school locker room- the smell wafting from these shorts an unpleasant reminder of his days in gym class, “What have I gotten myself into?”

He grimaced as he slowly pulled the shorts up his skinny legs, where they rested over his Marvel boxer briefs. Yet despite his initial disgust, he was surprised to see how well they fit. He figured he owed Garrett some credit- shorts do look good on anyone. Steve walked over to his closet, rummaging around until he found on of his old discarded tank-tops. After placing that over his skinny frame, he smiled.

“Okay, I kind of look the part.” He commented, flexing his skinny arm, “Almost.” He laughed, thinking how ridiculous he must’ve looked.

And as he turned away from the mirror, he felt a wave of vertigo wash over him. He stumbled forward, catching himself against a wall. Steve groaned and wiped some sweat from his forehead, trying to make sense of the sudden dizziness. But as quickly as it had come on, it had passed. And Steve awkwardly walked to the front door, each step feeling somewhat heavier and requiring more focus.

“Oh lil’ dude, you look great!” Garrett said, approaching him, “You’re more than ready for the beach.” He raised an eyebrow, “Ah wait, lil’ dude you forgot your shoes. Logan! Grab ‘em a pair from the trunk.”

Steve only nodded, not really paying all that much attention. His mind felt foggy, his body heavier. When Logan threw the pair of worn-out sandals at his feet, Steve just slid them on. They were clearly too large for him, but he didn’t have the mental bandwidth to make a comment.

“Lookin’ good on ya!” Garrett grinned, putting an arm around Steve’s shoulder and leading him to the car, “God, you reek, lil’ dude.”

Steve shook his head, “No... it’s... it’s the shorts.” He replied, “They smell...”

“Sure, sure lil’ dude.” Garrett chuckled.

Steve wanted to say something in response, but he felt a slight achiness in his feet. And when he looked down, he could have sworn that they looked bigger and now sporting tufts of hair. In that moment, Steve could’ve also sworn that his nostrils were being invaded by an increasingly intense odor- reminiscent of the locker room but somehow worse. Sour and musky, all at once.

“Alrighty lil’ dude, get in.” Garrett said, "Let's go!"

Steve could barely focus. The smells, the boisterous laughter, and the blaring laughter from the bros around him. He grimaced as a can of beer rolled around in the backseat, hitting his foot. He watched as Logan reached down and smirked, before shot gunning the can of beer while his bros cheered.

“Lil’ bro, why don’t you try one?” Garrett asked from the driver’s seat, “Pregame for me, since I’m drivin’ and shit.”

“I’m good.” Steve replied, clearing his throat. His voice sounded off, “I’m not feeling too...”

A beer was thrust against his skinny chest and he looked over at Logan, who had a wide grin on his face. Steve held the beer, staring at it closely. And with his meatier hands, cracked it open. Steve never drank- it wasn’t his thing. But as he cracked open the can, he felt compelled. He was gonna chug it. And as the bros cheered him on, Steve did just that. As he did, he couldn’t possibly realize the bulge in his shorts was growing. His member growing in size, going from a measly 5 centimeters to an astonishing 14 centimeters, a dense forest of pubes sprouting around his new member.

“Buuuuuuuurrrrrppppppppp.” Steve grinned slightly as he crushed the can in his hand as his bros cheered, “That wasn’t so bad.”

“Fuck yeah lil’ dude!” Garrett cheered from the front.

“That was sick bruh!” Logan playfully punched Steve’s arm.

Steve looked down at where Logan punched him and his eyes widened. His arms... his skinny arms... they looked bigger? More defined. Muscles Steve knew he had but never saw were suddenly becoming quite obvious to the naked eye. He looked up at Logan and then up to Garrett.

“Hey somethin’s...” Steve froze. That baritone voice couldn’t possibly be...

But no one paid him any attention. They were going on about the cheerleaders, although Steve noticed Garrett was oddly quiet during the conversation. Occasionally glancing at Steve through the mirror. Steve stirred uncomfortably as Garrett stole glances at him. Why did he keep looking at him? He blushed slightly, trying to appear smaller, but his growing pecs and widening frame made that difficult. He was taking up more space now, becoming uncomfortably close to Logan.

“Dude, can you...”

“Not my fault this car’s so fuckin’ small.” Steve’s eyes widened. He would never talk like that, “What the fuck?” The fogginess in his mind was starting to dissipate. He was becoming acutely aware of his newly massive frame, enlarging pecs, and arms that looked more like tree-trunks than sticks.

Garrett turned to look at him and smiled. "What's wrong bro? You look good.”

“I... don’t... fuckin’...” Steve groaned as his tank-top ripped and he tossed the ruined fabric into the trunk.

He grunted as his muscles pulsed again and again. His frame expanding larger and larger, while Logan just grinned, despite losing more room in the back of the car. Steve gasped as small blond hairs erupted from his massive arms and traveled up. And when they finished coating his massive forearms, the hair in his pits exploded into a dense, musky forest. He grimaced at the smell wafting from them, yet at time went on, the smell was becoming familiar. Somewhat nice actually. He brought his hands to his head as his head started pounding. And in the car’s mirror, he saw that his hair was becoming blond. His curly locks reshaping into a sporty cut. His face becoming sharp and defined, his lips puffing up and forming into a permanent smirk.

“Eric, bruh, you good?” Garrett asked.

Steve let out a baritone groan, “Nah bruh, who the fuck’s Eric?” He grabbed his head again, “That’s... not... my... name...”

As he made eye contact with Garrett, he could feel it. A set of memories. Gym sessions with Garrett. Going to sporting events. Playing videogames. Waking up in each other’s arms... tearing each other’s clothes off... fucking... Steve realized in that moment. Garrett and Eric. They were more than frat bros... they were... A small smile formed on Steve’s lips as he felt Eric’s personality and mind overtake his. And in that moment, he came. The climax so intense that he passed out in the back seat.

“Took him long enough.” Logan chuckled, “You happy Garrett?”

Garrett nodded and parked the car, “Alright bros, give him some time to rest.” Garrett smiled at his sleeping boyfriend, “I’ll be right behind you all.”

As his bros started walking to the beach, Garrett opened backseat door and smiled at his hunk of a boyfriend. He ran a hand down his jaw and gave him a quick kiss, before grabbing his cum-soaked shorts.

“Was hoping you’d save that for me.” Garrett smirked, “But all good, bruh.” He kissed him on the cheek, before quietly shutting the door. He’d let Eric get some rest- besides, they had a long night ahead of them.

[h4rring1on]

We all love u here buddy! Would you wanna write smth about reader with steddie, where Steve accidentally upsets her and Eddie’s trying to comfort her, all the while Steve’s begging to talk and apologise

pairing: steddie x reader

warnings: swearing, steve accidentally being mean without realizing it, thats it but please tell me if i missed something!

you woke up rather early today, just in time to see steve before he went to work. something happened the other day, and you wanted to tell stevie all about it!

“oh my gosh, i have to tell you stevie! guess what!” you said, steve didn’t really answer but you were used to it anyway, “yesterday, i went to the mall with stacy! you know stacy, she’s like my best friend ever! and we had so much fun we ate ice cream and went shopping and when we were walking around the mall i saw the cutest—“

“baby” he said, a little louder than the volume you were speaking, “i really don’t care what happened with you and stacy, okay? i have stuff to do” steve said, and left the house

you stood there, tears brimming in your eyes, you did it again. you annoyed someone into leaving. why were you like this? why did you have to be so excited and get so talkative over something so stupid?

you silently went to the bathroom, seeing as you just woke up, you then went to the kitchen, and began making breakfast for you and eddie

sooner or later, eddie woke up, you knew because you felt hands wrap around your waist

“good morning, sweetheart” he smiled

you hummed in response, and he furrowed his eyebrows

“that smells really good” he said and you didn’t respond

he went to the bathroom, and you set the table, once he got back, he saw the look in your eyes, you were now facing him, and it was clear you’d been crying

“hey, didn’t you go out with stacy yesterday?” he spoke as he ate

you nodded

“how’d that go? you did come back looking excited”

you shrugged and continued eating

eddie looked at you for a moment before dropping the fork and knife

“okay, what the hell is going on?” he said, and you just furrowed your eyebrows, “don’t look at me like that, can you just talk to me like a normal person?”

“what’s wrong, eddie?” you said

“what’s wrong? wha—are you mad at me? shit—did you see the magazine under the bed? baby i swear i love your body that was before we all started dating i promise you i don’t use them i mean maybe sometimes but it’s only when you’re away i sw—“

“i didn’t know about that” you simply said and he realized he fucked up, “it’s fine eddie, it’s not all about me, yknow, you can see other magazines, it would be good anyway so you don’t get bored of me”

“okay, what?” he furrowed his eyebrows

“just forget it eddie” you said, eddie didn’t want to forget it, but he kept quiet for you

that was until he heard sniffling, he looked up from his plate only to see you crying as you ate

“hey hey hey, whoa, baby” he quickly got up and kneeled down in front of you to get to your level, “talk to me, sweet thing, what’s wrong?”

“i’m sorry—i just…i feel like steve doesn’t like me” you said

“what? of course not, steve loves you!” he answered

“but—today before he went to work, i wanted to tell him about what happened yesterday and he said he didn’t care and left…am i really that annoying?”

“what—no, no, no, you’re not annoying at all” he said, wiping your tears, “cmon baby, you know i hate to see you cry…why don’t you come and tell me what happened, i’m all ears”

sniffling, you had slightly calmed down, and with a light smile you nodded "so...yesterday, i went to the mall with...um stacy! you know stacy...yknow what its nothing-"

"no no hey..." eddie mutters softly as he caresses her cheeks, "i want to know everything...don't leave a single thing out, got it pretty girl?" he says in a low voice

you nod slowly, and look down before eddie lifts your chin up and you smile softly, "so...anyway she’s like my best friend ever! and we had so much fun we ate ice cream and went shopping and when we..."

you continued on with your story, telling him every single detail about what you did and saw and such, and eddie nodded, listening to you talk, smiling

soon, you had hopped in the shower, and steve had just come home, you made his favorite food, all ready and placed on the stove to be heated up when he comes.

eddie's eyes flickered to the door as he heard it, he slowly walked to the bathroom, slowly closing it so you don't hear anything outside, and turned to steve who was just sitting on the couch looking at the ground

eddie stood there looking at steve, steve didn't even dare to look up, he knew what he did.

"you had a good breakfast with her today?" eddie says and steve sighs

"i know alright...i messed up-"

"damn right you messed up. that sweet girl was crying because of it today." eddie says and steve looks at him, his eyes softening

"shit..."

"the fuck was going through your head-"

"clearly not alot!" he says and gets up, looking at eddie right in the eye, "im an idiot..." he says and turns away, "i love to hear her talk...i love everything about her...i was just stressed out..."

“don’t, steve. that girl has been nothing but an angel. you can’t take it out on her whenever some bullshit at work happens” eddie says, a stern look on his face, he pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered to himself for a second before looking back at him

“she made you your favorite. it’s in the kitchen” eddie points out and walks away, steve sighed, he felt like a dick

you soon walk out of the bathroom after you’d gotten dressed, brushing your wet hair and walking, to be met with steve sitting on the couch, leaned to the edge, elbows on his knees, his hands raking through his hair as he mutters to himself

she paused for a moment, steve glancing up at her, just as she was about to turn away he gets up

“shit—wait! please baby, please?” he says, almost pleading

you turn back to him, fiddling with your hands after you’d placed the brush on the table, “um…i made you your favorite…i’ll heat it up” she says and nods before he even replies and walks to the kitchen, before he grips her wrist, not harshly but firm enough to keep her

“will….will you please…please—tell me what happened yesterday?” he asks softly, eddie, who was nearby, crossing his arms as you just looked at him

“uh…i already told eddie so…s’okay” she says softly and steve shakes his head

“i’m so so fucking sorry baby—please, angel? i know it’s not an excuse but i was just pissed cause of work and i wasn’t in the mood—but i’m so sorry. that doesn’t mean shit! i love hearing you talk, about every little or big thing in the world, with that pretty voice of yours. i’m so sorry baby, i’m so sorry” he whispers, his voice trembling slightly, like he was gonna run out of breath if she didn’t forgive him

you just look at him, your eyes softening, eddie glancing at you, you nod and hug him

“s’okay…i forgive you stevie…it’s okay” you whisper as you rub his back, your touch was a balm to his soul…he’d felt awful this whole day

“see that, sweetheart?” eddie says with a grin, “this idiot can’t get enough of you! look at him! you don’t talk to him for five minutes and he’s about to cry” he says and steve deadpans him, you giggle with eddie, and steve finally budges and laughs with you

“so…are you gonna tell me baby?” he says softly and you nod as you walk into the kitchen to heat up the food, eddie and steve both sit at the table

“okay okay! let me tell you! so i was—wait wait! let me start at the beginning—“ you talked on and on and the two listened, a soft smile on their faces, even eddie who already heard this story before, but they both cant help it. they’ll listen a million times…they will never get tired of you

a/n: hihi guys been a long long time since ive been around and writing, i missed you all so so much! i’m still getting into it so im not gonna be so frequent but feel free to request!! miss you all🤍

[maidenvault]

It’s just a much more interesting idea to me that there are so many clone troopers in the galaxy they could populate a country and essentially do, that they’re basically their own people who developed their own culture, they don’t need to be Mandalorian in any meaningful way. They’re never portrayed that way in main canon except with the smallest of evidence (Rex’s helmet design or whatever) and it drives me kind of nuts.

Jango Fett sure as shit did not think of the clones as Mandalorian or give a crap about them. You know who gives a crap? Each other. They decided they’re more than an army, they’re the only family they have. It’s a practically universal clone thing that they call each other brothers even though they’re technically not and that’s part of their specific culture.

Going by names they chose for themselves or earned instead of their numbers is part of their culture. So are words like “shiny” and “bucket.” They paint designs on their armor and commonly have identifying tattoos as part of their culture.

In main canon we do see that clones generally think of themselves as Kaminoan humans. Like so many SW species the Kaminoans are simplistically treated in canon as being practically synonymous with the profession they’re known for, cloning, which I think kind of resolves the confusion about how the destruction of Tipoca City and the cloning facilities in TBB is later discussed as a genocidal destruction of the whole species and their home. It really drives home that Kamino isn’t really Kamino without them. They’re the reason those places were built and the vast majority of the people on that world were clones. It’s not a great home to come from but it was a place mostly specific to them where they had each other, the only home they actually knew growing up, unlike the Republic they fought for or Mandalore.

tl;dr who cares about deadbeat dad Jango and whatever “culture” he passed onto the clones.

[avroravia]

♡ BE WITH YOU. II ♡

part one here ♡

pairings ♡ dad’sbsf!dallas winston x darry’sdaughter! reader.

summary ♡ after a rather lengthy sentence, darry attempts to help dallas get back up on his own two feet. while dallas is staying with the curtis family, he finds himself sneaking behind his friend’s back with his daughter. you.

warnings ♡ f!reader, age difference (21 years), dallas being gross (normal), body descriptions (not specific to race or features), bad time accuracy around the late 80’s early 90’s, 22 year old reader, 41 year old dallas, masturbation, p in v, roughness, dallas calls reader kid, brief aftercare, sneaking around

WARNING warning ⚠️ ♡ this fic is going to be kind of gross and weird. it’s a huge age gap and intended to be a bit icky! if you dont like that CLICK OFF there are a million other dallas winston fanfics out there that have EXACTLY what you are looking for and i bet those writers would love some engagement! if you have any off handed comments keep them to yourself! i don’t wanna read shit like “oh omg i loved this except for this part!” KEEP IT TO YOURSELF!!! you have been warned!

taglist ♡ @diorgirl444, @r0seb100d, @johnnycadesslut (dm to be added!!)

the hot, spring sunshine beat down onto the southern city of tulsa. the saturday mood was infectious, with children running throughout the parks and streets of tulsa. the eagerness and excitement knowing summer break was just a few weeks away had joy spreading amongst the youth throughout the city.

the house was silent, with you being the only one home. your mother had gone to have brunch with some friends and colleagues, while your dad was off finalizing details for the next big office downtown. you assumed that dallas had also gone along with him.

boredom seeped in, with hours to do whatever and no ideas on how to spend them. this, in combination with your solitude and desperation, is what led you to your current past time.

you laid in bed, head perched up on some pillows and legs pushed apart as you sunk into the memory foam. not even bothering to fully shut the door, you tossed your lacy panties and shorts onto the carpeted floors.

your hand was slipped between your thighs, rubbing soft circles onto your clit. as you swirled your fingers, the pressure making you feel euphoric, you couldn’t help but direct your thoughts to dallas.

something about him had you captivated, hooked with no way out. you found yourself talking to him or being around him at every chance possible under the guise of being ‘polite.’ whether it was having a brief, but unnecessary conversation when you came home from class, or stopping by whenever him and your dad were having a beer in order to ‘say goodnight.’

as you touched yourself, you found yourself picturing him pleasing you instead. his thick, rough fingers running on your clit, and his free hand groping your tits. the thought of dallas’ calloused finger tips pinching and rubbing your nipples heightened your arousal.

in the midst of your thoughts being whisked away to raunchy daydreams and fantasies, you absentmindedly found yourself moaning and whining his name as your hips bucked against your hand. unbeknownst to you, however, you weren’t home alone like you had foolishly assumed.

dallas had been in the kitchen, making himself a cup of coffee when he could faintly hear your voice over the soft whirring of the coffee machine. once the machine had finished making the hot, bitter drink, dallas walked over towards the hallway.

the faint sound of dallas’ footsteps went unnoticed by you, too caught up in euphoric pleasure to pay any attention. that’s why you didn’t notice him peeking through the the small crevice of your door, before immediately pulling away whilst simultaneously fighting the urge to keep watching.

the erection in his dark-washed blue denim only grew as he heard you moaning his name. dallas abandoned the cup of coffee he had just prepared in favor of a cigarette, trying to distract himself, but those soft, sweet sounds of your whining only served to skyrocket his arousal.

eventually, as you fell down from your peak, fingers sticky and out of breath, you found yourself thirsty. slipping your panties and shorts back on, you walked towards the kitchen.

as you stepped across the cold, hard-wooded floors, your stomach dropped at the sight of dallas sitting at the kitchen island. he was facing toward the white granite countertops, cigarette in hand as he sipped on his coffee.

the way dallas seemed so composed gave you a small hope that he hadn’t heard you moaning his name just a few moments ago. stepping into the kitchen, you walked past him with a soft smile like always.

“good morning.” you hummed, stepping on your tip toes to grab a glass from a high shelf on the cabinet.

“yeah…” dallas murmured, looking up at you with a crooked grin. “sounds like you had a good morning.”

the second you processed his words, you felt your face get hot in an odd mixture of arousal and embarrassment. as you turned around, empty glass in hand, dallas had moved closer to you.

you looked up at him, swallowing thickly as dallas stared down at you. his hands snaked around you, perched on the countertop behind you. the way dallas was around you almost had you trapped.

“god, is that really how you think ‘bout me..?” dallas whispered, cigarette dangling from his lips, which were pursed into a grin. his gaze looking down at you so strong, almost amazed, and his furrowed brows made your knees feel weak.

his hands traced from your shoulders down to your forearms, and dallas’ rough fingertips on your skin made the hair on the back of your neck stand. you inhaled the whisps of cigarette smoke, almost savoring them alongside his touch.

the silence was terribly loud, as the two of you watched, almost admiring, one another. you couldn’t help but observe how pretty he looked.

as dallas pulled one of his hands away from the countertop behind you, he took a drag of his cigarette. holding essentially just the filter in his fingers.

as dallas put out the cigarette on the cold countertop, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss onto his lips. dallas’ eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into you, setting the cigarette filter on the counter as he moved his hands onto your hips.

your hands traced to the nape of his neck, softly intertwining your fingers with dallas’ short brunet strands of hair. he tasted like a mixture of coffee and cigarettes, but somehow it was almost pleasant. as you leaned in, you found yourself craving his touch, almost like you were addicted.

“god, you’re gonna drive me crazy…” dallas pulled away, his fingers delicately wrapping around the waistband of your shorts as you giggled slightly at his words.

in the midst of a bad decision, you found yourself sitting in nothing but your panties on the soft mattress of your bed, fingers intertwined with the cotton sheets, you watched as dallas took off his shirt. looking him up and down, you couldn’t help but notice how many different scars were littered across his skin.

“y’like what you see?” dallas grinned, unbuckling his belt as he looked down at you.

as you rolled your eyes at his remark, he chuckled slightly before tossing his belt onto the small pile of clothes on your floor, before sitting down next to you.

“dal’- what if somebody finds out..?” you whispered, placing your hand atop of his.

dallas was quiet for a moment, his cold, brown eyes studying your gaze. “s’fine.” he murmured. “ain’t nobody gonna catch us.”

he leaned in, hand cupping your face as he kissed you once more. your eyes fluttered shut as dallas grabbed your hip and pulled you into his lap, slipping his fingers under your panties.

his fingers swirled circles onto your clit, making you moan in between kisses, before he pulled away from your lips.

“you want it?” dallas hummed, lazily running his fingers up and down your entrance, making you buck up against his hand.

“mm- yeah…” you moaned, resting your face in the crook of his neck as he slipped a finger into you.

you weren’t a virgin, having lost your ‘innocence’ to your high school boyfriend back in your senior year. you had sex beyond that, regularly with an ex and the occasional hookup post-breakup, but something about dallas was different.

something about his experience, the way he knew exactly what to do and where to touch was what drove you insane. dallas’ gentle groans, and the way he looked at you made your heart flutter. the adrenaline rush came from a mixture of anxiety, nervousness, and arousal as he fingered you.

“fuck…” you groaned, hands holding onto his shoulders for dear life as he fingered you.

as dallas murmured soft praises, you found yourself teetering on the edge of orgasm. the second he could feel you getting closer, dallas pulled his fingers away from you, your cunt clenching around nothing.

you looked up at him, eyes softened as dallas’ tongue swirled across his glistening fingers. fingers that had been in you only moments before. the sight was erotic, something you had only dreamed of before this point.

“taste so good.” dallas grinned, accent thick as his fingers wrapped around the elastic band of your panties, delicately removing them from your body.

once he discarded your lacy panties, dallas stared down at you, like a predator stalking its prey. his hands held onto your hips as he laid you on the mattress, ensuring you had a pillow for comfort underneath your head.

“y’want me t’fuck you?” dallas drawled, hands rubbing your thighs as he pushed them apart, staring hungrily at your cunt.

��please…” you whispered, pushing your legs apart for him as you fought the urge to touch yourself.

dallas, wearing nothing but his boxers, pulled them down just enough to reveal his hardened cock dripping in pre-cum. he moved himself closer, rubbing his pink tip against your swollen clit.

as you looked down, watching his thick cock teasing your cunt, you couldn’t help but realise how big he actually was.

the feeling made your knees weak, and you watched him intensely as he swiftly pushed his cock deep inside of you. he bottomed you out instantly, making you whine his name.

“s’so big…” you whined, almost in amazement as he relentlessly bullied his tip onto your cervix.

dallas’ pace grew hasty fast, your hips colliding hard enough to make his skin almost red. his lips were parted, a thin layer of sweat on his skin as he looked down at you. you could feel him hitting every spot inside of you, alongside his balls slapping against your skin.

“god you feel so fuckin’ good…” dallas groaned, rolling his hips against yours as he ran his fingers through his hair.

his hand traced down to your clit, delicately rubbing it in soft circles that made you writhe against him. the stimulation he gave from rubbing your clit and fucking you was almost too much.

dallas’ free hand was planted to the right of your head as he basically drilled into your cunt. his eyes were stuck on the sight of your face, contorted into a reaction of pure ecstasy as you moaned and whined for him. you could feel the chain he was wearing dangling onto your skin, the cool metal grazing your chest.

your hands traced to his shoulders and upper back as you dug your nails into his skin, the feeling making dallas groan in a twisted mix of pain and pleasure.

“oh- fuck…” you whined into his ear, legs wrapped around him as he fucked you nonstop.

as dallas thrusted in and out of you, soft groans escaped his lips as he moved. the sight of you beneath him was so erotic, and it somehow made him even hornier than before.

after a few more strokes, you felt that familiar high creeping up on you, and you let out a moan that was almost pornographic at the feeling.

dallas’ eyes fluttered shut, his movement halting as he felt you cum around his cock. barely a moment after, he pulled out, gently stroking his cock onto your stomach

as you came down from your high, you felt the hot ribbons of his seed on your skin, the sticky fluid coating your body. you laid on the bed, essentially paralyzed as dallas got up.

dallas disappeared into your bathroom, reemerging moments later with a hand towel scrunched up into his fist. as he leaned over the bed, wiping his semen off of your skin, you looked up at him with a strange mix of love and lust.

dallas got up once more, tossing the dirty towel into your laundry hamper before he assumed his position next to you once again. he gestured you close to him, and you savoured his touch as he held you in his arms.

the two of you sat in silence for a few moments, drowning in the heavy regret and arousal in the air. dallas held you against his side, calloused fingers rubbing against your tricep as you rested your head on his chest.

dallas looked down at you, almost unashamed with a soft grin on his lips. he unwrapped his arm from your shoulder, making your head perk up off of his chest as you looked up at him confused.

“where are you going..?” you hummed softly, watching as he got off of your bed. a soft dip in the mattress, with the smell of cigarettes,coffee and cologne was the only trace he left behind.

“well, glory, kid, can’t stay forever, can i?” dallas mumbled, voice hoarse as he dressed himself again. “think your daddy’ll kill me if he found me laid up with his little girl like this, huh?”

you went silent and just watched him, interest piqued as he slipped his t-shirt back on. as he looped his belt back into his jeans, the only sounds made were of the metal on his belt and both of your gentle breathing.

as dallas buckled his belt, he paused as he looked down at you for a moment, sat on the edge of your bed in nothing. he leaned down, rough fingers delicately holding your chin up as he placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

dallas lingered for a moment, greedily savouring your kiss before he stood back up. he held your panties and night set bunched up in his hand, before tossing it onto your lap.

“get dressed, ‘kay?” dallas instructed as he strolled out of your room, like he hadn’t been fucking you dumb only moments before.

as dallas reached your doorframe, he turned around, watching you as you got dressed.

“hey, if you ever need… help, with- with anything. just give me a holler, yeah?” dallas looked at you, gaze intense and deep. you gave a soft nod of your head, before he relented and left to do whatever he originally intended…

a/n ♡ hi cuties!! so i don’t really have any updates for you guys but i am still taking requests for mythical readers, tp au, and this au! summers almost here so i’ll be able to get fics done a lot quicker <33

i’m so obsessed with this au and i hope u guys like it too! i don’t have anymore fics to establish this universe so i’ll be writing any ideas i come up with or any asks i get about these two!

xoxo, amar <3

[wanderingxiao]

Christmas Miracle!

Husband! Scaramouche x Pregnant! Reader *NSFW*

Warnings: unprotected sex, explicit language, pregnancy/lactation kink, slight degradation/praise, and just mainly smut with fluff 💜

A/N: Merry Christmas!!! This is shit but hope you enjoy a little! ;)

Scaramouche scoffed lightly looking over the glittering Christmas decorations that filled your shared living room. The tree was decorated with cute figures of Santa, reindeer, pictures of the two of you, and a cute little picture hanging near the top of the tree, a small shape barely visible from the black and white picturing in the sonogram image.

“Scara, it’s Christmas, loosen up a little.” Your husband only snickered in reply, his body turning towards the sound of your voice, his indigo eyes darting down to the disgustingly sweet plate of cookies in your hand. “A holiday, celebrating some fat man with a beard. Is this really how you were raised?” You rolled your eyes a little, shaking your head as you approached him. “That’s not all the holiday is, you know that.”

He huffed quietly, his eyes softening a bit once his hands instinctively found your swollen stomach when you approached. “Tsk, whatever… how are you holding up?” His cheeks dusted faintly in pink, caressing your stomach while you munched away at your cookies. “Mmm, the cravings are like, fucking awful, but other than the backaches and constant arousal, pretty good!”

Scaramouche perked up slightly when he heard the last bit of your complaint. He couldn’t help but feel a warmth blossom in his stomach, his eyes darkening. “Hmph, can’t even control your hormones, huh? Sounds like a sorry attempt at trying to seduce me.” The edges of his lips curled slightly, giving you a dangerous look while your mouth continued to be stuffed with cookies.

“Mmm! Mo ‘m serous!” A smile quirked to Scaramouche’s lips, his expression softening watching you clear your throat and swallow down your cookies. “I was watching my show yesterday and just the love around the couple…” Your voice trailed off, voice starting to crack. The now empty plate rested against your stomach, your hand coming to your teary eyes. “I-it was so beautiful a-and it reminded me of us! A-And I then I got horny t-thinking about you being a father! A-And our familyyyy! Uwah!”

Scaramouche cringed when your face turned into a sobbing mess. “H-Hey. Don’t cry. You’re ugly when you cry.” His smooth and warm hands wiped your tears, his eyes awkwardly averting at the situation. Your cries soon died down and you laid with your husband snuggled against the couch. “Tsk, you done now brat?” He smirked and kissed your head. “Your hormones are quite the nuisance. Can’t wait til the little shit is out…”

“Awe, are you excited?” You looked up to him knowingly, your smile evident. He only scoffed. “Of course not. I don’t like children.” You only rolled your eyes, he could lie all he wanted, the truth was always in his expressions. Your cheeks flushed, heat building between your legs. Your thighs rubbed together, your eyes casting down to the way his hand laid protectively against your belly. “Uhm… hey… Scara?”

“Mhm?” He hummed in response, his head leaning back against the couch, his eyes closing. “There’s a present I would like to open early.” Your husband opened one of his eyes, sparing you a glance questioningly. You took a small breath, moving slightly as your leg swung over his hips, trapping him between your legs. His eyes were fully open now, his attention fully on you. “Can you… give it to me?”

Scaramouche’s eyes widened briefly, his heart beginning to pound. The look in your eyes as you stared lovingly and longingly at him, your heat just above his now growing arousal. He couldn’t help but groan. He didn’t respond, only lightly grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you down into a soft kiss. His other hand roamed down your chest, groping against your sensitive breasts.

You moaned into his mouth, your clothed cunt now rubbing against his bulge. The swell of your stomach was pressed against his abdomen, only turning Scaramouche on more. Your hands traced his face, delicate fingers running along his jaw and down his neck. His skin shivered under your touch, goosebumps of excitement rising up as he felt your warmth. His tongue invaded your mouth, curling over your gums and teasing against your own hot muscle.

The soft sound of your moans spurred him on, his hands hastily pulling and tugging your clothes off. Your hips rolled against his, dry humping his hardened cock, making you both moan in unison at the sultry action. Scaramouche pulled his lips away, a string of saliva snapping against your lips as his assault moved from your lips to your neck. Love bites and hickeys littered your neck, his hot breath fanning over your flushed skin.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy.” He breathed out, slender fingers coming to rub against your sopping cunt, your hips grinding against his fingers once they made contact with your drenched panties. “Please, Scara, mmm~ please…!” Your begging would suffice for tonight, he pulled against the fabric roughly, making the material snap, loosely hanging off your snug hips now as his fingers began to rub against your dripping folds.

Your moans soon began to Increase in pitch, his fingers rubbing back and forth up your folds before his fingertips began to ghost your fluttering pussy. “Such a good girl.” Scaramouche praised, groaning lowly when he felt your gummy walls grip against his fingers when they finally entered your velvety insides. “Ngh, so fucking tight. You’re sucking my fingers in so good.”

“Scara! S-Scara~!” Your hips rolled to meet his fingers, loving the way they scissored your walls apart, curled in just the right place, and pressed against your sweet spot so deliciously. Your hands fumbled against his shirt, pulling it sloppily over his head while you endured the generous pleasure of his fingers. “Hmm~ love you, love you so much…!”

“That’s fucking right! Yeah, you love me? Love me so much don’t you? Yeah? That why you’re- ngh!- so eager for my cock? Huh?!” You could only nod dumbly, hands shakily tracing down his chest to the toned firmness of his abdomen. His thumb abruptly began to rub stimulating circles against your clit, eliciting a loud moan accompanied by the harsh tremble of your legs. “C-Cumming…! Gonna cum!” Your hands clutched the hem of his sweat pants, tugging weakly as you tried to free his cock of the restricting confines of his boxers.

Scaramouche pulled his fingers out abruptly, groaning lowly at the sight of your arousal sticky and shiny against his slender digits. He rested his other hand on your stomach, rubbing softly while he eased you back against the couch, scanning your face for any discomfort or pain. “Hey.” He called out, grabbing your face lightly to turn your mushy attention back onto him. “Let me know if you’re not okay… got it?”

You nodded in response, whimpering when you felt the flushed tip of his cock graze your glistening folds. His cock teased your fluttery hole, loving the way your pussy was begging to be stuffed, almost trying to suck him in. Pre-cum oozed from the tip, your fluids coming together in sticky bliss. His cock head nudged up against your clit, his hips moving languidly to stimulate your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Scara… p-please…” Your voice sounded so beautiful and sultry, hips weakly bucking up to receive more exciting friction. Scaramouche laughed softly, his hand gripping the base of his cock before he slowly began to enter you. His hands were clammy as they rested on your hips, his brain beginning to turn to mush the second your warm walls enveloped his throbbing cock. “F-Fuck… you always… f-feel so good.”

You whimpered as his length began to stretch your insides, creating a generously full feeling that made your fingertips tingle. Once he was half way in, he bucked his hips, bottoming out instantly with a deep moan. “S-Shit, you’re sucking me in… I fucking love it, hah~” Scaramouche leaned over you, his stomach pressed against your bulging belly while he thrust shallowly into your drooly cunt.

“A-Ahh, Scara~ more…!” Your husband only growled in response, pushing his hips harder against your own, the deliciously gooey head of his cock rubbing against your sweet spot, evoking the most sinful moans you could muster. It was as if you had gone to heaven. Every movement of his cock sent shivers and electric sparks of pleasure into your spine. The way his veins and mushy head would scrape against your gummy velvet walls, it all felt so good you could barely contain yourself.

Scaramouche was struggling to control himself too. The gorgeous curve of your stomach, swollen with his child. The way you practically oozed motherhood made his carnal instincts spiral. His hands roughly went to grope at your boobs, squeezing the squishy and engorged mounds of flesh until you were jerking against his body, moaning uncontrollably.

“Scara~! W-Wait! Mmm~ S-So sensitive… they’re so sensitive…! Ngh!” Your beautiful cries fell deaf upon his ears as he gently turned you on your side, pulling one of your legs back by your ankle to give his cock deeper access to firmly press against your sweet spot. This way, he could lean down to suck against your breasts while he fucked you. “Ahh?! Scara! Wait! Wait wait wait! Hah!”

His tongue swirled lewdly over the sensitive bud, covering your breast in his saliva. His mouth came to latch on again, this time, giving your tit a light suck accompanied by a squeeze before a milky taste invaded his tongue. Your husband jerked away quickly, his eyes widened in surprise as he watched milk begin to leak from your swollen tits. His cock began to twitch wildly inside your warm walls, making you wince in ecstasy.

“Heh, so messy and pathetic, my gorgeous wife.” Scaramouche degraded, lightened with praise to quell your sensitive emotions. You were a moaning mess beneath him, his dark indigo eyes glued to the way your tits squirted out milk whenever he would squeeze against your breasts roughly. “Fuck… t-that’s so hot.”

You couldn’t respond, your orgasm approaching quickly as your sensitive breasts were groped and squeezed of all the milk that swelled within the engorged flesh. Your pussy fluttered around Scaramouche’s cock, warning him of your fast approaching climax. His husky groans became louder, his own body beginning to tense up. You could lightly feel the way his cock twitched inside, only arousing you further knowing he would be filling you with his sticky cum any moment now.

“Mmm, s-shit I’m cumming. I’m c-cumming baby! Cum -ngh!” Scaramouche could feel his balls tighten, cock beginning to twitch wildly as his warm cum began to spurt inside of you, turning your insides into a gooey mess. Your own climax didn’t help, your walls spasming around his cock, desperate to keep him sheathed inside while you milked him for everything he was worth. “Scara~! Ahh!! S-So full… so full… f-feels… so good.”

He leaned over to your face panting lightly indigo bangs gently tickling your forehead as he gave you a soft kiss as some sort of apology. His eyes cast down to the slippery mess of your milk all over your breasts, abdomen, and the couch. He could feel himself getting hard again just at the sight of your lactating tits. You whimpered at the feeling.

“Y-You’re hard again?” Your body was wiped, and he could tell. With your hormones spiraling and emotions scattered, he knew you couldn’t handle another round tonight. No need to worry, he’ll give you the best morning sex ever. He slowly pulled his length out, whimpering lowly when the warmth of your walls disappeared. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine. I can tell you’re tired. C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

You smiled softly at his suggestion, nodding slowly. Your husband moved off of you, putting his underwear and sweats back on before he helped you up from the couch. It was then a sudden gush racked your body, and the sound of water splatting against the floor was heard. You both looked down to see a clear fluid covering the floor. Your hand immediately clutched at your stomach, the feeling of being stabbed a thousand times boiling within your insides.

“Scara… I… I think my water just broke…”

It’s a Christmas miracle! Welcome to the world baby Kunikuzushi!

Merry Christmas! 💜 Stay safe everyone and have a happy holiday 💜💜

[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 10; "Are you ever dreaming of me?"

a/n: girl i had to literally grind and write all of this today bc surprise song release means daisy and oliver have a fucking STORY TO TELL YALL enjoy this mess.

Humming. 

Soft, sweet, supple humming. It vibrated like a bee buzzing close to my ear. Was there pollen growing there? Had I morphed into some type of flower?

Was I leaking honey? 

The humming lifted sweetly, a higher octave. I almost recognized the song, the tilt in it’s lift, the bend in its melodic swing. No, I did recognize the song. It was…it was something so familiar that I couldn’t put my finger on it. 

“What is that?” I asked. The picture that I had not realized was fuzzy focused, above, like an Eagle’s scope. I was watching somebody. 

But, I was in my body. I was there, on those white crested sheets, sheets that were pristine but in need of an iron. I was shivering, heat rolling down my spine as the humming kissed the shell of my ear and a voice whispered into my drum. 

“A song.”

It was amused, almost. Teasing, maybe? It knew something I did not know. 

“Yeah, but what song?” I watched the dimples in my cheeks punch holes in my face and felt the laughter gently vibrate my chest. 

The humming was…a person. A shadow, real, but so fuzzy. An outline. A depleting figure. 

They shifted. They whispered, again, “You know it.”

I giggled again. Why was I so stricken with this…thing? “I can’t put my finger on it.”

The person/shadow hummed again. This time, the hum emphasized the soft rise in the song, but still did not sing any words. I could feel the rest of them now, their hands flat against my hips and stomach, their chin pressing into my shoulder. The breeze exited their mouth each time they breathed. Mint. Something…else. Someone.

“Are there words?” 

They chuckled this time. Then, took a chest-heavy breath before singing, “I once was poison…”

I could hear the wet touch of their tongue to their lips as the words thwacked. “But, now…”

My lips uncontrollably went taut as a smile overcame my blushing cheeks. “Now, I’m your daisy,” I’m not a good singer, so I didn’t try. I just whispered the words back and twisted to meet the shadow’s eyes. 

He continued, grinning, white teeth shining over pink lips, sleepy, bagged-eyes. “Baby, for you I would fall from grace,” his one hand slid up and over my cheek. I followed it’s line and watched as black paint smeared my skin. “Just to touch your face…if you walked away-”

Oliver did not get a chance to finish because my alarm was going off. 

That wasn’t the first dream/nightmare/shit show that had invaded my nighttime slumbers or, even, daytime naps. But, it was the first in nearly 6 months. It had been really bad for the first couple of weeks. I don’t think I got a full night’s sleep for at least a month. I was up after every dream, sweating, sobbing, calling Max and yelling angrily at my stuffed squid. It was a counseling tactic that ended up saving my life (and stopping me from responding to Oliver’s texts). 

(“Daisy, I need to tell you something…”)

I ended up going back to my therapist for about three months. It didn’t take long for me to edit my life, considering I was already pretty open to the change. I knew I was accepting poor behavior from people (it ended up being much more evident in my work life) and needed to be more assertive. My first session was…interesting. I sat down on the couch across from Marie, who I had not seen since I was 19, and started bawling. The first month went like that, crying about Oliver and how much I missed my mom (something I didn't even know was affecting me). And then the ball got rolling. 

And, now, when I had these dreams, when I woke up in a hot sweat and my cat jumped from the bed in a fright, I knew what I needed to do to not spiral. I pushed the covers off of me and thought about the dream. It was…fucked up. And I couldn't even remember if it had actually happened or if I made it up. Curse me for being on a Taylor Swift kick lately. Her lyrics were causing me to go loony. 

It was realistic. Too realistic. I had almost forgotten how Oliver felt against me, at my side. Nothing in the world felt quite like that. I’d tried to replicate, sure, and got pretty close during my first semester of graduate school whenever an international student (British) and I had a fling. But it was…weird. And, then I ended up opening up more to Marie about Oliver. 

And then I dropped out of school. 

The cool, early-March air was biting at me. I’d forgotten what it was like to live in an upstairs apartment during the winter. An old one, at that. So I pulled the covers back over my legs. Processing…

The dream did not mean anything bad. It was simply a memory, a twisted one, at that. Gaps filled with things I wish were said, probably. It was…bittersweet, a new, difficult emotion I’d been struggling to wrap my head around. 

I opened up my journal and wrote it down, wrote down how it had made me feel, and how I was going to cope with it. Cleaning. Spring cleaning, to be exact. The apartment was a pig-sty, to be frank. 

Unopened boxes, cobwebs in corners, paint splatters from the trimming I’d installed last week. Not to mention the entire shop downstairs…

I got up from the bed, practically skipping to my dresser but a foot away from the end of the comforter. The bedroom was tiny, tinier than I was used to. I slipped on warmer clothes and tied my hair back. 

I Bluetoothed my phone to a mini-speaker and carried it with me to the kitchen. I popped on the kettle and shoveled half a pop tart in my mouth. Evie rubbed herself between my legs, probably dropping massive amounts of fur on my pants. I squatted down to love her while the kettle started to whistle. I snapped up before the water could boil and poured it out over the bag of tea. 

“Let’s go, Ev,” I murmured over the rim of my mug as we shuffled into the living room. 

It was a fucking wreck. I groaned and threw my head back, causing some of my hair to slip out of the tie. 

I set the speaker and tea off to the side and got started. I was off work today, luckily, so I had time to really dig into things. But I did still have plans to go out later with a friend. And it was late. I’d gotten pretty good at having a routine, but the mornings after I worked I did not have any energy to get up at a good time. It was better than it had been. 

The first two weeks after I’d dropped school, I stayed up until 4 am every night and slept on my new (thrifted) couch until the sun set. It was…a process, moving here, getting the swing of things. 

But, this felt good. Unpacking- finding a place for everything. My mugs in the cupboard above the stove, spices along the wooden rack my mom had haphazardly installed a million years ago. The cat’s stand by the big picture window, where all of our random throw pillows sat. I hadn’t realized how many things were left by her until I got the keys from Sam and we drove my stuff down here. 

But there were things- the spice rack, the pillows. Her old, vintage vanity squeezed in the extra (tiny) bedroom that Sam and I used to share. I’d made a point to clean that one up the most when I first got here, considering every one of my friends wanted to visit as soon as they could. It was a peaceful spot, where I’d also unloaded my books onto our old bookshelves and bought a comfy reading chair. A pull out bed set beneath the chair, some fancy contraption Max had found at some Swedish furniture store overseas. He was always sending me pictures of decor pieces. He knew me too well. 

I got about three boxes unloaded before I splatted myself onto the (clearing) couch, phone and glass of cold water in hand. My phone began to buzz with a call from a familiar contact on the screen. 

“Daz!” absolute ruckus on the other end. “Daz I miss youuuuuuuu!”

The voice was absolutely slurred, nearly drowned out by the club music thumping in the background. A few other voices yelled atop his and it seemed like the phone rustled around. 

A new voice, my brother’s. “Daiiiiiissssyyyyy, waiiiiizzyyyyyy, mmaeeeeeeeeee!” 

Then, Ronnie, a stern, calm and collected familiarity, “Daisy? Are you there? Sorry for these idiots. It’s been a crazy ass week and they’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating?” I giggled as she scolded them somewhere away from the speaker. “Celebrating what?” 

“New tour! New song, album, fucking lore!” Ronnie yelled in response. “Sorry- hang on. Max- if you want to talk, come outside!”

The noise lessened, yet a string of voices seemed to follow her outside. I pulled my phone away and optioned to FaceTime them instead. Their faces loaded before me- Ronnie, Max, Sam, and even Cyrus. I grinned wide at the sight. 

Of course I’d kept contact with everyone. Ronnie and Sam helped me move in the off-season, Max visited maybe 3 or 4 times. Cyrus, Adam, and I correspond in the group chat we’d made last summer and now still used. We’d play Minecraft together on the weekends, recommend each other books, and they'd send me samples of new music they were working on. 

Only instrumentals, though. 

They were some of my favorite people. It had just been a month or so since I’d actually spoken to all of them on the phone. I was- usually- working when they were not performing, writing, or traveling. But, this was the first Friday I had gotten off in a while. And, considering the time difference, I was pretty sure they’d just finished some show or something. 

“Ugh, anyways-” Ronnie began and met my eye through the screen. “We’re celebrating, if you couldn’t tell! But, how are you? What are you up to? Max wanted to call cause he said you work too much and probably miss us. Which we all know is true. We miss you Daz!”

Everyone yelled in response, cheering my name and waving and grinning. I could cry, I missed them all so much. “I’m good! I miss you all so much more! Please come visit soon!”

Ronnie glanced back at Sam, so quickly I almost didn’t notice it. She wore a sneaky smirk. “Well, here’s part of the reason we’re celebrating, peaches!”

I jumped up onto the couch, dancing around as they shared the news. They’d be here in a week! Visiting me and my tiny little rundown apartment and shop for an entire month! They had some time off before the next tour cycle started and they could not think of a better place to be. 

“We wanted to see you and help you get settled! We know it’s been a few months, but we basically ditched you at the apartment before we had to get back to Europe. So, clean off the couch, Daz!” Sam pushed his way to the phone to speak to me. I could tell he’d been drinking. His eyes were red, bloodshot and his smile was crooked. Oh, how I loved and missed him. 

But, soon! He’d be here!

We’d be here, together, continuing mom’s legacy. 

It was a dream. Come true. 

One I hadn’t even known existed until I found myself in the streets of Europe. 

But, here she was. Jumping up and down on her thrifted couch with her cat. Her very own cat! Her hair short, her hair chunky streaks of blonde. I was…Daisy. I was Daisy Hatlett, if she had ever existed and taken up space in her own existence. 

I plopped onto the couch. Max took up the screen now. “I’m coming, too, Daz! Clear out the extra bedroom, lovely!”

“Oh, my God! You guys! I don’t think I’m going to be able to house all of you. Next, you’re going to tell me that Cyrus and Adam are coming to stay, too!” I pressed a hand over my eyes, but still could not stop grinning. 

I peeked through my fingers because it went silent on the other end. All I could hear was the thumping of London club music resounding throughout the patio they were hanging out on. 

“Jeez, tell me you hate me, Daisy,” Cyrus spoke up, attempting to break through what I could only describe as awkward silence. 

Max pressed his lips together. “She might. She might.”

“So,” Sam swept the phone from whoever had been holding it and walked away from the crew. “Listen, Daisy. I should have called you when we were all sober to deliver the news, but…um. To make it easier, you know? I don’t…we’re all- basically management heard us talking about visiting. They looked into it and I guess there’s a good recording studio like an hour from you. They want us all to have some privacy in a small town to recuperate and, I guess, chill. But they want the guys to still be able to tweak parts of the album before it comes out. So…yeah, they’re sending us your way. We’re all coming.”

My dream felt like a premonition now. 

It was crazy how, after months and months sober from something, from somebody, after resisting relapse and cravings and a text message that loads after the plane touches down, it’s crazy how you can still feel it. On the tip of your lips. The very drug you’d been getting over. And you could feel, for even just a second, just as helplessly young, dumb, and naive as you had nine months ago. 

“Oliver’s gonna be here? In my town?” I murmured somewhat, knowing I looked stricken. 

Sam nodded sadly. “But…listen, okay. You won’t even have to see him. He’ll be…he’ll be in the hotel or recording most of the time. And…even if you do, Daz, he’s, like, a completely different person. Fuck, he laughs now. Like, all the time. He’ll show us dumb ass memes and laugh-”

“I don’t need to know that,” I shook my head with a giggle that was anything but joyous. “Um…it’ll be fine. It’ll feel-” use those emotions, girl, “weird. But, it’ll be good. I’ll get to see y’all!”

I ran a hand through some of my blonde streaks. Sam watched and trailed the subject off, distracted by the alcohol and my hair. “Daz, you look so pretty. You look…you look so grown. And healthy. So healthy. I love you, sis.”

I pouted my lip at the complement. “Aw, Sam-Ham! I can’t wait to see you!”

And see him, I would. Him and Cyrus and Adam and Ronnie and Max and…and probably Oliver. But, I was not delicate now. I was a grown woman. I was…mature, like Sam had said. I’d finally started to live my life and I wasn’t susceptible to a bacterial growth like Oliver. 

That’s what he was, in mine and my therapist and my friends’ minds. A growth. A tumor. And the old me had died from him. From that, a new Daisy, a healing, evolving Daisy was reborn into whoever the hell she wanted to be. Like a butterfly, I’d emerged from a chrysalis. 

“Send me the details of your flight and I’ll come pick ya’ll up! We can give everybody a tour of our hometown!” I urged him. 

Sam gave me a thumbs up, but Max was talking over him again. “Is she good with it? Does she like the idea? Is she gonna kill us- Daisy!” 

Max gave me heart-eyes through the phone, grinning. “Daisy, I cannot wait to see this flower shop. I cannot wait to help you get it all set up and ready for the grand opening! Have you set a date yet?”

Oh, haha, totally! I have everything together! I wanted to lie through my teeth. But, I know I couldn’t. Instead, I shrugged, “Not really. It’ll happen when it happens. I’m still trying to get settled back into things. I’m unpacking the living room today since I’m off.”

“Blasting Tay-Tay, I’m sure,” Ronnie teasingly rolled her eyes. 

“Hell yeah, girl!”

“Blast our new song!” Max whined, “I love Tay-Tay, you know I do. But get us some streams, babygirl!”

I exited out of the FaceTime app and opened Spotify. I could see their faces in the corner of my screen as they continued yelling. “Yeah, come on! It’s so fucking good, Daz. You’ll love the end part, for sure,” Cy added in. 

“Mayyyybe,” I shrugged, though I did ponder the idea. 

Emergence. 

What a title. 

I wondered about what Sam had said- how Oliver had changed. 

And I wondered if he felt like me, different, aged. New. A butterfly in the place of where a caterpillar had been. A reborn soul in the place of a tumor. 

Maybe I couldn’t listen to it. It would remind me that he’s human. Which, of course, I knew. It was a fact that had helped me heal. But, I think hearing about his own struggle with his identity might send me over the edge. 

I was going out later…and that always meant alcohol, which fixed any reopened scars. Not healthy, I know, but journaling didn’t always feel fun to do. 

“What’s it about?” I ventured, opening back up the FaceTime. 

Cy and Max side-eyed each other. Sam and Ronnie had left a second ago, probably to get drinks. 

“Um,” Max shrugged, “you know who’d you have to ask that question. Sorry, Daz.”

“Well, you helped write it, right, Cy? C’mon, tell meeee,” I pouted again.

Cy shook his head, “I wrote the drums, that’s all. It was…it was all Oliver, hun.”

I rolled my eyes and opened Spotify again. The cover was pretty, all rosy pink flowers. 

It reminded me…God, it reminded me of my mom’s shop. 

I wonder…

Wondering was a dangerous thing. I shut down my brain. 

I talked to them some more, hearing about their most recent tour, The Teeth of God. Though, they had visited off and on when that tour happened, so I basically knew everything, But I loved when Cy and Max told stories. They were hilarious. 

We talked for another half an hour before Ronnie and Sam came back. They made a big deal about some song that was playing in the club and demanded Cy and Max come dance. After a round of phone-hugs, smushy kisses on the camera from Max, and promised-calls from my brother, the sound of a hung up FaceTime call resonated. 

I checked the time. It was somehow nearing 5pm already. My stomach was growling. 

So, though I lingered over the music app with the tip of my thumb, I exited out of the app altogether, I got up and went to make myself dinner.

-

Friday nights in my hometown were busy. 

I noticed after my first few shifts at the local pub. I made more money there from just a three day weekend work week than I had at the clinic. Sure, men were creepy and pigtails brought in more money, but having a surplus of ones was sick. 

All this to say, I was happy to have this evening off. 

I’d reconnected with a few people from high school and they’d been begging me to go out on a Friday. Tonight, Jay and I would be hitting a bar 15 minutes up the street that had a pool, mini golf, and some band headlining the small stage. 

He was knocking on my door around 9pm, just in time for my setting spray to dry and my shot of vodka to kick in. I used to drink to get drunk, and now I just did it to chill. It was fun. 

I opened the door with a chirpy, “Hey!”

Jay, a tall, blonde-headed car salesman, leaned down for a hug. Sure, he had been a frat boy at the local community college and had asshole friends in high school. But, everybody grows out of those embarrassing phases and become…well, he was sweet and paid for dinner when we went, opened the car door when he drove me places, aaaaaand he was a pretty good fuck. Hey, grown up Daisy did grown up things now, like sleep with the captain of her high school football team. 

I squeezed my arms around his neck, catching a whiff of the sweet cologne he was wearing. And- was that smoke? Cigarette smoke? My mind almost flashed back, but I moved on. “Mm, you smell good,” I giggled as I pulled back. 

Jay kissed the corner of my lips, sliding his hand to my fingers. I shut the door and he began trotting us down the steps to the side entrance of my building. “You, too. And you look good, too. I like this skirt.”

His other hand tugged at the bottom of the tight black piece. I giggled again, “Well, thanks. Thought I’d dress up for once.”

“Aw, you don’t have to. You look just as good in your sweatpants as you do this little number.”

We loaded into his car as we talked, soon rolling down the road. We were not together. And, no it was not because I had developed some weird attachment issues. I was really just looking for a low-commitment fling while I went through this major transition in my life. And Jay’s wife had just left him for some lawyer in the big city up North. 

We had the same needs and wants right now. 

We had a good time at the bar, sloshing back shots every once in a while, dancing on the tiny little dance floor beside the similarly mini-stage. I was no longer a light-weight now that I regularly drank, like normal people my age. So, it took a few extra Dirty Shirley’s and Long Islands to get me to the point that made this night out really fun. We went from playing pool to practically mosh-pitting to Mr. Brightside. Jay went so far as to volunteer to sing with the band and I became their honorary tambourine-girl. I demanded a photoshoot and drunkenly posted the pictures to Instagram with the caption, “FEEL THE BEAT!!!”

Eventually, the night started to wind down. We drove back to mine (old Daisy would have had an aneurysm if she knew I was letting someone drunk drive me) and had sex on my couch. The cat was still an adjustment for me, considering she liked to sit by the picture window and just stare at me. 

When it was over, Jay picked her up and held her to his bare chest, boxers low on his hips. “You’re a little creep, aren’t ya?”

I giggled as she nuzzled into his neck, purring through her sweet little mouth, “She really is. I don’t know how to get her to stop either.”

Jay sat on the arm rest and Eve jumped from his arms, back to her spot on the windowsill. He leaned down close to me and wrapped a hand around my cheek. “I have a pretty good idea.”

He was flirting, making a pass for another round. I blushed, nonetheless, and kissed his wrist. “What might that be?” I smiled coyly. 

Jay took my lips in his, a supple kiss, before whispering and nipping at my ear, “The bedroom has a door.”

I let him kiss me until I was in his arms, his hands strong under my thighs. He sobered me up through another restless round of (sure, vanilla) sex. Afterwards, he curled me into him, a deep sigh rattling from his chest. 

“What was that?” I laughed, rearing my head back to see him better. “Something to share?”

Jay shared my laugh, though there was a deep, distant look that settled in his eyes. “No, no…well…I don’t know. I was just thinking…”

“Oh, no,” I mocked, “is the world ending?”

“Oh, Zee,” he pretended to squeeze me to death. “No, I just…we’ve been going out for some time now.”

Oh. 

Oh!

Ohhhh….

“Yeah?” I sat up now, his arms falling off of me. 

Jay followed, slowly, cautiously. Was he feeling how I had felt when Oliver passed me off like this?

I pushed that observation away. It burned going down. 

“I just…you have to know that I’m really into you, Zee.”

The nickname felt weird. And I felt…weird. This all felt weird. 

“Jay, I…” i raised my hand to stop him, but he kept going. 

“Honestly, I think I’m falling for you. I have to tell you before we end up hurting each other. Because I know you must feel it, too-”

“I’m gonna be sick!”

I rushed from the bed and to the bathroom, a few steps down the hall. Jay called after me, unaffected by the rush, “Oh- okay! Let me know if you need anything!”

I shut the bathroom door behind me. Slid down it’s wooden spine. Pulled my legs to my chest. I was breathing heavily. I didn’t even need to throw up, I just- I needed away. It was suffocating in there. 

I thought that this was just a casual thing, but I guess not. 

And now I just felt- like shit, to be honest. 

I tip-toed back into the room just to see if he was asleep or not. Luckily, he was passed out, jaw loose, snores coming from the back of his throat. He worked long hours.  I praised the universe for the saving grace and continued to pray that he would forget about his conversation by the morning. While he was snoring, I put on some pj’s and went out to the living room. I sat beside Evie on the bench by the big picture window, watching as the moon turned red. A blood moon. I didn’t even know that was today. 

I got up to grab my journal and sat back down. Something in me stirred. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the phone call earlier. Maybe it was this confession from Jay. 

Maybe it was that dumb fucking dream. But I was missing London. I was missing the dirty streets of Paris and the spitfire rain in Ireland. I missed the gray skies and seeing my brother everyday. 

I missed Oliver. 

I let myself feel it. I had fought it for so long, but now I just tried to accept it. It was okay to miss people. I loved him, after all. But, this feeling usually passed after a moment. 

I opened my journal and wrote about it. I wrote about how it slickened my throat and made my chest feel tight, the regret, the missing, the moving on. 

It was worse than normal. It wouldn’t go away. It screamed in my heart and burned my head. 

I don’t know why. I was over it (wasn’t I?) but my head started to race. He was…alive. Despite the fact that I didn't even know who he was anymore. He was doing things and moving on with his life. Me, too. I guess. 

Oliver was a living and breathing person. His life didn’t end when our love did. That was hard to wrap my mind around. Though I was doing the same thing. 

He was still writing songs, touring shows, painting himself in black every night. Writing songs.

And here I was- buying my mom’s old flower shop with Sam, moving back to our hometown, deciding I didn’t want to go to grad school. 

Emergence. Out from underneath…

He was still…growing. I was growing. We were growing- away from each other. 

Something about tonight, the blood moon or the information that he had released a song…something unravelled in me.

I could not stop thinking about him. 

Was he sleeping with somebody, too? Was he dating some girl? Was she the reason for this new song? Was she clutching his bicep in the busy streets of London and laughing in the park in Paris while he told some stupid joke?

Was he falling in love with her? Was he confessing like Jay had? Or was he detached like me, unable to really move on from what we had last summer? 

Unable to love somebody else the same way he loved me. 

And then I found myself going through our text messages. God, I was really spiraling. 

I’d deleted them when I got back home from London, but then my phone took a shit and I got a new one. Here, the iCloud hadn’t been backed up in so long that it reverted back to how it was when I’d boarded the plane. Oliver text messages and all. 

Even the notification I’d gotten when I landed, the one I deleted, silenced, and never even opened. Airplane mode only lasted until you turned it off. Then, whatever failed to deliver just…popped up, wooshed through the atmosphere and over the seas. 

It still was unread, and I ignored it even as I scrolled all the way up to the start and took myself through the journey of last summer. 

Oh, Daisy…

The words he used, the things he told me. Fuck- the picures he sent me. I found myself wet again even though I’d just been relieved twice. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

The names he called me. 

Love, darling…

Sneak to my room later- meet me after the show- you tasted good. 

Fragments of messages raced past my vision. Blurred. Anxious. It was all coming back, though I am not sure now that it had ever really left.

How could I have ever forgotten about him? Sure, my body lost the memory of him. But, even then, I think if I squeezed my eyes shut enough, I might be able to replicate the feeling, pretend Jay’s blonde hair was dark brown, that his blue eyes were that sweet greenish-tan. Pretend that his hands, strong, sure, were the toned ones of a certain Brit, fingers strong from piano and guitar playing. That his voice was laced with an accent, his tooth crooked but beautifully supple atop his pink, plump lips.

And, then…there was his spirit. The things he liked- the coffee and Ray Bradbury books. The song about someone being a fisherman and that poem about that fisherman painting looking over the top of a love affair. The signals he always sent me through these coded messages. 

I’d forgotten that one. 

But, there it was- a link to a PDF, an offer to let me borrow that book that he loved. 

Reading it now- 

“You lie bent up in embryo sleep

below the painting of the blue fisherman

                             without a pillow…

I watch you and wonder at you.

I know your face by touch when it's dark

I know the profile of your sleeping face

the sound of you sleeping…

I know the hills

         and gullys of your body

                   the curves

                             the turns.

But there are times

when you can smile in such a way

that I'd forget a ten year war

and lie down in your shadows' shadow

and live on sounds your stomach makes…

But there is little salvage to be had

in bent and broken nails

and things that might have been

if I'd had wiser eyes

or been a fisherman

                         in blue.”

Had I been that naive?

He never used the words directly, but it was clear now, how vivid that love was that he had for me. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck-

There was something else. Something I could not quite place. What- what the fuck was it? Nudging at my brain like Evie nudged at my thighs. 

I smelled it. I smelled it somewhere. I traced the smell, sniffing through the air like a deranged lady. I sniffed the edge of the couch. It was there but it was- faint. Like it was a lifetime ago. Then, Jay’s t-shirt on the arm rest. Warmer. His coat- dangling off the coat rack. I patted the pockets and there it was- a pack of cigarettes. I was an addict moving through the world, tracking down the scent of a drug or a drink like a pack dog.

I held them in my hands, squishing the pack. Then, gently, I brought it to my nose and sniffled the aroma. Cigarette smoke. 

Oliver. 

The roof. The pool. The city. The look of his cheeks cinching in as he breathed in the cigarette smoke. The smell as he held my hair back and I puked on the streets of London. The smell of his fingertips on my cheek. The taste of him after I chased him down in the hotel elevator. Me quipping to him that it would fucking kill him- him laughing. 

His laugh, fuck his laugh. Fuck, holy shit. I was weeping a little bit now. 

I wonder if he could feel it, 12 million miles away from me. I pinched myself like a voodoo doll and willed the feeling. 

It smelled like a part of me that I had pushed down for months. Healed, sure, but pushed away.

The part of me that had loved him. 

I took a cigarette from the pack and felt around his pockets for a lighter. Then, ashamedly, looking around the apartment like someone was going to catch me in the act, I slipped on some shoes and a hoodie. 

I took the stairs down to the flower shop and weaved my way through boxes. I took a seat on the stool behind the counter, crossed my leg over the other. It was freezing- nights in May were never warm. But I ignored goosebumps, embraced them, almost, and kept moving. 

I lit the cigarette without ever touching it to my lips. I watched as the edge caught the flame then set the cigarette on the counter. I typed through my phone, searching for something on Spotify. I hit play. 

Emergence. 

I lay my head on my hands, propped upon the counter, eyes practically crossed as I watched the cigarette burn. I closed my eyes, breathed in his smell, and listened…

Come on, come on out from underneath who you were…

I looped the song. Once, twice. A fifth time. And, then…

I opened the text. 

I didn’t know who I was right now. This wasn’t the old Daisy, but it wasn’t the new Daisy, either. This was someone entirely new. Someone…

Someone who needed to know the answers. Someone who still could not believe it. 

Someone. Just someone. 

“Daisy, I need to tell you a few things. If you do not want to hear me out, that is okay. You do not owe me the time nor the space to speak my truth. But, I don’t think I would able to live if I did not do so.’’

Crying. Sobbing. I took a moment to breathe in- cigarette smoke- and centered myself. 

“Fiona is somebody who I used to lo-”

I stopped there. I deleted the message. 

I relapsed, if only for the night. I let myself revel in the drug, revel in the burning memory of him, if only to just get it all out again, if only to just fulfill the prophecy and will of that fucking dream.

Then- I went back upstairs and lay myself underneath Jay’s arm. 

I listened to his soft snoring as I fell asleep, sniffing and smelling like cigarette smoke. 

[holylulusworld]

Daddy’s best friend (4)

Summary: You come home for the last time before finishing your study. Bad timing. Not only does your father’s best friend occupy your room, but your father has a new woman by his side too. 

Pairing: Ari Levinson x brat!Reader

Warnings: language, angst, your father is an ass, Sunny is the worst, mentions of toxic relationship, tension, daddy kink, arguments, protective Ari, hurt & comfort

A/N: It's been a long time...

Catch up here: Daddy’s best friend (3.5)

Daddy’s best friend masterlist

It’s hard and painful to look around your room. You called this place home for as long as you remember, and now these memories are tainted by a blonde bitch.

Ari gently places his hand on your shoulder, making you flinch as you were lost in thought.

“You don’t have to be here,” he murmurs and pats your shoulder. “I can do this for you. Please let me know what you would like to take with you."

“It’s time to grow up, right?” You huff and look around your room. So many memories, good and bad, hidden in one room. “I don’t need the furniture. We will look through the rest. What I don’t take with me, we can throw away.”

“Where do we start?” Ari softly asks. He looks around the room, feeling sad for you. “I’m sorry he acted like this because of some girl.”

“I always defend him, you know,” you sniffle and wipe your eyes. “People said he made Mom leave. They accused him of cheating and being a bad husband. Some even said he hurt her.”

Ari doesn’t know what to say when you look at him with teary eyes.

“That’s…tough for a child. I’m sorry you had to lose your mom and hear the rumors blaming your father.

You look at Ari, giving him a cracked smile. “I always defended him. Dad was my hero for raising me alone, and I didn’t mind that he brought women home. Even the ones half his age. He never once put them first. Now he changed so much, and I wonder if the rumors were true.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Ari honestly says. “He never talked about your mother, and I never asked. It’s a guy’s thing, you know.”

“Yeah, I get it,” you grumble before turning your attention back toward the task. “We should start with the heavy stuff. My books and photo albums.”

“Got it.” Ari is happy to start packing and stop talking about the painful memories. “I’ll get some more boxes.”

You nod and start putting the first books into one of the boxes Ari carries upstairs. There’s no use in waiting for your father to come to his senses.

This time it’s different. This time, he seems to have lost his mind while fucking Sunny’s brains out. This time, he chose someone else over you—his daughter.

While you try to pack your things as fast as possible, Ari walks back into your room with more boxes. “Alright, what do you want me to pack?”

“You could start with the shelf over there. All books come with me. I need to check on the rest first.”

“I’m your man,” Ari jokes and gets to work. He takes the books off the shelf while you get a box out from under your bed. “The juicy stuff?” He asks when you look through the stuff in the box.

“Pictures of my mom and other shit,” you reply with a shrug. “I guess I’ll take it with me. Irreplaceable memories and such.”

“It’s better to keep it and decide what to do with it later,” Ari easily agrees. He works fast and packs more books and your photo albums, while you move to your wardrobe to look through your clothes.

“Hmm…no…yes…no,” You throw clothes all over the room, only taking the ones your father never liked. Sunny can wear the ones he bought for you from now on. “Ari, can you empty the commode next? I’ll take all of my lingerie with me.”

“Lingerie,” he growls, immediately turning to open the first drawer of the commode. “Silk, lace…” Ari is having fun rummaging in your drawer.

“Ari, don’t get distracted. I promise you can play with my panties as much as you want to after we leave this shitty place,” you tut and go back to packing more of your things.

“I want to see you in all of them.” He laughs when you blow him a kiss. “I mean it, sweetness. All I can think about is ripping them off your cute ass.”

“Naughty,” you coo, and wiggle your ass. “Let’s get the job done, and we can leave this place and never look back.”

Your father doesn’t even spare you as much as a glance when you walk out of the house, your last duffle bag tucked under your arm.

Ari carried everything out of the house, and his friends helped put it into the truck.

While you glance at your father, he’s busy chatting with Sunny. They truly have no shame. It feels like your father is celebrating your departure.

“Well, this is goodbye, Father,” you snap at your father, making him flinch. “I hope your whore is worth it. When she has had enough of you, I won’t be around to pick you up again. Fuck you!”

“Honey bunny,” your father sighs, but you don’t look back. Walking away is the only way to cope with the pain you feel. You’re not sad or even mad—you’re disappointed, and that’s even worse.

Ari takes the bag out of your hand, glaring in your father’s direction.

“Y/F/N, I’ll take care of Y/N from now on. Don’t worry. She’ll be better off without a father forgetting about his daughter for some pussy.”

“Uh—are you sure?” Looking around Ari’s guestroom, filled with all your belongings, you are suddenly aware that you have invaded his home. “I can leave and spend the summer at my apartment.”

“No,” Ari stops you from leaving. He grabs your hands to place them on his chest. “We will make this work, okay. If you want to be only friends, we can do that too. No catch, Y/N. I’m here to help.”

“Here to help, huh?” You drop your eyes to his crotch. “What about that grand prime dick you promised to me?” Dropping your hand to his crotch, you cup him roughly. “I think we should celebrate. I moved in with you the best way possible…”

Tags in reblog.

[beenbaanbuun]

Love im addicted to you Matz and darling work!!✨pls make masterlist

Soooo I was thinking are they into role playing?? Like what scenario matz and darling choose??

I have one unholy one in my mind, what if mommy hwa ties hong to chair and make him watch as he takes darling ?? This would be soo🤌🏻🤌🏻

hello!!!! the masterlist is here!! she needs updating with the last few works but that’s a job for later im afraid 😭😭

——

they definitely like to add a little spice into the bedroom, and i was actually thinking about that very thing just the other day. hongjoong had been a little too bratty after waking up alone and had decided to take it out not just on darling, but also on seonghwa. now, darling knows better than anyone in that house that being a brat gets you nowhere, except in hongjoong’s case, where it gets you tied to a chair.

“comfy?” seonghwa purrs into his husbands ear as he tightens the last nod. hongjoong tries to wriggle a little, but to no avail. it doesn’t surprise him; seonghwa’s rigging skills are unmatched. hongjoong gives a little shake of his head in response to the question, a defiant look in his eyes as he glares up at his partner. “good; you’re not supposed to be.”

he hears a little giggle from across the room and his gaze shoots over to where you sit on the bed, completely bare and ready for the taking. his eyes narrow, determined to convey a message to you; he may be tied up, but he’s still your dom at the end of the day. you seem to understand it, but you never once wipe the smile from your face… fucking brat.

“you did this to yourself, mi amor,” seonghwa says, stalking his way over to where you sit. a pretty hand lands atop your head, tugging at you until you sit leaning against your mommy’s hipbone. you close your eyes in bliss as he brushes your hair from your face and hongjoong can’t help but feel annoyance bubble up within him at the sight. “hasn’t our little darling proved enough times that being a little shit gets you nowhere? haven’t you yourself dragged her over your lap enough for that little lesson to sink in?”

hongjoong, of course, has learnt that lesson. not only has he taught it to you plenty of times, but he’s also been on the receiving end a few more times than he’d like to admit. it doesn’t always end up with him tied to a chair, but it is always torture for him.

his eyes narrow as he watches seonghwa’s hand dip to your chin, gently caressing your soft skin before lifting your gaze from hongjoong to your mommy. the whimper you let out when a thumb slowly pushes its way between your lips is sinful. pair it with the wide eyes look you offer to his husband and its enough to make the devil himself let out a little prayer. only you could make innocence look so slutty…

“you know, you’re lucky my precious lamb is as understanding as she is,” the thumb is pulled from your mouth with a pop, a single string of saliva connecting the digit to the still parted lips. seonghwa swipes at them, smearing your own saliva against them. hongjoong almost cums in his pants when he sees you chase after the thumb, yearning to have something rested against your tongue once more. “she didn’t even snitch on you when you were being such a troublesome brat. seriously mi amor, refusing to let her sit with you simply because she grew too hungry to stay in bed with you this morning? it’s childish, isn’t it lamb?”

and although it really shouldn’t have, the question makes hongjoong smile. clearly seonghwa was in some sort of tyrannical headspace tonight; to punish hongjoong and then continue on to ask you such a leading question? he really is out for blood.

and it seems as though you can see it too. you blink up at seonghwa’s expression of faux-innocence, your lust addled brain taking just a moment longer to compute than usual. if you answer how seonghwa wishes for you to, hongjoong will no doubt pounce the moment he gets free of the restraints. if you don’t, seonghwa will no doubt take joy in punishing you too. you swallow down your worries as your mind races to decide which lover you’d rather have on your side.

“yes, mommy,” you whisper, your voice unsure and trembling. a proud smile forms on seonghwa’s face as you fall right into the trap he lay for you. he turns his head to face his husband, giving hongjoong a single look that tells all; take this punishment like a good boy, and taking care of you will be his reward…

[hunters-heathen]

Bandaids Don't Fix Blaster Holes

summary: During a risky mission within the lower levels of Coruscant, Crosshair has to patch up his girlfriend - and fellow sniper extraordinaire - while hiding from the enemy.

pairing: Crosshair x fem!reader

word count: 879

tags: injury, a little cursing, vague sexual innuendos, physical hurt/comfort, Cross being a worried mess

author note: divider by @saradika !! also, I know there are probably no band-aids in star wars but plz god let me have my cheesy fic titles. also pt. 2 let's pretend my knowledge of sw medical practices is outstanding this is literally just something I wrote once at like 2am to get it out of my system

“Shit,” Crosshair’s partner hisses as she presses a hand down further on a blaster wound in her abdomen, half-dangling from her silver-haired sniper’s grasp, just barely holding onto the rifle in her free hand as its barrel drags along the ground, “‘m okay. Just need a band-aid.” 

Crosshair stays silent, expertly maneuvering through the cluster of buildings until he’s almost certain that he’s lost the shooters pursuing him and his partner. 

A band-aid. Like that’s going to fix the searing hole in her stomach. 

“Cross,” she grumbles, looking up at him with those eyes he adores so much, her mesmerizing gaze seemingly exaggerated by her pitch black eyeliner. “Talk t’me. Don’t go all n-nonverbal,” her voice breaks as he manages to get her seated against a wall in a dark alley, crouching in front of her to dig into his backpack. 

He rasps something finally, but it’s too quiet for her to hear, forcing her to lean forward with furrowed brows as she lets her sniper fall to the ground, “What?” 

“Band-aids don’t fix blaster holes,” he looks up from his pack, his eyes settling on hers once again. He gives her a small shake of his head, then goes back to finding the healing items he needs. 

Footsteps shuffle down the quiet street, and both snipers tense, her eyes scanning the dark distance as Crosshair quickens his search and set-up. “We’re okay,” she whispers, “Keep going. I can stay quiet.” 

Crosshair gives her an unamused look. “I have to sterilize it.”

“I know,” she nods, grinning mischievously as she reaches up to brush her fingers across his sculpted cheekbone, “You made me see stars in that hotel ‘fresher and I didn’t make a peep-” 

“Alright- enough,” he grumbles, though she knows he’s still thinking about it fondly inside. He’s just… all business, when she’s injured. It’s cute. 

With a breathy giggle at the memory, she watches as Crosshair grabs a bacta patch and a small vile of liquid, and carefully lays herself down for the ease of operating. She grabs the hems of her clothes with a shaky hand and pulls her several layers up, fully revealing the wound to him. 

The pain in Crosshair’s eyes at the sight of the wound is almost worse than the pain she feels in her stomach. He tries so hard to hide that pain from her, but unfortunately for him, she can always read exactly what he's thinking. They just work like that, connected on some level deeper than just being in love. Maybe they're soulmates, she thinks to herself.

As the footsteps approach more rapidly, she pulls her jacket up even further, clenching down on it with her teeth to give herself an outlet for the inevitable - yet fairly quick! - pain she’s about to face. 

Just as the first attacker passes the alley the two of them are currently crouched in, Crosshair pours a sterilizing bacta serum into the wound, her fist clenching in a knee-jerk reaction to the pain. 

She bites down hard enough to probably leave an imprint of her bite in the fabric until its next wash, squeezing her eyes shut as Crosshair opens up the bacta patch as quickly and quietly as he can. 

It only takes him a few seconds, but it feels like light years to him while his love is on the ground in front of him, trying her best to not writhe in pain or make a sound. Waiting on him to fix her, to save her in a rare moment of weakness. 

Only when the last attacker passes the alley, and the bacta patch is safely applied to her skin, does he lean down to press a kiss to her temple. “My brave girl,” he whispers, smiling softly at her relieved expression as the bacta starts to kick in. 

“Like I said, just needed a band-aid,” she teases in a whisper, giving him another one of her classic grins, “Think we lost them for good?” 

Crosshair listens for any sound of movement nearby, the moments of silence followed by a nod of his approval. “Let’s get back home. We can pay them back some other day.” He grabs her hand, his free hand splaying across her lower back as he pulls her up, helping to stabilize her. 

When he’s sure she can walk on her own, Crosshair quickly packs up the items he so hurriedly threw from his pack, managing a wider smile as she bumps his side with her elbow. Her pain has ebbed, the threat is gone… everything is alright again. 

“I love you. Thanks for always takin’ care of me.” she murmurs, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his jaw. She carefully returns her rifle back to its holster, starting to walk. “Depending on what time we get home…” she picks up the pace a little, barely even limping now thanks to the bacta, “I’ll thank you some more…” 

Crosshair breathes a laugh, his head shaking in playful disappointment. “Keep it up and I’ll shoot you myself.”

He lazily throws an arm around her neck, tucking her into the side of his body as they walk back down the street towards their safehouse, the snipers sheathed to their spines bobbing slightly with each step they take. 

[communistkenobi]

sorry im at work scrolling your blog its 3 am this is incoherent and u may disregard but anyway ive not seen the acolyte but ur jedi post made me think... like jedi rly dont have a choice in being jedi right it literally isnt a choice. its not even for luke even tho he was an adult when the choice was offered to him bc obi wan kind of manipulated him into alla that like he wasnt offering any other choices. you can be a jedi just like your father (my master coerced your father into becoming a jedi but ignore that). its framed as the only choice. and its so annoying sw actually that they dont explore that maybe they do in the acolyte ive not seen it maybe i should manny jacinto seems to be in it. anyway. sw doesnt explore that the jedi actively supress there being any other choice for force sensitive kids, a way for them to remain with their families and loved ones and not become tools of the state... the church of the force stuff is so intetesting in r1 and its not rly expanded on bc chirrut and baze do seem to still be monks but maybe its a different vibe. theyre clearly allowed attachments maybe its a different philosophy that the jedi seem to have actively steered ppl away from. u have to think about the purpose of all of this as well bc the jedi are so highly militarized so u have to think it serves a political purpose as well as a religious one to tame them away from not only their families but their cultures bc this way theyre only loyal to the jedi and the jedi only answer to the senate! does this make sense. revelations of an addled mind. i think its less useful to think of the jedi as a cult and more useful to think of them as a military police who are based around religion (which is basically christianity im.not gonna get into how i think actual buddhism could be better explored in star wars)

no literally like star wars demonstrates that there are so many ways to use the force outside of the Jedi/Sith dichotomy but the Jedi are also like the ones who gained the most power and prominence throughout most of galactic history (iirc? I don’t know a lot of old republic canon). so like there is clearly something very effective in the way they build and maintain institutional and political power and that is almost certainly tied to the lack of choice that initiates are given when joining the Order. like you systematise recruitment by making it mandatory. it’s like a specialised state-sanctioned version of standardised education. which is coooooool it’s cool I love that shit so much like the debate about them being evil or not is so boring like idc it’s cool that there is this ancient order of force users who basically monopolised the way the force is used in most of the galaxy and this monopoly also led to their downfall when they became a formal military organ of the republic. that’s sooo fucking sick

[bunnie-online]

nobody's son, nobody's daughter {A.S.}

getting into an argument with ani & your parental issues are brought up

warnings: NO SEXUALLY EXPLICIT CONTENT BUT MY BLOG IS 18+ ONLY. hurt/comfort, parental issues lol, crying, Anakin is lowkey mean i’m sorry ✋🏽😔, not accurate SW lore, one use of ‘y/n’, d3ath mention.

Anakin was so done with today. it was friday afternoon and he had just endured 8 hours of training and then a 2 hour meeting with the Jedi Council where he was scolded for a rash decision he made on his most recent mission. to say Anakin was frustrated was the understatement of the century.

you weren’t having a great day either, it was your fathers birthday. he had left you and your mother to start a new family when you were in your early teens. shortly after that your mother spiraled into depression and had tossed you out. you escaped to Coruscant and happened to be found by Master Windu who took you under his wing.

the weeks of what used to be important family events were always difficult. especially birthdays. you couldn’t wait to curl up into your boyfriend’s arms and feel the weight of the day melt away.

Anakin made his way to your quarters, wanting to do the same. his walk was all a blur until he reached your door. Anakin walked into your apartment ready to collapse into you. he found you curled up on the couch, looking forlorn.

“hey, angel. what’s wrong?” his voice soft and obviously sullen. you lift your head, your face tear stained. “oh it’s just my dads birthday..” you trail off. Anakin sighed. “oh that again.” he sounded slightly annoyed.

granted you’ve been sulking about this all week, but you had a right to. you missed normalcy, you missed coming home from school on your father’s birthday and giving him handmade cards you crafted so carefully. you missed the delicious birthday dinner your mother made and hiding his gifts behind your back, making him guess what it was. you missed sitting on his lap and helping him blow out his candles after singing to him loudly and in between giggles. it sickens you to think about his new children doing all of those things you thought we sacred to him, just as they were to you.

“what does that mean?” you ask, getting defensive. “nothing, angel.” he corrected his tone, realizing what he had done. “no. what did you mean by that?” you doubled down, standing up and walking closer to him. “again? again?! oh i’m sorry that i’m mourning my family.” you cross your arms over your chest, rolling your eyes.

Anakin scoffs. “you have to be kidding. it just slipped out i didn’t even mean it like that.” he steps closer to you. “obviously you meant something, Anakin. you wouldn’t have said anything otherwise.” your eyes threw daggers into his. “angel, can we just drop it? i had a long day i just wanna relax.” he reaches his hand out to touch your arm. you pull back harshly. “darling, come on.”

“no! you have the audacity to tell me to ignore a comment like that?! really?!” your voice gaining volume. Anakin pressed his palm against his forehead, his anger building. “love, i didn’t even mea-“ he starts. “don’t even try to throw that shit at me again.” you interrupt him.

“you aren’t the only one without parents, y/n!!” he yells. you jump back. Anakin had never yelled at you before. “i held my mother as she passed away after not seeing her for ten. years! you aren’t the only one mourning!”

you were too shocked to speak, but your face said everything. after what felt like an eternity, Anakin’s face softened, he realized what had came out of his mouth. “angel…baby…i am- i am so sor-.” “don’t.” you interrupt him again. “i know- i know i’m not the only one mourning. i know you don’t have parents either but i still supported you. i held you after every nightmare, flashback, anxiety attack, everything. i still do.” your voice cracked often as you choked down tears.

“if you were annoyed with my sulking, you could’ve shut it out like you do to me every time something bothers you.” you started walking past him, he tried to grab you by your bicep. “get the fuck away from me, Anakin.” you state coldly, his eyes widen. you’ve never spoken to him in that way. you push past him and walk out of your own apartment.

Anakin stood there, not only shocked at your actions but also his. he’s always been so caring not matter how his day went, he always held space for you. and you held space for him. the tears welling up in his eyes finally spilt over, his usually stoic face contorted as he cried.

you stormed out to the garden, finding a bench in a secluded area. you sat there and cried for what seemed like forever. you cried until your head throbbed and your lungs were sore.

Anakin had to make this right, he couldn’t leave you like this. the sound of leaves crunching behind you nearly scared you out of your skin.

Anakin placed a blanket over your shoulders before sitting down next to you. “angel. i am so sorry. truly. this week was exhausting and i have no right to take it out on you.” he wraps one of his arms around you and you melt into his warmth. “i forgive you, Ani. and i’m sorry too. i know you’re also grappling with your own feelings. i never meant to appear selfish.”

“i love you, my angel.” his plants a kiss on your temple. “i love you too, Ani.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this was my first time writing hurt/comfort pls don’t bully meeee

~bunnie

[padawansuggest]

Okay. Let’s do the Humble You Bitch Ass Adults dance, pt 2

In part one we covered why I have a healthy respect and love for children’s shows with solid morals and compelling storylines because children aren’t stupid.

Why do I have to lay that out? Because when Young Jedi Adventures came out a bunch of you fuckwads started talking about how Vader needs to come kill the kids.

No joke. You guys were talking about how traumatized the watchers were gonna be when they all die at the end. wtf is even wrong with you guys?

Anyways. So Star Wars Skeleton Crew is coming out in December, and I need you guys to know??????? While I know it’s meant for kids older than the Young Jedi Adventures series is, it’s still for kids/young teens.

1: tired of constant Star Wars series? Cool. Stop watching them. Those of us that like SW like them usually or can think critically about what we do and don’t like about them instead of calling everyone names for liking them.

2: don’t like the show or think it’s bad? That’s cool. Don’t watch it. If you don’t like something. It’s not for you.

3: if I hear any bullshit about ‘can’t wait for these kids to die’ or something like that for Skeleton Crew????? Yeah I’ll be in your walls. Fuck off.

4: not your show, not your opinion. You can just say ‘I don’t like it for these reasons’ and move on instead of throwing hate at everyone who likes it.

5: fandom etiquette. Remember that if you don’t like it? Don’t read it. Don’t leave flames. If you remember that phrase it’s also your duty to hit these feral idiots with a shovel when they start climbing out of their trash hole because we don’t do that shit. Let people enjoy things.

Anyways. If you are an adult who comes for this show, remember we can come for you also 🫡

[firecrackerhh]

Jesus CHRIST you’re so fucking retarded YOU DO FUCKING REALIZE THE WORD GROOMING HAS AN ACTUAL FUCKING DEFINITION RIGHT?????

You bitch that republicans call the LGBT+ community groomers when you CLEARLY have no problem with misusing the word the same way THEY DO by using the word where it isn’t fucking applicable to try and paint someone in the LGBTQ+ community as a dangerous person all because they can tell basic fact from reality while your clearly unmedicated schizo ass can’t? Stop making your obvious mental illness other people’s problem, Jesus fucking Christ.

You aren’t any better than the people you despise.

“Waaaaah you don’t have to be so meeeeaaaaannn to them they can’t heeeeelllppp iiiiitttt!!” I’m sure some of you particularly whiny bitches are thinking of typing into your keyboards. So what? They aren’t special. Spread dangerous bullshit around and I don’t care WHAT the fuck is wrong with you. They shouldn’t be exempt from consequences, however minor, just cus their brain is fucked.

Like Jesus fucking Christ forgive me but when you start accusing LGBTQ+ people of GROOMING over something this objectively fucking retarded I think your internet privileges should be fucking revoked. It’s so fucking obvious some people don’t understand the responsibility having a platform gives them, however small.

Like Jesus Christ. I know I say a lot of shit, but god, even I understand that accusations of grooming are actually a big fucking deal and if I ever for a MOMENT thought someone was actually doing that I would have actual sources to back up my claims!

Not this retarded fucking horseshit where some retard claims that Vivziepop is actively fucking grooming people because she’s not a fucking retard and actually understands the difference between fiction and reality!

But then again, considering this stupid cunt probably believes every proshipper is a pedophile, I guess I can’t be surprised.

If this shit is the only “evidence” you have of Viv “grooming” people…you don’t have a fucking clue what grooming actually fucking looks like.

Frankly, given the little info they’ve shared about their personal life that I’ve seen them talk about on their current (and past) blog, they should know better.

I will leave it at that. I’m a bitch, not a complete asshole. Some shit isn’t my place to speak on.

Not even to mention what I’ve seen them say to other victims of abuse, but you can go through my archive for THAT can of worms. Might take a while to find tho, I bitch a lot lmao.

Jesus Christ man, Jesus fucking Christ.

I’m no SW aficionado but I have a feeling this point is retarded anyway.

Honestly I imagine DV is only more kid friendly or whatever in like…kid friendly media specifically so…I dunno dude, I dunno what point you’re trying to make here but something isn’t connecting. It’s fine to have merch of a shitty character if said merch is from a kid friendly spin off I guess? Or something? So would you object if LEGO made toys based on the first trilogy for kids? Since yknow, he’s a killer in those movies?

And frankly, this is gonna be a shock to you, but some people LIKE Vader cuz he’s a terrible fucking person. Same thing can be said for the joker or any other fucking villain. Contrary to what you fucking believe, that doesn’t mean fans of them are terrible people who actually want to do any of the shit he does, or endorses it. Why the fuck are you so stupid?

Clearly it’s only children’s cartoons this bitch can handle on an emotional level. It’s actually so fucking embarrassing they’re STILL acting like this, not even grass can help this bitch. Tragic.

[grumfy]

hi! i was wondering if you could make a short list of a few of your favorite star wars books that are not obikin related (jedi quest, rots, rogue planet, etc)?

OOOH YES super happy about this ask.

Maul Lockdown: super fun and super underrated, it’s probably my favorite SW book that isn’t about a main character. I don’t know why this book isn’t talked about more, it took me a long time to find out it even existed. Maul is sent to a prison planet to help get a nuclear device for Palpatine before the start of TPM, and basically has to fight his way out and do all sorts of murdery shit while looking for the guy who sells it.

Shatterpoint by Matthew Stover. Arguably the best Legends novel IMO. Basically a Vietnam War movie but in space. Mace Windu is sent to a jungle planet to investigate the disappearance of Depa and basically just goes through jungle hell. Stover really is a good writer even when he isn’t doing the crazy formatting stuff he does in RotS novelization and it really shines here

MedStar: M*A*S*H but in the Clone Wars. Bariss Offee’s better characterization (to me), where her Force healing ability basically makes her a crazy asset to field surgeons, so she’s sent to go help. Has a really great cast who are super grounded and refreshing.

Yoda: Dark Rendezvous (aka) the Dooku Daddy Issues Book. This is literally like the last piece of Dooku stuff you’ll ever want to read. He’s the most pathetic Count Chocula vampire you’ve ever seen in your life. The only reason he wanted to go to the Dark Side was because he feels like Green Dad didn’t love him enough. He sits in a castle all day and is sad. He almost returns to the light but gets jealous that Anakin exists. He’s so messed up I love him. Also has some really lovely side characters